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decreaseAs I sit many a night in some den of iniquity in this city of knaves and harlots I tend to people-watch between gropes, inane conversations with the agogo dancers, and swilling my over priced brews and satanic concoctions (what exactly are in these mixtures anyway). I watch my fellow scopophiliacs as we sit awash in the aural bombardment of that seemingly ubiquitous ‘song of songs’ --- Hotel California. It’s interesting, educational and a bit of fun at times. You see the men and their types and subtypes, the sanuk mongers, the drunks, the shaven head lager louts, the lonely planet backpackers having a naughty night out with the sexpats and sex tourists that flock to this phenomenal city and all the other silly buggers buying into the nightmare fantasy of this twisted dream of male utopia. It’s an illusion; we all know it or at least many do, but even knowing so it still has its attraction for the lonely, broken hearted, sex-starved vassals of the western world we hail from. The lack of sexual intimacy, that sensual touch all human beings need to stay sane and healthy, drives many a man into a temporary tryst within the arms of a Thailand bar girl. For many I think it is not even really about the sex but that fleeting moment of intimacy, that needed touch of soft female flesh against our own. It is merely a natural act humans crave. I know I crave it, and am willing to pay for it to continue my bachelor ways. I’m not well made for intimate relationships of an enduring nature. I’m just too damned promiscuous, and, knowing this, I prefer not to become involved with a good lady that I will only hurt one day. At least I am honest about it, and do no harm.
Without me, the debauched Saint of the City of Sinners, you sir, are next in line most likely. Do you like getting a bit randy and a little over the top? Does missionary position bore you to tears these days and are you just aching for something a little strange and exciting to do in the sack, something a bit more titillating and different than the same old same old from the wife or girlfriend? Well, when she bitches and moans and wants you to turn off the lights and get under the covers, point to me and show her what could be being demanded of her lazy complacent self. You are an innocent lamb in comparison, a veritable sane and average Joe Blow. Don’t let those sex police of the Christian Right Wing hypocrites catch you with that cherry flavored Durex lube, or, heaven forbid, call out the executioners and start the inquisition, a tube of ANAL EAZE!
adjective
unrestrained by convention or morality; deplorably dissipated and degraded; riotous living; fast women.”
Although I am a saintly sort of man, hence my writing handle here, I like being unrestrained by convention or morality. I have my own morals and they suit me well, and who’s to say theirs are correct and mine wrong and evil? The fairy tale worshippers? Hardly. Am I ‘deplorably dissipated and degraded’? Well, maybe dissipated and degraded, but not deplorably so I feel. And what the hell is wrong with ‘riotous living? Silly, no? Most people save all year to have a week or two of ‘riotous living’. It’s called holiday or a vacation isn’t it? I just happen to holiday a bit more often than most. Are these people jealous of me? And ‘fast women’? I like fast women, as long as they are not so fast I cannot catch them.
The dictionary goes on to add more on ‘debauch’. “To corrupt by sensuality”. Well, fuck me. Isn’t this what big business does millions of times a day? It’s all about sensuality isn’t it? We are sold things through this ‘corruption’ all the time, it’s called advertising and promotion. Then they turn around after luring us with their lurid ads and tell us to behave ourselves and stop thinking about sex all the time. They seduce us into intemperate buying sprees with our credit. We are corrupted by sensuality, seduced to be intemperate, all in the name of commercialism and consumerist materialism through capitalism. Then we go to church and beg forgiveness our little sins. Am I making any sense here? We are allowed to be brainwashed with sex, seduced by sensuality, then we are told we need to deny these impulses and pleasures of the flesh we have been daily, hourly, bombarded with. It just doesn’t seem fair to me. And so, I do as I please and ignore these hypocritical denouncements by those who would play with my mind and soul for their profit and control over me. I’m made of sterner, stronger, more intelligent stuff. I know when I am being fucked with.
Francis Bret Harte, in ‘Two Men of Sandy Bar’ states, and I quote, “I have found that one big vice in a man is apt to keep out a great many smaller ones.” Is that a good thing? It sounds obsessive to me. Myself, I prefer many smaller vices. It gives me a diversity of choice. I am, after all, an equal opportunity sinner and debaucher, and see no reason to limit oneself in his vices. Excess is the true determining factor here really. Everything in moderation as the saying goes. You’ll live longer and have more time to have fun with your little vices.
© The Saint. All rights reserved by the author.
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November 16, 2007, 14:42
"stare fixedly at the dancers with little ocular economy."
Guilty as charged and to the max. The wonderful part of the sex for money scene is that pretending is of no value. It is what it is and everyone knows what it is.
Flesh on display
and money earned the physical way.
So I stare. I stare out of respect because the object of my ocular targeting is a work of art; or I stare because I can not help from staring. I remember years ago in the ground floor Rainbow bar a dancer on stage of such transporting sexuality, and youth, and femininity, and beauty that I could not help but stare. Eventually other girls noticed on stage and notified her. Now she knew. Was she creeped out? Yes. Did I care? No. Then other people in the audience noticed my staring. Did I care? No. Years later and I can still remember her. Tall and brown and sexy and feminine and thin and molded as only Thai females are. In one thousand malls in America I will never see her match. It was time to stare. I was doing the right thing.
Was there any posturing by me regarding spending time and money with her? No. I knew, and she knew, and all the girls on the stage knew, and everyone in the audience knew that I was not equal to her. But at least I could stare.
If you are in Thailand and you are not staring you have wasted your time and you have wasted your money. Go someplace else. On my last trip to the Kingdom there was woman on Walking Street about half way down standing on a platform and dancing for the street. She was about nine feet tall and weighed about eighty pounds and had sex oozing out of her like grease from a cooked chicken. People were standing in the street just staring out of respect and out of wonder. I gave her 100 baht as a way of saying 'Thanks for the pleasure'. Was she a tranny? Of course she was. The sexiest women in the world aren't even women. Welcome to the circus. Welcome to Thailand. Welcome to a place you probably can not handle with dignity, and you sure can not explain to your friends at home.
If you stumble into me on the street or in a bar and I am staring at a Thai female like a dog gazing at a meat wagon; don't disturb me. I'm busy.