Here is a post.

Man, Hooky is going to be pissed when he realises that Bernard has turned the band into an electronic cashier machine at a substandard fast food franchise.

B01 is actually the room that precedes Room 101. I never would have guessed 1984's O'brien rode a bicycle to work. In other words, don't explore beneath your university. 

The cutest nicotine baron I have ever come across. In meeting her I've come to realise that Big Tobacco is just misunderstood. Big Tobacco is just like Esperanto, Climate Change and Sandinista! - future generations will look back and shake their collective heads in shame knowing that they simply did not understand.

The pressures of Hollywood. If I was Heath Ledger and had just given the performance of a lifetime, I too would fake my own death, relocate to Bangkok and become an erratic moto driver.

Bad photo I know, but in the top centre/left is a picture of The King with The King. I'll get a better picture. No, no I wont.

Braque, Picasso, Schwitters... You guys may have birthed modernist collage, but Bangkok is perfecting it. Pick up your game, dead white guys. 

"After this I looked, and, behold, a door was opened in heaven: and the first voice which I heard was as if it was a trumpet talking with me; which said, Come up hither, and I will show thee things which must be hereafter"

This is a toilet in my friend Jorge's Mexican restaurant. This is also why I don't believe in God. 

Didn't Paul Kelly write a song called "Other people's undies"? No, no he didn't. He should have. Maybe then he would still be a bit fucking relevant.

What is there to say? 

In Bangkok, even fire extinguishers have elected, corrupt officials. 

Prepare yourself. This hall leads to the Siriraj Forensic Museum...

... And within, children in formaldehyde that died very young from terrible diseases. People from all over Bangkok and beyond come and leave toys and gifts for them. 

This is a scene from the Thai version of Inception.

This is Keef. He protects me from all the malevolent spirits from the Land of Wind and Ghosts. (Thanks again, Kane. Sorry, Matt. Get Sal to give Mum and Dad the Nick Nolte. I NEED it).

You think this will get you out of here? Dream Baby Dream.

This was a good hour. I ran away from the few wannabe Hi-So clowns that give Chula a bad name, bought four beers off a barber down the way, rented a stool from a lady with an iced coffee stand and slipped her 50 baht to keep them cool. We talked in Thai - mine broken - for an hour. I met her sons, grandson. That lady! That lady with the ice coffee stand was the sweetest woman. A grandmother - proud, impish, bursting with energy and intrigue. She reminded me of my own grandma, Mrs Plumbe. My grandma is dead now. My grandma was crazy, but in the best way imaginable. Some say I got my humour, alcoholism from her. You want to know how nuts she was? She had hair but wore wigs. When she went out, she used to wear so many rings that one of them was actually a watch. She would ring me up out of the blue and tell me not to go to Papua New Guinea. She was something else. I sure miss her. But I digress...

The boys that sold electricity next door came out and had a drink with me. Open, funny fellas. I went back to the barber - swell guy, profound moustache -and got some more drinks. We all had a good laugh. It was beautiful, fitful laughter. Time immaterial, the world inconsequential.

Fuck. Why bother writing this drivel? I'm going to see them now.

Enjoy what's left of whatever you've got at hand.