The best thing about my blog, if there is one, is that time flows backwards. I found the ignorance of my travelogues grating. But as they reached the end they always seemed to approach understanding. Of something. So we are herein spared that painful process and instead get to enjoy the relatively most informed perspective as it gradually decays into cluelessness. A little like 'Flowers for Algernon' perhaps. Touching, no? Just call me Big Rat.
Perhaps a rogues' gallery is in order, apologies to Christie:
Kai: An explosion of tangents from the name itself might obscure her rather stunning beauty. But vociferous readers may recall the line 'nothing there but chicken ladies'. Should the author ever get around to releasing 'Part the Last' you can suffer through the three days it took me to believe her name is Chicken.
Mee: a rather portly and often pushy example of the eastern goodwife. Her personality might occasionally give the lie to that 'fat is jolly' stereotype save that she's only trying to prevail what she knows to be best. Knowledge is fun. She knew I was stupid because I couldn't speak Thai. What she knows today I might understand better, but I don't worry too much. I know her heart is in the right place; she took most tender care of me when I was stupid.
Paw: Farmer, frogger, gasman, he's worn a few muaks (hats). The Thai male tendency to drink prodigious whiskey is luckily tempered. No idea if it's the author's influence, suspicions to that effect are neither wholly confirmed nor denied by more informed parties. Up until recently, Kem's sole foil. A veritable genius at this thankless task. Grandpas in any culture may not have the greatest objectivity or follow-through as stewards. He has done relatively spectacularly well.
Kit: A young lady of a dangerous age. Simply not old enough to know better but more than bright enough to figure everything out. Ascending learning curves all across the disciplines at a breakneck pace, her reach must by needs exceed her grasp. She has acquired hundreds of words of a foreign language and they are almost all wonderfully free of that tedious anchor, meaning. She is becoming an accomplished musician. Fantasies of the author's that she could be a doctor (she is certainly bright enough) are likely just that, given the culture. And the odds of her escaping that are negligable considering her goodmom's extensive 'knowledge'. Nor can this be taken as criticism on the author's part who has done rather the opposite than escape.
Kem: The young lord shall always be of a dangerous age. Thankfully matriculation in the Wat is a good way to tam bun (make merit). For, while the author has always felt that having a brother was an experience that made him less insufferable than he might otherwise have been (if more can be imagined) Kemmy's development needn't hinge on my wherewithal to endure these slings and arrows nor even khii motocy (ride you know what) sanely. The young man's mind is a sponge. The lessons of non-violence are, to the author's mind, of such extremely high value that almost any useless or contrafactual baggage is tolerable. And that's just in society. Who knows what he might soak up in a Wat.
On: The tradition of mia noi (wife small) interests the author not at all other than from an anthropo/sociological perspective. One is more than enough. Kai, however, for all her fears that I might do so has very much done so. On makes our lives brighter with her humor and easier with her helpfulness every day. We offer the security of need and appreciation in return I suppose. Yes, we bought her some piglets too but I am often assured the loan will come home when the piggies are grown.
Non: Kai's not too distant cousin, he teaches one a little language and a lot about being a man around these here parts. Quite bright and often ambitious, it might still be noted that one of the meanings of his sobriquet is 'sleep'. He currently qualifies easily as the author's best Thai friend, as he understands my ramblings more than anyone else. Not that he could be expected to pile through this steaming mound of prose, but then, really, who could?
Your autocratic otter: I do write, yes. Often wright and even very occasionally right. The autocracy is self-evident. I know enough words that it is very likely I know one you don't and we all know how esoterica resembles power. Just ask Cheney. OH! Would that I'm a little more harmless than that. Somewhere between the acerbity of Clemens and Bierce, somewhere between the wit of a salamander and a rhododendron I aim two pleas. Luckily enough people say I'm handsome that there's likely to be some germ of truth. There, a redeeming quality! In wises otterish manifold, we'll get to others later.
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