thom day is back

Terrific Theme Music (If You Want It)

My body wanted to shut down for the day. No such luck. Every day spent in Bangkok at this point is a day defined by waste. Money. Energy. Time. And seeing as how the Top King store at Lumphini is closed on Sundays, I had to get there today. No questions asked. I was notified by the factory that the store would be open until 5, so figuring in the hour walk to Hua Lamphong, the fairly short subway ride, and a rough estimate of how long it would take me to randomly walk around the Lumphini Park area in search of, I figured it best to leave no later than noon. Off to bed I went.

Up at 11, weary but not undone. Right about the 40 hour mark in terms of fasting. Nothing but water and Gatorade. I gain my senses, shower, and gear up. I anticipated a fairly long day of walking in the heat, but other factors had to be considered as well. Mainly, the amount of cash I’d be carrying. While not astronomical by any stretch, I’d prefer to not have a couple hundred dollars sitting in the roomy pockets of my cotton traveling shorts. I opted to put my Thai taxi driver fashion to good use, and threw on the zip-up nylon vest I picked up in Phuket for 50 baht. Pockets with zippers. Cash went into the vest, iPod and video camera in the shorts. Warmer, yes. But necessary.

The clock strikes noon and off I go. I head downstairs and as I hit the ground floor I immediately notice that there is an emergency exit that doesn’t appear to be functioning properly. Common sense would dictate that such a thing should remain closed at all times, to be opened and used only when necessary, but that didn’t seem to be the case today. At some point it was left ajar, and the end result was entertaining to say the least: a dirty bum. This devilish gent must have snuck in without anyone noticing, and was causing a bit of a ruckus for sure. Entertaining, but I don’t have time for entertainment. My feet strike pavement and off I go. I walk.

I detour into 7-11 to grab myself a water to officially get the party started. I typically buy Cooly Fresh water. It hits all the best reference points: The Asian dudes referring to Leroy as a coolie in The Last Dragon. Cooley from Don’s Party. And of course Coolie High, and Cooliehighharmony from Camp Lo and Boyz II Men respectively. I give the Bangkok Post a quick perusal to update myself on the latest Red Shirt antics. Nothing much to see. I get some international sports info, and a photograph from the EPI Canal explosion in some country I’ve never heard of. Another typical day.

Next stop: train station. Things remain ordinary but weird as ever. The first half of the journey is pretty standardly defined by a series of random storefronts. The second half gets a bit more interesting as you have a fair amount of street vendors on one side, and the river and market on the other. Much more hectic. I’ve never really spent much time looking through this particular market area. It appears to be just like the majority of others I’ve come across everywhere else. If you’re looking for poor quality clothing you’re in the right place. If you’re in the market for hefty souvenirs that seem ridiculously nonsensical to pack you’ve found the spot. And if you’re searching for an album leak from your favorite artist, then right this very moment there’s no place on Earth you’d rather be. Trust me. I have no need for any of the above. I skip the market.

I get to the main intersection about a kilometer from the train station. You can cross the street at this point but there is a pedestrian walkway that you can walk over that makes things a lot simpler. Up the steps we go. Two departures from the norm here today. First, some Army presence is situated up top. One armed soldier looking down the road in each direction. That’s a new one. I figure there must be some Red Shirt action in the area. Next. Moving along, I head down the steps on the other side of the road. Normally some random person wouldn’t register with me but when I come around the corner, a guy carrying a basket case of some sort walks past. I’m drawn to the graphic on his shirt. It has some tropical looking picture and reads the following: ‘Welcome to paradise. It’s a long view.’ What the shit is that supposed to mean? As quickly as I tried to sort out that mysterious riddle it was just as quickly forgotten. However, in a moment of divine discovery later in the day the likely answer hit me like a flash flood. I was impressed with myself to say the least.

Second detour. 7-11 again. You can only walk so far without getting another drink. Now’s the time. I have a bit of a debate with myself over getting another water, or an iced tea this time. I don’t really feel that having iced tea is all that much better than drinking soda, so I try to keep that to a minimum. I give it about a minute’s thought, ultimately deciding that it’s truly a fickle matter that I’m dealing with here. I grab an iced tea.

Ten minutes from the train station. Making good time. Not feeling nearly as sick as the day before. All in all doing pretty well. I take a lovely sip of my lemon iced tea, look down to grab my iPod out of pocket, and notice stark evidence of my being an unobservant clumsy fool. I’ve spilled iced tea almost directly on my crotch. Didn’t even notice. Smooth. On the lucky side, the stain is fairly high up in the dick region, so to the outside observer I would appear like a dirty idiot, and not someone who peed himself. Still, I really don’t fancy walking around for the rest of the day with a silver dollar pancake-sized stain on my shorts for all to see. I then make a decision. There’s no way that I’m that clueless to my surroundings that I don’t even notice when I pour a drink on myself. It was fucking Bangkok. I had leaned against the counter when I paid for the drink. Obviously, there must have been some crap on the counter and I chose to grind away on it like Elizabeth Berkeley. For some insane reason I then deem it appropriate to rub my finger on the sour patch so I can log the smell into Evidence. Inconclusive. Just smells like Bangkok to be honest. Whatever. Next decision is made. Find a bathroom at the train station and try to diminish the appearance a bit with some water and elbow grease. All in a day’s work.

Train station. Down the escalator. Through the metal detector. They’ve got a sizable fan set up down there to help cool off the guard at the entrance so I head over and lean in for a good ten seconds or so to try to cool off. Slightly helpful. During the long walk down the hallway to the ticket machines an older guy and a young lady walk by me on my left. She gives me the old peek over. All good. Then a second peek over. No doubt. Then a third and a fourth. Not the first time that’s happened out here. And it won’t be the last. I grab a token for 18 baht and hop onto the train just before it leaves. Nice.

Pretty full car. I sit next to an older foreign couple and a Thai lady. It’s only two stops over to the park but it’s definitely nice to rest the legs a bit. I enjoy the ride. Uneventful.

Off the train and outside we go. I saw what appeared to be Lumphini Park directly across the street in front of me but I really couldn’t tell. All I could see were piles of random junk and stuff strewn about near the sidewalk as a makeshift fencing system. Tires. Wood. Junk. It looked like someone just took a dump and put it exactly where it didn’t belong. I could hear shouting over loudspeakers so it’s probably safe to assume that was some Red Shirt activity going on over there. I never got over to take a look. I was searching for the stadium. I of course had never actually done any research to figure out where that is in relation to the park, or for that matter, if it’s even anywhere near the park. I just connected the dots with the name and all. Genius work. No flaws in that plan.

I walked about 15 minutes down the side of the park until it ended at an intersection. No stadium in sight. I did come across a rather sizable night market instead. Fair enough. Another place to head to after grabbing my equipment and possibly watching some fights at the stadium. Make a night of it. I consult a map of the night market, and lo and behold, there’s Lumphini Stadium. About five minutes away. I scoot around the corner in my newly discovered direction. Now we’re talking. I see two small stores with heaps of muay thai shorts on display. I see a Twins store laden with goods and directly next door to that, the Top King store. Finally. Here it is. I check the time and it’s still just before two. Perfect. Since the store closes at 5 everyday I’ve got plenty of time to look around the area and still get back over there. I walk on another five minutes or so to grab myself another Cooly Fresh. Need to refuel before the shopping adventure. Consider it grabbed. I head around the corner, sit down on a little concrete bench, and crack open my water. This is it. Last few days in Bangkok. Lumphini Stadium. Time to make some of the more important purchases of the trip. A truly big moment. I sip my water and relax. And that’s when it happens.

Concrete bench. Minding my own business. A half empty bottle of Cooly Fresh sitting by my side. I take my eyes off of the street in front of me for no more than five seconds and that was all that was needed: I get bum rushed.

Allow me to slow things down a bit. Let’s break these five seconds down. One. I tire of watching the street hustle, glance down at my shorts and give some more thought to this ridiculous stain. The fact that I’m shopping in an area flush with muay thai shorts gives me relief. I’m going to buy a pair anyway, so when I find them I’ll just wear them home. There’s an easy solution. Two. That idea is quickly followed by another. Upon closer inspection, the affected area wouldn’t be described as massive and I wonder to myself if it had soaked completely through to the other side. If not, I could just flip the shorts inside out and wear them that way. Not bad. I like that idea. Three. I lift up the front of my shorts so I can take a look at the inside and assess the situation. No luck to be found here. The stain clearly had made it’s way through to the other side just as prominently. Fair enough. As if that wasn’t enough already, the stain had soaked through and spread itself onto my lovely fake Ed Hardy briefs. My secretly held hope of finishing my shopping, wearing underwear only, went out the window. Four. Another delicious sip of water. A quick peek around the surrounding area yields nothing of note. I start to tie my shorts so I can gather myself and get back to the matter at hand. I take another perfunctory glance at my once pristine shorts and briefs so as to give myself a chuckle and move on. Five. At this very moment two things happen. First, my body is stunned into a state of suspension from some invisible outside source. Simultaneously, my thinking becomes clear, focused, and sharpened into a deadly point. Second, I look up as if in perpetual slow motion and realized what it was that had hit me. A simple fact. Iced tea. 7-11. I think not. I shit my pants.

Oh yes. You heard me correctly the first time. I shat myself. Can I make that clearer? More detailed? Perhaps. Let’s see. I shit inside my pants while walking around a major city. And then walked around completely unaware for nearly two hours. Yes. Unaware. Of pooping. Fucking pooping. What was the key piece of evidence that solved this mystery you wonder? I didn’t mention it back there for storytelling purposes but during the four second mark, that briefs stain looked a bit odd to me, so I investigated further. I grabbed the crotch of my shorts and pulled up so as to get a decent view of the back which had never occurred to me to check before. How did I describe the size of that front stain again? Now I recall, a silver dollar pancake. So, how shall I describe the now obviously there stain that I discovered on the back of my shorts then? Sticking with the pancake theme, if you’ve ever seen the wonderful family film Uncle Buck the answer should be clear. If not, let’s just say a frisbee.

I feel at this point there is most likely going to be a pretty standard thought echoing in the mind of the reader. Something along the lines of ‘How could you seriously crap yourself and not even know it? Surely you must have noticed something?’. Well to be fair, it wasn’t entirely my fault. And don’t call me Shirley. There’s no reason to get gross with details here so I’ll keep all of that to a minimum. After leaving the guesthouse and starting my journey I was feeling okay, but still a little sick. I didn’t get into detail earlier on this, but hours before leaving for the nearly 20 hours of travel to get to Bangkok I woke up feeling quite ill. I decided to push through so as not to mess with my schedule. The same rule applied when I arrived in Bangkok. I famously challenged my sickness on Facebook by saying ‘Do you worst, for I will do mine’. Apparently its worst was to make me go number two in my pants, and mine was to walk around treating it like treasure. Back to the point, about 15 minutes into walking I felt a harsh rumble in my tummy that was most certainly not related to a lack of honey. Unwritten rule for when you have a rumbly tumbly. Don’t fart. I didn’t choose to. My body did. So I embraced it. All seemed fine. For a second I was a bit worried because something did feel a tiny bit off, but I just attributed it to the Bangkok heat. As I’ve stated before, that’s just how it works out here. Five minutes after you leave the house your underwear is soaked with sweat. So if somebody happens to throw some food coloring down the back of your pants how are you supposed to know? Exactly. I rest my case.

Back on the concrete bench, lots was taking place. A Usual Suspects-style montage of things that I had previously seen in one light, but now in a much clearer one. For instance, the young woman walking along side of me in the entrance to the train station. Probably not so intrigued by the good looking foreigner as we had all assumed earlier. More likely fascinated by the guy who smooshed a UPS delivery inside of his trousers and was still willing to bend over for some fresh fan air with no regard to hiding it. Or the older gentleman from that couple on the side of me on the train itself. When he started holding his nose for no apparent reason I thought to myself, ‘What’s the deal with this dude? I don’t smell a thing.’ Precious. I start to ponder whether it’s bad etiquette to try on muay thai shorts given the current circumstances. I feel like it just may be. Shopping trip over. Now on to other important matters. I’ve somehow chosen to discover this wonderful situation over an hour away from home. It’s fairly irrelevant at this point but I’d still prefer to not have to travel home with my ass looking like a used coffee filter for all to see. Wait a second. I’m rocking the taxi vest. Off comes the vest, and off comes the t-shirt. The vest goes back on sans shirt giving me a bit of a Joe Piscopo ‘Karate Kid’ type thing going on and the shirt gets tucked into the shorts and hung down the back. Just like MacGyver would do it. If he shit himself. I start my walk back to the train station, passing each muay thai store along the way. Unfortunate. Life on life’s terms.

I get off the train at Hua Lamphong and start my one hour walk back to the guesthouse. Many may question my decision to not just pay the less than $3 price of a tuk-tuk ride home, but fuck that. I shit my bed, I’ll lie in it. Besides, how many chances are you going to get in life to have such an experience? As many as you wanted I suppose, but that would just be forced. This is legit. So I walked home. Head held high. Wearing my ultra thin 100 baht Ed Hardy man diaper. It was a good day. The end.

Epilogue:

I’ve had a few different people question some of the things I’ve been putting on the site lately, feeling as though my honesty put them in a less than stellar light. Perhaps they have been avenged here. After this incident took place, I did in fact head home, shower, and take a quick rest. I then went right back. I didn’t get to Lumphini until well after 5 of course, but I didn’t come all this way to let some dirty shorts get in the way of my plans. As it turns out, since Saturday night is a fight night at the stadium, the stores stay open late. So I was still able to hunt through each store. Unfortunately, the equipment search was as difficult there as it has been everywhere else, but that will be a subject for another post. I did get a new pair of shorts though. And I didn’t even poo in them. Yet.

Got back to the guesthouse at around midnight. What a long day. So much to be learned from a day like today. My final lesson though: your iPod’s broken. Out of nowhere. Worked the entire day. I was just using it as I walked home. Decided to check the time and the screen went white. Nothing but. I tried all the usual remedies. None of it worked. This is a huge loss for me. On the bright side, at least I’m not the only one who’s shit himself today. Rest in peace iPod. That should just about cover it for now. Truly. A storied saga, perhaps I shall sleep.

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Puzzle Alert!

Perhaps you noticed. Perhaps you didn’t. Throughout the first half of this enchanting tale, I peppered the narrative with wonderful hidden references to what was about to come. Some are a bit simpler than others to find, but each is equally grand in nature. A couple are a little more abstract and therefore might prove to be more difficult to discover. Those with advanced Word Search skills may find that their experience comes in handy. So, to any adventurous readers, the challenge is afoot. There are 13 specifically hidden references to my ‘incident’ throughout the story. The first twelve all occur in the story prior to the beginning of the five second breakdown. The last was thrown in as a challenging freebie, to get the juices flowing so to speak. In the final sentence of this saga, seven words spoke volumes. Take the first letter from each. Speaks even louder than before. Happy hunting.

Today marks the triumphant return of the Travelogue. Therefore, I am introducing three, count ‘em, three new features to the dotcom. Enjoy what already appears to be three amazing, long lasting additions to the website.

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Thom Describes The Best Shampoo Ever

As per my usual Sunday tradition, I took the 6 km walk over to the Jatujak Night Market on a clothing quest. The last couple of weeks, I was there on strictly T-shirt business. Today I was looking to buy a Mickey Mouse hat I remembered from last week, and some tight underwear for training. Straight to the punchline: I bought four T-shirts, no Mickey Mouse hat (I thought the shape was a little too bulky), and no tight underpants. (I wasn’t down to pay 100 baht a pair. I can do better elsewhere.) I felt the need to get myself a haircut today. I popped into a barber shop down the way earlier in the day, but while waiting, I had a gut feeling that I should wait, and try to track down a different place somewhere in Phuket Town. I figured it couldn’t hurt to add in some additional walking, as Phuket Town is another half hour or so past the market. Not a factor as it turns out. About twenty minutes into the walk, I glanced across the road and noticed a hair salon. Had the word beauty in the name. I like that. Reminds me of an old joke I heard long, long ago. Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the Beauty Hair Salon. Doesn’t seem that funny in retrospect. Informative though. I go in for the cut. Price is 200 baht for a cut and a shampoo. I paid 100 baht two weeks ago for a haircut elsewhere, but a quality shampoo has been long overdue. I get brought to the chair. I recline into the shampooing position. The girl presses a button and the chair starts to vibrate a bit. Nothing spectacular, but a nice touch. She gets a cold, wet cloth and presses down on my forehead, then my mouth area, and then folds it in half and layers it over my eyes. Cooled me down splendidly. Then she gives me the business. No need to get too wordy on this. It was just superb. Overall duration had to be about 15 minutes or so. That’s crazy. The lathering was out of control. She was using her fingernails in a massaging motion at certain points which brought on a lovely sensation. There was firm pressure used on particular sections and her technique was easily noticeable and easily impressive. Hard to describe really but it felt explicitly Thai in nature. It was akin to the difference between getting a normal Western massage, and a traditional Thai massage. You notice the difference. It’s apples and oranges. There seemed to be around three shampoo/rinse cycles, followed by one conditioning/rinse cycle. Could have been two and two. Tough to say. No matter. All and all, just a killer job. The vibrating chair was hardly incredible, but a nice subtle vibe added in to the mix. The cold cloth over the eyes is pure genius. Changes the whole game up. The entire dynamic is flipped on its head. It was scented a bit as well. Not sure with what, but it was nice. And as previously mentioned, the extreme lathering and extensive massaging was incredible. There was a lot of attention paid to the upper neck area as well. She finished up the same way she began. Fresh cold cloth pressed over the various facial sections, and the job was complete. The haircut was rendered virtually irrelevant at that point. I will be returning mid-week for a solo shampoo session. Bam.

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Books I Began To Read But Ultimately Decided Against Finishing. Situated On A Cheap Trick Baseball Shirt

People’s War People’s Army: The Viet Cong Insurrection Manual For Underdeveloped Countries by General Vo Nguyen Giap

I know what you’re thinking: How did you not rip right through this gem in a matter of hours, not days? I picked this up in Chiang Mai and tried to give it a fair shake at about 3 AM one sleepless night. After an hour or so of tossing and turning, I opted to hop out of bed, grab a delicious bottle of Coke, and load my dome with the wisdom of my boy General VNG. I read the somewhat lengthly introduction, which presented a clear argument for why one should read this book, and what can be gained. I believe I made it a few pages into the actual book before deciding to plop back into bed, and save the rest for another day. Ultimately, it was replaced by The Deathly Hallows, or A Tale Etched In Blood And Hard Black Pencil. One or the other. Either way, it’s been on the shelf so to speak until the other day when it was relegated to the ‘library’ here at the guesthouse. People’s War People’s Army: The Viet Cong Insurrection Manual For Underdeveloped Countries, I hardly knew ye.

Covert Surveillance And Electronic Penetration by William B. Moran

I grabbed this at Phuket Backpacker’s Hostel back in the day. Early 80’s classic from Loompanics. It was kind of cool to browse through but ultimately the electronic penetration was clearly out dated. The covert surveillance was decent but I’m sure there are numerous videos on YouTube and eHow that can cover that subject just as well. Besides, when I have the need to surveil somebody, there is nothing covert about it. I know I’m there. They know I’m there. And I know they know I’m there. That’s the point. I don’t hide in the shadows, shadows hide in me. Deep.

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How To Best Spend 1508 Baht In One Day: A Photo Retrospective

Hey Thom, I’ve got in the area of 1508 Baht burning a hole in my pocket. How should I spend that?
Great question Thom. Nice haircut by the way. Allow me to tell you. And show you.

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Super Fresh Muay Thai Shorts: 950 Baht

Box Of Nestle Corn Flakes: 80 Baht

Bottle Of Milk: 35 Baht

(2) Strawberry Yoghurt: 28 Baht (Total)

Tipco 100% Pineapple Juice: 55 Baht

Hawaiian Pizza: 160 Baht

Top Secret Songkran Equipment: 200 Baht

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Simple as that. 1508 Baht. Roughly $50 U.S. dollars. One day. (Not including breakfast and lunch purchases)

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Fourth new category has just been added! A last second addition!

Notable Highlights From T.J. De Santis Discussing What Would Happen If The Weather In Abu Dhabi Caused UFC 112 To Be Delayed

‘This isn’t a normal sports cancellation. You can’t throw on old episodes of Coach on a Pay-Per-View.’

‘Who’s the first fight on the main card?… So we get a round and a half of that. Oh, we gotta call it. We’ll see you next time. (Mike Goldberg style) Back inside the Octagon!’

‘I like Coach personally… Is Hayden Fox gonna get his Screamin’ Eagles to the Insight Bowl?… Find out next on this edition of Coach.’

Honorable Mention for Clay the caller’s initial remarks:

‘Hey, what’s up you guys? I wanna hear some more about Dauber and Luther and what they’re gonna do here if we get a rain delay.’

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Day five in Bangkok. Probably should have left yesterday. Definitely could have left today. I do tend to be pretty relaxed in my departures however so this comes as no surprise. I will endeavor to leave tomorrow night aboard the night train to Chiang Mai. Once there, I will be able to do a few day trek in the jungle, and then move on by minivan to the border of Laos. Then I can slow-boat it down the river toward Vang Vieng, where if all is as advertised, I will be able to catch up on all those episodes of Friends I’ve missed over the years. From there, back into Thailand and down to Phuket.
I’m bored. I’ve done a decent amount of stuff in my short time here, but you can only do so much. It is quite reminiscent of my time in New Zealand. My travels there were mainly small, solo adventures broken up by frequent bus travel. Most times I rather enjoyed the long bus rides, I found them to be rather comforting for some reason. I was often slightly disappointed when I could sense that my destination was coming. I imagine things will be similar here.
I’m still pretty impressed by the speakers on my Macbook Pro. It’s a bit off topic but they really seem to kick for laptop speakers. I’ve been privy to rock at least a few hostel parties relying on these alone to guide the way. I’m not as impressed with the abilities of my wireless card. I would often see people snatching signals from random places throughout the hostel. Signals to which my illustrious MBP seemed blissfully unaware of. Superheroes is a great song. Can’t help but wonder what Daft Punk is up to these days. I still can’t believe they did a show at Coney Island a few years ago and I missed it. Classic Chad. I am currently in mourning over the loss of my favorite pens. I’ve been using the same ones for all my writing. I believe that I brought three with me upon leaving, and am now down to one, in a barely usable form. I forget what happened to the first one, but I thoroughly recall stepping on the second one in Melbourne, crunching it to bits. I promised to take special precautions with the final one, which about two days after this pledge, was given the honor of accompanying me to the beach, where I kindly introduced it to a crippling dosage of sand. The outcome: it would no longer click to open and close. It just remained perpetually open. Not the worst thing in the world, but after a while I decided to Tim “The Toolman” Taylor it and that is exactly what I did. After “fixing” it, the clicking worked like a charm, except it would now no longer remain open. Which is where it can be found now. I have resorted to using scotch tape to hold down the click but after a day or so, it tends to slide up sending me back to square one. I intend on trying some electrical tape that I saw yesterday at 7-11, combined with a better, more efficient diagonal taping pattern. For my journal’s sake, I need to save this pen. I have been completely unable to secure a suitable replacement. Updates will be forthcoming of course.
So much to go over. Thais are about as sneaky as advertised. Can’t blame them but it does get pretty old quick. For instance, Tuk-Tuks will inevitably take you somewhere you don’t want to go. Unless you actually want to go to super sneaky travel agencies or Indian tailors. Seriously, how the fuck is there so many Indian tailors here? During my foot travels last night, I quite literally walked by a section of block that had three Indian tailors in a row, each with a dude outside (pretty standard), trying to get me to come inside. I found myself wondering, if someone isn’t interested enough to go into the first one, why would he go into the second or third one? Sucks for them. Then I just realized now, that if coming from the other direction, the last guy’s shop would be first, so half the time he’s the man. But what about that dude in the middle? It’s not like he was super convincing or anything. So, Super Sneaky Thai Trick #1. If the Tuk Tuk driver offers you a tour of certain areas for a reasonable price, say 30 baht an hour, be prepared for a stop at whichever Travel Agency he is in cahoots with. Perhaps if you don’t mind going through with the charade of getting a price for your intended “journey”, you can then continue on for the rest of the tour. I however would not be surprised if on that tour was a stop for Thai fashion, a.k.a. an Indian tailor.
Super Sneaky Thai Trick Story #1: I inquire at a tourist information booth near the pier, what my best option is for taking a boat in the harbor. I essentially was trying to find the boats that the locals take and not a tour boat. After getting some information, the kid there informs me that today is the last day of some promotion that the government is doing where for 10 baht you can take a Tuk Tuk around and see a bunch of stuff. He informs me that I can head to the Big Buddha, which I have no idea of the real name, but is a temple of some sort with a really big Buddha statue. Also, the Lucky Buddha is nearby as well. Then he suggest a stop at the T.A.T. Here is where it gets tricky. The T.A.T. is the Tourism Authority of Thailand which I’ve been informed is set up to be a safe place for tourists to get legit information for their travels, and be able to book their trip without commissions and hidden costs. It is situated in a government building and is a legitimate part of the government. This was all explained to me by a Tourist Police officer that I bumped into while visiting the Lucky Buddha. He actually inquired of me how it was that I came to be there at that particular time, explaining to me that it is normally not open to the public on most days and that day happened to be a special exception, therefore very few tourists would be visiting. I won’t get too much into particulars but he explained two things to me. One, the official role of the T.A.T. and its reason for being. If by this point, you’ve already noticed the hordes of travel places, or actually spent time in a few as I have, you will already understand the reason intuitively. The second, some information about getting legitimate Thai suits, made from Thai fabrics. Something about how every school uniform is made by this Thai company, and they do all the suits for Thais going abroad to study or work. So the government heavily pushes their wares, as opposed to people frequenting the many Indian shops, hurting the Thai companies. Anyway, this guy gives me all this info, writes some stuff down for me, and goes on his way, adding to his legitimacy. He helps, and goes. I then head back to my Tuk Tuk driver, who I have now come to understand is probably a student who lives in the countryside who is given the opportunity to live in Bangkok for a couple of months, drive a Tuk Tuk, and get a sense of the city. The Tourism guy explained all that to me as well. I’ve now seen, the Big Buddha, and the Lucky Buddha, so where to next? He suggests that I go to the T.A.T. office now. Good thinking I suppose, I’ll get some information for my trip up north. We drive a few blocks, pull over, and this majestically huge government building that I’m expecting to see is nowhere. It’s a travel agency. Sneaky. I figure I’ll go in, quickly get a price, and test my memory to see if I’ve thoroughly memorized my upcoming trip proposed to me by the last three travel agencies I got stuck going into. Yeah, I said it, three. Somebody has to step in the shit so that you people can leap over it with ease. In and out in a few minutes. Now I’d like to see something else. This is when he suggests Thai fashion. ‘Sure’, I say ‘Why not?’. Here is where I will tell you why not. Because you will get out of the TT, walk about three paces and realize that you have not found yourself in an area bustling with activity and Thai fashion, you will find yourself in the hands of, you guessed it, a fucking Indian tailor. The deal that I’ve made with myself is that when I find myself in a stupid situation that I’m responsible for, I must ride it out. So I did. Not a fun 25 minutes. Although that price did get lower and lower as I attempted to leave. No thanks. After this, I just had him drop me back at Khaosan Road. Point of the story, T.A.T. and Thai fashion.
Always get a straw when you buy a bottle of soda. They recycle the bottles and I doubt splendidly. Many, many lips have touched that bottle. Get a straw. Polei taught me that about China, transfers here as well. The street vendors will usually pour the bottle into a cup, others will use a plastic bag. They pour it right into the bag and drop a straw in. Fancy. I’m reminded of my earliest days of apartment living in the 97-98 era. If you’ve never had the pleasure of hearing my surprisingly lengthy list of things I’ve had to wipe my ass with in dire times, you don’t know what you’re missing.
Divide by 30, that’s roughly your price in US Dollars. Most T-shirts here on the street are 120 baht, many of pretty substandard quality, but some pretty decent ones as well. I’ve only purchased one so far. Turns out that even at $4 a shirt, I’m still pretty particular.

4:11 am. Sitting in the Domestic Terminal of Sydney Airport. I just finished taking an hour long nap at a nearby McDonald’s. I took the train here last night at around 11 pm to avoid having to stay another night at the hostel, and waking up early. It’s easier to come to the airport the night before. I was unaware however, that the terminal is shut down at night so I had about five hours to kill. In comes the 24 hour McDonald’s. One Crispy Chicken Deluxe, one episode of Glee, and one Beatdown podcast later, here I sit. The current incarnation of my plan involves me returning back to Melbourne, for around a month or so. I’ll be sacrificing a trip up the coast but this seems like a much more enjoyable option. I will then be returning to Sydney around mid-December. This will make Sydney the location of my super-warm Christmas, and my super-dope New Year’s. Sydney has been pretty good to me. In many ways, I’m leaving while I’m still on top. I feel like the Barry Sanders of Sydney. This has left me little time to keep up with the website. My apologies for this fact. Of course, the most perceptive of the bunch, will assume that the less I put up on the website, the better things are going for me. When I have time to put up a 3000 word travelogue, edit a video, and perform a hard target search to find the perfect images to go with my posts, I can’t possibly have much going on. Thomday.com’s loss, is Sydney’s gain. My triumphant return to Melbourne will most likely bring about a strong dotcom presence. The Internet at the State Library is extremely good to me. And anyone else who has an ethernet cable with them. Since I didn’t give any thought at all to the need for an ethernet cable in my travels, I did not pack one of the ten that I have for no reason at home.Thankfully, my previous hostel was kind enough to donate one to me. This fact remains unknown to them, but charity isn’t about receiving credit. So they should just appreciate the fact that because of their lack of zip ties on this one lonely ethernet cable, I was able to speedily rip through downloads of Glee, The Ultimate Fighter, and some of NBC’s finest. (No, not Coupling if you were curious.) Some flight attendants just walked by. The FA’s have been pretty darn attractive in every airport I’ve been in internationally. Don’t even get me started on the attendant’s from Air Asia that were in Melbourne when I arrived. I had plenty of time to people watch as I was stuck in the quarantine line for almost two hours, for being stupid enough to claim the random spattering of food that I had in my bag, on my customs form. Two hours wasted because I notified them that I had a candy bar in my bag. This tremendous waste of energy and effort did however manage to track down the lonesome apple that I had packed in my bag to eat the night before and forgotten about. Good job they discovered that nutritious fugitive. We all know that the Royal Gala Apple is the Osama Bin Laden of fruit. The most menacing piece of fruit since the emergence of the black dude who portrays the grapes in the Fruit of the Loom commercials. Nice! Even after seven weeks of travel, and working on one hour of sleep at 4:38 in the morning, I can still access my unabashed racism at a moment’s notice. I think I’m going to go check in for my flight. That’ll be a nice break point for me.

Back at it. That was a bit of a mess. Apparently, I’ve just been notified that rollerblades are considered a dangerous item and I can’t have them in my carry on baggage. Seems as though the previous four times I’ve done so, they either missed them or didn’t care because they are one of the most stupid dangerous items of all time. We all of course remember the tragic events that took place, when Takeshi Yasutoko hijacked a Tiger Airways flight by sneaking into the cockpit and doing a series of 720’s and rail grinds on the instrument panels. As you recall, he was acquitted of all charges by using the now infamous Jet Grind Radio Defense. I had to go back and check in my entire bag which then put me about 7 kilos over my limit of 20 kilos for checked in baggage. I was able to remove about half of it to carry on, but the rest was mostly skate weight. The woman was nice enough to put it through without charging me, but I would not have been pleased with any other outcome. Especially after the sweet $15 savings I made out with on the way here, when the ticket kiosks in King’s Cross wouldn’t work properly and I couldn’t buy a ticket for the train to the airport. The guy just let me through and told me I could just pay when I got to the destination. When you get off at your stop, you have to rescan your ticket in order to be let out, so I was meant to get there with no ticket and then explain to them what happened, and pay. I however, was going to attempt to convince them that I had already paid the guy at King’s Cross, and hope they didn’t care enough to check. Lo and behold, upon my arrival, it was nearly midnight and they had shut down the station for the night, so they gates were off and no one was there. So I was able to walk right on through, which led me to the closed terminal gate, the man in the bright yellow vest, and ultimately, McDonald’s. Money for a haircut.

Man, I seriously have to cover over three weeks of Australia travel in this one travelogue. Maybe if I make it really entertaining I can get Mark fired. Then he can go battle in the job market with some skilled at-risk youth. Maybe I’ll just post this in pieces as I write it. An easy way to tell if that’s what I decide to do: when you get to the final sentence, look back on all the sentences that came before it, and deduce whether or not they covered approximately three weeks of travel. If they haven’t, you can assume that I’m breaking it up.

Just got boned again. Landed here at the Melbourne Airport and I’m officially 0 for 2. When I came off the plane, I walked by a couple of shops on the way to baggage claim and realized there were none with liquor. Unless I’ve been given false information, some airports have duty free liquor you can purchase after domestic flights. Based on my experience here, this is not true. I backtracked all the way through and was able to find nearly anything you could possibly want, aside from proper liquor. There was a fancy wine shop though. Gee, thanks. I really feel like rocking out with a hundred dollar bottle of Savignon Blanc while my fellow BPs are gulping goon out of a box. How posh. Then, I get outside to use my Melbourne expertise to save myself a crisp $10, by not taking the stupid SkyBus or shuttle into the city, and instead taking the 479 bus to Airport West, and then the tram into the city. Not to mention that I enjoy the tram ride. So I get outside and wait for about a half an hour, and just as I’m about to come inside to ask for the bus schedule, the bus comes cruising down the road. In the second lane away from the stop, as cars are pulling up to pick people up, and at a fairly good clip. I grab my bags, walk over to the multitude of other people who also appear to be waiting for a bus, and watch the bus swiftly sail on by. Really? So I headed inside to ask the lady for the schedule. That was the 9:20 bus, which was running a bit early, and she notified me that if there are cars in the way, the bus will just drive straight by unless somebody flags it down. Really? I have a hard time believing that there weren’t another few people out of that massive throng outside who also needed that exact bus, and made the terrible mistake of thinking that it would actually pull over at the fucking bus stop! At least, that’s what it did three weeks ago when I was here. Not to mention that it stayed here for a few minutes to stay on schedule. How nice of him. Anyway, now, I’m stuck here for another 45 minutes as the next bus is at 10:05. And if I somehow magically miss that one as well, I’ll be stuck taking the stupid shuttle because the next 479 doesn’t come for another four hours. Come 10:05, that motherfucker is getting flagged down. No doubt.

I flagged him down. He notified me that everyone should have waited closer to the bend in the road since the coach buses were blocking the buses parking spot. That is of course information that every traveller who is departing the airport should have. If you didn’t already know that sweet little golden nugget of information, then you shouldn’t be traveling. Because you’re an imbecile. Everybody knows that. Near the bend. I’m tired now. I tend to sleep very little before flights. I’m always buying early ones.

Get it? Travelong. Because it’s a travelogue. But it’s really, really long. It needs to be after taking 15 days since the last one to finish another one. What the fuck have I been doing for all that time that kept me from being up to date? If only there was some way for me to figure that out. Wait! I’ll just actually read what I wrote. That’ll tell me. It may be scattered since I did it over the course of a week or so. And I haven’t gone back to read any of it. So here it is.
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I think I have writer’s block. I haven’t written anything serious in the last four stops. The Internet is down at the moment, so I figured now would be a good time to catch up. I’ll have to bounce all over the place in an attempt to cover everything somewhat appropriately.

Right now I’m in Queenstown. I’ll get back to that later. Although, I did just get back from the 4 Square, picking up some milk and eggs, and I stopped at the Queenstown Jazzfest in the center of town. Anyone who knows anything, knows that I have a general dislike for jazz. The single exception of course, being Jeff Hornacek. I have to give credit though to the Neil Cowley Trio, because the last few songs that I heard, smashed. They weren’t just all doom-ba-doom-doom, doom-doom-ba-doom-doom. They’ll be onstage again tomorrow in the afternoon so I’m going to go back and get some footage.

So, back in time now. I’ll have to steal a little bit from my written journal since I don’t remember too much from that far back. This is on my way from Taupo down to Wellington: On the bus to Wellington. Bought a chocolate bar for a treat. How extravagant. I found myself really wanting some chocolate the other night. So here it is. I wonder how many times I’ve listened to ‘Take A Bow’ from Glee? Great song. I was at the bus early again. I’m pretty pleased with that. I can’t film from this seat. Doesn’t matter really. I never get good footage anyway. Bus is moving. Laters!

Wellington. Stayed there for a couple of days. Didn’t explore very much. Went for a walk along the waterfront the first night there. Pretty nice. Found a pretty sweet playground with a super-tall slide. It looked to be about 25 feet high. Yeah, I did it. I slid down that sucker. Good speed from the top, I was impressed. Slowed down a tad at the bottom which lessened the overall experience. Still nice. I tried to film it but it was pretty dark. I stayed at a pretty fancy hostel, Downtown Backpackers. Formerly the Waterloo Hotel, the Queen stayed there in 1953 I believe. Had a vintage vibe to it. Not bad. Te Papa, a pretty wicked museum from what I’m told. I can’t back that up, I didn’t go. I was looking forward to taking the cable car up to the Botanical Gardens. I don’t really like gardens that much, but I had my reasons for going. I won’t get into those, because I didn’t go. Too windy. Apparently, Wellington is known as The Windy City. I can back that up. That shit was windy. Made going out and exploring completely unappealing. I did meet TK at the Subway though. That was interesting. He’s an aspiring R&B singer and seems pretty active in the local scene. I’m waiting for his single to get finished so I can hear what his stuff sounds like. I got a free cookie out of the deal too. Foot-long pork rib sub. Dope. I’ve had some sweet ass pork out here which has been great, as I haven’t had a delicious McRib sandwich in years. The stuff out here is a suitable replacement. Enough Wellington. Next!

Ferry to Picton. I’m told the ferry to PIcton is one of the most scenic ferry rides in the whole world. I can back that up. What I mean by that is, I can back that sentence up to the beginning, and tell you that I have no clue whether or not it is true. Because I slept the entire trip. The whole trip. I didn’t get to sleep in time the night before as I was being completely irresponsible and talking online. Then it was so late, that it made sense to just stay up and then take the ferry.

Got to Picton, then took the bus to Nelson. Arrived in Nelson a few minutes early, and Joe was nowhere to be found. Uh-oh. (Did anyone else think of Spaghetti-Os?) I waited for a while and nothing. So I asked the bus driver if there was another bus drop-off somewhere. Apparently there was one just two blocks away. So I figured Joe must be there. At the same exact time, Joe was sitting at that other bus stop, asking the same question. And he received the same answer. So he figured I must be there. I left mine, and he left his. At the same time. That could have been disastrous. Luckily, as I was about to cross the main intersection on my way to the other stop, he was driving through the intersection and happened to spot me through the somewhat-heavy rain. He beeped, I looked. End of story.

Nelson feels like it was quite some time ago. It’s been less than a week since I left, but out here, things have a way of disappearing from memory very quickly. It’s remarkable really. I go to sleep, wake up, and the previous day is wiped clean. It’s kind of like jamais vu. That’s traveling life I guess. Back to Nelson. Let’s see. Went to Joe’s farm, which I did not realize was a farm until he mentioned it in an email. About a half hour from the town of Nelson. He mentioned to me that the weather had been beautiful there ever since he returned from L.A. but that was supposed to shift pretty much immediately. Just my luck. However, it was still better than what I had been accustomed to. I re-met his wife, Frances and within a couple of hours of my arrival, I was out with her watching/helping with the animals. Much like MIke’s famous Rum and Cokes (More rum than Coke), there was much more watching than helping. I’ll give a quick animal rundown best I can recall. Of course there is the world famous Gully. Equally awesome, Rosie the wallaby. Joe’s daughter, Mana, is apparently one of a select few who is allowed to have a wallaby in her possession. I forget the exact reason, but she has a special permit to keep them on her property. Not only does she have Rosie there, but there is also two more. Crazy. The restrictions are so strict that once these three are gone, she won’t be allowed to have any more. Also, they are unable to reproduce. Part of the restrictions. So based on the scarcity factor, already Rosie is pretty awesome. But, there’s more. Since Mana raised Rosie from a baby, she is extremely timid and actually allows people to be close to her. The other two will have nothing to do with that. Rosie just had surgery on her jaw, so every day Mana has to catch her outside and bring her into a room they have set up for her, so she can take her medication and eat. Seems like a fairly complicated process sometimes. Frances explained to me how they do it. It has something to do with grabbing her from behind. Something about her not being backwardly mobile. So someone gets in front of her, blocking her forward movement, while someone else grabs her front legs from behind. Much harder in practice than it sounds though. One time they were out there for like twenty five minutes trying to get her. Me and Joe just watched the news and drank coffee. I hand fed Rosie an almond, and some type of tree branch. I was able to pet her just like a dog. Wicked. Double awesome. The video should be up here somewhere. Other animals. Some kind of turtle. I couldn’t really see it. But it had a big ass cage setup. Two powerful looking horses. I believe they were trotters. I think that’s the kind of racing horse that has a dude in a cart of some sort behind it as opposed to a jockey sitting on top. Joe told me that one of them had quite an impressive career apparently. I think they are going to breed a super-trotter. There was a couple of white ponies. I think there was an alpaca. I’ll have to compare my video to photos of alpacas. There might have been a couple of those. There was certainly a couple more somethings that I don’t remember. Then there was the other two wallabies who are always outdoors. They are actually kept in a cage that is locked and is pretty well reinforced. Security. They are pretty well prized from what I gather. Then there was a tui. That is some kind of bird. Look it up. This particular tui Mana had saved because he had some kind of head injury, and forgot how to fly. So she had him in a cage, and was reteaching him how to fly. While I was there, his progress seemed to be pretty good. He was able to fly for a few feet, like a jump fly. He’ll get the hang of it soon I bet. Oh, and I almost forgot about Yam and Charlie. Those are two cats that Mana saved from being put down at the animal shelter. They were terrific. Yam took to me very quickly and sat on my lap while we watched some news. Charlie, who apparently is much more timid right now, seemed quite fond of me as well. Matter of fact, I spent a couple of very uncomfortable nights in bed with him, as he likes to lay exactly where your legs are supposed to go. As you may know, I hate to disturb sleeping cats, so I just tilted my legs, or crunched up so as not to bother him. It was just like sleeping with Kenzie all over again. A little taste of home. Charlie had an awesome grey and white color. Very nice. I would have taken him home if I could have.

Other quick Nelson hits. Joe has a spa, so that was nice. We had a soak the first night I was there. It was very refreshing. He left to go shower so I was out there alone for a while and that’s when I noticed the stars. They were ridiculous. Very little light pollution out in his area, so the stars were extremely bright. It was almost like a planetarium. I couldn’t even find constellations because there was so many stars. No, I couldn’t find any asterisms either. Also, I rode a quad for the first time. Also known as a four-wheeler. Joe has one of those big ones, he uses it for farm type stuff. So I got to take that for a little spin. I didn’t get crazy speed or anything, but I got enough to see why people enjoy those things so much. It was an interesting ride. I whipped it around a couple more times before I left. Nothing major. I tried Vegemite. Rundown: looks like a chocolate spread. Tastes nothing like chocolate. Tastes like what would happen if chocolate went out on an all-nighter, came home, and barfed all over himself. Repeatedly. Then fell asleep. Then you ate him. It wasn’t the worst thing I ever put in my mouth, seeing as how I did actually have sex with J.C. back in the day. (No, not J.C. Chasez. Also not Dr. John Carter from ER, which would be a veiled reference to Jeff. That was Eddie that did that.) Back to the Vegemite though, pretty nasty aftertaste. I’ll leave it at that. I ate a spaghetti sandwich with an egg on top, somehow that is normal here. I checked out Joe’s model trains, he has a pretty sizable collection. I learned that I’m pretty terrible at starting up miniature trains on the track. It seems to require some kind of deft touch that I don’t possess. I helped put together a couple of cabinets Ikea-style with Joe. I used a drill to screw in the screws which is new. I usually just use my hand until my palm is raw in the middle. Seems more manly. Shit, that guitar riff in the beginning of Michael Jackson’s Black or White is pretty wicked. “Dad, this is the best part!”. Anyway, I got a personal tour of some parts of Nelson which was nice. I had dinner the night before I left with Joe and his wife, and two couples they are friends with. That was actually a lot of fun. It was easily the best conversation I’ve been a part of at an adult dinner scenario. Those dudes were making pretty funny jokes, referencing blow jobs and all that. I could have taken a sweet ass boat ride with one of them if the other guy he fishes with wasn’t away in the States. Too bad. He was talking about this vicious whirlpool you have to go through and how if you don’t go in with enough speed, you don’t come out. Awesome. But, my timing was off for that one. Maybe another time. Joe did say I was always welcome back. He said I should come back with my wife or girlfriend someday. I just may take him up on that. My Russian mail order bride will love it there. That may sum up Nelson fairly well. Cat food with Gully, almonds with Rosie, crumpled legs with Charlie, full lap with Yam, cabinets with Joe, dinners with Frances, and blow job jokes with strangers. Vegemite, quads, scary big horses, outdoor spa under the stars, and clean laundry. All in all, very impressive from a random conversation on an airplane. And those weren’t even his seats. Life on life’s terms.

Fast forward. I’m in Christchurch now. Final stop in New Zealand before leaving for Australia. I just walked around for an hour or so in the city center. Pretty normal stuff as far as that goes. Some interesting shops and stuff. Looks pretty Manhattan-ish as far as the buildings are concerned. Just has a similar vibe to me. Auckland had a bit cleaner feel to it. What I just saw had a dirtier, grittier texture. I looked at some fliers to see if anything jumped out at me for tonight or tomorrow but the few things of interest are weeks away. That tends to be the case with those things. Nelson had a flyer up for some New Zealand Muay Thai competition that was raising money for the best fighters in NZ to get to the World Muay Thai Championships in Bangkok. But the event is next week. I’ll be gone. So, on the timing front, everything seems to either be weeks away, or happened weeks ago. I got depressed as shit walking around just now, it didn’t occur to me until right now but perhaps it had something to do with the New York feel to this section. I’ve had to drink some particularly thick Faith milkshakes as of late. I’m not sure what the fuck that is supposed to mean exactly, but my brain has been back in action lately. My mood truly is working elevator status in recent times. I’ve really only got one day here and I don’t expect to do too much. There seems to be some trolley car that does a loop through the city, I could be convinced to do that. Otherwise, there was a pretty bizarre fish and chip place that I walked into. I noticed it because it had some old school looking arcade games in there. Street Fighter II is the only one I remember off the top of my head. And they were 40 cents which is about as close as you’re going to get to a good old-fashioned arcade game for a quarter. Then I noticed the fairly loud dance music, and that the dude behind the counter had on headphones and appeared to be the order taker/deejay. I may go back tomorrow for lunch. I already had fish and chips for a random lunch during a bus stop on the way here. I need some fruit to snack on. I’ve gotten accustomed to buying groceries and having those handy. I’m not sure how close the grocery store is. The Maori guy who tried to sell me acid, told me it was on the other side of town, but also said it wasn’t too far. Not very helpful. While I’m on the topic, so I was walking back to the hostel from my brief stroll around town at which point I was in a fairly sour mood. I walked by this car and as I did, a dude inside yells toward me, “Hey!”. Naturally, I completely ignore him as if I didn’t even hear him. Solves that, right? Wrong. He then yells two more times, each “Hey!” louder than the one preceding it. Now I’m thinking that this is strange. I start to wonder if he thinks that I”m someone else, and if he does, I don’t think the tone of his voice sounded too great for that person / me. There was a slight chance that he thought that I was Lance Bass circa 2000, but I threw that possibility out fairly quickly. Unlikely. I’m now walking about 10 car lengths ahead of where he was, and I start to hear footsteps pounding behind me. “This motherfucker is running at me now!” I think to myself with glee. I ignore that as well. He comes up on the side of me and touches me on the back and drops another “Hey” at me. I take off my earmuffs and ask him what’s up. Long and short of the conversation is this:

Maori Guy: You from New Zealand?
thom day: No.
Maori Guy: Are you traveling?
thom day: Yeah.
Maori Guy: Where are you from?
thom day: The U.S.
Maori Guy: Cool. I’m a Kiwi. Well, Maori. You going out tonight?
thom day: Nah. I just got in. I doubt I’ll be going out.
Maori Guy: Oh. I’ve got some acid hits to sell.
thom day: Nah. I’m all good. Thanks though.
Maori Guy: Something, something, something.
thom day: Hey, are there any good grocery stores around here?
End scene.

I found that to be fairly bizarre behavior for a drug dealer. He was extremely persistent with that approach. My theory is that he must have been either certain that I looked like the kind of dude who would definitely be going out to party on a Friday night, or the kind of crazy, beardy dude who gets yacked up on acid and floats around town scaring the normies. One way I guess i’d be flattered, and the other way I’d have to say is probably a fairly reasonable guess.

I was supposed to be trying to spend the night at a backpacker’s that was formerly a jail of some sort. I thought that would be a different atmosphere to be involved in for a couple of days but it was a bit of a hassle getting there. I wasn’t really sure on the location as I usually just figure out a rough idea of where things are and then sort them out on the ground. Not to mention the fact that I was unable to book online, so there was an off chance of getting there and it being full. What did I do instead, you ask? Well I’ll tell you. I walked through the Cathedral Square which was my lone point of reference and stopped to watch two guys play chess with super-big pieces. I asked a worker there where Lincoln Street is. She said it was pretty far away. I wasn’t pleased with that. Heavy bags and all. I went for it anyway. I started walking in the direction that I had given myself the impression was the correct one, and walked for about 10 minutes. I saw no hostels. Not good as there was a large cluster on the map I had seen and I missed all of them. I wanted to find at least one in case I decided to quit on the jail place. Long story short, I walked for about a half hour in a complete circle, ending right back at the Cathedral Square with serious stiffness, and popped into the information center. Which is exactly what I should have done in the first place, but I had already reverted back to old Thom before I got off the bus. I asked the lady there where a nearby hostel was and she told me that Base was right there. Literally, right there. I could fucking see it from the door of the info center. I was right there two minutes after getting off the bus. What a dickhead. Base was my backup plan for the jail backpackers. Old Thom sucks hard. Came to Base, paid for the night, and then went for a walk. You heard the rest. That’s Christchurch for now. I doubt I’ll have much to add to that.

Back to where I left off. Joe drops me off at the bus in Nelson. We had decided that Saturday morning would be a good time to catch the bus since he was having some kind of guests over for Sunday afternoon. So, that was my bus, Saturday morning. I get to the bus, and wait. Just me, some dude, and some girl. Bus comes, me and the girl get on. We start to chat a little bit. I forget why, but it was somewhat unorthodox considering the fact that I have not had much to say to anybody since I’ve been here. But if I’m engaged, I’ll usually get involved. So we start talking about whatever, turns out she is from Brazil, and her friend didn’t like traveling so she left her kind of hanging, so she continued on solo. So, we talked for a half hour or so, and I copied her iPod to get some different music. That’s the first time I have done that on the trip. We finished chatting for the most part and went back to the typical bus routine. The bus stopped about an hour into the ride, as it often does, to pick up new passengers. I was pretty out of it since this was the 7:30am bus, and I had some rough sleep, courtesy of Charlie and his bed hogging habits. I groggily glanced up from my rumpled against the window position, and was pretty surprised. Here was this totally hot Indian (not Indian) girl pulling her bag out of a car. “Wow” I think to myself sleepily, “That is probably the prettiest girl that I’ve seen in New Zealand this entire trip.” She gets on the bus, and sits all the way in the back, non-Rosa Parks style. Over the next few minutes I do a couple of those weird ‘glancing at the back of the bus while trying to make it appear as though there is any reason at all to be glancing at the back of the bus’ glances. “Yup, still hot” I gather. I go back to my business of being solitary until the bus stops about 20 minutes later for a quick break. I go in for a bathroom break with the rest. I pop out, and start browsing through the brochures trying to get some clue of what to do while I’m in Franz Josef. I’m checking out some seal business, some 4×4 business, stuff like that. Lo and behold, who pops up on the side of me. You got it. I proceed to get into the awkward ’standing at the brochures not talking much like being in an elevator with a stranger’ stance and continue my business. However, for one brief moment I had to break my month long silence. So I busted out the classic, “Where are you heading?”. I can get into a serious psychological discussion in regard to that very statement but that is a matter for a different post. No time for that now. No need for me to get into serious detail on all the conversation that transpired afterwards, so I’ll compress. Turns out she lives in New Zealand, but is originally from Malaysia. It’s about time that I met someone who isn’t German or Canadian. Nice. We talked about Kuala Lumpur and belly dancing. She had me at belly dancing. We got back on the bus and I promptly switched my seat to the back. Notable highlights from the next six hours of the trip: Kuala Lumpur / Malaysia travel tips, belly dancing info / history, beautiful smiles, me laughing so often that my cheeks started to hurt, me being notified that my cheeks are hurting because I don’t smile enough, me accusing her of punching me in the face while I was napping thereby causing the suspicious cheek pain, music conversation, iPod copying, the classic ‘two people listening to the same iPod each with one headphone’ scenario, me letting it be clearly known while listening to a Twista track, that given the time to listen and learn the song, I can rap any Twista verse that I’ve ever come across. Other highlights: her fabulously hard to describe accent, checking out the Pancake Rocks, me being pissed that I was too lazy to brush my teeth that morning before leaving, listening to the following songs shuffle off of her iPod: Peter Cetera [The Glory Of Love], Paul Simon [You Can Call Me Al] and Queen [I Want To Ride My Bicycle]. I could probably go on for quite a while with that. Just assume the rest of the trip was pretty much stuff like that. I forgot to mention earlier in the story that while we were standing at the brochures, I told her randomly that I thought she was very beautiful. That’s a new one. That’s a bit of the old school Thom. The extremely never successful Thom. Read a psychology book folks. You don’t do that. We can get into details on that later as well, just trust me on the general point. On this occasion, it was too early, and I was too careless, to give a shit. I thought she was beautiful, so I let her know. No reason not to. As it turned out, as I mentioned in a post a couple of days ago, she was crazy funny as well. I haven’t had that much fun with a complete stranger since I walked across 7th Ave. I needed that. I’ll end the tale with a couple of her captivatingly hilarious one sentence reviews on two of the less popular towns in the South Island. Her reaction to my telling her I only stayed in Picton for about three hours. “Picton only needs three hours.” Nice. And her take on what appears to be the least best town around, Westport. “Westport is a fucking hole.” Brilliant! No doubt. She left me with a hug in Greymouth and I left with a smile. On to Franz Josef.

Franz Josef and Fox Glacier. About twenty minutes apart. Both sporting a sweet glacier to check out. I was originally heading to Fox Glacier based strictly on name-coolness factor. Joe mentioned to me that Franz Josef was a better place to go and if I recall correctly, a couple of other people backed that opinion up. So I chose Franz Josef. Good choice. The center of time is quite small, and typically very quiet. You don’t see too many cars driving around so it creates a nice, peaceful sense to the place. I chose to stay at the Rainforest Retreat which I’d say was also a pretty good choice. Just relaxed and peaceful. They also have the biggest spa that I’ve come across. Everywhere that I’ve been has had one that is standard sized, comfortably fitting 4-6 people, whereas this place had a giant one that was made for 20. Of course, the jets didn’t work on half of it, so it ended up that only 4-6 people could really get the full effect. The fact that it was outside was a plus though. I think I was in there on two separate occasions when the sun was setting. The first time was pretty wicked because it had started to drizzle a bit and as the sun went down over the mountains off in the distance, a sneaky rainbow joined the sky party. The spa group enjoyed that addition. Nothing else of substance there aside from the super-smashed English lady who didn’t have a bathing suit with her so she hopped into the spa with her panties and nothing else. She had her flapjack titties on full display for all to not want to see. And since she was so drunk, she kept going on and on about the fact that she wasn’t wearing a top. And the fact that she had “fallen asleep” in the pub. That gave me the impression that “falling asleep” was code for “drinking enough alcohol to drown a wallaby, and passing the fuck out in a bar like Andy Capp”. Then, her friend / traveling buddy came out from the pub to bring a drink to her in the hot tub, and this girl was about 25 years younger and 25 times prettier. I think I speak for the whole group when I say that I found myself thinking that we had gotten the short end of the stick on that deal. The wrong kid died. She was in there for about two hours, then she got out, took some poor French dude’s towel, and wrapped herself up in it and disappeared. Don’t worry though, she came back. And got back in. I got out shortly thereafter, pretended I didn’t have a towel at all since she kept asking me if she could use it, and walked back to my room soaking wet. I dried off in the parking lot. I had a girl in my room who did some kind of traveling work fixing up trails and stuff at parks and state reservations. I mention her solely based on the fact that she had a vintage Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles towel, and when I told her that it was awesome, she told me that she used to use it as a little kid in Myles Standish of all places. She was from Tennessee but there was some reason she ended up there as a kid visiting family friends or something. I definitely didn’t expect someone to namedrop Myles Standish in Franz Josef or New Zealand period for that matter. FJ was notable for two other reasons off the top of my head. Reason one: I was successful in testing my new Internet “borrowing” method at the Rainforest Retreat. That came in extremely handy for a couple of days as I was able to download a number of things while also getting my Skype on. I also brought bean bags back into the mix. I haven’t chilled on a bean bag in so long I can’t even remember back that far. So I bean bagged it in the corner of the computer room during my free FJ time. Otherwise, I kissed the glacier, grabbed some rocks, stuff like that. As I mentioned in the video, that glacier was dirty but if you can make a pretty lady smile, you do it. But crazy dirty. It wasn’t the dirtiest thing I ever put in my mouth, seeing as how I did actually have sex with J.C. back in the day. (No, not Joe Carter from the Toronto Blue Jays. Also not Jim Caviezel nor the character he portrayed in Passion of the Christ. Also not Jim Crow, Joey Chestnut, or John Cena). It was however the second wettest thing to go in my mouth that wasn’t a beverage. First place goes to Faith on that one. Blue Ribbon! Notable reason number two: Anouk and Jennifer. Darn, I might have spoken a bit prematurely on the prettiest girl in NZ front. These two certainly win the title of prettiest pair in New Zealand. Shit, they might be the prettiest pair I’ve come across on any continent. They even give Melanie a run for her money. (Take a second to figure out the “pair” joke I just made there). I wonder if they know the Beauty Boss? I originally thought they were Brazilian but it turns out they were from Holland. I know this because when I came back from grocery shopping, they were sitting at the counter having tea, with their dirty dinner dishes off to the side. So, after I dropped my bags, I walked by, grabbed their plates without saying a word, and put them in the sink. I then went about getting my dinner preparations started without paying them any mind. After a minute or so, Jennifer asked me if I work there, I said no, and she asked why I grabbed their dishes. So I told her, “You don’t want to sit drinking tea with dirty dishes right there. You’re too pretty for dirty dishes”. I then walked away and went back to my dinner plans. Another minute or so passed, and she asked me if I would like some tea. You know I did. Dinner went into hibernation mode for about 45 minutes as I had some tea with what has to be the two prettiest girls in Holland. We talked about whatever, and that was that. Too bad I have a plane ticket to Melbourne instead of Fiji. Oh, Whammy! I finished dinner, said goodbye, and ta-dah. That’s the story of how I ended up on hyves.nl, which is essentially the Facebook of the Netherlands.

There’s still more. On to the bus for Queenstown. Final stop before heading to the Christchurch Airport. This post is starting to wear me out so I may get brief. I’ve been writing this for days now. Queenstown. Quite nice. I picked a hostel online that looked good beforehand, so I took the ten minute walk up the hill to check it out. Nice place. First place that I’ve come across that advertised free Internet and actually delivered. Aside from the fact that the kitchen/TV area where the Internet was located closed at midnight, it lived up to its promise. All the water there including the showers and sinks, was filtered. I’m not quite sure how much of a difference that makes, but they seemed pretty proud of it. There were signs all over the place. The guy that runs the place was really laid back and the overall experience was quite nice. They had a little dog running around and sometimes he would bring his little green ball with him and if you threw that thing even one time, you were in for about a half an hour of fetch. He was pretty skilled though. I had gotten myself pretty convinced that I would actually spend some money on this trip for something touristy and entertaining, and Queenstown was going to be the place to do it. It is the site of the largest bungee jump in New Zealand. I found the price to be displeasing to me however. It was $250 NZ. Where things got a bit tricky was when I realized they had a pretty wicked canyon swing as well. You could do both for $360. Still, it just seemed like too much for the jump. So I decided that if I’m going to pay that much for a jump, then I want something even bigger. So I found it. The Macau Tower in Macau, China. If I remember correctly, the one in Queenstown is about 140m high. The one in Macau is 230m. That’s a height of about 760 feet. Highest in the world. There’s another one in Switzerland I believe as well that is just a little bit shorter than that. So, both are future options. The city itself had a pretty amazing surrounding area. As you walk down the hill from Deco (the Hostel), you face a large sloping hill with a few hundred houses built all the way up. Off to the right is a is the city center and a fairly sizable lake. Behind that, it a bunch of snow-capped mountains in the distance. So you’ve got this small city center, surrounded by a hill of houses, and a lake that is backdropped with mountains. A very cool sight. I never took any pictures of that mainly based on laziness. I spend most of my time taking care of business as usual. While exchanging some money in town I happened upon the Queenstown Jazz Festival and caught the end of a pretty good band’s set. The Neil Cowley Trio from London. I made it a point to catch their next show the next day. I also made it a point to show up so late, that I only caught the last two songs. But, they had a third and final show at a hotel, so I went to that for the whole two hour set. I filmed about half of it. They had some great songs. They were very unjazz-like. That was a good fit for me as I have a serious dislike for jazz music. I decided to leave Queenstown to get a couple of days in at Christchurch before flying out to Australia. Very nice town. I imagine it is a pretty cute place for couples. I considered stopping in Wanaka for a day as well on my way out, but then I read that it was considered one of the 10 most romantic locations in the world so I decided to skip it. I’m not sure who voted on that.

-Editorial Note- I wrote a section earlier in this post in regard to Christchurch. I forgot that I did that, and today, while finishing this up, I put an explanation about Christchurch. I was going to take this one out, but I decided to leave them both in, as is, so everyone could get a view of how the exact same events, described by the same exact person, but at different times, are captured. Somewhat interesting.-

Up to Christchurch. Another long bus ride. Piece of cake at this point. I get to Christchurch and as usual, I had a very rough estimate as to where I needed to go to get to my chosen hostel which was housed in a former jail. It was much more out of the way from the Cathedral Square than the other hostels, but I was partial to the jail. I was given rough directions as to how to get to the street I wanted and after about 15 minutes of heavy walking, I was looking to be nowhere. As my back started to hurt, I got much less interested in the far off jail hostel. I looped back around to get to the Square again, and about 30-35 minutes after leaving there in the first place, I returned and went into the information booth as I should have initially. I asked about hostels and she let me know that the Base Backpackers was right across the street. I turned around and looked, and there it was. The Base sign. I couldn’t believe I walked all that way when I could have just gone to Base which was about two minutes from the bus. I went with Base. It worked out really well that I made that choice. I walked around Christchurch after checking in and dropping off my luggage and I felt like it had a real gritty New York City feel in a few areas that I passed. Of course, this got me thinking about Faith, and of course this got me feeling like garbage. So I walked back to the hostel, and kind of just plopped myself in bed for a bit. A girl came into the room and starting talking to me and the dude in the bunk above me who I hadn’t even seen yet. She was being pretty ridiculous, and I ended up talking to her and the dude above me for a little while. Then her friend came in and she was even weirder, and more ridiculous. Crazy. I did have to give them credit though, because after that walk I was very distracted, depressed, and felt pretty antisocial. I most likely would have just gone to bed. Instead, I ended up drinking a ton of whiskey with a couple of German dudes and got pretty juiced. I Skyped for a bit, did a little drunk Facebooking, and did a couple of good deeds. Plus I cried too. That was bizarre. Had to let that out a bit I guess. Oh, and before that, me and Zane (the dude from the bunk above me) had a real nice drunk conversation about a bunch of different shit. I don’t really remember any details from any of my conversations but I laid down some interesting stuff I think. And it got me started on a two day teaching session with Zane about psychological warfare and the role of the “good guy” in that war. Kind of sparked my own interest in the subject again. I realized that there is a lot of good work for me to do out there. Before I left yesterday, he mentioned that talking to me for the weekend was a complete mindfuck. That’s what it’s supposed to be about. Getting the right information into the right hands. So, first night there, I get to sleep at about 7am and wake up at right around 10am. Somehow, I had very little hangover symptoms even though I drank a ton and never had an ounce of water. Who knows. Zane made some delicious strawberry pancakes for the three of us (Michelle and Lindsay from Canada and me) since he already had breakfast. I was inspired to lay down some strawberry pancake action myself at some point. In return, Michelle and Lindsay made some wicked tacos for dinner that night. I played no role in either, but somehow I was involved in both. Typical me. But I bought ice cream for desert. Unfortunately, we were all so full after dinner that desert went uneaten. Zane and I ate the chocolate ice cream for breakfast in the morning so it didn’t go to waste. Made a lunch stop at Funk’n Fish And Chips which was the coolest tiny gross place ever. I had seen it the day before. It’s a pretty small fish and chip place with about 10 old school arcade games in it. Most notably, Street Fighter II and the Neo Geo setup. On top of that, revolving disco lights and best of all, loud dance music being deejayed by the guy behind the counter who takes the orders and cooks. And deejays of course. Seriously, he’s back there behind the cash register with his big headphones on mixing it up. So strange. So I went back for lunch on Saturday. And it was closed. But Zane noticed that the door was cracked open. So he pushed it, and we went in. The place was completely shut down. I checked it out and couldn’t find anybody in there. Everything was off. It was spooky. I checked for a dead body. Nothing. Zane noticed that the door lock was sticking out in the locked position, but when it was turned they must not have had the doors flush and they didn’t realize that the lock didn’t catch. So the place was ours. We turned on the surge protector for Street Fighter II and a couple of other games but neither one of us had much change to play. I tried to get into the register to “borrow” some change, but I couldn’t get the button that opened it up. So we decided to go to the grocery store to get some stuff, grab some change, and come back. So we did. Had a brief scare at the grocery store when I couldn’t find my Bengals Visa and thought to myself that I may have dropped it at the hostel and would have to go through the hassle of replacing it. I found it back on my bed though. We were on our way back about a half hour later with the groceries and the guy was just opening up the place. So we went in and played a few games. And listened to some groovy dance music. If this time last year, you told me I’d be playing Street Fighter II with a dude from Oregon in a fish and chip place with a deejaying cook in Christchurch, New Zealand, I may not have believed you. Just saying. We went out later that night as well with this guy Wayne from South Africa who was in town for the weekend. It was free to get into Calendar Girls, so that was the call. We successfully got Zane to lose his strip club virginity so that’s pretty impressive. The girls didn’t seem to care either way so that was that. It was pretty standard. Nothing special. I spend exactly zero dollars. I didn’t want to drink really, not that I would have at those prices anyway. My lapdance rule stayed in full effect, and unfortunately, I had no cash left at all since I had to use cash at the grocery store. I always like to give the girls something for being onstage, I don’t think its fair to just watch. But I had nothing. So I pretended not to watch. What was interesting that this place did was this. They gave change there in strip club money. $1 and $5 strip club bills. So you could give that to the girls or buy another drink with it. The reason that is cool is twofold. First, you have to spend the change in the establishment. Second, in NZ, like in Canada and AU, $1 and $2 is a coin, and not a bill. In Canada, its always lame because you can’t really give a girl a tip like you would in the States. You end up just kind of throwing the coin on stage. It’s really lame. But here, you could give a bill in the spectrum of ways to strip club bill give. I didn’t do it, but it’s nice to have the option.

We headed from there to a bar that was doing karaoke. Notables from there. They did not have Outkast’s ‘Hey Ya’ so I didn’t do a song. That is the song I prefer to do. A few Kiwis there smelled awful. Danced a bit to the songs in between the karaoke. Yeah, that’s that. I showed Zane and the girls how to successfully pull off the on-the-street-dance-walk that I have crafted and Zane grabbed a little footage of it. Went home, crashed around 3am, and woke around 9am. Checked out and was going to head to the airport early in the afternoon, but I stayed around the city until about 10pm to hang out with Zane and the girls. I tried Tim Tams on the recommendation of the girls before leaving. Tim Tams are cookie-like things that have a filling in between. They have different fillings depending on what you want. We had chocolate fudge or something. They are shaped like a rectangle so what you do is bite off one corner, turn it around and bite off the diagonal corner. Then you take a hot drink, like hot chocolate, put one corner in, and suck through the other corner like a straw until you feel it soak through and fill up the cookie. Then you shove the whole thing in your mouth. The hot chocolate melts the cookie as you bite into it. It’s a pretty different sensation. It’s gooey and not too shabby. I made my goodbyes and headed off to the airport on the bus. I forgot to mention that I bumped into the girls from Holland at the hostel. They were in the computer room when I saw them and they were very excited to see me. As it turns out, they had remembered what I had taught them in Franz Josef about stealing the Internet from the hostels and where attempting to do it. I had to tell that however, that it wasn’t working at this particular location. That’s too bad, I would have been quite the hero. Irrelevant. since they were forced to be excited to see me. Anchoring! The best part of that story, and perhaps the best part of the entire trip so far, was when I mentioned something to them about the website and I casually asked Anouk if she remembered the website address. And she said, “thomdayyy”. It’s extremely hard to capture in writing, but it is easily, without a doubt, the cutest way I have ever heard someone say my name. Period. I was extremely impressed. I mentioned to Zane afterwards that I didn’t think that she realized that she is way too pretty to have paid attention to anything that I said back in Franz Josef. But I guess she did. Go figure. There was a recount in the Prettiest Girl In New Zealand competition. Anouk won. By a landslide. As I’m choosing to not focus on looks right now, I am giving her the title of The Sweetest. “thomdayyy”. I happened to briefly bump into them two more times before leaving on Sunday. They were flying out the same day to Fiji. Fucking Melbourne. Don’t think I didn’t consider switching that ticket. You know I did. Oh, you know I did. Whatever. I’ll end up in Holland at some point. Mr. Holland and shit. And I will bring my opus, oh I will bring my opus. Got to the airport at 10:30 or so, and waited for my flight at 6:25. Another long night. But I napped a little bit I think. And once I was able to get into the international departure area when it opened I was able to get 15 minutes of free wireless access so I could make a phone call. What’s that you say? Only 15 minutes? Cool out Andy Warhol, don’t worry, I tricked it into giving me as much time as I wanted. I’m getting pretty good at this. So, if you’re ever in the Christchurch Airport, once your 15 minutes is up, just go into your network settings and figure out what your current IP address is, and then manually change the address by switching the last two numbers. Reopen your browser and create a new account. Ta-dah! Takes 20 seconds. Then make another phone call. Or read The Prince Of Valiant online. Whatever you like. On the plane to Oz. That plane in fact, did defy gravity.

Day 15. Yikes. Time for my travel Quinceanera I suppose. At least I can finally get rid of these flat shoes. So, Taupo. What to say? Lake Taupo is the largest lake in New Zealand. It did look pretty large. Got there on Saturday afternoon (Friday night for you), walked to my chosen hostel, which by the way, was the first one I’ve attempted to book in advance. Had a feeling I should, but I couldn’t see anywhere online to book it. So I just showed up. Stood in line for about a half hour with my heavy-ass bag on my back to find out that they were completely booked. I asked her where another good place to go would be. She notified me that pretty much the entire town was booked, but that the YHA could have a room. She gives me directions, I’ll repeat them here. Go up two blocks, take a right, then a left. I say, “Okay. Go up two blocks (and point), take a right, then a left.” To which she responds, “Yes. Go up two blocks, take a right, then a left.” Guess what I did. I went up two blocks, took a right, and then a left. Care for me to elaborate on where that went exactly? Well I can’t. Because I don’t have a fucking clue where that went exactly. It went absolutely nowhere.

So I then had to walk back to the center of town, which is where I started in the first place. Except now, I had what felt like shoulder gonorrhea. I found an information kiosk, checked out backpacker lodging, and up came three options. The one I had just been dusted by, Base, and The Rainbow Lodge. Base was two blocks away. The Rainbow Lodge looked to be about three times the distance. Yeah, I did it. I decided I wanted to stay at The Rainbow. Pot of gold and what not. Fifteen minutes later, I sweatily sludged my way into my destination. I booked the last bed available.

Went to my room. Talked to two German girls briefly. What a surprise. Everybody is from Germany. Everywhere. There is Germans everywhere. I don’t know what to say to German people. I barely know what to say to people in general, never mind Germies. Although, the other German girl I sang four seconds of Du Hast to seemed somewhat tickled. Went to the sauna. It was too hot for me. I barely made it ten minutes in that one. I also realized that my bathing suit smells terrible. My towel is holding up pretty well though. I’m thinking it’s because of the thinness of it. I just have a gut feeling. I’ve been using that same towel for showering, and hot tubbing, and sauna-ing. Plus, I made a Fee Fee out of it at least twice. (Brenden should know what that is. So should Mike.) I now have a greater respect for anyone who has to cut weight in a sauna. That is bonkers. The plastic jumpsuit, and the exercise bike. Damn. I could barely sit there. Although, that doesn’t change the fact that Gabe Rudeiger looked like a complete tool. “Put me back in….. Just put me back in…..” (That’s my awesome impression of Gabe laying on the concrete surrounding the pool outside the sauna. Or my wiener when it’s tired and doesn’t seem to want to “finish the job” that it started.)

Taupo was fairly eventful though. Let’s try to shorten things up on that front. Let’s see. Pak ‘N Save. New Zealand’s self-professed cheapest supermarket. They cut out all the frills. What’s that Bren? Sure I’ll tell you exactly what I bought. A baguette, crunchy peanut butter (I don’t even like crunchy), strawberry jam, a 1.5 liter bottle of Coke, a dozen mixed grade eggs, and a loaf of white bread. I made a second trip yesterday and bought: a baguette, 1.5 liter Pepsi, 1.5 liter Pepsi Max, plus Chicken and Herb tortellini. And a chocolate bar for the bus today. I ate all that shit. For real. A girl at The Rainbow thought that my plate of food was adorable. I had four eggs, some of which were inside of a baguette, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and some spinachy crap that I asked some girl to try. I went house on all that food. I straight up ate four PB and J’s today alone. I tried to leave Taupo yesterday but the bus was booked full so I stayed there for two days. Made the trek up to Huka Falls, New Zealand’s most visited natural attraction. Not too bad. Took some video. I was underwhelmed. I then took a fairly sizable detour to walk up to The Honey Hive. Sounded exciting. Taste some honey, some mead. See bees in action. All that. Free. I’ll tell you what though. Underwhelming. Big time. Life is one giant Honey Hive. Let me tell you that. You can sell anything with the right words. Trust me on that one as well. You’ve seen the chicks I’ve convinced to bang me. Not easy finding the right words to sell this package of goo. But it can, and has been done.

The weather was decent for the first time this entire trip yesterday. After the falls, I was able to lay in the grass for a while and enjoy some sun. I had tons of clothes on, but still. Felt good on the face. That New Zealand sun gave me the good old-fashioned bukkake treatment. Speaking of laying in the sun, so how about this little treat. I head down to the Internet Cafe for five o’clock on the dot, because I had a very important date. ( ) So, I get there about twenty minutes early. I decide to lay on this lovely patch of concrete that is located on the side of the building. It’s right in a nice, sunny spot. Great way to kill some time. So, I’m laying there, listening to It’s Time with Bruce Buffer. I’ve got my laptop bag under my left arm, my jacket under my head for a pillow, and my iPod laying over my somewhat beefy chest. Relaxing. Eyes shut. Soaking it in. My spidey-sense kicks in, and BOOM, I open my eyes. There’s a kid/dude, standing directly over me, like two feet away, who bolts away as I open my eyes. I can hear him saying to someone around the corner, “He woke up!” What the fuck was that all about? I think that little punk was going to snatch my iPod right off my heart container. Foiled, however. Next.

Here’s the good stuff. I’m at dinner, I make myself a repeat of my lunch. Eggs, baguette, PBJ. Only one place to sit. Table with what appears to be German girls. Five of them. And surprisingly, they look like actual girls. Not sure if I’ve mentioned this or not, but there has been a massive shortage of attractive women on this trip. Aside from one that I bump into nearly every day. Which is weird because I’m in a different place every day. How could that be? How could I possibly interact with the same person, when I’m constantly changing locations? That’s a puzzle I guess. Anyway, I sit with these girls. Exchange pleasantries, start to eat. The girl directly across from, is quite cute. Seems very nice. Smiles at me like seven times. I counted. A certain I.O.I. (If you don’t know what that is, you don’t read the books I tell you to read. If you do know what that is, stop reading the books I tell you to read.) I talk to her a little, here and there. Real small talk type stuff. Then I read my New Zealand Herald so I can get up to date on the latest what the fuck am I doing? Why am I reading the fucking newspaper? The more lame that I realize I am for not charming the sweet German girl, the lamer I get. So I wash my dishes, get my laptop and relax in the adjacent couch area. To do some cool guy laptop work. The old people at the middle dinner table shift, and lo and behold, guess who is then directly within my line of sight? Yeah, you nailed it. Wait for it… yup, I see her look over. Like five times. With smiles to accompany. And beer. So I bucked up, put Foxy Lady on the jukebox, and sauntered over to her table while doing a super-cool dance strut that involved me making fox ears on my head with my index fingers. Awesome. And then.. wait a second. That wasn’t me. That was Garth from the Wayne’s World movie. And he didn’t do that either. That was actually a fantasy in his head. So, apparently I am so lame, that I fantasized a fictional character’s fantasy. In reality I just sat there until they all left. Playah!

Then I wrote this travelogue:
I’m doing everything wrong, and I know it. Maybe being self-aware isn’t always a good thing. I have no reason to be doing things this way, but yet I find that I am. I don’t fear, but yet I fear. Is it the same as it was before? I can’t tell. Something is wrong. I won’t post this. There is no need.

Some food for thought. Stuff to work on for sure. It’s only after we’ve lost everything, we’re free to do anything.

Other quick Taupo tidbits. I forgot that Ottawa even existed as a place. I met a girl from Finland with cool hair. I met a guy from Finland who was surprised to find out that I had met a girl from Finland. They just found the body of Aisling. She’s been on the cover of the paper every day for over a week. Missing two-year old. That’s sad. I stole some Internet time at the hostel by talking to the girl behind the counter while looking over at the pile of Internet access codes and memorizing a couple of them. That was at the Taupo Urban Retreat by the way. I switched to the original place for my second day. I figured they might have some fresh new girls over there for me to act bashful and doofy around. Spread the love. Nice touch today before leaving as well. I was talking to this other girl in my room who I had spoken to yesterday about traveling. She’s been traveling all over different countries since 2004. She was blown away today when I told her that I’m carrying around rollerblades. She gave me the distinction of being the first backpacker she’s ever met, in 5 years mind you, who is traveling with rollerblades. Awesome. I let her know, I do whatever the fuck I want. (Well except the obvious, stated above.) That’s how I roll. Literally. Not yet though. Too cold.

Took the bus from Taupo to Wellington today. Another long ride. I’m now at Downtown Backpackers, former location of the Hotel Waterloo. The Queen stayed here in 1953 when it was a fancy hotel. It’s got some charm. I’ll be here for two nights, and then I’m taking the ferry to Picton (pronounce it Pictin), and the bus to Nelson where I will meet up with Joe. I will then mysteriously go missing.

That might be it I think. I lost my train of thought. I got distracted thinking about something. Maybe I’ll add something later. I don’t think I have any good pictures either. I’ll have to take a look.

Rotorua. As advertised I suppose. Thermal springs and awful smell. That’s the pitch. It delivers. I’ll be on my way out tomorrow I believe. I came here mainly for two reasons: I just mentioned one, and the other was to Zorb. For those not familiar, Zorbing is when you are placed in an 11-foot inflatable sphere, which is then filled with some water if you choose, and you are rolled down a big hill. It was invented here in New Zealand and I believe Rotorua is the original location. You can also do it back in the States in the Smokey Mountains. I was pretty interested prior to arriving, but my excitement has waned. As usual, the weather here sucks again, so that puts a damper on everything. It’s supposed to be equally bad tomorrow, and then clear up on Sunday. I won’t be here on Sunday. Two days in one location is about my maximum at this point. Nelson should be the only exception to that I imagine. So, without going Zorbing, it makes sense to just take off tomorrow. I just have a difficult time justifying the money spent on rolling down a hill in a ball. Even though that is pretty cool. Just not worth the three minutes of excitement. If I wanted that, I would use the money to hire an escort.

Whenever you mention Rotorua, people bring up the smell. How could you not? Without being technically detailed or accurate at all, there is an abundance of geothermal activity in this area. This leads to a ton of awesome thermal springs, which are accompanied by the overwhelming scent of sulfur. The whole town smells like it. I find that you get used to it fairly quickly, but if you end up indoors for a while, it hits you again as soon as you return outside. Definitely an interesting experience I’d say, it smelling like hard boiled eggs and all. Did I mention the rain? It’s raining of course. I wouldn’t let that get in the way of the main reason I came here though. So I went for a rainy walk through Kuirau Park. It’s pretty much a park with thermal springs and bubbly mud pools. Based on my travel history so far with hot tubs and saunas, I of course was coming here to sit in some natural thermal pools. Dreams dashed. There were a few hot tub like sections they have in there for some soaking but it felt like the rain was bringing the temp down a bit. There was one I found that was covered over the top and the water in there was pretty hot. I didn’t go in my suit though because of the weather so that wasn’t an option. I will be pleased to get to a place where you can just pop into that kind of thing nude so I won’t have to worry about being prepared. All in all it was somewhat enjoyable. It was cool to see the steam rising out of the hotter sections. On the way in to town, there were some large hilly areas that had what appeared to be loads of steam coming out of them. Looked kind of foggy as well, hard to tell. I just assumed it was steam. Either way, it was a cool visual. Nice scenery on the way in, very hilly.

Very smooth morning surprisingly considering I had to wake up for the 7:20 am bus. First, no one else ever checked into my room besides me. So I had the whole room to myself. There was even a larger bed in there to accommodate a couple. I didn’t take it though, I had already picked out my bed. Decision was made. It was nice. Didn’t have to use headphones, and I was able to set my computer to be my alarm in the morning. Turns out I didn’t need it, I woke up at 5 am on my own for some reason. Took a shower, then tried to shave in the room since I was all alone, but my trimmer wasn’t nearly dead. It was a good thing I hadn’t actually gotten started or I would have some ridiculous facial hair right now. The charging light isn’t going on when it’s plugged in now, so I don’t know what the deal is with that. It appears as though it’s charging. We’ll see in a couple of hours. Having that crap out on me already will not make me happy. On the way back to my room from the shower, I noticed that some people had left some stuff hanging out to dry and it was getting rained on, of course, since it rains every day here for some reason. I thought to myself how that will suck for them to have soaking wet clothes, and as I thought that exact thing, I looked down at the poor fool’s shirt that had not only gotten soaked but had also fallen onto the ground from the drying rack. Care to guess whose shirt that was? Mine. I had left it there after sitting in the hot tub earlier and forgotten it there each of the four times I walked by it. I would have been extremely pissed to lose that shirt. Close call. The rain stopped about twenty minutes before I had to start my walk down to the bus station, so another sweet break for me. Until 19 minutes later when it started to rain again. But alas, the Naked Bus driver parks the bus right down the street from my place so I just sat there under an awning and waited. (Note: That was the Naked Bus driver, not the naked bus driver. See the importance in the difference. Trust me, it’s nowhere near that much fun here. But in due time.) She came outside just minutes later and I was able to throw my bags onto the bus, and then made the rainy walk to the center of town to hit the bakery, which was open early, another awesome turn of events. I grabbed a pork rib sandwich in honor of the delicious one I had for lunch yesterday. I did want to try the other hot dog shaped pork sandwich but it appeared messier to eat and I didn’t want to get dirty on the bus. Had to wait outside the other shop for about 10 minutes in order to get some Illicit Cola, but it was quite alright. Down to the bus, and off I went. Sat alone on the bus mostly, but I had a Maori guy next to me after the break. I found that he smelled a bit. I don’t mean to stereotype here, but the couple of Maori dudes who sat near me on the bus so far, smelled. Just saying.

Turns out we had to stop in Auckland for about 45 minutes. Felt like I was just there yesterday! Wait, I kind of almost was. Never mind. I walked down to the library to use the restroom and kill some time. Bathroom closed for cleaning. Who needs a bathroom when you can go get Mrs. Higgin’s Cookies instead? Chocolate Macadamia today paired with the usual Triple Chocolate. They didn’t last long. They never do. You always buy them: one for now, one for later. It generally turns into: one for now, one for later, if by later you mean one minute later. I still had to go to the bathroom and I noticed a public restroom near the bus area. Had to push a button to get in. Okay. I push the button. Whoosh! Door slides open. Fancy. I get in. I start to pee. The room starts to talk to me. Lets me know I have a ten-minute time limit. I notice the floor is damp. I notice the sign on the wall: If this light starts to flash, get out immediately. Your ten minutes is up, or the wash mode is about to commence. Awesome! This is one of those toilet rooms that washes itself after use. I think to myself how cool it would be to trick it and see what it’s like to get washed in there. Wish I would have noticed that thing in the NINE days I was there and could have done so. Then, on the bus, stinky Maori, Fight Club on the iPod, sheep, lots of hills, steam, Rotorua. The end.

I’d like to eat a Kebab soon. I noticed the English were pronouncing it quickly: k’bab. They noticed I was saying it: kuh-bob. I like their version better. I shall switch. Also, ask me about using the word ma’am. I learned some interesting stuff from Katie and Vicky in the hot tub the other night. Once the weird German guys bounced that is. One thing I learned, that an English chick saying that her name is Kate-ee, is awesome. I hope that comes across in writing. The other thing I learned, ma’am. Just ask.

I’m talking to this guy last night in Paiha. Nice guy. He goes around the island and does work putting up signs. Lots of them. I mentioned how nice the Auckland library is. He says, “I put up all those signs”. Very cool. He tells me this gem while we’re talking about rugby and how crazy-serious dudes apparently are in New Zealand about it. Well first, he tells me that the World Cup of Rugby is coming here in 2011, and that they’re already putting adverts on TV just to tell people that it’s okay if the All Blacks lose, which is their team I guess. Advertisements to try to get it drilled into people’s heads, that they will most likely lose, and that that’s okay. But here’s the story. He tells me that he was doing some sign work for LJ Hooker, which is a real estate company I think. So, he’s doing work for them, and there is a women’s refuge directly next door. He’s there doing work for a few days, and one day he notices that the place next door is jammed. So he asks someone what’s going on at the women’s shelter next door. The answer: the All Blacks lost last night. So guys headed home and beat their wives. He then speculated that many women therefore, are also crazy-serious about the fate of the All Blacks. Nuts. And the world shrinks further.

I wanted to write about the bridge. I still will but I think I’ll write that separately. I’m hungry. Maybe I’ll go get a k’bab.

I have 5mb of Internet data usage to burn and I’ve decided to take a brief intermission from my endless message sending to one ***** *** in order to grace this website with my presence. So travel stuff first. I’m in Paihia. It’s up in the northern end of the North Island. I plan on starting my journey south tomorrow morning and will then be making a number of different stops. Is Mount Doom a real place? For that matter, is Mount Doom even a fictional place? Never paid much attention to the LOTR craze. All pretty standard stuff when it comes to that. I don’t find myself taking very many pictures or anything. Not much of interest to me. Nice scenery so far though. I have to watch my spending of course so I’m unable to do a lot of the things I would like to do so as to be able to travel to more places. It’s a balancing act. But I’m quite comfortable. Matter of fact, I appear to be the only person booked in this room for the night. Six beds, one dude. Very nice.

My dad asked about my medication, whether I noticed any change since switching. Tough to say really. I’ve had a number of ups and downs throughout each day, but I’m well equipped to handle that. I haven’t missed a day yet, and I have no plans to do so. My schedule has been way off but it always gets done. Although, by pure accident, it turns out that I was taking herbal ecstasy all last week instead of the meds. That explains why they didn’t work the other night. Those were apparently my actual meds. Classic. But yeah, can’t tell on the med front and I couldn’t care less. Do I get depressed or lonely? No doubt. Is that the med switch or the continent switch? Is it the fact that no less than 50% of nearly everything I see or do reminds me of Faith, and with good reason? No answers to that. And no need for them. I’m good, that’s all that matters.

Now if I may, I would like to put the rest of the jibby jabby to bed. So:

Michelle: Valiant intentions, I have no beef with that. Nor do I have any beef with anything else besides what I mentioned in my last comment to Bren. I’m sure you realized that nearly all of what I said was not personally directed at you, just inspired by you. I love cake but if it said something to me that I disagreed with I would tell it so. And then eat it. Do not worry, I will not eat you. I cannot and will not speak for anyone else, but I do believe that nobody intended to insult you or upset you with their comments. The only issue my dad even addressed out of any of it was just to clarify that he wasn’t who I was referencing with my comment. Notice he did accurately describe himself as weird. Otherwise, he just commented on posts as if nothing else was going on. As for Diane, it appears as though she is just worried that I’m focusing my energies and effort on defending my actions and decisions rather than focusing on myself and what I’m doing. Fair concern. To any concerned: don’t worry about that. This is all part of what I’m here for. I’m here for many things, one of which is to write and express how I feel about anything. This was just another of those things. Simple as that. I had to kill a couple of hours waiting for the bus yesterday, so I bitch slapped my oldest brother. Otherwise I would have been reading Details. I prefer the bitch slapping. Trust me when I say this, because I hate having to repeat things. Without being specific, to the people who love and care about me: I most likely realize this, and feel the same way in return. But that doesn’t change the simple fact, as I stated before on here, and personally to my niece directly, I wouldn’t wipe my ass with your opinions about me or my thoughts and decisions. I save that concern for the two little kids who aren’t old enough to know better yet. That has nothing to do with my feelings toward anyone. It’s just the way it should be. I didn’t write any of that stuff for any reason other than the fact that I felt like it. If I would have preferred to eat Mrs. Higgin’s Cookie’s on Queen Street, I would have done that instead. I do what I want. Except eat. Gotta keep the food budget down. Don’t worry though, I’m not distracted. I’m in fact quite stracted.

Back to Michelle: Thank you for the promise. I do not take that lightly. Regardless of how things turned out for me on that front, I still quite fondly recall what you said to me after we spent those two days together talking about Faith. When you told me that you had never seen another person love someone as much as I love that girl, it meant a lot to me. Because it helped me realize that that was true. And I’m very proud of that. I know what I am capable of, and that is incredible. I appreciate the recognition greatly. Unfortunately, I got ass fucked, but hey, my number 2’s have seemed a lot easier so I can see the glass as half full I suppose. That was hard for me leaving the house as well. I cried like in a movie driving back home. I think my chin was shaking and everything. As far as the video goes, not coming. Thank your stupid husband for that. I have now decided that I will never send a video, or photo that includes me in it. Just so everyone will blame him. All will wonder if I am in fact dead, or held captive by someone who goes on YouTube, gets videos and then makes me write witty posts for the site. All while giving me a very new definition for getting AF’d. Way to go on that video by the way. Glad someone enjoyed it. I was totally going to try that dance myself, I don’t blame you. I would have gotten involved with that one in person but I wanted nothing to do with that creepy weirdo in the jeans with the sign. Better to just eat my Triple Chocolate cookie and watch. Word up on that elephant pic though. I will send that one. But only to you. Seriously though Michelle, I’m going to sit on a fucking elephant! I’m gonna wash his big bum too. You can pay to do that. Maybe I’ll sit on him with my legs up on his head like in the Crisis Center and look around distractedly. For old times sake. We’ll see. Much love in return. Little bro.

Next: Let Alison and Andy read this part. Hey guys! It’s Uncle Thom. I’m in Paihia! Yeah, I’m with you guys. I don’t know where it is either. But it sounds fancy to chicks I bet. Guess what though, Uncle Thom has had the same pair of underwear on for like four days. Seriously, four days I think. Hard to count. I thought today was Wednesday until about two hours ago. I was all looking forward to the karaoke competition tonight, that occurred yesterday on the real Wednesday. I guess that’s what happens to your memory when you wear the SAME PAIR OF UNDERWEAR for 100 HOURS! I have showered though. Don’t worry about that. I smell better than I did back home actually. (Hold on I’ll be right back, I have to do something, only one person will know what.) I’m back. It’s eight days from when I wrote the other part. Sorry, that took a long time. Guess what though: I’m still wearing the SAME PAIR OF UNDERWEAR! That makes 12 days now. See you soon! Love, Uncle Thom

How’s my health? It sucks. Business as usual. I sleep well mostly. I eat okay mostly. Haven’t been sick or anything. I’m good. No worries. I’ve been working out too. Just a little. Gotta get rockin.

Side note: Everyone should be proud of Dad. That’ll make more sense in a couple of weeks. He can explain better than I can. Anonymous no more! I’m proud of you. Love, Thomas.

Let’s extinguish this one as well, Vic:
I’ll go point by point, you’ve earned it. Please don’t reply. I’ve already won, you just don’t know it. You used all capital letters to respond. That stands for yelling or anger. Whether that was intended or not, don’t. “Next time I’ll dummy my post down so they can be analyzed correctly.” There will be no next time. Also, you came across dummy enough on the other post. Furthermore, it was and always will be analyzed correctly no matter how you write it. Because I’m the one doing the analyzing. “It wasn’t written with venom, as yours clearly was.” I don’t know if yours was written with venom or not, and I don’t care. I know mine wasn’t, so you have once again judged wrong. I had not one ounce of anger in me when writing that to you, you spoke to me in a particular manner, and I responded in kind. As the saying goes, if you can’t stand the heat, don’t go in the kitchen. Because your little brother is in there. And he will mash you like potatoes. Nothing you say or do has the ability to bring the venom out of me. The only way you could make me angry, is to find the actual people who can make me angry, and get them to make me angry. “Namecalling… let me get out my Tonka toys.” Did I call you names in there? I don’t even remember. Richard Dawson. I know that was in there. And hilarious. And if I did resort to name calling. It would simply be based on the fact that I cannot under these circumstances refer to you by your given name, as it is in no way accurate here. Victor. Too much victory is implied there. I shall now call you Brenden. “But you got one thing right. It is your life, bro. Live it as you see fit.” Correct. I did get one thing right: everything. And it is my life, bro, and I will live it. Thanks for understanding. Please do the same and I’ve got your back. “Sometimes the people who care seem to forget that.” Indeed they do. But that’s what I’m here for: to remind them. And to wear the SAME UNDERWEAR for FOUR DAYS! (wait, are Ali and AJ still around at this point?). And finally, “Careful not to unleash too much misguided anger on the ones who love ya bro.” I have many things to be careful of, and that is not one of them. Don’t fret. I have no anger at all towards any who love me. Nor to those who hate me for that matter. So there is nothing to misguide. The anger I do have is sitting in the V.I.P. section of my brain, and there is a table reserved for one, and there will be no misguidance there. (No its not Faith, sorry everybody.) I feel at peace, and I live and write that way. Honesty is harsh, but always know that that’s what it is. Honesty, clearly thought out. My words take hours to write. How long do yours to me take? I’m thinking crystal clear. I’m sorry if that’s hard to handle for anyone. As I stated before, say whatever you want to say to me, but watch how you say it. Love ya bro.

Brenden: Jeez, I forgot you were even in my family for a minute there. How’s the couch? Take me down to the Paradise City! You seem pretty rational lately, really taking the opportunity to shine it appears. You’re going to start running out of funny comments though. Can’t keep it up forever. Have Michelle make an extra sandwich for your brother. I’d say I love you but I’m not sure if robots understand that concept.

I’m done. I’ve got messages to send. But in case anyone needs a change of subject: I totally crapped my pants in 8th grade. There has to be someone reading this who doesn’t know that I did that. Had to leave the underwear in the stall. And go back to class. The whole day. With caca jeans on. Yup.

See you in Rotorua!

Wasn’t in the mood to write today. Now I am. Thanks for the inspiration. My dad asks about the weather. It sucks. It rains at some point every day and the temperature is usually not that great. I don’t have any idea what the temp actually is but it feels like late fall does back home I’d guess. Haven’t really seen much sun. I believe I was told that this is the end of the winter here. It’s affecting quite a bit so that is unfortunate. Whatever, nowhere to go but up I suppose. Besides, I’ll just end up in Thailand bitching about how hot it is there so it’ll even itself out in the end.

Next: I’m pretty sad about having to say goodbye to the kids. I’m very sad that they’re sad. They’re one of the few things I actually give a shit about walking away from. The end. I however, don’t feel the slightest bit remorseful about my decision to leave. They wouldn’t benefit in any way by having Uncle Thom sleepwalking around New Bedford. Pretending by distracting himself from the fact that he just got completely ass-fucked by those he cared about most. Reality is what it is. Use a tiny ounce of logic. Traveling the world is running from my problems? Perhaps. Explain to me how sitting in New Bedford is any different. I’m all ears. What do you think is easier: 1) Being able to sit around with my best friend watching Glee, or for that matter, sitting around with my other best friend watching Glee. Eating brownies. Bouncing on a trampoline. Driving around listening to music to relax. Having the comfort of knowing that if any problem arises, or if I just need someone to talk to, or to be with, that options are just minutes away. Or perhaps, option 2) Waking up every day in Random Town, New Zealand completely fucking alone. Eating alone. Sleeping alone. Dancing alone. There’s no brownies here, there’s no Glee here. And there’s no glee here. Having to stand in the shower, thinking about what put you here in the first place, because that’s when reality actually starts to set in. And you’re forced to deal with, and think about the fact that, pardon my repetition here, you just got completely ass-fucked by those you cared about most. You see, when I step out of the shower here, there is no friend to joke around with, to make laugh by dancing around, to distract with. There’s just me, in the mirror, doing incline pushups for what seems like no reason at all. Thinking. Every slight tear of the muscle a future reminder of what put me here in the first place. Running from my problems? I’m not running from my problems, I’m etching them into my mind, carving them into my fucking body. Don’t get it twisted. Where you run out of the fire, I run directly into the middle of it.

Also, (cover your ears everyone), I like to fuck. Pardon me, have sexual intercourse. Be intimate. Make love. Bone. Get low. Watch Glee. (That’s what I’ll call sex now for those with sensitive ears, except when talking to you, Mike. Then it really does just mean Glee). Now, I certainly would not in any way directly share my sexual desires, herbal or actual drug use, or any other random unsatisfactory traits with the younger members of my family, but I have no problem whatsoever with this information being out there. Want to see a hot Euro chick blowing a dude in the changing room of a clothing store? Or some guy sticking a mason jar so deep into his “behind” that it explodes and shreds his insides like a Julienne salad? Or the definition of the word nemesis? Guess what? They’re all on the Internet, and just as easy to find as my website. People will see what they want to see. And unfortunately, kids will see what they want to see. And if that something is how I took herbal Ecstasy in Auckland, New Zealand, then so be it. Plenty of lessons to be learned there: If you want to see the world, see it. There’s nothing holding you back. Nothing. And also, don’t take herbal Ecstasy. It sucks. Laura threw up for like three hours, Tom and Pierre felt like shit all day yesterday, and I think Rob drank so much beer it really didn’t matter for him. And I was dancing so hot and hard that the pills most likely disintegrated in midair before even touching the back of my throat. Trust me. The damage those kids sustain from having to spend so much time around their piece of shit grandparents for instance, will far outweigh any I can do by being open and honest on my website. When one doesn’t want to hear something, they’ll just stop listening. That goes for kids and adults.

I’ll clarify this statement as well from the other day for any interested parties: I can’t believe the pieces of crap that I’ve had around me as my friends, my family. I was referring to the fact that the people who I consider my friends on a certain level, are then my family. So both instances described the same group there. Any members of my family who wondered if they were a part of that message, you were probably wrong. Unless, you are in fact a piece of shit.

In regard to my website, I don’t find it dark at all. In fact, I will quote my good friend Jen, from just earlier today. I hope she doesn’t mind. I’ll try to be as accurate as possible, the herbal Ecstasy may have toyed with my memory. She said “your recent posts and choices have made me want to start being more honest with myself and with others… and to start taking down the walls that I’ve built around myself as well.” Legend. If you don’t like the website, don’t go to it. If you don’t like this sentence, don’t fucking read it. Honesty is dark. Openness is dark. That’s why the truth is so rarely a formula for success in life. Everyone likes it in theory, no one likes it in practice. I didn’t find me licking Brittaney’s tattoo dark at all, I found that to be sexy. I didn’t find that little girl’s sweet monster advice dark either, I found that to be adorable. Where you see darkness, others see light. We choose what we want to see. So if it’s dark, then let it be dark. In a world of blinding light, a beam of darkness shall lead the way. Quote me on that.

And ultimately, this website is most definitely for communication while I am away. I find this to be communication on the highest level I am aware of right now. If you want pictures of the flora and fauna, go to Google Images. Want me to write about the Sky Tower? It’s really tall. Sorry, I don’t give a shit about the Sky Tower or Mount New Zealandie right now. I went almost two years in New York without even catching a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty, my attitude will be no different out here. I’m eating Tiger Bread, and rolling Coke bottles on my shins until they can battle in a Numbness Competition with my heart. The larger you realize this world actually is, the smaller it becomes. It shrinks down into a size no larger than a bed. I’ve already seen the best the world has to offer, and I never had to leave the corner of 26th and 7th. I’m giving the world a chance to prove me wrong.

Now, I’ll throw out some random things I’d like to say to people, but not actually say who they’re for. You’ll probably know.
First: Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Just let it be and wish me well.
Next: Please make sure you save all those episodes of Glee for me. Or download them. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get them.
Next: Hey goat, say hi to your mother for me.
Next: Shut up. You do know what you’re talking about but you really don’t. I respect the message but not so much. I’ll leave it at that out of a sense of something.
Next: Seriously, the glasses. Definitely cute. And hot, too. I find myself wondering if you would leave those on….
Next: I miss you sir.
Next: Who is that greedy with birds? I mean, really. Save some for the rest of us. I’m extremely proud of what you’ve been doing back at home. Keep it up.
Next: I’m glad you like the chair so much, I will never ask for it back.
Next: I wonder how many stumps he actually removed over the course of his career. Do you think even he knows?
Next: That’s a really cool, tight vest. It reminds me of The Warriors.
Next: Don’t die while I’m gone.
Next: 5
Next: Sorry about that whole “just a minute” thing. I was just really uncomfortable at the time. At least I didn’t finish or anything.
Next: [Insert random, completely honest statement here]
Next: I miss you, too. It didn’t take long. Totally separate, as promised.

I think I’m done for now. Pass the bread.

2:40am
I’m fucking knackered as they say. Fairly long night. I need to figure out where I’m going at some point tomorrow. Tomorrow is my last night here and I need to have some idea of where I’m going next. Today was Jo’s birthday so the eight of us went out to celebrate a bit. I wasn’t really too keen on spending much money but I figured I should make it a point to spend one night in Auckland partying a little. Had Thai food for dinner. That was the first time I’ve had Thai food so that’s something different. It was quite good. I had something with the word Golden in it, I’m having trouble remembering the name. Very sweet in flavor. Thailand should be a great trip. Garrik mentioned that I might want to start killing the nerve endings in my shins now in order to be somewhat prepared for Muay Thai. I’m going to have to get on that as soon as possible. Kerri really came through for me earlier today. I was in a pretty shit mood for some reason earlier but I had some time at the library chatting with her and that turned me around nicely.

I wish I was more fucked up right now. I feel pretty normal for the most part which isn’t good considering how much money I spent tonight. The point was to finish the night pretty well pissed and do some drunk writing. I’ll try to figure out a recap for posterity’s sake: Thai food, Raspberry Fanta (which I didn’t really enjoy), one herbal ecstasy pill of some sort, two Vodka Lemonades, two Rum and Cokes, a beer that Tom couldn’t drink because he was so messed up, another Vodka Lemonade, and two more herbal ecstasy pills. Plus a half drink of some sort that a drunk German dude gave me. I don’t know if they water down their house spirits quite a bit or something, but I never really felt drunk at all. And the pills didn’t seem to do much for me either. Everyone else seemed to have pretty positive reviews for them but I only felt a bit of it. I don’t know if the medication could have something to do with that but I’m not sure how it would really. Its not as if those were actual ecstasy pills, they were just some weird herbal concoction. Who knows. Lesson learned I suppose.

Who knows anymore. Things oscillate too quickly for me. One minute I know that I can conquer the world and the next I wonder what it is that I’m doing here. Or anywhere for that matter. If I close my eyes and cross them a little I can feel a slightly strange effect that must have to do with those pills but otherwise they were probably just a waste for me. I really didn’t want to spend the money on them but I figured that was a shitty attitude. I’ll just spend whatever within reason and sort things out on the back end. To be to the point, I think I’d really enjoy fucking right about now. There is in fact some type of effect going on in my body, I’m just not quite sure what it is. It feels pretty chill and relaxed but with a bit of anxious energy. Fucking. That’s going to be a ways off for me, that’s for sure. I don’t know if I care to elaborate on that one right now but I doubt that will be on my radar for a while. Whatever. All part of the process I suppose. By the way, this process fucking sucks, if I may say so. It is what it is. Yeah, I could totally have sex right now. I don’t think with a stranger though. I believe that cuts my options drastically. The very few options that fit my ludicrous criteria are a tad of a distance problem at the moment, so. This is a long one I guess. This is the first time that I’ve been typing one of these and had it go to a second page in Word.

Fuck Faith. Seriously. I mean, what the fuck? Are you even serious? That shit really happened. I can’t believe that someone can actually be that clueless in a situation. I’m actually quite amazed at how I’ve handled this whole thing. I should have jumped off a fucking bridge. No joke. What an asshole. I can’t believe that I spend time writing such beautiful things on this website about such a heartless person. I want to believe that I’m wrong about that, and that I’m just saying those words out of hurt but how can that be the case? Look at the facts. Six fucking days. What’s truly sad to me is that if the table was turned tomorrow I’d be on the first plane home. Without a second thought. Without a first thought for that matter. Don’t even get into the letter she wrote me while I was in there. I got one page into that piece of garbage and I literally couldn’t read any more. It was absolute bullshit. Not that I’m accusing her of not believing every word, I’m sad to say that I’m sure she does believe every word. That’s heartbreaking to me. Truly. Thom Day Is Dead isn’t a clever name, it’s the truth. She killed everything about me. Now, in many ways that’s a good thing. I needed to rid myself of all the things that have held me back for all these years. The depression was debilitating at times. Fuck if I didn’t hide that pretty well. And seriously, don’t even try to take any credit for understanding that about me the whole time we dated. And for that matter, if that was the case, shitty job handling that knowledge. So you were aware that I was so depressed and tried to help all you could? How was that exactly? I never saw it. Here’s a person who will spend 10 hours researching any topic she’s even remotely interested in but the man she loves more than anything in the world is obviously sick and there’s not a word to say about it. I would have tried a medication if she asked me to. I did nearly anything she asked me to.

True story: Faith grew up right around the corner from Melanie’s cousins Katie and Kerrie. They actually played together as little kids. Melanie’s aunt is one of the sweetest, nicest ladies I think I’ve ever met. Bar none. I’ve spent quite a bit of time with that part of the family and never heard her say a negative word once, about anything. Years ago in the beginning of the relationship, Melanie had mentioned to her that I was dating Faith and they had one of those conversations: about how crazy that is, what a coincidence. That type of thing. Anyway, this is what her aunt actually had to say about Faith. No shitting. I’ll paraphrase most of what she said but the end is the point anyway. She says that Faith used to hang out with K and K when they were little, blah blah blah. Then she mentioned how Faith always had to have what she wanted, and needed everything to be her way or she wouldn’t be happy. Punchline: she says, “Forgive me for saying this, but even when she was a little girl, I always thought she was a bitch.” That pretty much sums that up.

Oh, and since my father inquired, Tiger Bread is not a brand name of normal bread. I don’t know how to describe it, but it appears to be a type of bread. It’s quite delicious. I can’t even fathom right now how different life is going to be when I get back home. I’m so tired of bullshitting around. As I mentioned in a much earlier post, when you surround yourself with pieces of shit, don’t be surprised when you wake up covered in it. I can’t believe the pieces of crap that I’ve had around me as my friends, my family. I actually believed that I was one of them. Just another piece of shit. What a joke. I’m on another planet they couldn’t even dream of. Better buy a fucking telescope if you ever want to see me again. Although, for one in particular it won’t be too difficult to find me at all. I’ll be the guy tearing your life apart at the seams, stitch by miserable stitch. That bread is crazy good. I can’t believe I’m not even the slightest bit drunk. I bought five drinks, not to mention those pills.

What else? 4 am now. Not even tired at all. I don’t feel like writing anymore. I need a massage.

No. Fuck that. I’ll write all I want. You know what? Props to Kerri. Big time. Fist bump from halfway around the planet. There’s no such thing as a blank canvas with her around.

And guess what? People actually read this. People actually go online, type my name onto their keyboard, to read what I write. And they like it. So, yeah. Don’t worry though, I might have cornered the market on witty thoughts, supremely clever wordplay, stories about world travel, overall awesomeness, and wonderful personalized detail, but don’t fret. I’m sure the market for a website detailing how to make a fucking steak sandwich while looking like the stand-in for Eric Stoltz in Mask is just itching to be scratched. Say what’s up to Gar for me. What a sad situation to be caught in when you’re completely unable to smash a person’s face into a jelly because you’re quite certain that you’ll inadvertently improve their appearance. Rocky Dennis. That was a good one. We all thought it. Someone had to finally point it out.

I have to piss pretty badly right now. Don’t feel like getting out of my bunk bed however. Have to climb down and all.

Inspired by one of my favorite KCM’s, I’m going to answer some questions that I haven’t been asked, that I’ve just randomly thought of, and that will be up to your imagination to figure out what they even are. Ready:
- Melanie. By far.
- Up.
- Three-point turns.
- Oral.
- Jam.
- 17.
- Yeah, that was totally true. I do go back and read them, sometimes more than once. That’s pretty cool to admit to someone. (sarcasm)
- Tough to say. The one from London was really posh and had a cool accent. But the one from America was outdoorsy and more adventurous. And their hair was different before it had to be cut in order to match. Gun to my head, I’d pick the London version.
- Hugging.
- Fear.
End of the questions. I’m going to write for six more minutes. That will make an even two hours that I spent on writing this entry. It’ll take longer than that so forget the six minutes.

Promises:
-I will come back home in better physical shape than when I left. And I will put that to good use.
-A woman will never be unhappy in my presence again. Of course there will be slight exceptions, but you know what I mean.
-I will blur the line between juice and concentrate in such a way that it won’t make a fucking difference which is which, it will just be adored.
-I will do what others can’t. As a chosen few have heard me say before, great men dream of what I’ve done, and pretend to be great. I will live up to those words.

Thanks for taking the time to read all that. Imagine how long it took to write.
And for Mike and Jeff: Now imagine she’s white.