It may be senseless dribble, but at least it's spelled correctly.
Hello again from the blue!
I know I said I was going to finish that other blog post, but if you haven't yet deduced that nothing but mediocrity originates from this page by now... well... hell... you might as well subscribe! You're either a forlorn optimist or have developed a rather remarkable capacity for cognitive dissonance. Either is fine by me.
This afternoon I'm (once again) following the torpid way by posting two messages typed up earlier on facebook. One pretty much lays down the plan for the next little while, while the other is an account of a run in I induced with the local constabulary and it rather makes me sound like a drunken sod. In fairness, it may not be such an injust label. With no further adieu...
"Oi! I'm sitting at an internet cafe in Byron Bay, Australia right now. This morning I went skydiving from 14,000 feet, and yesterday I was doing backflips off a waterfall. Life is pretty good (if expensive).
I'm flying into Singapore next sunday to meet Ian, who will be here next wednesday the 29th. From Singapore we're going to bust ass into Malaysia pretty much immediately for about a week. I think we're going to go to Kuala Lampur for a night, and then head east into the jungle/mountains of Malaysia to do some trekking in the Tamara Negara national park. Apparently you can go on a 5 day trek with a guide, but you only actually take enough provisions for 3 days. The jungle's bounty shall provide! Once that's done with, we're heading straight into Thailand to come find your ass.
What's your plan/itinerary? I don't know when the Full Moon party is, but we definitely have to do the one when you're in the country. Can you find that out? Apparently you want to get there at least a few days beforehand or you don't stand a chance finding accommodation, but everybody I've talked to has unanimously agreed that it's amazing. Fear not, my Gaydar has been acutely honed by my nights of accidentally gallavanting about Sydney's gay district, so I will be able to help keep you away from the prowling ladyboys. Not a mistake you want to make.
Can't wait! Be prepared for madness. It'll be good to see you again. Peace!"
"Uh oh... was I sending you messages again? I hate it when I start dialling under the influence because I always send the stupidest messages at 4 am. It's embarassing, but they're usually pretty entertaining, haha. Sorry for that.
Anyway, about my run in with Johnny Law. I was in the Cross and, as per usual, imbibed with a near desperate zeal. The result of this was acute intoxication. The result of that was an uncontrollable urge to remove all articles of clothing. Unfortunately, this intractible desire compelled me whilst waiting for the train at the Town Hall station. The result of THAT was an encounter with 6 police officers. Shiiiiiiiiiit.
The constables were less than amused. They asked me if there was any kind of overbearing reason why they shouldn't take me to jail or give me a $400 ticket. Despite my sodden state, I had head enough sense to detect the gravity of the danger my wallet/legal standing was in for by the grim looks on all six of their faces. I began to panic. I desperately stammered something rather pathetic about being ne'erdogood tourists that just wanted a picture and apologized profusely. I tried to look as pitiable as possible whilst I slurred out anything and everything that I thought might help keep me out of jail. None were seemed too impressed with my display.
All I could think about was my potential cellmate-to-be, who I'd think would be called something along the lines of Bubba or Billy Rae. I imagined Bubba to be a 6'4", 375 lb black man with an appreciation Greco-Roman wrestling. It still sends shivers down my spine. You see, I can't go to jail. The fact of the matter is that I'm far too pretty for it. You of all people have probably noticed my boyish good looks (most particularly my rugged jawline), flaxen hair and golden smile. I'd be like a porterhouse steak hung in front of a hungry dog, see!? All this shot through my mind as I watched the officers matter-of-factly discuss my fate. The angry look of the sargeant and a quick thought of Bubba simultaneously made my knees quiver and my arse tighten.
Thank the heavens, because eventually the coppers relented. I like to think it was my superb cool under pressure combined with my natural aptitude for the thespian arts (it was all an act, of course-- I'm not actually scared of anything at all, naturally), but somehow I think they ultimately couldn't have be bothered with the paperwork to process such a sorry display. Joke's on them. Suckers!
We're going to need supervision in Asia. Thank God my cousin Andrew will be there..."
So there you go. That's just about it for now, I think. The only other cool thing worth mentioning is that I got to go skydiving for the first time ever this morning, and it was rad as hell. I volunteered to be the first man out and fell for about 70 seconds before deploying the chute and gliding down to the beach. Do it if you can!
Peace out! More later...?