Insanity part 3

part 3 of a 3 part series...who knows maybe more.

Insanity part 2

part 2 of a 3 part series...

Insanity part 1

part 1 of 3 in a series...maybe.

Another day goes by, a day in the life

Nearly a month ago, I moved into my ramshackle abode. It’s a 6-unit apartment complex located near the front of someone’s property off a faintly lit, pot-holed rocky dirt road that is mostly muddy in the rainy season. I live downstairs in the middle and cannot complain an inch about my neighbors. I rarely see them or hear them and when I have, they have been pleasant encounters. Even the other family that lives basically out my front door are nice people. No complaints.

But I do have complaints. Oh yes I do. I hate when my key gets stuck in the front door. I jiggle it around and eventually it goes, but I hate that one second delay. I could probably find a little oil and dribble it into the keyhole, but I don’t have oil lying around. I also hate how there is sometimes a multi-second delay before the long florescent tubes light up my dirty pink walls. Standing there in the dark before I move along just in case someone is standing there in the darkness waiting to pounce. So I breathe and hear it flicker….come on…. it hesitates again and finally it goes and there was nothing there after all.

I hate cold showers every day. They are fantastic after an evening run or a morning session at the gym because they do exactly what you’d imagine. But when you’re not in the mood for a cold shower and have no other alternative, it’s not the most pleasant experience. It’s like touching an earthworm and seeing it recoil into itself. Or feeling that the shock from the cold might actually trigger a heart attack. Here I am in Cambodia complaining about cold showers. I can’t even imagine what a cold shower in a cold climate might actually feel like.

I do not like rogue mosquitoes. And there is always one on the loose in my apartment. Waking up with itchy ankles is just another thing to think about and I already think too much. Thank you very much. I’d like to leave the back door open, but that’s just inviting trouble. The extra light and the breeze are not worth the extra time spent trying to locate the troublesome mosquito in the poorly lit interior of my home. They are usually easier to capture in the bathroom when I’m taking a shower as I can spray the entire room and if I’m lucky, knock the fucker to the floor and take care of him without too much anguish.

I do like my bathroom aside from lowering my head upon exiting in order not to bash my forehead on the door jam. That’s never pleasant. Even the towel rack that falls off the wall if you’re not careful doesn’t bother me too much. You learn to live with it. I have a toilet seat that stays put, a toilet that flushes, a sink that doesn’t leak, a mirror that swivels and access doors from both the “kitchen” and my bedroom. Quite a luxury if you ask me. I even have a fan that works to semi-aerate the otherwise confined box known as a bathroom.

I hate sand. Unless there is a reason to be in it or on it, such as lying next to a scantily clad female who is horny and wants to roll around in it. Then I like sand. But generally I don’t enjoy finding it in my hair, my crack or in my pockets. Gets under the fingernails, fucks up the keypad on your mobile phone and could wreck all kinds of havoc with your digital camera or laptop if you’re not careful. The road leading to my heaven on earth is basically sand and that shit gets all over the place despite leaving my footwear either outside or just inside the front door. I hate it in my bed, rolling over to find sand sticking to your sweaty body is not an enjoyable experience. And despite sweeping the floor every day or more, it is not enough to keep it fully at bay. The sand wins every time.

Outside my front door, on a near daily occasion I am the lucky recipient of either a pile of ants, usually covering the corpse of an unlucky gecko or a torn up diaper thanks to the mangy dogs also residing in the gated complex. The gate is another story, which I will get to later. These dogs, aside from the occasional barking in the wee hours, generally do not bother me aside from their penchant for bringing me unwelcome gifts. But they are fucking mangy.

One has the dirtiest dreads you could imagine. Another has a mangled front leg and therefore hops around fairly gracefully for his rather unfortunate condition. And then there are the other little scruffy dirty white dogs chewing up diapers, sniffing asses, chasing tail and sunbathing in front of my stoop. Beat it! And when I leave the gate, there are always more on the pot-holed road getting in the way always wondering if they’re going to bite my legs and give me rabies. So far, so good.

They also generally have little fear. They sleep in the dimly lit streets at night and one night, even with my bicycle’s headlight on, I nearly hit three of them. Can’t fucking see those beasts in the shadows. Don’t want to hit a three-legged dog and leave him with just two. Just this morning, I saw another dog chewing up a diaper on the street connecting with my rocky lane. What is in these things?  I know some dogs have a penchant for eating shit, but this is just nasty.

Ok, the gate, the gate. I told you I’d get to it. The thing is locked nearly every night at half past eight or perhaps quarter til. Right before I’m usually leaving the house. Not that big of a deal you say. But it is. Unlock, slide the gates apart, move my bike to the other side, slide the gates back together, reach my hands through the gate and feed the lock back through the hole and click it closed getting grease on my fingers, which I proceed to wipe on the bars of the gate. Just one more unnecessary step in order to get out of the house. And when I come back home, do it all over again along with opening up another gate to lock my bicycle in the storage shed. Ballache if you ask me.

So, having said all of that, I hope to move out soon. Get to a more central location. Find a cheap guesthouse on a paved road. A place that has a fridge, wifi and perhaps even hot water. And no gate surrounding the place. And no dirty diapers outside my door. The only problem with a guesthouse is you end up having a lot of neighbors and some of them will be quiet and some will be noisy assholes. However, as with anything, you have the good and the bad. And you just deal. And in the grand scheme of things, life is good. I’m in Cambodia, living life. I’m alive, I’m fit and relatively healthy, eating good food every day and going about by bicycle. And today, it’s not raining. Things could be far, far worse, I just had to complain about something.

No evil

A slight twist on the original...

Christmas in September

What a day. It's like Santa snuck down the chimney and flew on without me even noticing. And it's only September! Can't wait to see what the next three months have in store. I woke up a bit late this morning and eventually wandered out and found a new laundry woman. She was sweet and offered to do it for $0.75 a kilo if I brought it to her regularly. A 25% discount for being a loyal customer. Yeah, I could probably do it myself, but then I wouldn't be able to stare at walls as long as I normally do.

So, after dropping off my laundry, I went and procured a new 20 liter bottle of water. And then, as if that wasn't enough, I rode my bicycle to P'sar Leu and procured myself a few more household items. A couple of sweat rags, a towel, a laundry hamper, a pillow and a broom. Just not having dirty clothes on the floor is huge. And let me tell you, having two decent pillows is also fairly big. You have no idea.

From there, I went and found a case for my mobile phone. It almost fit perfectly and was cheaper than every other option I had seen previously. Time to throw away the baby sock! I've been using baby socks for the past five months to protect my screen and it always elicits a few chuckles on the occasion I whip it out in front of a woman. Oh my God! Put that thing away!

Feeling the snow fall around me, but still feeling the warmth from the sun above, I was feeling pretty blessed. I got a pineapple and some chili salt to feast on later. My friend and I veered right at the river and found a local joint selling spring rolls. We overindulged in both the fresh and fried variety and for a couple of bucks, felt like I was walking away from an all-you-can-eat buffet. Except that this buffet was serving up the same thing and there was no air-conditioning.

Later in the day, I picked up my passport from the travel agency that was four days late in getting it back to me. Lucky I wasn't going anywhere. Anyway, I now have a 6-month, multiple entry visa. Then I went and bought more shit. Christmas! I got some electrolytes at the pharmacy and a tub of wax earplugs. They will come in handy. I went to the second-biggest supermarket in town and there, staring me in the face, was both bran fiber and psyllium husk. Like finding a brand new shiny bicycle under the tree on Christmas morning. Perhaps the best buy of the day.

At this point, my smile was contagious. Glowing down the street, I was guided by the only ray of sunshine while everyone else was caught under storm clouds. I went to the mini-mart, bought a couple boxes of condoms because I was feeling lucky and some new hair conditioner. It never looks good to just buy condoms. Mix it up a little. Cause I wasn't done, I stopped at another mini-mart and bought a tupperware container to store my fiber and psyllium. Don't want ants in my shit!

Oh I completely forgot. I also bought one of those USB dongles so now I can mindlessly consume what Facebook has to offer from the convenience of my bedroom. I got the dongle from Smart Mobile because they offer a couple free gigs per month for the first three months. After browsing for a half hour, I can comfortably say it sucks a dick. You might be thinking, Oh it's that good? That's not what I'm saying. It's terribly slow and feels like 1999. Waiting for that porn to fully download. Now, there is no excuse. Back in the day of dial-ups, it was understandable.

Anyway, thank you Santa. Even though you can't offer me a decent internet connection, I'll forgive you. Just don't forget me come December. I'm not one to get caught up with the mindless consumption of material things, but I could use a motorcycle, some sunscreen and a job. Either that or continuous influx of funds into my checking account. See what you can do. I'm anxiously awaiting your next visit.

Sunday bloody Sunday

Yeah, yeah, yeah, so the title isn’t original, but it is Sunday and I feel like shit so it’s somewhat fitting. I need something to eat. Soon. That pineapple seemed to eat a hole in my belly and has increased my irritability. My foot massage was good and killed a half hour, but then what? There’s nowhere to go without spending money. I hate that. You can only browse so many shops without buying something. I went to the mini-mart, pretended to look at a few things and then went ahead and bought the OFF!® without further ado. There’s nothing like a little DEET cologne. Chicks dig it.

I walked the long walk back home. I guess I could have taken a moto taxi, but that would have cost me a good 50 cents. I decided to walk cause I’ve tired of my yellow bicycle already. It’s an ugly piss yellow and usually I can at least flush that color away. Now I have to sit on it all day. I think I’ll buy a new one and sell this atrocity. That’s the closest I can get to flushing it away. Good thing I debated a good while prior to choosing yellow over orange. I am a terrible decision maker. There was no gut feeling, that’s the problem. And no one to ask for an opinion besides an overly biased sales clerk. Oh well.

So I have a new apartment and it’s nice and cheap, but just a little walk from the city center. Not a problem by bicycle, but walking is a drag if you’re back and forth like I am. Over the bridge, past the club to the right, go straight, turn first left, walk straight ahead, turn right at the first paved road and turn right again by the K2 inline skating facility. Follow the bumpy potholed road down approximately 50 meters, past the dead snake and you’ll see a gate on your left.  I’m the apartment in the middle on the ground floor.

I hate locking my bicycle in the shed at night. I hate unlocking and locking the gate when I go out too late. And I hate dodging the potholes in the semi-darkness, flipping up mud onto the back of my legs from my flip flops, which get stuck in the mud. I dislike biking this ‘road’ even more as gives me road rash and rattles my undercarriage. I’m sure it contributed to my recent blowout, which not only burst the tube, but completely fucked the tire as well.

But the apartment itself is nothing to complain about. Not for 70 bucks a month. I got a roof over my head and the fan is sufficient even only on the second setting. I thought I might sweat to death. Fortunately it’s not the hot season. The cold shower is alright even if I might crave a little warmth on occasion. I can deal. The constant sweeping I might learn to despise, but it’s better than walking on sand and carrying it into bed with me. I think I’ll probably never eat here as I’ve seen what a drop of sugar can bring and I don’t want to use that Raid again.

This morning or yesterday, I can’t remember, I woke to the sound of chickens clucking, roosters crowing, children crying, hammers pounding and the bass from the inline skate facility thumping. It’s only slightly annoying and probably not complain-worthy considering it was nearly 10 o’clock. And well, you get what you pay for.  I’m sure I’d get all of the above, minus the bass in other locations too. I have earplugs and an iPod and I just have to make sure they’re at the ready.

Thank goodness for music. Good music. Listening to Bon Iver and it’s soothing the tension in my brain. Maybe I need a cranial massage. Or a prescription. I think I’ve figured it all out. I have recently been self-diagnosed with Eternal Fatigue Disorder and Eternal Discontent Syndrome. There is no cure, just a lot of rest, a little booze and lots of short-lived, fleeting, momentary encounters with external sense pleasures. I seemed to have forgotten how to meditate – not that I was any good at it anyway.

I need a beer and a pretty girl to look at. Yeah, that’s it. Pretty sure I’m fooling myself, but someone convinced me that happiness comes from within and I’m hoping I’ll find it in one of those bottles one day. How will I know what it looks like when that day comes? Fuck, I’ll probably just drink it and not even know it was there. I really want to catch it in my teeth, pick it out and raise it above my head between my calloused fingertips and say You're mine now, bitch!

Whatever. It’s almost time to go out, I can feel it. Nothing more to say. Put on my slacks, button up my shirt and dance the night away. Kidding, next weekend is prom night. Tonight is just Sunday. A night on the town like any other night. A few beers will probably elicit a few yawns and the young night will be old very quickly. Unless the Universe has other things in store. We shall see. Tata for now.