I believe that am at my best when the sun moves through the sky from morning until dusk, and even a short time after.
Before that, the uncertainty of what the day may hold brings me coffee getting cold and sleep in my eyes. I resist life. Birds can call out to me in lilting melody only for me to perceive it as a raucous and invasive taunting. Before the sun has filled the window sill, this could be a day I die or hurt someone or produce nothing of value and worth.
I am anxious for the sun to enter my life and restless with the inability to cause anything. Without a result on record for the day until this minute, how am I to gauge and measure what the beating of my heart has been meant for?
Should I take some solid object and crash it into another? I imagine a gigantic oriental gong, as big as a car and shining golden in the morning shadows. I would lift a massive mallet, swing back with it, threatening the dislocation of my shoulder, and launch it into the meat of the metal, off center. The impact would cause my teeth to clatter and my arms to bounce back, almost losing my grip on the mallet.
But the resulting kinetic shock and swell in the massive tam-tam would consume the air surrounding me and send a signal to my ears and Nature to get the hell out of the way because the sun is coming, rays of it streaking in onto the hanging brass disc still returning from it’s trajectory outward.
I have stood, incoherent except for this vision and just long enough for the sun to finally seep into our small living room above the mighty Chaophrya River…
Continued in the full blog post: Long-tail water dragster drivers, navigating the Red Light District, staying faithful in the heat of a tropical summer, eating unrefrigerated street eggs, pork, and rice, and more!
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