rambles

I was left out of the whole Joko Anwar and his Circle K thing cause we had to run somewhere for a thing. By the time we got home, the second batch of guests arrived, including lil Bro and a few of his friends. Things were apparently pretty wild at Dehooi and it’s a quick drive and I haven’t really done anything remotely fun for the last few weeks so I left. As it turned out, it was a pretty good crowd. One of them is an immigration official working out of Manado and he was blubbering about Manado girls and whatnot.
I think most of the guys have not been drinking alcohol for the whole month, so the binge went pretty bad. I was drugged out as I was and I wasn’t really thinking suicidal thoughts yet so I stayed away from anything stronger than orange juice. Somebody was figuring out an alcohol smuggling market potential until I explained that shipping them from Manado to Jakarta would take any profit so they stopped suggesting illegal business and chat happy stuff instead. I think some of the guys went to play Wii but I was finding myself entertained catching up with someone. An ex colleague of mine with silly little hard nipples and we used to flirt a little. She had her boyfriend around somewhere but I told her I didn’t mind trouble much. We used to go around to smoke on the emergency stairway to fool around a little but she didn’t think it was a good idea. At some point someone told a story of someone else giving a handjob to his dog and we all agreed we needed a better conversationalist to pick the theme.
I need to take my head off things for a bit. Things were a little crazy the last few months but the shit kinda hit the fan in the last few weeks. I’ve been thru worse so it’s nothing to worry about but I still not like it one less. It’s just one of those times in life where you seeming lost any sort of grips with real stuff. Not so much that you’re going goo or anything. You still see things, and hear things, and probably even understand things. But you’re completely detached. Like I can’t even pretend to care. It was one of those fuck all moments and these guys are usually good at it.
Okay, now here’s where we go for a short detour. I don’t usually use real names. Nothing in my blog is true. I change names, dates, places and sometimes, I make things sound better than they are. I make things sound worse than they are but that’s just me being naturally negative. I have always keep a journal in my life, Mother showed me my notes from when I was six or so when I wrote pirate stories. This blog is the latest incarnation, it was originally a series of letter keeping my wife updated with life in Indonesia. Now ex wife and all. Long story. But here you are.
In the beginning, there was some sort of naming convention. It was useful for most readers but it was useful for me. During the last few years however, I’ve broken my own rules several times and I learned that some people I write about actually read this blog. Not so much about what I wrote of them, but because they would then learn of things that are none of their business, sometime around two years ago, an emergency naming convention was enacted. It means I can call anyone I like and I have now since lost track. I will consider doing a new and revisited FAQ to cover this bit but maybe later.
Back to the story unfolding.
Well, there really aren’t stories unfolding. I think lil Bro went over the line when he told me not to do things I was thinking of doing. I thought he was being unreasonably harsh. He thought I was being irreparably stupid. We just couldn’t agree but I left him alone. I just told him to make sure that there’s a bottle of tequila when she gets there and we dropped it. He said yes. Fuck it. I went back to the pool table and slugged a few games but we left for another place after that. I don’t think I’m supposed to tell people anything much these days all things considered but the place was really loud. There was a bunch of us and most were pretty cool but I was getting itchy and I felt like just talking to someone. I used to call Olive when I needed to yell at night, but she stopped talking my calls after she figured out why I called her in the first place. I can’t believe I actually know her number. Baby Bro took my phone away but there was a few more new people and Master Chubby turned up. Still the same groupie and he was drunk as a pie. Like idiot drunk. I think he also called me an idiot. I would never forgive myself for ever having Master Chubby involved in my mess. It’s even messier to get him out of it. I heard of the bad shit first. In fact, I heard of it before any of you fuckers even wondered about it. I was married before everybody else so I asked the same questions earlier. I just didn’t want to think about it. Not tonight. I needed to get the knucklehead stuff out of the way.
I called Vi instead. She probably knew more things. She told me to go to sleep. I need to get the knucklehead stuff out of the way. Some things we cannot change. Let’s worry about things we can.
It’s supposed to be the best week for prayers. My best wishes, sincerely.
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Note: the original post is an email, but I realized that I can’t say everything I wanted to say. So you guys get the wholly completely different and edited – and most likely totally nonsensical version.