Out for a swim (part 2, final)

More of those handsome young guys from the April, 2004 edition of Ozone magazine.

Out for a swim (part 1)

Three handsome young dudes, 'Pop' Kamkasem (ป๊อบ คำเกษม),'Cee' Siwat Chotchaicharin (ซี ศิวัฒน์ โชติชัยชรินทร์), and 'Peck' Premmanat Suwannanon (เป็ค เปรมณัช สุวรรณานนท์) from the April, 2004 edition of Ozone magazine.

See more in the next post.

Get your hooks out

'Do you think he's missing you?' Mum asked me last night. She was referring to lovelorn Mr Dribbles, who has returned to his home in Buri Ram.

We haven't spoken in days, and only met at Mum's shop twice, but Mum could see that we became close.

'I suspect he did initially, but his term break lasts for months, so he will probably have forgotten me by the time he returns to Bangkok,' I said.

'He's bound to be back,' she said.

Mum has been showing increasing interest in my love life lately, which is a worry. I have told her about boyfriend Maiyuu, but she seems barely interested.

She has only met him once, years ago. I remember she pulled a face: 'What, is that the best you can do?' she seemed to say. Maiyuu has not been back to the shop since, and I recall only visited reluctantly, when I asked him along one night.

Mum's shop is the centre of my nightlife activity now, and I am a well-known face, even if I do not live in the area. However, I doubt my boyfriend could even find his way back there again.

Last night kathoey Bom joined me for a drink. 'It's a pity the two of you don't share the same taste in men, as it would be much simpler,' Mum said. She meant it was a pity that Bom and I are not interested in each other.

'No way!' said Bom.

Mmm. No need to be quite so emphatic, if you don't mind - it's bad for my old man's ego.

Still, in Mum's eyes we must have made for a sad sight, the two of us, sitting around waiting for handsome men to walk into our lives.

Actually, that might be why Bom turns up - he fancies the teenage boys who drop into Mum's shop, who in my view look way too young - but it is not my main purpose in drinking. I like meeting new people, and watching the night roll by.

Later, a woman trader in the area joined us. She and Mum talked about men, and Mum mentioned jokingly that she had her eye on me as a marriage prospect.

'We'll probably have to wait 10 years, though, before my husband dies,' she said, with a laugh.

A long-term marriage prospect, then. By that time I might have learnt how to fetch customers' Pepsi orders correctly (one hopes, anyway).

However, I shall be even older and uglier than I am now. I wonder if I shall still be occupying the same bar stool. Let's hope not.

Late in the night, doe-eyed Tock, the boy whose manners are as beautiful as his sensitive face, turned up to smoke a cigarette before bed. He was wearing black trousers and a crumpled white T-shirt.

Since his university term ended, Tock has been working in a restaurant. But the part-time job wears him out and leaves him with little time for socialising.

Last night, as he stood chatting to Bom and me, while smoking his bedtime cigarette, it was as if nothing odd had happened that night when I chased him down a darkened street for a talk. I had just chatted him up - so what?

Maybe he gets hit on often. Most importantly, he did not take offence, find it embarrassing, or get upset, as I had initially feared.

Tock asked me a couple of questions, referring to me my name, which he obviously remembers.

Bom was talking to him about good places to celebrate the upcoming Songkran festival.

'I will probably stick to throwing water in my soi (street), rather than going anywhere special,' he said. Tock is a shy, quiet one.

Bom, by contrast, is a noisy kathoey (gay). He has invited me to go with him to Sanam Luang that night. He says we shall meet at Mum's shop, to buy a bottle of whisky and plastic cups, before setting off by foot.

I don't find it an appealing prospect. I would rather sit at Mum's shop, as I do every year, and watch as youngsters carrying their plastic guns head back from water fights on Khao San Rd.

Last year a passing taxi driver asked if he could tip a bucket of water over my head. The driver had taken me to Mum's place one night, and remembered me. I consented, but that was the only time, I recall, that anyone made me wet during the water festival.

Tock finished his cigarette, and said good-night.

'Tock has such lovely manners,' said Bom, as Tock walked down his soi for home.

I agree. What a shame he won't let me be his friend.

I don't want Mum's hooks in me, or Mr Dribbles' talons either. Friendship is so much easier- but in this place, even that can be too hard.

Who's laughing, now?

Thai director Poj Anon doesn't care what the critics think of his latest kathoey comedy, Hor Taew Tak - in its first two weeks in cinemas, it made almost B50m for production company Five Star Productions.

Poj (พจน์ อานนท์) left Sahamongkol Films International to rejoin his old stable, Five Star, to make Hor Taew Tak. The parting of ways followed a difference of opinion with Sahamongkol's boss, Sia Jiang. He was apparently unhappy with the gay drama, Friends, which Poj made for him last year.

Critical reception for Hor Taew Tak wasn't so bad, I thought, although kathoey comedies in general tend to be regarded as lightweight. Poj, pictured, did come in for some flak on the Pantip webboard, and responded to his critics publicly.

Such strong box office takings show that Thais like his kathoey (ladyboy) comedies, even if they are addle-brained. He is now preparing to start work on his next film, a comedy which will cast a female in the lead.

Catwalk cutie

More pictures of 'Guy' Rachanon Sukprakob (กาย รัชชานนท์ สุขประกอบ), a young actor who appeared in Poj Anon's kathoey comedy Hor Taew Tak. The last two posts are also illustrated with pictures of him (scroll down, and take a look).

Here, he has hit the catwalk again - and my, doesn't he look cute!

Checkpoint stop

Police at a sentry point stopped my taxi last night, as I was heading to Mum's place.

In the last few weeks, as protest action against the coup-installed government has gathered steam, police have started putting the checkpoint up again, to search cars crossing the Chao Phraya river. This is not the only checkpoint in town, of course - I meet another one regularly on my way home from work.

The last time they were stationed in big numbers at the river checkpoint, close to Mum's shop, was in the weeks immediately after the coup, when it was staffed by military police, who brought out their Humvees and tanks to show off their military muscle.

Then, as the government got down to work, and the political climate stabilised a little, the tanks disappeared, and eventually so did the checkpoints.

Now, however, the checkpoints (if not yet the armoured military vehicles) are back, and last night, for the first time, my taxi was flagged over for a search.

The policeman outside cast his torch over us, then spotted a large, squarish black bag I was carrying on my lap.

He beckoned to the driver to turn the window down, and pointed to the black bag, which must have looked reasonably threatening. The object inside fits the bag snugly, so when it sits in my lap it resembles a largish, solid black box.

What's that!' he exclaimed, looking surprised.

'A dic,' I said.

'A what?'

It was a largish-sized Thai-English dictionary which I take with me to Mum's place, whenever I visit. I carry it in a black cotton bag. It is bigger than most dictionaries, and in fact might have fitted the proportions of a ... yes, one of those.

'Would you like to take a look?' I asked, as I pulled it out of the bag.

I held it up. He read the cover, and flagged us on.

Getting to know you

In the last couple of days I have been walking around the market where I live, trying to get to know it better.

The other day I realised that I tread the same path every day - from the condo, to the place where I buy lunch; from there, while I am waiting for my food, I walk down to the canal. Then I walk back. I seldom take detours from that tired route, unless Maiyuu asks me to buy him something at a convenience store.

I decided it was time to do some exploring. On the first day, I walked for about 30 minutes, past the railway line which passes through my market, and out towards a temple I last visited about 12 months ago, when returning from Mum's place early one morning, with one of my friends of the night. We ate breakfast there, while waiting for Maiyuu to leave home.

The route took me past rusty shophouses, computer game parlours (invariably with the windows covered in posters, so no one can see in); run-down vehicle repair outlets, tiny hairdressing salons, and motorcycle taxi stands. At one, a couple of middle-aged men stopped me to practise their English. At another point in my journey, a man selling ice-cream from a little cart reached out for my hand as he walked past, and kept holding it until I let go, which I had to do, as I was walking in the opposite direction. 'Helloooo!' he said.

The route was getting narrower, and above the roofline of the shophouses and small apartment blocks, I could spot large, familiar-looking buildings which face the main road. They helped guide me along. Eventually my route took me right under an expressway. It was narrow and tight down there, but still big enough for motorcycles to pass through.

Motorcycle taxis, and folk living in the area use this route as a shortcut off the main drag. At this hour of the afternoon, parents were darting about on their motorcycles, with their children perched on the back. Teenagers who live in the area had finished school, and were doing what teens do best: milling.

Yesterday when I left home I headed off in another direction, on the other side of the main road, down the street immediately behind it, which I had not ventured down in more than two years.

Last time, I suspect, I did not go down very far, because I didn't remember most of it. The street took me past a large karaoke barn, which from the main road looks like a dump, but from this side looked like a small palace. I never realised I was looking at the rear end of it, all these years when I passed it on the main road as I headed for my place, which is about 20 metres further on. How bizarre.

Further on, I entered the confines of a large temple, which once again I never knew was there. The temple was so large it contained a school. I took a left, to take me back out onto the main road. Walking back home, I passed a popular moo gra ta restaurant, where a group of school children was taking an early evening meal.

A little further on, I passed Mr Noodle's noodle stand. He saw me coming, as he always does through special eyes he keeps in the back of his head. This day he decided not to hide as he usually does, but to strut about making manly-sounding conversation to the other boys who work at the noodle cart.

He was walking in front, with his back to me, but I managed to catch a sideways glance of his face.

In the blazing sun, he has become tanned, almost dark brown, which can't please him. However, his handsome features blazed with their usual intensity. I wanted to take a better look, but I am afraid he will get embarrassed, so I kept walking as if nothing special was happening.

Thais in the neighbourhood must be wondering what is going on. I have only chosen two of the hottest days of the year to embark on my walking adventure. But it is opening my eyes to parts of this place which I never knew existed. It's a fascinating journey, and one which I plan to carry on.

Fabulous 'Oh'! (part 3, final)

I have downloaded more than 20 pics from 'Oh' Anuchyd Sapanphong (โอ อนุชิต สพันธุ์พงษ์)'s fansite. Shameful gluttony, I know, but I just can't help myself.

Fabulous 'Oh'! (part 2)

More of 'Oh' Anuchyd Sapanphong (โอ อนุชิต สพันธุ์พงษ์). If he is a singer, dancer and actor, why do we not see more of him?

Fabulous 'Oh'! (part 1)

Actor, singer and dancer 'Oh' Anuchyd Sapanphong (โอ อนุชิต สพันธุ์พงษ์), who sprang to fame as the lead actor in the movie Horm Lorng.

He says he is straight, and the gay rumour mill has it wrong. Last July, Oh told the Daily News newspaper that it looked as if he had found a girlfriend, a friend of a friend whom he had known 10 years. At the age of 27, it was not before time, he said. He had not taken her home to meet the family, as they were still talking.

He was not using her as a shield, to fend off those gay rumours. When he goes out with his guy friends, no one ever asks him about the gay thing, as they know him too well.

Regardless of what his sexual preferences are, I think Oh is fabulous. He has a brooding, vulnerable quality about him which men and women alike must find appealing.

Touching friendship

My Thai student friend Chu is a thinker, and as such likes to mix with the thinking crowd, the foreign backpacker tourists on Khao San Rd.

No, I joke. Chu likes Khao San Rd, and enjoys talking to foreigners. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?

He has an almond shaped face, large liquid eyes, and long hair pulled back behind his head.

Student Chu wants to be a journalist, and has a particular interest in documentaries. But when he is not watching them, he likes to follow football, and watch movies.

I met Chu once before, when he turned up with friends, to watch football at Mum's shop. We hit it off, perhaps because as a farang I am inclined to ask simple, even naive questions, rather than getting too smart with my mouth.

Chu is a thinker, and can get worked up easily, as I saw this night, when a group of four or five Thais who speak Japanese joined us.

At first I did not remember these folk. They had been drinking somewhere else and turned up in a taxi. The only guy, a man aged in his 50s and wearing a hat, obviously fancied himself as a man about town.

He told Mum he had been educated at a nearby temple as a child, and occasionally comes back to the neighbourhood for a nostalgic look.

One of the women in the group started talking to Chu. She must have said something to upset him, because his face darkened, and he looked intense and worried.

He turned towards me, away from the group, so we could talk without them watching us. The newcomers, meanwhile, started talking to each other in Japanese.

When they started on the Japanese thing, I remembered I had seen this group once before, many years ago - no doubt on another one of Mr Hat's nostalgic return visits. When they first turn up, they start talking to whoever is sitting at the bar in Thai.

Then, once they have invited him to join the conversation, they start to converse in noisy Japanese, which immediately shuts out the newcomer.

I know they like to intimidate people in this manner, because I watched them do it to another hapless drinker last time.

They could carry on talking to each other and the newcomer in Thai, but would rather show off. It is a little game they play.

I told Chu not to get upset. He patted my leg, and thanked me for caring.

After the group left, Chu complained to Mum about the way they had treated him.

Mum, a blunt speaker, was unimpressed. 'You must have said something to upset that woman first, or she would not have reacted,' she said.

Unfortunately, Chu could not remember what he said, as he had been drinking.

'Well, then, you can't complain,' said Mum. 'They were just doing their own thing, minding their own business.'

'I think they came here to show off,' I volunteered.

'You must be happy, you have found another young man to talk to,' Mum told me, referring to Chu.

Most long drinking nights end with Mum making such remarks. Almost inevitably, I am in the company of young straight friends. We laugh. No one cares.

A friend called Chu on the cellphone. He said he was sitting at Mum's shop, talking to me.

'That was a friend. I told him about you after the first night we met,' he said.

'I don't want you getting stressed about tonight. Please take my phone number and call me if you cannot sleep,' I told him, while scribbling my number down on a piece of paper.

He did not call, because maybe, after sleeping on the problem, he forgot about it.

I remember those Japanese-speaking Thais, though. If I see them again, I shall warn my friends what to expect.

Just too polite

Mum made suki last night for me and four boys from the performing arts school. When I turned up at 11pm, the boys had already started drinking, and by the end of the night, they had managed to get through a whole box of beer.

About 1am, Mum set up a casserole dish filled with water. We dragged an extension cord across the sidewalk from the shop to the table where we wanted to eat. Then I plugged in the casserole dish to make the water boil.

She also brought over a bag of greens, noodles, and a large bowl of uncooked meat, which she had spent the previous hour preparing.

Once the water boiled, we dropped in the greens and the noodles. Using chopsticks, we dipped the meat in the boiling water to scald it, before transferring it to small eating bowls.

Mum and I decided to eat first, since we had gone to the effort of preparing it. But the boys would not have dared join the table first anyway, as they are too polite.

The boys included two brothers, Sakda and Toon, who I have known several years. One of the other pair was a new face.

The fourth boy, I met about a year before. He has small, wiry features, and is keen on Thai history, football and Thai boxing.

'Do you remember that night we met?' he asked me. 'A drunken guy turned up waving a large knife,' he said.

I did remember the guy with the kn*ife, which was so large it actually resembled a small sw*ord. He had just argued with his girlfriend, was drunk, and feeling sorry for himself, so he whipped out the kn*ife to show everyone how fierce he could look.

That night, I was drinking with Sakda, Toon, and Mr Wiry at the bar, when the guy walked up out of nowhere, and pulled out his kn*ife. Sakda and Toon immediately jumped up to challenge the man, while Mr Wiry held me to one side, so I would not get hurt.

The boys left the bar to tackle the guy on the sidewalk. They knocked him to the ground, k*icked, p*unched and ab*used him. Eventually, a local policeman intervened. The policeman, who also drinks at Mum's shop, talked to the guy calmly, then sent him home in a taxi.

The boys returned to the table, where they rehashed the incident excitedly, as their heightened testosterone levels slowly returned to normal.

I could not intervene, as it was a Thai thing. It had looked like a gang attack, but really it wasn't. They were just bringing the drunk back into line, Thai style, for disrupting the peace by intimidating us with his kn*ife.

After the boys finished with him, and before the policeman arrived, I helped the drunk to his feet. I asked him what was wrong. He told me tearfully that he had argued with his girlfriend.

The boys are from Kalasin, in Esan, and when they are not laying into drunks who carry kn*ives, are polite, gentle and well-mannered.

When we pour new drinks and salute each other (do the 'Cheers!' thing), the boys deferentially tip their glasses to one side so the rim of my glass is always higher than theirs when the glasses connect.

This is to show respect, because I am older. Sometimes they can tip their glass at such a low angle that I almost miss hitting the thing, and glide over the top instead. As the night wears on, I tell them not to bother. It's a touching gesture, but I also want them to relax.

Last night, after Mum and I finished eating, I rejoined the drinking circle, and asked the boys to take my seat at the suki table nearby. They would not.

'I cannot eat when I drink,' said Mr Wiry. He gave me several variations of that excuse over the course of the night, so in the end I just gave up. But I know the other two boys better, so I could be more persistent.

My chair sat empty for the next 30 minutes, before any of the boys was game enough to get something to eat. Toon wandered over, but still was not prepared to sit. Instead, he stood hesitantly, while he poked about in the casserole dish with his chopsticks.

'It looks more polite if you sit,' I told him.

Mum could not understand why I was trying so hard to get the boys to join the table.

'They are shy,' I said. 'I have to coax them over just to eat.'

'Shy, where? They are not shy,' she insisted.

Eventually, Toon forced himself into sitting position, and then the others joined him at the table, so everyone ended up getting something to eat. All except for Mr Wiry, who insisted his digestion system could not cope.

I was particularly keen on persuading Toon to eat. The last time I saw him, he had just broken up with his girlfriend, had lost interest in food, and barely ventured outdoors. Last night, he looked much better, so his love life must have improved.

I asked his brother, who I thought would probably know such things.

'Your brother has put on weight. Does this mean he has found a new girlfriend?' I asked Sakda. Toon had stepped away from the table to use his cellphone.

'I don't know. I don't dare ask, it's his business,' he replied.

Mr Wiry told me that he trained as a Thai kickboxer when he was in his teens, like many country boys. He lifted his shirt to show me his chest muscles.

By 5am, we had drunk enough. Some of the boys had an early start; Sakda was getting up at 7.30, which is barely time to rest his head.

Mum gave me the rest of the suki to take home in a large plastic bag. Persuading the boys to accept the food would have taken until morning, as their politeness and sense of kreng jai (consideration towards others) are just too well ingrained.

Losing it

A handsome young Japanese man sat himself at Mum's shop bar the other night. His hooded eyes were beautiful, and of course I told him so - though we were talking about the difference between Koreans and Japanese, so it must have seemed an innocent remark.

When he arrived at the shop, I heard him order a beer in stumbling tones, so I knew he was not Thai. He sat himself away from my farang friend and me, but I could tell he wanted to talk - why else sit at a strange bar? I asked my farang friend to invite him over and start talking, while I served customers.

Mum has been asking me to serve, while she steps away to the toilet, or visits her home nearby. 'Just watch over the shop, you don't have to sell anything,' she says emphatically. Mum does not like me selling goods, because I mess up her orders.

Mum's shop is perched at the mouth of a soi, and opens on two sides. If she is busy with customers on one side, she might ask me to fetch something for customers waiting on my side. She might call out: 'Pepsi, poured over ice.'

I can fetch that, because I have done it before, and don't have to think. However, last night she called out: 'Pepsi, two large bottles in a bag.'

I didn't know she sold Pepsi in large bottles, so thought she meant the regular kind. 'In a bag' - well, she must mean poured over ice, right, the way most customers like it?'

No. She did indeed sell Pepsi in large plastic bottles, not the little glass returnable ones I am used to seeing. I just didn't know where she kept them. And she did in fact want them placed in a bag, not opened, with the contents poured over ice.

More embarrassment for me, as Mum had another few baht lopped off her profit margin.

I was talking to a young Thai friend before I helped her serve. Gap is a regular, whom I have known for several years. As a member of Mum's extended 'family,' he likes to look after me - offering me occasional advice on this or that Thai newcomer at the shop, not all of whom come with good intentions.

In a loud voice which could be heard by any passers-by, Mum filled him in about the many times she has asked me for one thing, only to get another. 'I ask him for this or that, but I always get Pepsi over ice!'

Gap looked embarrassed, but came up with a face-saving explanation. 'You just set out to do different things.'

Late last night, Mum asked me to place some empty plastic water bottles in the rubbish. 'This must have something to do with Pepsi, too,' I joked.

I can do some things passably well. I can sell cigarettes by the packet, or even by the bag, where I take out four cigarettes from the packet and place them in a little plastic bag for customers who do not have enough money to buy a whole packet.

One of my most recent tasks is to take a broom and sweep the spiderwebs off the neon strip lights above the bar.

At that hour of the night, the spiders have come out to make their new webs for the day. While sweeping them down, I have to make sure no spiders fall in my own drink, of course.

When Thais approach the shop and see me sitting there, they do not wonder any more why a farang is selling goods, and not a Thai. They just want to be served, so don't care who does it. But the job is not as easy as it looks, especially for someone as vague as I am.

On the night the Japanese youngster visited, I was called away to serve, and did not get much of a chance to talk. He could not understand my accent anyway, so I had to call on my farang friend to explain.

Farang M comes from a rough part of London, but Mr Japan seemed to understand him well enough. I come from a British colony, where we also speak the Queen's English, but he could barely get a word of what I said.

'God, what's happened to your English?' said farang M, exasperated.

Mr Japan, who has been here a few months, had just broken up with his Thai girlfriend. He was tall, broad, and wore a sports cap. 'Thai girls like Koreans more than Japanese,' he said sadly.

I hope he comes back again. Mr Japan was the best looking non-Thai Asian I have seen in these parts for a while.

Now, if I can just get the hang of those Pepsi orders...

Show us those pants, Guy

'Guy' Rachanon Sukprakob (กาย รัชชานนท์ สุขประกอบ), a young actor who appeared in Poj Anon's kathoey (ladyboy) comedy Hor Taew Tak, is big on the internet, judging by the number of search hits this blog is getting.

This week, Guy emerged as one of the most popular search queries directing readers to this blog. Another reader favourite, from the same movie, is Gus (กัส วีรดิษฐ์ ศรีมาลัย).

From the stars file, two popular posts were the story of actress 'Nan' Amita Chinsumrej (แนน อมิตดา), who wrote the kiss-and-tell book about the entertainers she has taken to bed; and the story of veteran actress 'Jik' Naowarat Yuktanun (จิ๊ก เนาวรัตน์ ยุกตะนันท์) and her friendship with young model/actor Piya Wimuktayon, also known as 'X' (เอ็กซ์ ปิยะ วิมุกตายน) - who is forever batting off rumours that he is gay.

But I think we need to see more of Guy. In these pictures, he has hit the catwalk. In the bottom image, I am not sure what he is modelling - the top, or his underpants?

Another sand bath

This is Mettee Amornwutikul, who (one website tells me) was the first Thai model to pose naked. He's since moved on to bigger things: Mettee (เมธี อมรวุฒิกุล) and a school friend have just invested B110m in opening a training school for nurses' aides.

School-leavers can take the six-month course at any of the school's three branches, and are guaranteed to find work after they graduate, says Mettee, who had to sell virtually everything he owns - a Silom condo, land, and a restaurant - to raise his B40m share. The students can find work here, or the school will send them to Japan, New Zealand or Singapore, he says.

Beautiful 'Win' (part 2, final)

Don't those eyes just make your heart melt? Tawin Yaowapolkul, or 'Win' (วิน-ธาวิน เยาวพลกุล).

Beautiful 'Win' (part 1)

Actor Tawin Yaowapolkul, or 'Win' (วิน-ธาวิน เยาวพลกุล) for short, who grows more beautiful every time I see him. He is the younger brother of former singer and heartthrob Navintar (นาวิน ต้า), and in his own way is becoming just as accomplished.

Rising star Khun (part 2, final)

More of Thai-Chinese youngster Nichkhun Horvejkul, a talented cultural ambassador for Thailand who is being trained as a potential superstar in Korea by production company and talent agency JYP Entertainment.

On one fansite, which his Thai fans started for him, clever Khun (นิชคุณ หรเวชกุล) provides lengthy written answers to their questions, in Thai and English, his two primary languages.

Khun was born in the US, but moved to Thailand with his family when he was two. He was raised here, but then returned to the US to finish his schooling in Los Angeles, where - in one of those life-changing moments - someone from JYP Entertainment spotted him at a concert, and invited him to audition.

After passing the audition, the company took him to Korea to sign his contract, and show him where he would get trained. He spoke to his parents before accepting the offer.

They were supportive, telling him he should regard it as a learning opportunity and valuable life experience.

His eight-year contract does not include the time he has to spend in industry training, or learning languages.Khun says training to become a star is hard work.

JYP is giving him instruction in all branches of the industry. He must also learn Chinese and Korean, and work out regularly.

He has 24 others of similar age in his 'class', who every month are tested to see how they are performing. Khun and his classmates must turn from being friends into competitors, which would be an unusual experience.

His JYP contract does not mean he will perform exclusively in Korea, as the company is keen for its talent to get work experience in their home countries, too.

Superstar Rain is his senior, and as a fellow JYP 'property' has given him advice every step of the way, Khun says. Some of his fans reckon Khun is destined for superstardom himself - they have started calling him 'Rain 2'.

Rising star Khun (part 1)

Thai-Chinese youngster Nichkhun Horvejkul, currently being primed for stardom by JYP Entertainment - the same company that has superstar Rain under its wing.

Khun, as he calls himself, was born in the US but raised in Thailand.

In 1995, Khun (นิชคุณ หรเวชกุล) was in his final year of school in Los Angeles when he went to a G.O.D. concert held as part of a Korean cultural festival in LA.

There, he was spotted by someone from JYP, who asked him to audition. He passed - the only Thai to pass a JYP audition held in the US, and the only one to pass among the Americans who turned up, too.

At present, he is paying a visit to Thailand. Normally he lives in Korea, where JYP is training him in dancing, singing and the Korean and Chinese languages.

His first appearance on their behalf was to present a show called 'Super Star Survival', made here, and another show called 'J's Studio' - though JYP would also like him to put out an album.

He plays piano, and likes composing his own songs.

Recently, he appeared in a television commercial for a sour milk drink, which has aired here, which he made with his friend Rain.He goes under many nicknames - Khun, Khunnie, Khunnie Boy, Khunnie Boo, Nichy, Nickakoong.

For part two of his story - a look at his daily life at JYP - see the next post.

Going poolside

As promised, pics of the six leading men from Poj Anon's kathoey comedy, Hor Taew Tak. They are Guy (กาย รัชชานนท์ สุประกอบ), Gus (กัส วีรดิษฐ์ ศรีมาลัย), Top (ต๊อบ ชัยวัฒน์ ทองแสง), Champ (แชมป์ นคริน กังวานโชคชัย), Beer (เบียร์ ศิววัชร์ ทรัพย์ภิญโญ), and Golf (กอล์ฟ ธนากร ใจปินตา).

The pictures come from a poolside cover shoot taken for this month's Ter Gab Chan magazine. I am not the only one to find the series disappointing - one webboard poster said their faces look bloated. Another said he envied director Poj - whatever film he makes, he makes sure he casts plenty of handsome young men.

Mr Dribbles

I get to see my Thai friends as I suspect they really are. Seldom do I have to put up with any pretense. They are just natural, fun kids, who do not bother with the airs and graces. What you see is what you get.

So it was last night when young Paew turned up at Mum's shop. No sooner had he sat down than Paew - who smokes three packets of cigarettes a day, but yesterday noticed that up an extra packet to make 80 cigarettes in total - was seized by a violent, and messy coughing fit.

The cigarettes appear to make his saliva thick and ropey. He is forever spitting on the ground, and wiping his mouth with tissues. By the end of the night a large mound of tissues and pool of saliva has gathered at our feet.

It is not an attractive sight, but Paew, I suspect, is unwell. He admits as much himself. Only someone bent on self-destruction would allow himself to smoke so much.

At various times last night, he looked as if he was having trouble breathing. His face was growing redder, and he was leaning forward against the table, as if trying to find the air to breathe.

He was having increasing trouble controlling the saliva falling from his mouth. In the end, I took over the chin wiping duty, as it was becoming too much. He was routinely spilling saliva down his chin, under his nose, down his shirt, and onto his pants.

That spectacle was mild, however, compared to the initial attack. He had barely sat down, and not yet uttered a word, when he was gripped by racking coughing fit. Once he started, it did not want to stop. It was like he had lost control of his lungs.

Saliva fell from his mouth in long, thick, strands. His face grew crimson red. I mopped his shirt and pants, as if I was tending to a child.

'I am sorry,' he said, looking embarrassed. I once asked him what he does when he starts to cough after smoking too much. 'I just light another cigarette,' he said.

Paew travelled out to see me from Silom, where he stayed the previous night in a hotel. Earlier, he called me on the bus as I made my way home from work, and several times while I sat alone at the shop.

I did not expect to see him that night, as he said he was staying too far away, and had no money. But somehow he managed to get there.

Paew, however, was not in a happy mood. 'I love you, but you are too scared to try loving me,' he complained.

'It can't be love. We have known each other less than a week,' I replied.

I told him I have a boyfriend, but he was uninterested, which did not surprise me, as that is the usual reaction I get from Thais. That I already have someone else did not seem to bother him, as he was presumably a superior candidate.

'If we cannot be boyfriends, then we can be special friends, friends who know each other's heart,' I said.

Paew was once married, and has a child from that union. But he is so effeminate and dramatically gay in his appearance, gestures and conduct that I doubt the gay side of him is a recent discovery. This is not an understudy role, but the main act.

After an hour or so of this talk, neither of us was getting anywhere. He borrowed my telephone and called his Dad in Esan. 'I will get the bus home tomorrow,' he said.

'My father taught me to be tough, never to trust anyone,' he said defiantly, while opening his wallet for me to inspect. It contained several credit cards. 'I have plenty of money, and don't need anybody.'

Shortly after, he left the table, found a taxi, and departed for his hotel without saying a word, just as he did the night before.

I hope when he gets home, his parents notice that their son is unhappy and unwell, and can offer him the care and attention which he needs.

He evidently thinks I was not prepared to do myself, which is actually untrue - I just can't be his boyfriend.

It's not his fault that I am scared to try something different. But I am not about to repay the loyalty my boyfriend has shown me over many years, by ditching him in favour of a boy I have known barely a week - no matter how needy, unhappy or vulnerable he may be.

Calendar boy

More artistic poses by model 'Oak' Surachai (โอ้ค สุรชัย).

Odd one out (part 2, final)

As he drank, Paew would occasionally lean over in my direction, and spit on the ground (a nasty smoker's habit).

The older man carried on talking. He did not seem to notice that Paew was slurring his words, his head drooping ever lower. My duty was to keep the ice bucket full, and fetch the soda.

I also kept Paew supplied with cigarettes. Paew smokes three packets a day, and was lighting one after the other.

He smelt good - the alcohol was starting to mix with the scent he wore, and the nicotine seeping from his skin. But the pool of spit on the ground was getting so big it was becoming a small puddle.

Paew told me that he wanted to be my boyfriend. I have a boyfriend of my own, so that won't work. In any event, I don't want the kind of boyfriend who insists on sticking to me every moment of the day - as I suspect he might do, if given the chance.

'Thais are jealous, but I like my freedom,' I told him.

'I like freedom, too. You don't know me yet,' he said defensively. 'I am not the type who checks on people, or sponges...as you saw the last time we met, I paid for myself.'

He did indeed, but still I did not budge. My freedom to roam about, meet new people and learn new things is simply worth too much, even if the price I have to pay for it is occasional loneliness.

Boyfriend Maiyuu lets me have my friends of the night. I told him about Paew.

'You need to have your own friends, especially when I am not here,' says Maiyuu sensibly.

Paew smokes too much. If he carries on like that, he will die young. On a calculator, we worked out that over the last three years, while he has been smoking three packs a day, he has spent almost B200,000.

When the figure popped up, we laughed. I know I should act more responsibly towards my young man. As an adult, I feel a sense of duty towards my young friends, an obligation to make sure they take the right path. Their parents are rarely around, and in their absence they look to elder figures such as me for guidance.

Paew's friends, including Nong, left first. One boy paid an extra B100 for the drinks, on top of his own share. The others were effusively grateful. One gave him a hug, before they all joined in, hugging and slapping each other on the back.

As they walked away, I noticed a few were holding hands - a supportive, innocent gesture between these friends which looked all the more appealing because they were straight.

It was a touching scene, and I couldn't help but notice that Peaw was missing it. I wondered why he chose to opt out of such moments, in favour of spending time with oldies such as me and the bejewelled, smooth talking guy sitting next to him.

Eventually, Paew could drink no more. He found a taxi, climbed in, and left.

Odd one out (part 1)

Paew is aged in his early 20s, was once married, and even has a child - but now lives life as a effeminate young gay.

His marriage was an arranged one, and ended in disaster, as the couple did not love each other. The mother of Paew's former wife now brings up the child, in Esan.

Paew, meanwhile, studies Thai classical dance in Bangkok, where his student friends include his wife's younger brother.

The first night I met him, he came with the wife's brother, whose name is Nong. I noticed the difference between them immediately: whereas Nong is straight, drinks hard and carries on boisterously like any young man fresh out of his teens, Paew appears stand-offish and detached.

Paew is obviously gay - the affected, mincing way he walks, talks, holds his hands. His straight friends know about him, and accept the way he is.

'How on earth did you hide all that, back when you were married?' I asked him.

'I was not myself back then,' he said.

I met Paew and Nong together at Mum's shop. They live in the area - as do other student friends of mine, who go to the same performing arts school.

I am eager to hear their thoughts on Paew, who seems too much like the black sheep to be an easy friend. It is odd that at his age, when most kids are happy just to fit into the group, he seems keen to stand apart.

Last night, he turned up with Nong and about six other student friends.

Nong and his friends sat at a different table, while Paew sat with me. 'I see you two like each other,' one boy called out, naughtily. Paew smiled, but did not respond to his friend's playful teasing.

Paew and I met for the first time a few nights ago.

I am not usually drawn to young guys who are so openly fem - but Paew does have his charming side.

Last night he chatted first to me, then turned to a well-dressed, respectable-looking Thai man in his 50s, who appeared to know about Thai traditional performing arts.

It is not often that I see these young ones have long conversations with adults. They might pass brief, respectful exchanges with teachers they know, even offer them a sip from their beer as they walk past. But most older folk can't be bothered, and keep moving.

The older guy wore a smart-looking gold watch, and ring with a red ruby set in the middle. I could not hear them, as Paew, who sat between us, turned his back on me to talk to him.

However, he continued filling his glass with my whisky, and within a short time - not even an hour - was visibly drunk.

now, see next post

Taking a sand bath

Three artistic shots of model 'Oak' Surachai (โอ้ค สุรชัย). See more of him here.

Yamapi's bathroom scene

Yamapi's famous bathroom scene, from a TV show he made. I wonder why it took the girl so long to notice that his naked figure was getting out of the bath?

X-rated

More pictures of the handsome Piya Wimuktayon, also known as 'X' (เอ็กซ์ ปิยะ วิมุกตายน), from this month's IAmGuy magazine.

Towel him off

Actor 'Guy' Rachanon Sukprakob (กาย รัชชานนท์ สุขประกอบ), who appears in Poj Anon's kathoey comedy, Hor Taew Tak (หอแต๋วแตก), has broken out in a sweat. Now, who will towel him off?

All five of the movie's handsome co-stars appear in this month's Ter Gab Chan magazine. I'll post pictures here when I get them.

My rapper look

Child actor Alex Randall (อเล็กซ์ เรนเดลล์), who is half Thai and half British. He was seen most recently in the soap opera Bua Prim Nam (บัวปริ่มน้ำ).

I ran a picture of him the other day, in a spread for Ter Gab Chan magazine, where he dressed as a soldier. Judging by these pictures, he can also do the rapper look convincingly. You can see more conventional images of him, taken from a magazine called Cream, in the next post.

The swinging s*ex resort

This English farang and his Thai wife have been charged for running a 'swinging' resort (รีสอร์ตสวิงกิ้ง) in Ubon Thani. I didn't know swinging was illegal - but Thai police reckon the Caroline Resort, as it is known, was just a front for pro*stitution.

The resort (คาโรไลน์ รีสอร์ท) accepted foreign customers only, who were 'lured' there via a website. Young Thai women and kathoey staff were on hand to provide s*ex, with guests paying B7000 a night for the privilege.

The young Thai s*ex workers were paid B1000 each time for s*ex, and B7000 if they had to stay the night. The British-based website, now taken down, contained pictures of n*aked men and women. When police arrived at the resort, they found five young s*ex workers, aged 21 to 25, and a lone kathoey (ladyboy), aged 17.

The farang was identified as Byron Anthony Craig, 57. One account, in the Manager newspaper, says he moved to Thailand more than 10 years ago, after selling his assets over there for B10m. He met a girl in Surin, and lived with her, until she swindled him out of B5m. After meeting his wife, Lampang Craig, 31, he used the other half of the money to set up the resort.

Another report, in Khao Sod newspaper, says he is a contract builder by trade, and moved here six years ago with about B30m in hand. He married a woman in Cha-aam, but they are now divorced. He met Lampang about four years ago, opened an ice-making factory, and built his own home, which together cost B10m. The couple have a daughter, aged two-and-a-half.

The couple claim they did not know they were doing anything wrong. In fact, they hoped to pass on the resort to their daughter one day as a viable business.

The resort looked after 15-20 guests a month, mainly from Britain. Twenty young Thai women and the single kathoey were on hand to take them into town, or provide s*ex. Most 'swinging' s*ex involved five-six people at a time.

The couple have also been charged with running a hotel without a permit, and keeping on the compound protected animals. They have denied the charges, though they have promised not to do it again once their case has been decided.

Thai police have told them that this kind of conduct can't be tolerated here - but that once the case is over, they can re-open the place as a regular hotel. Police are sure Thais would like to stay there, as the resort, set in a good location, with smart rooms, and a large central pool, is a local asset. However, they have suggested they lower the price a little, if they want to attract the local crowd.

Lampang Craig says her husband came up with the idea for the resort, while her job was to find the young women and kathoey s*ex workers.

Ton's passing - the 'real' story

Kathoey Bom was sober last night, so was able to talk sense about Ton's recent death from Aids.

The real picture is much less organised and emotionally tidy than he had me believe the first night he told me about our young friend's death.

In fact, it sounds like a typically Thai death - no big dramas, just a matter of passing from this life to the next.

Ton did not die in the North, as Bom told me previously, but at his bedsit in Bangkok.

A couple of weeks before his death, he returned to see his family in the North, when it must have been clear to everyone that he was about to die.

But rather than stay there, Ton announced that he would like to see his friends one last time, so took the long journey by bus back to Bangkok, where he died about a week later.

His family then hired a car to come to Bangkok to retrieve his body, which they took back to the North to be cremated. No friends went back with him, just the family who travelled down to get his body. I don't know where they put Ton - maybe they propped him up in the back seat.

Ton lived in a bedsit about 10 minutes' walk from Mum's shop, and worked in a massage parlour about 50 metres in the other direction. Bom and I used to see him walking back home late at night, after his work finished.

Last night, as we reminisced about Ton, kathoey Bom poured a beer for him and placed it in front of an empty seat opposite. He did not know who gave him the disease, as Ton had many male admirers. Until recently, he lived with a young man from the South.

Apparently they shared Ton's bedsit together, though I don't know how they managed to find the space. Nor did I ever meet this mystery man.

'I never asked him if he was sick, because I did not want to upset him,' says Bom. Ton himself decided against seeing the doctor, as he was worried he would be diagnosed with Aids.

We'll never know the full story - he has only been gone a couple of weeks, but already the details are growing sketchy and confused, and even slightly comical.

'He used to glide, not just walk. At his massage place, he wore a formal white shirt,' I recalled.

'...And black trousers,' kathoey Bom chimed in.

Mum turned up to clear the table. She asked who had left the full glass of beer. Bom explained that he had poured it for our absent friend, Ton.

Mum could overhear us talking about Ton, from where she sits overlooking the shop. She must have decided we had talked that topic to death. She unceremoniously picked up the glass, and threw the contents against a nearby tree.

Oh, well. There goes Ton.

'He's gone away on a short journey, but he'll be back,' said Bom.

Postscript: A Thai-Indian friend tells me that when someone in his community dies, they put him in a coffin, then hire a pick-up truck. They put the coffin on the back of the truck, then take the body to a temple to be burned. That's probably what happened to Ton, too.

More super stars

More pictures from Leslie Kee's photographic exhibition, known as the 'Super Stars Project'.

Guy's big break

Actor 'Guy' Rachanon Sukprakob (กาย รัชชานนท์ สุขประกอบ), who appears in Poj Anon's kathoey comedy, Hor Taew Tak (หอแต๋วแตก). He's just 18, and still at school.

This was his first role in a feature film, after previously appearing in one of this year's better television soap operas, Bua Prim Nam (บัวปริ่มน้ำ), and making commercials.

Postscript: The producers of Hor Taew Tak spell it like that in English, so I'll have to relent and take up that spelling instead - even though my first choice, Hor Taew Taek, is better.

Mr Kissy-Huggy

So Thai pop superstar 'Bird' McIntyre likes kissing girls - what's the big deal?

The Manager newspaper has published two remarkably bitchy pieces about Bird in the last week, criticising his most recent concert and asking why Bird has to persist with his annoying habit of kissing and hugging every woman who appears on stage with him.

The first article said his concert last week was tired and wooden. The second piece, also unusual for its outspokenness, looks further at the kissy huggy thing, and suggests that it might result from Bird's own awareness that his star is on the wane.

He feels the need to kiss and hug the girls to show his affection for them as a more senior performer, but also to raise his own status.

The kisses underline the fact that unlike them, Bird has reached 'superstar' status - on the basis that only superstars would dare to carry on like that with younger performers.

The women themselves don't mind, because everyone likes being kissed by a superstar (it gives their own fame a boost); but also because there are questions over his sexuality, which make his kisses safer than those of any straight man.

Yet all that physical stuff can send the wrong message to young people, it says, who are supposed to treat each other with respect, not steal gropes and kisses at every opportunity.

He has borrowed the kissing affectation from overseas, the article suggests - which is not the only thing he has pinched.

The article says that while Bird and fellow Grammy performers have been quick to urge the public to buy genuine rather than bootlegged CDs, the same artists think nothing of blatantly ripping off dance steps, stage design, and other concert effects from bigger acts overseas.

Responding to the story, many readers say they agree with its arguments, though some Bird fans believe the writer is just being nasty for the sake of it.

Farewell to a friend

A young friend has died of Aids, I learned last night. I found out in a roundabout way, as the ageing gay who told me was drunk.

'Ton's gone,' he said.

'Gone where?'

'Ton's gone, and I miss him.'

'You mean he's dead?'

Kathoey Bom had I had discussed Ton's unhealthy appearance several times over the last few months. We would catch sight of him walking past Mum's shop, looking emaciated and unwell. His arms and legs were much thinner than normal - as was his neck, which gave his head a large, bulbous look.

The last time I saw him was a few weeks ago. He walked past the shop down the centre of the road, rather than on the footpath, in the hope that I would not see him. He must have become bored answering questions about his health - though he and I did talk about it once, a couple of months ago.

He stopped at Mum's shop to buy a can of beer one night, but would not sit with us, but alone to one side of the shop. I urged him to join us (he refused), and while I was there asked him what was wrong.

'I am just working too hard, so I do not have time to eat,' he said.

Ton worked at a massage shop nearby.

'Have you been to see a doctor?'

'Yes, and he says there is nothing wrong,' Ton said.

He thanked me for showing an interest, and then left.

I did not believe his story about overwork, as he looked ill. However, he still moved normally, so the disease had not started to affect his motor skills.

Kathoey Bom says Ton died about a week ago. He lived alone in a tiny place deep inside a soi (street), which I had visited before. I did not like the thought of him dying there, so was pleased to hear that, before he died, Ton took a long bus journey home to the North of Thailand, where his family lives, to die at his parents' home.

Ton had not told his parents he had Aids, so the sight of their emaciated son must have come as a shock.

'He knew in his mind that he was about to die, so went home,' said Bom.

He reckons Ton did not in fact see a doctor about his ailment, as he was worried he would be diagnosed with Aids. His refusal to accept treatment might have shortened his lifespan considerably, but then that was his choice to make.

Bom says Ton was once in a relationship with a boy from the South, who had Aids. I did not know about the southern boy, as whenever I saw him, Ton was single and alone.

I have written previously about Ton. I said back then that he was proud, independent and determined. I imagine those qualities stayed with him to the end. He only sought help from his family when he had run out of options - though I wish he had told us all sooner.

Bom found out about his friend's death from a customer at his karaoke shop. 'He used to come to me as his elder, for advice,' says Bom.

Once, I recall chasing Ton myself, down by the riverbank close to Mum's shop. I regarded him as a handsome catch - though only as a special friend. Bom says he spent many nights down by the same riverbank, drinking with his friend.

'I miss him, and feel sorry for him,' he said.

Dying alone would be awful. I am grateful Ton had the good sense to go home, even if his parents had to learn the awful truth that their son was gay, and was dying of Aids.

Knowing Ton, he would not want to impose. He was a polite, old-fashioned boy, right up to the end.

Gorgeous Gus

Sexy 'Gus' Wiradip Srimalai (กัส วีรดิษฐ์ ศรีมาลัย), from the movie Hor Taew Tak, is among top internet search queries directing readers to this blog.

His emerging popularity no doubt stems from his role in that kathoey (ladyboy) comedy, though he has also acted in a serious gay drama called Friends, still unreleased, for the same director, Poj Anon.

Boys - and their earrings

No girls, here...just real men. What were you thinking?

He's a battler

A brief appearance on television can change everything. Christopher Wright, who is Thai/English, teaches English at a Bangkok university.

He took a look at pocketbooks on the market for Thais learning English, and thought he would like to write one himself. He had never written in Thai before - but with a little help from friends, managed to get one out.

As concepts go, this one looks appealing - who wouldn't want to hear about the life of a young man with experience of both western and Thai culture? He's good looking, and not much older than the market at which his manuscript was pitched.

But could he sell it? Chris (คริสโตเฟอร์ ไรท์) took it to more than 10 publishers, but no one was interested. It wouldn't sell, they said, because no one had heard of Chris Wright - and they doubted he could communicate in Thai effectively what he was trying to teach.

Finally, the Nation Group, with whom he had once worked, published his pocketbook, but initial sales were slow.

Sadly, the publishers who rejected it may have read the market well - readers weren't interested in buying a book by someone who wasn't already famous. Sales needed a kick-start which just wasn't happening.

I suspect it's not just about trust, but fickle teenage reader tastes. Pocketbooks are like budget versions of coffee table books - they look appealing in the shop, but the owner's interest quickly fades when he realises that reading them involves work.

Then, someone from the television programme Joh Jai (เจาะใจ) saw his book in the shop, and thought he would make an interesting guest. They invited him on the show in the middle of last year.

That brief appearance changed everything. Now Chris Wright has his own one-hour show on Channel 5 every week; his books are on the bestseller list; and he has opened his own language centre close to RCA.

He has now published three pocketbooks, and one textbook, but has plans for more. He wants Thais to get to know him better, and his 'edutainment' approach to teaching English.

Chris says his struggle to find a publisher - and his eventual success - have taught him a lesson.

'You just have to keep trying, and never give up.' He says Thais should take the same approach to learning English.

Chris is not afraid to be direct. Thais, he said, cannot afford to regard English as a subject they can leave behind when they walk out the classroom door.

'It's terribly sad that these days we are surrounded by English, but we are not good at it. We really have to ask ourselves now why we don't give it a go, when it is around us so much.'

Marriage prospect

I have a new fan - a woman aged in her 40s, from Esan. She works at a food cart selling Esan food, close to my work.

I pass her place most days when I get off the bus. A few weeks ago, she started calling out: 'Where you from?'

I smiled, but kept walking. I suspected she was just trying out her English, or more likely, showing off to her friends.

However, the other day I made the mistake of stopping, as I contemplated whether to get something to eat. She called out, and beckoned me over.

At the foodcart, which has its own chairs and tables, she asked me to sit, so we could talk.

I answered all the usual questions, which foreigners can get here almost on a daily basis:

Where are you from?

How often do you go back to see Mum and Dad?

What do you do?

Where do you live?

How long have you been here?

Then she served me a couple of tricky ones:

Do you have a lover?

How much do you earn?

Thais do not think twice about asking how much you earn, though it is the last thing we would ask in the West.

I told her, but then quickly added that I also send money back to Mum and Dad overseas. That's a lie, but I do not want her thinking she can ask me for money whenever she likes.

'I live with a couple of Thai friends. We are all single, and help each other with everyday things,' I said.

That's another lie, but I didn't want to tell her I love a man. She had already set her hopes way too high.

Finally, my friend, whose name is Tor, asked for my phone number.

'I don't have a cellphone, as it was stolen,' she said.

At 2am the next day, she called me on a friend's phone, then again that evening as I was heading for work. I did not get the last call, which raised her suspicions.

'Why did you not answer?' she said, moments after we bumped into each other at the bus stop.

She did not wait for an answer, but grabbed my arm, and tugged me to a remote part of a fresh market - one of the city's biggest - about 50 metres away.

There, she introduced me to members of her family, a man in his 50s, and his son. They were drinking beers at a little table next to a 7-11 shop.

The boy was cute, but I couldn't say anything, or even look too hard.

Neither looked surprised, to see this tiny woman turn up with a panting farang stumbling in her wake. Maybe they had seen it all before.

'I want to take your photograph,' she said.

Tor told me to stand up. She pointed my body towards the 7-11, then posed next to me as the boy took our picture on a cellphone camera.

'I am drunk,' said Tor, as she wrapped her hand around my waist. 'I want to send these pictures back to Mum, in Esan.'

Picture taken, she told the boy to follow us back to the shop. There, she asked me to pose for more pictures - with a woman who runs the foodcart with her, and then with a nephew, aged about one. When he saw my strange farang face, the little boy started to scream.

Tor also introduced me to the boy's mother, a beautiful young creature in her teens. She was sitting with young friends, who looked at me curiously.

Tor was getting more daring, as the alcohol started to kick in. She was now kissing me Thai style - sniffing my cheek - and asked me to kiss her in return. I stood there, with a frozen face. I could not summon up a kiss, even for the camera, as we barely knew each other.

Before I left, Tor extracted from me a promise to return the next day, to inspect the pictures - then again, on my day off, to say hello.

'Can I have B100, to get the pictures developed?' she asked, with her hand out. I had to decline, as I had run out of money.

This cannot go on much longer, especially if she gets drunk often. I shall have to devise an alternative route to work - a quick dash across the road when I get off the bus, to avoid my new friend.

I suspect my plan won't work, as half her extended family seems to work in the area. But unless I can find a way out, I am trapped. We shall be destined to meet like this almost every day.

Cover boys (part 2, final)

Handsome lads taken from the 'Army of Five' shoot for Ter Gab Chan magazine, last October. Pictured here are four of the five: Mario Maurer (มาริโอ มาวเรอร์) ; Ball, from Seasons Change (วิทวัส สิงห์ลำพอง - บอล); Boat, in the red pants (อรรถกร - โบ๊ต); and Alex, wearing the cap (อเล็กซ์ เรนเดลล์).

Cover boys (part 1)

Three covers from Ter Gab Chan magazine. The boy wearing the flowers around his neck on the left is actor/model Mario Maurer. For more of him, in a spread taken for Ter Gab Chan late last year, see next post.

Handsome me (part 2, final)

Some older shots of Lee Dong Wook - star of the Korean drama My Girl.

Handsome me (part 1)

South Korean actor Lee Dong Wook. He can do the rugged look, or go fem/boyish, depending on his mood.

Bare-chested fire-fighter

I dropped in to see Gor the firefighter last night, who was with a large group of friends. Instantly they started calling me 'Dad' - for what other explanation for our relationship could there be?

His friends would no doubt like to think that he is still straight, even if he does need money.

Gor was wearing jeans and boxers. He was bare-chested, as usual. His hair has become thick and long, and was falling over his eyes. I wish he would get it cut, but he likes to wear it in that style.

He particularly likes the whispy bits he grows down the sides. If I try to tuck them behind his ears he objects, as it doesn't look cool. So I have to content myself with running my hands through his luxuriously thick hair instead.

I asked him if he had eaten. Last time we met, I was in luck: the answer was yes. Last night, no such good fortune: 'No'.

He suggested we talk alone, away from the prying eyes of his friends, so we walked off into a quiet area of the courtyard next to their fire station. 'How can you work here, when you are not getting paid?' I asked.

Last time, an army friend had confirmed that none of them get paid for their work. The army friend helps them if the power or water gets cut off, but he cannot give them much cash, as he himself gets paid only B4000 a month.

'I have to wait until I am older before I can get a job.' Gor is just 15, and reckons he has to wait another two years before he has a chance of getting work.

His parents live in Chiang Mai, but he has another home where he can sleep in Nakhon Pathom.

'I would like to get home, but I need B200. I can borrow B100 of that from my friends.'

I gave him the other B100, and another B100 for food. I was about to ask him who owned the place in Nakhon Pathom - a relative, perhaps - but we were interrupted.

Someone had alerted the boys to an 'incident'. They jumped into a van (not a firefighting truck, curiously), and flicked on the blue flashing light on the top. Mercifully, the van did not have a siren, or if it did, they left it off.

Gor was not waiting around to chat. Still shirtless, he jumped in the van, and they sped off.

Squid reflections

At 4am, Mum had just returned from the fresh market. She took a seat at the bench of her shop to cut up ingredients.

First, she took the stalks off mushrooms. Then she started cutting up squid.

Tock...tock...tock...

It was comforting to take a seat next to her and watch her work. It reminded me of when my Mum does the same thing.

Earlier, she had scolded me lightly for staring at the handsome young men who walk past her shop.

'You need to find more friends,' she said.

I do, indeed. The night before, Mum attempted to hitch me up to a boy, one of a group of three young ones who dropped into the shop.

The girl and two boys ordered Pepsi in a bag. One young man was the odd one out, as I could tell from their behaviour that the girl and the other boy were a couple.

While Mum was getting their order, she asked the boy without the mate if he fancied me. He looked me over, while his friend whispered something (no doubt unflattering) in his ear.

I was a little shocked Mum would attempt to hook me up with someone so young, so jumped in before he could reply.

'How old are you?' I asked.

'Fourteen.'

'You should find someone younger,' I said. 'I'm too old.'

'What does age have to do with it? You still want a friend,' said Mum.

As the group walked away, the boy shot me a look which said he was disappointed that I had knocked him back.

Last night, Mum's sister, Isra, was also there. School is out, and her two children have come back with her from the provinces to Bangkok.

Her son, who remembered me from last time, gave me a wai. I saw Isra ask her daughter, who I had yet to meet, do the same.

The boy, Bon, 12, likes to play games. We erected structures made of wooden building blocks, and pulled out the pieces, one by one, trying to keep the thing up as long as possible.

Then, when we tired of that, we played a board game with playing pieces that have coloured dots on them, representing their value.

Players vie with each other to connect the pieces together, based on their value, until they have none left. If my piece does not have a corresponding value, I have to pick up.

A Thai guy sitting next to me offered to help, as he could see young Bon was too good for me.

Then the newcomer suggested that he and I play, with a beer wagered on the outcome. I called on Bon to play on my behalf. He won one game, then lost the next. Bon then called on the help of his Mum, who has played her son many times before, is an expert. She won the next four games in a row.

I bought a consolation beer for the Thai guy, and he bought one for me.

Farang M, 47, a former drainage engineer from Britain, was there. He marvelled at my inability to distinguish the colours, connect the dots, or do anything else competently.

'Next time, its naughts and crosses for you,' he said.

Still, I enjoyed playing games - it gives us something to do, other than talk.

I also liked seeing the kids there. It brought out my paternal instincts - my desire to be a Dad, which I assume men carry with them in their genes.

'The gay lifestyle is boring, and lonely,' I told Mum, who comes from Esan, and is my age. 'I want to be a Dad.'

'Wait until my husband is dead, then we can start again,' she said.

Mum and her husband, a former army man in his 50s, work alternate shifts. He looks after the shop during the day, and Mum comes out at night.

They have a son of her own, a bright, overactive child who is approaching his teenage years.

'We see each other every day, and you have an optimistic personality,' Mum said, while barely looking up from her squid.

I am sure there a few drawbacks there, too, but we didn't go into them.

It was time I went home to bed.

Tock...tock...

The meal ticket

Young Knuckles has lost his Dad, but can't get back to Britain for the funeral.

'I want to get back for some loving, but I am stuck here on the other side of the world,' he told me, in between sobs. We met at Mum's shop last night.

Knuckles' parents divorced when he was still a teen. He is close to his Mum, but angry with his Dad. His Dad was rich, but his Mum is not, and cannot afford to send him an air fare.

The last time we met, a few nights ago, I had told Knuckles he must reconcile with his Dad. 'If he dies, it will be too late. Do it for your own peace of mind,' I said.

Knuckles knew back then that his father had just died, but chose not to tell me. Oh, well.

His Thai girlfriend was less than sympathetic when he broke the news to her that his Dad, 57, had just died. 'All you ever do is give me your problems,' she said.

I do not know Knuckles' girlfriend. She works at a bar in a well-known backpacker haunt, and likes to chat up farang men. Until recently, Knuckles worked at the same place, but now seems to have grown bored.

Isra, younger sister to Mum, the shop-owner, does know the girlfriend, and tried to see it from the Thai's point of view. 'She has been with Knuckles only three months, and did not know the father,' she told me.

Isra likes farang men, too, and when she saw Knuckles start to cry was quick to offer him a tissue.

Her next comment was a surprise.

'She probably saw him as a meal ticket and a way to get free sex. But now that they have been together a while she is bored, and looking for someone else. She can dump him and find a new boy without any problem,' she told me in Thai.

Knuckles' girlfriend is in her early 30s, while Knuckles is just 27.

'Do you mind if I not pass that on?' I asked.

'Thais are not big on grieving over death,' I told Knuckles.

However, the girlfriend did help in other ways. Yesterday, she hired a mini-van and with friends and Knuckles in tow, went on a boozy tour of karaoke shops. They were still going at 11am today, when the motor gave out, and Knuckles was called upon to give the van a push.

Knuckles complained, as farang are inclined to do. But I urged him to look at it positively.

'She took you out so you could forget about your Dad,' I said.

'Still, she's a bitch,' he said.

Knuckles believes his Thai experiment has failed. He does not want to return home with his tail between his legs.

Leaving the girlfriend will be tough, if Knuckles wants to stay on, as living alone here is hard. However, if he really wants some of that family lovin', then he might be better off going home.

Family dramas

A young woman in her 30s runs the food place where I buy my lunch. Her restaurant is next to a railway line, and occupies the bottom floor of a two-storey wooden rowhouse, where she lives along with her mother, and sister.

When the wooden shutters on the bottom floor are open, you can walk straight in from the soi (street). You can also see everything inside.

All three women have hearing problems, possibly because of the noisy railway, though more probably as a result of the family genes. The shop is open almost every day, so they do not get out much.

Occasionally, the mother cooks, and the daughter sells what is left. Otherwise, the daughter makes everything herself. She also does all the shopping for ingredients at the market. Her sister prepares the food.

Today when I went down to order, the daughter who cooks was asleep. Maiyuu and his friends from the condo call her 'Cheuay,' after the Thai word for lethargic, or inert.

She cooks quickly enough, but often cannot hear what customers are saying. Maiyuu's friends like to seat themselves first, then call out orders. Often they have to repeat themselves, so the whole process gets slowed down.

However, Cheuay enjoys visits from Maiyuu's friends, who lately include a kathoey, and a woman friend, new to the condo, who is bringing up a young child. She is also good at talking to her teenage customers. The taciturn mother and sister, by contrast, say nothing.

Cheuay does excellent needlework - she showed me a piece the other day, which has just been framed, and looked as good as any painting.

She is also religious, and admires the King. When I go past wearing the King's yellow, she is quick to compliment me, or give me the thumbs up.

The mother was lying on a daybed, where I normally see her, and when she saw me approach, screamed at the daughter.

'Get up, all you do is sleep all day, you're practically falling of your chair. I don't know why you have to be like this!' she screamed.

The mother has the right to spend her days asleep, but her daughter, it seems, cannot.

Poor Cheuay woke with a start.

I looked at the mother angrily. She managed to extract her large bulk from the daybed and started moving around the restaurant at great speed, flicking a dusting cloth, while still bellowing at her daughter.

'I am sorry,' Cheuay said as she approached me. She looked flustered, and her eyes were full of tears.

I thought she was apologising for being asleep.

'Don't be sorry. I don't see the need for your mother to carry on like that. It's not necessary,' I said.

Actually, she was apologising for her Mum.

'I am sorry she is like this. She gives me a headache,' Cheuay said.

No one deserves to be treated like that. I couldn't live cheek by jowl with my family. I don't know how Thais do it, but I admire them for trying.

Playing sex phone

Police are questioning an Ang Thong monk after a 17 year-old man laid a complaint saying he had played 'sex phone' with him.

The young man said the monk, acting abbot of a local temple, called his number incorrectly, and started talking in a lewd and indecent fashion, possibly thinking he was calling a sex line. He called repeatedly over several days.

The young man told his elder brother, a policeman, who told him to lure the monk to the province's transport depot, where police turned up to meet him instead.

The monk denied talking in a smutty way over the phone (เล่นเซ็กซ์โฟน), but admitted making an arrangement to meet the young man, a technical student.

He said the young man called him saying he wanted to enter the monkhood, so he travelled out to meet him. The Daily News report does not name anyone involved, or say what will happen to the monk.

Face dramas

Three Thais: two real-life men, and one an identikit picture of a suspect in a m*urder case which gripped the nation.

Krisana Duangpiboon, 20, the guy pictured with his Mum, is a local bad boy (though probably no worse than most).

He came forward after seeing an identikit picture (see black and white head shot) issued by police in their hunt for the k*iller of two Russian tourists, Tatiana Tsimfer, 30, and Liubov Svirkova, 25, on Jomtien beach on Feb 24.

Thai red-top dailies (the racy ones) published pictures on the front page of the two women, slumped dead in their armchairs, where they were found early in the morning.

They were shot in the head. B*ullet shells were found nearby, as were tyre tracks from a motorbike.

Since then, they have hauled in a suspect: Anuchit Lamlert, 24. He says he shot the women (สวิรโคว่า ลูโลฟ, ซีนเมร ทาทิอานา) after trying to r*ob them. Police seized his motorbike, which they say is the same one he used for his getaway. They matched his g*un to the b*ullet shells.

Anuchit's former girlfriend contacted police to say he had sought refuge at her place.

He appears in the third picture, with police. As you can see, Krisana, the young man who came forward with his Mum, bears a stronger similarity to the image in the identikit picture than does Anuchit (อนุชิต ล้ำเลิศ), the suspect.

The images from the closed circuit camera can't have been very clear.

The case has been full of conflicting, confusing information. Even as they released the sketch, police were saying they believed a coloured man, not a Thai, shot the women.

Shortly after it was published, Krisana took himself into police to assert his innocence.

Krisana was drinking with friends on the night of the murder, he said, and went home about 2am.

Krisana (ฤษณะ ด้วงพิบูลย์) went with his mother. Police questioned him for two hours, then let him go.

His mother said she was startled to see the resemblance between her son and the suspect in the sketch, and felt relieved that police believed their story.

Earlier, police identified Krisana and another young Pattaya 'tearaway' with similar facial features to the man in the sketch, as people they wanted to question.

Are police sketch artists influenced in what they draw by pictures of known local trouble-makers which police have on file?

The same day, police offered a B500,000 reward for information leading to an arrest - and were flooded with calls from people eager to trade information for money. They were all there, of course - in the early hours of the morning, Jomtien Beach is just heaving.

Pants dropper

Two young men were playing on the pier as I approached it today.

I visit the canal every day before lunch. The pier is a popular meeting place for students from a nearby school.

The day before, a dozen boys were swimming in relays across the canal, trying to get to the other side before long-tailed boats, also plying those waters, arrived. Girls from the same school cheered them on.

It is a daring game. It worries the men steering the boats, as they do not want to hit anyone. Some call out, while others honk on little on-board horns, warning them to stay clear.

Two boys I met were diving off the pier. They would jump off, climb back on again, then have another go. They were swimming in flimsy underpants.

They had stripped off their uniforms, which they dumped on the pier. As I approached, one young man lost his briefs altogether, after climbing back on to the pier. His bare bottom was clearly visible to anyone who happened to be looking.

This does not worry me, as it is just boys at play. A restaurant sits right next to the pier, where two young women were cleaning tables. I wonder if the sight of near-naked teenage boys ever bothers them.

The youngster, aged about 16, pulled up his red briefs, then carried on playing. The ease with which he lost his underwear reminded me of a young Thai I met while drinking last night.

I was heading home from Mum's shop when I ran into two men in their early 20s, walking towards the Chao Phraya river. They were gay, and when they saw me called out. I thought I may as well follow...I hardly ever meet young gay guys, and spoke to virtually no one at Mum's shop.

They were heading for a popular gay cruising spot on the banks of the river, next to a bridge, where commuters wait to get ferries. At that hour the ferries have stopped for the day, and the local gay population takes over.

It is mainly for gays who have no money for nightclubs, though occasionally they will head for the bridge if they have not picked up anyone while drinking.

It is a strange place, where gays wander about silently like ghosts, looking for potential mates.

Boys get up and walk around, checking out the talent. When they find someone, they start talking. If they find no one that takes their fancy, they go back to their waiting station.

When we arrived, three or four young men were milling about. Two were talking on cellphones. The others were peering out at the river.

The youngsters who called out my name were called Bom and Bon.

Bom is 18, with frizzy hair, ear studs, and fuzz on his upper lip. His friend Bon is 27, and wears his pants low on the waist to show off his underwear. They share a place together.

While I walked towards them, I heard them muttering, planning on what to do with the foreigner.

Bon thought I might be more interested in Bom, as he is younger. Arriving at the river, we chatted briefly - before Bon crossed the bridge, to cruise the boys on the other side.

Bom and I chatted for an hour. He liked to play with words, which was fun. He had left school, but was not in work, and claimed his parents were in no hurry for him to find any.

I asked Bom to sit on my lap, but he was shy. He knew one boy sitting to our right, who had found a mate and was talking.

Another boy, cruising to our left, was a former boyfriend of the older boy, Bon, so he knew him, too. Eventually I persuaded Bom to sit closer to me, so I could massage his shoulders.

'You look as if you should go to bed together,' his friend on the right teased.

Bom laughed, but said nothing.

'Bom!' We could hear a muffled cry from across the river. Bon was calling out to his friend from the cruising spot on the other side, wanting to know what he wanted to do.

'What are your specs?' I asked him.

'I like someone just like this one,' he said, gesturing with his head at me.

'How many boys have you been to bed with?' I asked.

'I have lost count.'

'Ten?'

'More.'

‘Twenty?'

'More than that.'

'Thirty?'

We settled on 'more than 30,' though the real figure was probably higher.

Bom said he could be a top or a bottom. He always insists that the other boy wears a condom.

'What if neither of you have one, or he doesn't want to wear one?' I asked.

'Then we just play with each other.'

I noticed Bom was wearing boxer shorts, but no briefs. Many Thai boys his age like to wear both.

'Why no briefs?' I asked.

'It is easier to take off your clothes if you just have the one pair,' he said.

Bom asked if he could come back to my place. I declined. 'I have a boyfriend,' I said.

'You could just tell him I am a friend,' he said.

'If I turn up with an 18 year-old boy at this hour he might be suspicious.'

Bon walked back across the bridge to join us. He was tired, and wanted sleep.

As I left for home, boyfriend Maiyuu sent me a text message. 'Don't bring anyone home to bed,' it said.

He must have read my mind.

Pai Phatit, Rain: Spot the likeness

We didn't even speak to each other, says Thai actor 'Pai' Phatit Pisitkul, denying gossipy reports that he had hit it off with Korean superstar 'Rain' while filming a television commercial recently.

He also denied reports that he was going to Korea on a personal visit to rekindle their friendship.

Pai (ไผ่-พาทิศ พิสิฐกุล) said his English isn't much good, and Rain speaks Korean, so they didn't have much to say to each other during a break in filming for the sour milk commercial.

He was not going to Korea as claimed, and was happy to show the press his passport to prove it.

Pai says he doesn't get out much, even with women. However, he was a real man, not gay as claimed.

They did no more than work with each other for one day while the commercial was filmed.

'Is Rain good looking? He's reached this level of stardom now, so he has to be good-looking. And the more people say to me that I look like him, the more I would have to agree that he is handsome!

'I feel good that I was able to get an opportunity to work with someone at his level, but I feel nothing for him [as we do not know each other].'