Bangkok of the mind

The new URL: http://bangkokofthemind.blogspot.com/

2010-08-08T09:00:00.000-07:00

I have moved over files from this blog to a new one, BOTM2.

It comprises 1938 posts, and 4756 comments. We have been busy!

I will no longer post at this blog, nor accept comments. All activity has moved over to the new blog.

Please adjust your feeds and bookmarks accordingly. You can find BOTM2 here.

Let's move across

2010-08-06T08:55:00.000-07:00

I have decided to move Bangkok of the Mind blog over to a new blog, BOTM 2.

Over there, I can host Google Adsense advertising.

I used to host Adsense here too, until Adsense pulled the plug on me last week.

If Adsense - part of Google - pulls the ads again, I shall weep.

No, I won't. I shall man up, and press on.

I will move over the posts from this blog to the new one in a day or so, and resume posting over there.

This blog will stay up for the time being to direct readers to the new URL. However, I will no longer accept reader comments on posts once the switch takes place.

Update: The new blog is here. I am still fiddling around with the colours and fonts, but this will do for the meantime.

Patch it up and start again

2010-08-04T22:45:00.000-07:00

A sample of some of chef Maiyuu’s recent cooking.

Avocado and salmon went into the sushi, which he made himself.

Also pictured are roast duck and avocado, on a bed of kluay chai (a Chinese vegetable which looks a little like asparagus); and maple ice-cream buttressed by sliced avocado, covered in maple sauce.

-

‘I don’t like songs popular with teens today. I prefer old songs.’

That was teenager Mr Ball, as we sat in front of the family computer, watching old YouTube videos.

‘So you are a young man with an old head?’ I asked him.

Ball laughed.

‘Something like that,’ he said.

We have spent the last couple of nights huddled away in a small room off Mum’s bedroom, where the computer sits, sipping beers and watching music videos.

Normally we’d take a berth in the sitting room, where the rest of the family gathers, but Ball wanted to put some space between him and his family, so we hid in the computer room instead.

Ball and his elder sister Kae argued a few nights ago over an unpaid internet bill.

The adults in the household agreed they would chip in every month to pay the bill rather than leave Mum to find the money herself. Ball’s girlfriend was supposed to pay her share a couple of days ago, but forgot.

Ball and I were seated in the living room.

Conversation switched to the internet bill. Ball made a comment to his mother which upset Kae.

She criticised Ball and his girlfriend, Jay.

Youngest child Beer was on his back. Mum was inspecting the hairs on his head, looking for grey imposters. When she found one, she plucked it out.

Ball answered back. Kae launched another volley.

As the argument broke over his head, Mr B, looking disgusted, picked himself up and left.

Ball raised his voice, and tears formed in his eyes. Kae, unimpressed, likened her younger brother to a drunken dog.

Girlfriend Jay walked in half way through, but said nothing, as she knows her place.

‘I am an outsider...how can I step in?’ she said later.

Mum snapped at both Kae and Ball for speaking too strongly, but otherwise said nothing, which was disappointing.

In the end, Ball declared he wasn’t standing for any more criticism. ‘Pack a bag...we’re going,’ he told his girlfriend.

Kae carried on shouting as they mounted the stairs to their room.

Ten minutes later, the couple reappeared, bag in hand.

‘It’s raining outside...can’t you wait?’I asked him.

‘I am not staying in a place where people are attacking me,’ he said.

Jay looked at me hopelessly.

‘Please help talk to him,’ she said.

We sat under a motorway on the outskirts of the slum, as Ball cried out his problems.

Ball asked me for a loan so they could spend the night at a cheap hotel.

’That won’t solve anything. Your girlfriend has just finished work and has yet to eat, change her clothes, shower. Why don’t you go back and think about this again tomorrow?’ I asked.

‘I am grown up, and have friends. They can put me up for the night even if you don’t help,’ he said.

‘I want to see you both renting your own place one day. But this is not the time,’ I replied.

‘Or, I could sleep here under the bridge,’ he declared.

Idle taxi driver Lort paid us a visit. The timing was fortunate, as I was starting to despair of my chances of persuading Ball to go home.

I asked about Kae's movements. Kae, he said, had gone to bed.

'If you go back, no one will think ill of you,' I told Ball.

Mr Ball had cried himself out anyway, so we lugged his bag back home.

I bought them a noodle, and said goodnight.

The next day, I visited Ball after he finished work.

He and his sister Kae had yet to talk to each other, but relations appeared to be thawing.

We sat in the computer room, as Ball told me excitedly about his day at work.

Ball has started a new job, delivering mail at a city bank. He and his co-workers started on the same day together, which has helped them draw close, as they regard themselves as equals.

‘No one is gossiping about anyone else, or ordering us about,’ said Ball.

All the previous mail delivery boys were asked to leave, after they were discovered gambling one day at the bank.

Ball loves his new job. Every time we meet at his place, he has a new work story to tell me, as we watch his favourite Thai videos on YouTube.

My job, as I see it, is to help him share his enjoyment of his new life at work, and get over his troubles at home.

Sister Kae is too proud to climb down, still less apologise, so they tread around each other cautiously, as they wait for their emotional wounds to heal.

‘They are like fire meeting fire,’ Lort told me. ‘Neither will give in to the other.’

Mum sympathises with Kae more than she does with Ball.

‘Ball is hot-headed and doesn’t think,’ she said.

Still, there is cause for hope.

On the night of the argument, I called Kae.

I phoned her from my home, after leaving Ball and Jay to their noodle. Kae was asleep when I called, but I pressed on regardless.

‘Ball is back. Persuading him to return was hard work. I worry that next time you argue, he may walk out and never come back,’ I told her.

Kae told me what led up to the argument, which helped make sense of what had happened in the living room hours before.

‘Ball believes you are closer to Beer than him, and feels put out, as if you don't love him as much,’ I said.

‘I ask Ball to come out with us, but Ball is seldom interested, as he has his own girlfriend,’ she said.

Kae has her own boyfriend, who lives with her at Ball's place, but said nothing as Kae weighed in to her brother.

‘Ball has found a new job which he loves. I hope he sticks at it,’ I said. ‘If this bitterness carries on, he may not.’

Kae cried.

‘I am always happy for him when he does well,’ she said.

If she acts as the scolding big sister, it's because she wants him to take responsibility for his life.

The next night, I told Ball about my conversation with his sister. I can’t expect anyone else to try to patch up their differences, as no one seems interested.

‘Kae cried when I told her you had found a job you enjoy,’ I said. ‘Why do you think she did that?’

Ball pondered for a moment.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, but I thought I detected a smile cross his lips.

Postscript: Singer Ta Chanit Yaisummoer (ต๊ะ ฌานิศ ใหญ่เสมอ), of the band Boyscout, is one of Ball’s favourites (see images).

He was performing when Ball was still a youngster, but Ball remembers his stuff. Watch him perform here, here, and here.

Slogging on

2010-08-01T22:45:00.000-07:00

I'll probably stay here, rather than starting a new bog or moving to sister blog TBG.

Thank you to those readers who showed their support after Google yanked its Adsense advertising from this site.

In particular, I would like to thank loyal reader Ian, who provides the G-rated guy pics which probably resulted in this blog being collared.

The pics illustrating this post come from the same source.

If you find anything objectionable here, please let me know, and I'll censor them promptly.

Google yanks advertising, readers asked for help

2010-07-31T20:36:00.000-07:00

Readers may have noticed unusual blank spaces in the panel on the left-hand side of this page.

Where once Google proudly displayed its Adsense advertising, now there is nothing. The people who oversee Adsense advertising policies reckon I breached them, by encouraging excessive attention to the advertising itself, or displaying mature/adult content – I am not sure which.

A few weeks ago Google sent me a message warning me about this post, which it said breached its policies for display of Adsense advertising.

It gave me three days to fix the problem, or my account would be suspended, with the result that readers could no longer see my ads.

The warning notice, a standard one sent to all transgressors, said bloggers cannot encourage readers to click the ads, nor attract too much attention to them. It also contained the standard warning about offensive pictures/content, in charming Americanese:

'AdSense publishers are not permitted to place Google ads on pages with adult or mature content. This includes images or video content containing lewd or provocative poses, or close-ups of breasts, butts, or crotches.'

I removed three or four of the pictures on that post (readers will notice that only one remains). None looked particularly naughty to me, though in one picture, Nicky The Stick Sura Theerakol had his hand down his pants, as if he was feeling himself up.

The content was dull – the post is about the poor standard of Thai-made seating, for goodness sake – but the post did contain the standard sidebar reference to Google’s Adsense, which said:

‘Some readers visit day after day, but never seem to notice the Google Adsense advertising on this blog.

‘The ads help keep this blog in business. In fact, if I don't make enough from it, I don't blog.

‘However, for Google's sake I must ask readers: Please click the ads only if you find something of interest.’

I left that blurb in place, as I suspected Google’s objection was mainly to the pictures. Maybe I was wrong, for when the warning period expired, Google sent me another notice saying my Adsense account had been suspended, taking effect from this month.

The result? No Adsense advertising. The response? No more blogging, at least at this site.

I am not prepared to write for nothing. However, I do have a couple of options available to me. I would like readers’ help as to which one I should choose.

1 Resume blogging, but at sister blog Thaiboygay.

The advantage of this option is that the blog has a web presence, as it’s been going for some time, even if I rarely post to it any more. However, I dislike the name. I created it as a commercial vehicle for drawing readers to its bigger sister blog, Bangkok of the Mind.

The advertising is still going on this blog, even though there are many more guy pics over there than at BOTM. In fact, I transferred all the picture posts over there months ago, as I wanted BOTM to focus mainly on stories.

I could post at TBG temporarily, until Google restores advertising to BOTM.

2. Create a new blog – Bangkok of the Mind 2 – but without pics.

I like the choice of name, as it sounds rebellious – we will not be beaten, even by Google! The disadvantage is that BOTM 2 has no web presence. Even with links to BOTM 2 from this blog and TBG, readership might take some time to build up.

Any ideas?

A reformed young man

2010-07-27T21:54:00.000-07:00

‘I hope you can keep away from the alcohol today – it’s the first day of Buddhist Lent.’

That was Phra Kew, formerly known as Kew, warning me about the evils of taking the sauce.

As a monk, he has to say such things, I suppose. Still, I was surprised by the extent of the transformation my friend has undergone since he entered the monkhood.

‘I was working as a DJ, getting drunk every night. One day, I found a website on dhamma (Buddhist teaching) which I liked.

‘I decided to do something more useful with my life,’ he said.

I visited Kew yesterday at his temple, a rambling place set in leafy surrounds close to his home.

Kew entered the monkhood in a mass ceremony at Dhammakaya temple in Pathum Thani last Tuesday. He was one of 1000 novices who took the robes (see pictures).

His temple is home to more than 50 monks. I saw few visitors, but perhaps I turned up at the wrong time.

Phra Kew is warming to his new vocation as a monk.

‘I could carry on being a monk indefinitely, moving from one temple to another,’ he said enthusiastically.

Kew introduced me to a younger orange-robed friend with a beautiful smile.

‘This is my nong [junior],’ he said.

I tried not to show too much interest. The young man is a monk after all.

-

I took a motorcycle taxi to the temple. He let me off at the entrance, close to a prayer room.

A senior monk stood outside, welcoming visitors. He asked me who I wanted to see.

I gave my friend's name.

‘Oh, Kew!’ he said, as if his reputation was already well known.

He disappeared for a moment and summoned Kew over the microphone.

‘Kew....a relative is here to see you,’ he said.

A few minutes later, my bald-headed young friend emerged from the prayer room, in the company of three or four younger monks.

‘How did you know...what are you doing here?’ Phra Kew asked as he approached.

Phra Kew looked as if he was about to cry, but was trying not to let it show. He hitched his ill-fitting orange robe back on his shoulder.

I almost cried myself.

Visiting temples is an emotional experience. Whenever I do it, I weep.

I did not give Phra Kew a wai, as he is younger. However, I felt awkward. Next time I shall have to bone up on the etiquette involved in greeting a monk.

‘I didn’t tell anyone I was here...how did you know?’ Phra Kew asked.

Phra Kew invited me to sit with him. We took a plastic chair each. His friends left us alone to talk.

I told him the story of how I had visited his apartment last week, and left my phone number in the hope that we would make contact. I had visited the apartment before, but didn’t know where Kew and his family lives, or even if he was still there.

The condo office recognised Kew’s sister from the description I gave, and passed on my telephone number. Kew’s mum called, and told me her son was about to enter the monkhood.

'How is Maiyuu?' Phra Kew asked.

He looked disappointed that I did not bring Maiyuu with me, but I explained that Maiyuu was busy.

Phra Kew looked a little ragged, but it’s been 12 months since I last saw him. I have not seen him bald before. His robes fail to disguise an enormous bad-boy tattoo which Kew wears on his back.

On the plus side, he appears to be growing into his new role in life as a monk.

Phra Kew and I spent 15 minutes together. I sat on the edge of my chair, as eager pupils must when in the presence of a teacher, as Phra Kew expounded about faith and Buddhism, with the odd personal comment dropped in.

I was surprised at how much he had changed. Phra Kew himself seemed unaware of the irony, but he is still young.

Just a few weeks ago, he was living a life of debauchery. Now he warns his visitors off all the vices he himself pursued so enthusiastically, as if he has turned his back on his old life and has sworn himself off the pleasures and temptations it once held.

I told myself not to be to hard on my young friend. Since he took the robes, Phra Kew has a duty to perform.

‘Thailand is full of vice...men pursue lust, teenage girls get pregnant, drugs are rife...Thais are turning away from religion, and society is worse off as a result,’ he lamented.

‘As a farang, I hope you can spread the word,’ he said.

‘Any time you want to meditate, please feel free to pay a visit – and luang pee [a third-person reference to Phra Kew himself] will introduce you to the senior monks here,’ he said.

I tried to steer the conversation away from religion, and back to Kew himself.

‘How is it here...are you coping on two meals a day?’ I asked.

‘At first I wandered around, looking for cigarettes. Here, they ban monks from smoking. But now that I am meditating, I am more at peace. I don’t need them anymore,’ he said.

'Meditating was hard, as my legs hurt. Now I am used to it. As for the food, we have a big meal in the middle of the day, so I don’t get hungry,’ he said.

A noticeboard close to the prayer room set out a day in the life of a monk. It lists their daily activities, from when they rise before 5am, and when they go to bed almost 18 hours later.

Some of the Thai words were new to me, and I asked Phra Kew what they meant.

As he explained what he does every day, a small group of his friends in orange gathered around us to watch.

Phra Kew was patient. 'You should have been a teacher,' I thought to myself. Now that he is a monk, his opportunity has arrived.

Phra Kew excused himself, as the monks were gathering at the prayer room to confirm their solidarity to each other. That was mentioned on the noticeboard, too.

‘I am going to see my mum and dad on Sunday morning. My sisters will be there. I can talk more naturally at home. Please come and see me,’ he said.

I agreed.

Earlier, I bought a bucket of personal effects and supplies for Phra Kew. I handed it over, and said goodbye to my reformed bad boy from the Thon Buri side.

At the age of 26 - not before time, his mother would say – Kew appears to have found a place to belong.

Good on him. I hope his happiness lasts.

Three-eyed monster on top of the bed

2010-07-24T23:44:00.000-07:00

A three-eyed monster (cloves of baked garlic on a bed of coleslaw) with a sad smile (fried pork)?

-

Boyfriend Maiyuu is making progress with his efforts to find an outlet for his bakery produce.

The sister of a woman he knows has opened a hairdressing salon/coffee shop close to a four-star hotel in Silom.

She is in the process of finding suppliers for the shop, and Maiyuu could be chosen as one of them.

He made her some chocolate cupcakes as samples, and went to see her. His new friend was enthusiastic.

'You bake like a farang, which I like. Thai stuff is much sweeter, and doesn't appeal to all tastes,' she said.

I don't know what happens next. I gave Maiyuu B5000 as start-up capital.

Hopefully he will put it to some good use, such as helping himself find work.

Bad boy Kew enters the monkhood

2010-07-22T22:35:00.000-07:00

A naughty young man from my past, former bad boy Kew, is entering the monkhood to say sorry for his misdeeds.

Kew’s mother, who lives in Thon Buri, called me the other day, after I left my contact number at her apartment.

'He is entering the monkhood to say sorry for all the bad things he's done, and start again,' said his mother.

'If you go to see him at the temple, you can ask for an apology when you see him, as he did bad things to you, too,' she said.

I lost contact with Kew many months ago, when my cellphone was stolen, and I changed the number.

I had no way of getting to him my new number, I realised the other day, except by taking it to his apartment myself.

Kew and I have spoken once or twice since I moved from Thon Buri, where I knew him, into town.

However, in the more than 12 months since boyfriend Maiyuu and I moved to town, Kew and I have not met.

Then, after I lost my phone, contact ceased altogether.

I recall our last phone conversation, months ago. I told Kew where I was living.

‘That’s so far. It’s a shame, because I really miss, you, pee,’ he said.

Kew has called me many things in the seven years we have known each other, but never ‘pee’ - a respectful term meaning elder, as in elder brother, or older friend. He sounded sad.

Maybe he really was missing me, I thought, as I ended our call.

Kew, 26, stays with his mother and school-age sister at an apartment building about 10min from where boyfriend Maiyuu and I used to live in Thon Buri.

The day before Kew’s Mum called this week – breaking a no-contact drought which lasted more than six months - I took the bus back to the old market town which Maiyuu and I once called home.

From there, I took a wobbly motorcycle taxi to Kew’s apartment, a huge old place with more than 1000 tenants.

It is at least 300m off the main drag, close to a sprawling temple. Eateries, hairdressers and other busy retail outlets line both sides of long, winding roads.

I hadn’t seen the place in more than five years, since I visited the place one day, boyfriend escorting me, to retrieve a guitar which Kew had borrowed and refused to return.

The security guard pointed me to the office. Part of the place looked familiar, but I was beginning to despair of making contact with Kew again. For all I knew, his family may have moved out, and my friend could be living anywhere.

The office looked inviting. A man aged in his mid-40s, and a younger Thai woman sat inside.

'I am looking for a friend who used to live here...,' I said.

I probably sounded a little sad, even hopeless, but what else was I supposed to do?

The manager asked me about Kew and his family.

I described Kew and what I could remember about his mother, hoping he would recognise them.

I didn’t have their contact number, and while I had visited their place before, could not remember where they lived.

‘His mother has cancer and is in a wheelchair. I met her once. Do you have any tenants like that?’ I asked the manager.

He couldn’t remember.

‘He also has a bright, school-aged sister. Kew himself is handsome, and sometimes dyes his hair blond,’ I said. ‘He used to wear a stud in his lip, and race around the carpark here on his motorbike,’ I added.

The manager still could not recall anyone from the family, but I left my number anyway.

‘It might come...my memory just needs time,’ he said.

Kew’s family stays at the apartment, this is true. However, Kew has gone through phases when he lives with friends, or is busy with his girlfriend. Who knows how often he returns to this part of town?

I left the place, not expecting to hear from his family again.

By next day, however, the manager’s memory must have kicked in.

He gave my number to Kew’s sister as she came home from school.

Kew’s mother called me as soon as her daughter handed over the number.

‘Is that you, Mali? This is Kew’s mother,’ she said.

Kew, she told me, is entering the monkhood for three months over Buddhist Lent.

‘He is at another temple preparing to take his robes, but on the day he is admitted to the monkhood will return to a temple close to home. He would be delighted to see you, if you want to pay a visit,’ said Mum.

The big day when Kew gives his vows as monk was to take place this week.

I can't be there for that, but can visit him at his temple on Tuesday.

'If he is making penance for all the bad things he did, will three months be long enough?' I asked his mother.

I was joking, of course. Mum laughed.

‘Should I take anything?’ I asked.

I have seen plastic buckets on sale containing personal effects for monks.

At time of the year, some Thais prepare enter the monkhood for the three months of Buddhist Lent, which starts on Tuesday.

‘Take one of those buckets...they contain items such as soap, toothpaste...,’ she said.

Postscript: I met Kew on the banks of the Chao Phraya river seven years ago, as he sat fishing with friends.

That was the start of an unusual friendship which, despite long absences on both sides, and a hostile period in which I could barely bring to look at my young friend, survives to this day. The first of the Kew stories is here.

Mark their words

2010-07-18T21:48:00.000-07:00

Prime Minister Abhisit Veijjajiva hits the campaign trail in Constituency 6 of Bangkok, where a by-election will be held next Sunday.

Abhisit took with him his teenage nephew, crowd-pleaser Prit Wacharasintu, or Nong Ice-cream, hailed in the media as his would-be political heir.

That's Ice-cream in the white T-shirt, holding aloft a campaign sign. On Saturday they campaigned for votes at Fashion Island shopping mall in Khan Na Yao district.

One media report says Abhisit and Nong Ice-cream were swamped with requests for autographs.

Abhisit (in shirt-sleeves) and Nong Ice-cream, 17, were stumping for Democrat Party candidate Panich Vikitsreth (in pink).

His main opponent, Korkaew Pikulthong, of the Puea Thai Party, has the cachet of campaigning for this election from jail, where he is being held on charges in relation to the red shirt protest which ended in May.

Korkaew, a member of the anti-government United Front for Democracy against Dictatorship, is likely to attract sympathy votes, if nothing else.

He was allowed out of jail to register his candidacy late last month, but had to go straight back to the clink again.

He wanted to wear his fetching prison garb to the registration office, but the Justice Ministry turned him down.

Nong Ice-cream (พริษฐ วัชรสินธุ น้องไอติม), youngest son of Abhisit's elder sister, studies at Eton College in England, but is home during the term break. He wants to pursue studies in politics after he leaves school.

He has attracted plenty of publicity since his return. The Nation Weekly is running a ‘special interview’ with him and Panich's teenage son, Prom - another political aficionado - this week.

Abhisit knows the publicity value of Nong Ice-cream, who has stumped for the Democrats' by-election candidate several times since the campaign began.

‘No one forces me to be here. I am a party member, and do it because I enjoy it,’ Nong Ice-cream told the media.

Days before, Abhisit was caught in a political row over the utterances of a teen more hostile to his cause – Academy Fantasia contestant Withawat 'Mark' Thaokhamlue, who left an anti-Abhisit tirade at his Facebook page before entering the competition three weeks ago.

Mark, 17, lashed out at Abhisit for refusing to resign during the red shirt riots. Troops broke up the protest on May 19. Before they retreated to the provinces, red shirts set fire to parts of Bangkok.

‘You can resign now! Stupid Abhisit. If Abhisit resigned, it would have ended. Would the red shirts have protested to this extent?’ Mark said his message.

‘If it had been me, I would have quit a long time ago. What now, it’s all burnt. What are you going to do about it?

‘You are probably scared you will be left without a job. You’re not as rich as [former prime minister] Thaksin Shinawatra. You’re scared of dying. Scared to leave the country without money,’ Mark said in his Facebook message.

On Saturday, Mark appeared for the first - and last - time at an Academy Fantasia concert, after his decision three days before to withdraw from the seventh series of the reality show/performance contest in a show of contrition for his anti-Abhisit remarks.

The media had come upon his remarks, and decided he should be punished for daring to criticise the prime minister.

Mark’s show of penance didn’t end there. The week before, his parents withdrew him from the first weekly decider concert, after news broke about his disrespectful Abhisit comments.

In the eyes of the Bangkok media, Mark - who polled way ahead of rival candidates at AF House - had betrayed himself as a red shirt supporter. Mark comes from Chiang Mai, a stronghold of the red shirts' champion Thaksin.

Last week, Mark, who scores an impressive grade average of 4 at school, went before the media to apologise to Abhisit for his comments.

At his concert appearance, he asked Thais to forgive him. ‘I would like to serve as a role model to teenagers, and the need for Thais to put aside our political differences and unite for the pleasure of the King,’ said Mark.

Abhisit, whose nickname is also Mark, denied ever holding a grudge against AF’s Mark, but came under opposition party fire nonetheless.

The Puea Thai Party accused the government of ordering AF’s organisers to boot Mark off the show - a claim the government denies.

Mark’s utterances set off a row about the (narrow) bounds of Thai freedom of speech (see this piece).

Despite the humiliating show of penance which AF's Mark was forced to perform at the behest of his parents, the outspoken young man from Chiang Mai may have the last laugh.

Before he entered AF House, Mark sent in an audition tape to Korean entertainment label JYP Entertainment, home to superstar Rain, and Thai singer Nichkhun Horvejkul.

JYP, says Mark’s Dad, is interested in hearing more from Mark.

Even as the one-eyed Bangkok media has written off Mark’s chances – having ‘disgraced’ himself as a red shirt, he can hardly expect to go any further in public life – the Koreans, who have spotted the young man’s talent as a performer, would like to take matters further.

Mark, a self-confessed fan of Thaksin, says he would like to study dermatology with a view to opening his own cosmetic surgery clinic, rather than pursue a performing career in Korea.

However, the fuss over his anti-Abhisit comments has also rekindled his interest in politics. A career as an MP can't be ruled out.

Abhisit said while he welcome criticism, it should be couched in appropriate language. Teenagers should mind their manners when speaking to adults, he said.

In the wake of the red shirt riots, Abhisit has launched a campaign for national reconciliation. On the evidence of the fuss surrounding AF Mark’s comments, it has a long way to go.

Watch AF Mark's final performance here.

Things I don't want to know about

2010-07-16T21:15:00.000-07:00

‘Can you buy a drink for Ball? He’s pacing up and down like a wild thing,’ said his mother.

She called me at work.

‘I have run up a tab at a shop close to here...B300-400 on beers for him,’ she said.

‘When I call, you don’t answer. Today you dropped in, but stayed just a second,’ she complained.

Mum sounds desperate. She is running out of money, having to borrow just to buy the family food.

‘If you agree to pay, I will put two beers on the tab and you can give me the money when you visit next,’ she said.

I dropped in earlier in the day, but after seeing the foul look which Ball’s girlfriend Jay gave me, quickly left for home again.

Mum is in trouble financially as a result of a business venture she has entered.

It might just be a temporary thing, but it could also be a sign of bad news to
come.

-

Mum has bought a second-hand pick-up truck for B170,000, and is now involved in a venture selling cut-price petrol.

She bought it by exchanging her gold for cash at a pawnshop.

Earlier, she had contemplated borrowing the money from a finance company, and asked me to help raise the money she needed for a deposit.

I said no, so she went ahead and traded in her gold.

I did not know Mum had so much money hanging around her neck. I knew she owned a Volvo, parked up somewhere for want of a battery.

That should have alerted me to the fact that the woman has money, even if she chooses to spend little of it on her own home, which is a tip.

I failed to pick up the signs. She is asset-rich, but cash poor.

I should have listened to carer R, all those months ago, when he said: 'Don't worry about Ball. His mother has money...she just chooses not to give her kids any of it.'

I think now of the times she has asked me for help buying this or that small household item, and feel annoyed.

The cash she needs to keep her family going from day to day wasn’t there, but that might be because she lost it in gambling, or had lent it to someone. Who knows? Meanwhile, she lives in a freehold home, and owned gold worth at least B170,000.

'I traded in amost everything to raise money for the truck, as I don't want to be in debt,' she said.

If I gave her money, it was for useful things such as paying for a phone top-up when Ball started a new job; or helping buy new work clothes for him.

None of the jobs last, because Ball does not want to work. He took up a job recently at an insurance firm, but lasted just two days there.

He walked out after getting into an argument with an insurance salesman – a mere desk jockey, little more elevated in social status than Ball himself.

Since then he has been unemployed.

I find it hard to get excited now when he tells me he has found a new job, because I suspect he does not really want it.

I doubt I will help pay for his work clothes again, unless I should succumb to some new bout of pity towards him or his mother, and part with money even when I know I shouldn’t.

-

I saw them again the other night. The first two hours were rowdy and painful, as Mum had invited a few of her slum friends around for a drink. The next half hour was fun, as it was just his family, me, and the kids at play.

Ball wanted another drink so I met him outside for a furtive beer in a basketball court on the outskirts of the slum.

It was our first time we have spent any time together outside his place since carer R, owner of the ya dong stand where we met, left for the provinces months ago.

Ball told me that his girlfriend Jay was unhappy with my frequent visits to their home. She had asked about the gay thing, and why I was hanging around.

He assured Jay that I was just lonely and in need of a friend. 'In fact, the farang hopes that you and I will have kids one day,' he told her.

After hearing that, Jay was reassured about my intentions, he said.

‘You have been good to me, buying me drinks even when I don't have the money,' Ball told me.

I wanted to hear something about how I was a supportive friend, too, but it didn't come. Maybe that would be expecting too much.

Half an hour later, Jay turned up. She scolded him for sneaking out.

Ball persuaded Jay to join us on the bench seat. They started cuddling, which made me feel out of place, so I left them to it.

-

Mum bought the truck by exchanging her gold for cash at a pawn shop. Now she wants to take the ownership papers to a finance company to borrow money to get herself back into her gambling circle.

At the moment, she can't play to her heart's desire, because her capital is tied up in the pick-up.

A few days ago, she mentioned the fact she might ask me for a loan. Once again, I shall say no.

A sneaky tattooed worm of a man started turning up at her place about the time she decided to buy the truck. His name is Kung.

Kung hires the truck from Mum every day to pursue a petrol venture in which she is his silent partner.

He buys cheap petrol from truck drivers, who call him when they have something to sell.

In Mum's truck, he travels to meet them, takes delivery of the petrol, and the next day sells it to petrol stations. The difference in price is his profit.

He employs youngest son Beer to lift the petrol into the back of the truck.

After truckies call, Kung borrows the money he needs from Mum to pay them. I have seen her pull huge wads of cash from her purse, which she hands over to Kung.

He goes to see them the same night, and the exchange takes place.

He pays Mum B500 a day for use of the truck, and wages for Mr B. Ownership of the pickup truck is in Mum's name.