Whenever Siriworn Kaewkan and Kanthorn Aksornnam come here, it’s fiesta time.
They came here last night with food for three – khanom jeep (delicious), sankaya (for my breakfast this morning), a whole fried chicken in bits (leftovers of which were half of my lunch today), and some whatever-it-was with what looked like chocolate drips on top I neither asked the name nor partook of – and more food for thought for me: four of their latest books plus one electronic one: the draft of Siriworn’s latest novel, after his well-reported stay at the Burmese border in the past months. I’ll give it a read presently.
Over four hours plus, it was a well-watered encounter, of the 45-degree variety: they had brought their own booze (Black Label®, no less – they must be very successful; the likes of Chart and Suwannee at their age swore by the cheapest brandy flask) and their own bottles of soda. Guess what I matched that with.
The funny part of it was that, the weather being what it is outdoors, much of our time was spent watching TV on TV (all channels) and then on the net (PTV), and being hugely entertained by the likes of Abhisit V and Nathavut S: the one declared a state of energetic leniency, or did he say ‘emergency’?; the other didn’t seem to like it one bit. Their respective clienteles frothed at the mouth, the town went redder (out of shame) and yellower (out of fright).
Picture this: three free-thinking word lovers gathered to talk lit but duty-bound as human beings to watch the day’s antics of Arisaman at Parliament and then the posturing of the top three prai stooges-in-charge for their beloved ammart boss, whose loss of voice in the past three days speaks volumes: has he got prostate cancer or what.
It was so grotesque we sort of felt ridiculous and protectively laughed non-stop.
Phee Worn and Nong Noo left one minute before ten (their BL bottle is safe here until they come back and harm it), when the government was again on TV (all channels) saying it meant business but wouldn’t hurt a fly, so there. My friends were repairing to Min Buri and, getting anxious on their behalf, I tried to call them: they’d turned off their mobiles.
I’m sure they somehow made it back through the chancy urban maze.
Tonight I’m in mourning: no more Preposterous TV to laugh and shake my head at. And you know the rest: last night’s bangers and smashes at my employer’s place, the frantic canvassing for a last muscled ahingsa stand at Ratchaprasong five hundred to one thousand baht a head, the sickening round-the-clock brainwashing on Thai TV channels and all that.
Oh, by the way, thaicrisis.com got upgraded recently: last month, access to it was stealthily denied by the ministry of electronic censorship (see ‘The plot thickens’ on 24.2.10 in this blog). Now – even before the emergency decree allows for such crimes against free speech – it has been awarded the following medal:
Wake up, Mae Toranee, they’ve all gone bonkers in the Land of Smiles.