Thailand Footprint: The People, Things, Literature, and Music of Thailand and the Region

Posts from the ‘Henry Miller’ category

Henry Miller,  ink and acrylic on wood by Jamie Lawson - 2010

Henry Miller, ink and acrylic on wood by Jamie Lawson – 2010

Life moves on, whether we act as cowards or heroes. Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such. – Henry Miller

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Henry Miller at Big Sur

Henry Miller at Big Sur

On the About / Mission page of this blog a Henry Miller quote concludes with, “Forget yourself.” What did Henry mean by that? Only he would know for sure. In my initial interview with Legendary Surfers author, Malcolm Gault-Williams, I asked him if he agreed with the entire quote? Malcolm did agree, except for those two commanding words. It was a good answer but it was not the answer I expected. Not the one I wanted. How often do we ask a question with our answer already in mind? Too often, for me. People can be like the guy at the race track that has already decided which horse he will bet on because of the name of the horse or the color of the jockey’s silks but then goes to the racing form for information to back up his unwavering choice. Malcolm is right – when you write you cannot forget yourself, entirely. You need to add that special ingredient, as he puts it, to make the writing unique. But the best story, in my opinion, is almost always elsewhere.

“Develop an interest in life as you see it; the people, things, literature, music – the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. Forget yourself.”― Henry Miller

Years ago I met someone for the first time at my Bangkok gym. We would later become friends. On that initial meeting I was on a weight machine. Dick, the name of my future friend, was on the next machine over. As he rested he struck up a conversation with me. My first impression of Dick was, “fat cat”. He was older than me by a good 20 years, heavy but in good shape and very tan, which made his blue eyes look even bluer. He wore a singlet and had a thick gold chain around his neck. A lot thicker than the $100 string I was wearing. Circumference does matter to some, I’m told, when it comes to gold. He was friendly enough but I was probably terse with him as I have this peculiar idea that gyms are for exercising not so much for socializing. In short, I was thinking about myself at the time, as we humans tend to do, rather than thinking about the opportunity to meet a new friend that didn’t fit the mold of my friends back in California.

Over the next few years I would share many meals with Dick and my circle of friends in Thailand. And a few beers too. Dick was always fun to be around. I would also tend to run into him from time to time, even when I was out of town. He always made room for a bit of conversation and sometimes those bits would lead to a few more beers. He came to our family Christmas party one year with a video recorder running as he entered the front door and was very entertaining all evening, yet always polite. We shared some things in common, Dick and I. He also split his time between Thailand and the USA – in his case, Maine. Our schedules were similar: winter and spring in Thailand. I always enjoyed catching up after not seeing each other for six months. Dick was generous, with his time and with his compliments. He was the opposite of a balloon chaser – the type of guy who would be a regular at a pub and then stay away when they had a free meal promotion, figuring someone else could use the seat and the meal that day more than he. One year he came back and his thick, heavy gold chain was missing. “Where’s your gold chain, Dick?” I asked when I noticed right away. “Oh, I gave it to my nephew. He always liked it and he’s a senior on his Florida high school football team this year”, he replied with his trademark smile. Dick was always proud of his family members back in the USA. It turned out that Dick wasn’t really a fat cat at all. He was a retired accountant that was more of a cool cat, even at over 70 years old. Dick was one of those guys whom you were always happy to see and when you left you always felt a little better. And I was never exactly sure why that was?

Henry Miller while paiting

Henry Miller while painting

After about 5 years of friendship and good memories I learned, from a mutual friend while I was in California, that Dick died of a heart attack, suddenly, during a visit with family members in Florida at the age of 76. His funeral was to be held in Maine. I didn’t go and like most regrets I have it is the things I didn’t do which I regret most. But I did get a chance to communicate with his son, a few times via email and once we spoke on the telephone. During the course of that conversation I expressed to his son that Dick was a friend and I liked him very much. I told him I used to tell his dad that he reminded me of my Uncle Al, a very important man in my life. I also told him how Dick had a way of making everybody around him feel good. His son responded, “My dad was the kind of guy that was always interested in what you were interested in.” And he was. And that was it – that’s what I couldn’t put my finger on. Henry Miller, I suspect, would have liked Dick a lot. Because Dick understood what Henry meant. Dick was confident in who he was, just as I believe Henry Miller was confident, on most occasions, with who he was. They both knew, more often than not, that the best story, the best moments in life, were not about them.

When you are interested in what other people are interested in, you find what Henry Miller found: interesting people. Will it happen every time? No, but often enough, that I would bet on it.

saratoga

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Henry Miller Portrait by Fabrizio Cassetta

Henry Miller Portrait by Fabrizio Cassetta available at Fine Art America in various formats. Click portrait for more information

One’s destination is never a place, but rather a new way of looking at things.

Henry Miller (1957). Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch

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I have always liked this passage of thought by Henry Miller.

PensAleas's avatarThe Eloquent Madness

Portrait of Author Henry Miller

“Writing, like life itself, is a voyage of discovery. The adventure is a metaphysical one: it is a way of approaching life indirectly, of acquiring a total rather than a partial view of the universe. The writer lives between the upper and lower worlds: he takes the path in order eventually to become that path himself.

”I began in absolute chaos and darkness, in a bog or swamp of ideas and emotions and experiences. Even now I do not consider myself a writer, in the ordinary sense of the word. I am a man telling the story of his life, a process which appears more and more inexhaustible as I go on. Like the world-evolution, it is endless. It is a turning inside out, a voyaging through X dimensions, with the result that somewhere along the way one discovers that what one has to tell is not nearly so important…

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Anais Nin on Henry Miller and Writing – Picture shows Henry Miller at his studio located in Big Sur, California where he spent much of the later years of his life.

PensAleas's avatarThe Eloquent Madness

Henry Miller

“Henry’s recollections of the past, in contrast to Proust, are done while in movement. He may remember his first wife while making love to a whore, or he may remember his very first love while walking the streets, traveling to see a friend; and life does not stop while he remembers. Analysis in movement. No static vivisection. Henry’s daily and continuous flow of life, his sexual activity, his talks with everyone, his cafe life, his conversations with people in the street, which I once considered an interruption to writing, I now believe to be a quality which distinguishes him from other writers. He never writes in cold blood: he is always writing in white heat.
It is what I do with the journal, carrying it everywhere, writing on cafe tables while waiting for a friend, on the train, on the bus, in waiting rooms at the station, while my hair…

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Recently, there was a video making the rounds of the social networking sites. Its title, NEVER GO TO THAIILAND, with a subtitle of Worst Vacation Ever. The quality of the video is highly professional.  A lot of people were choosing to comment without actually viewing the video – making incorrect assumptions, as we all do in life at times. Not surprising, given that we live in a society that has book reviews written by people who never actually read the book. Why let the small details of living a good life get in the way of our desired end result? The video is worth a look, if you have the time, if not, it’s okay.

http://vimeo.com/61561546

The video title is tongue in cheek. The video itself is the antithesis of the title – at least for most people, I would hope. It shows all the many and varied good things about a country I have spent over half my time in, since 2001.

It got me thinking about why I like Thailand. Why I even love it, warts and all. And make no mistake, we are talking about one ugly, wart covered frog, living in a cracked, upside down coconut shell, in the dark, at times. Life may be a beach but in Thailand, murders happen on those beaches, rapes happen on those beaches, yachts are pirated and people are kidnapped not far from those beaches. Tsunami’s even happen on those beaches.

I’ve always believed, whether it is in business or in life, that little things matter. Little things add up to great sums over time.

A jug fills drop by drop.- Buddha

And just as a jug will indisputably fill one drop at a time our lives are filled up one moment at a time. The one common denominator we all share is that we know we are going to die. Unlike the happy and content dog that has no idea he’s being measured for a grave, we humans do. We know we may have a choice between ashes or Mahogany, small, medium or extra large containers but we will all die, one day.

I came to Thailand to die. I needed to be surprised. I wanted to be shocked. Bangkok is unpredictable and it delivers if you give it a chance. Even the small adventures are memorable. – Stirling Silliphant

Bangkok Babylon
The above quote by Oscar winning Hollywood television and screenplay writer, Stirling Silliphant, is from the excellent book by Jerry Hopkins titled, BANGKOK BABYLON -The Real Life Exploits of Bangkok’s Legendary Expatriates in the short story, THE OSCAR WINNER. If you want to look at one of the most impressive writing resumes, ever, go to Stirling Silliphants Wikipedia page. If Bangkok was good enough for Stirling, a man that could choose to live anywhere in the world, it sure seems like a great choice for this former Auburn, California boy. Among the advice one receives from reading Jerry Hopkin’s book is the following quote, which I have practiced as much as is practical: “When in Bangkok, do what your mama told you never to do – talk to a stranger.”

Deutsches Haus Restaurant on Beach Road

Deutsches Haus Restaurant on Beach Road

One of my favorite restaurants on the Gulf of Thailand is Deutsches Haus located on Soi 4 on Beach Road in Pattaya City. I’ve been eating there for 12 years. I’ve eaten there with my wife and daughter; I’ve eaten there many times with a friend and fellow tennis aficionado, whom past away of a heart attack at the age of 61, a few years ago now. The last time I saw him, before I went to his Buddhist funeral, was a breakfast we had at Deutsches Haus on the last day of a trip to see the Pattaya Women’s Tennis Tournament, among other things.

The waitress who works there is named Mook. She has served my food many times. Mook is not a stranger but she once was, until I began talking to her, as Jerry advises.  Mook is skinny, appears shy, cross-eyed, makes about $8.00 a day plus tips and has one of the most beautiful smiles you will ever see. And her crossed eyes always sparkle when she does smile. I asked Mook yesterday what her name meant, because most Thai nick names have an English meaning. Nok meaning, bird and Ped meaning, duck as two examples. She just waved her hands, said, “No meaning, Mook may suay” the latter part translated to, Mook is not beautiful. I don’t concur with Mook, I think she is one of the beautiful souls that Henry Miller talks about in the foundational quote that inspired Thailand Footprint’s creation. If you can forget yourself long enough the Mook’s of the world are everywhere. I was told later by her waitress friend, Da that Mook may mean a small seashell, like those you would find in the sand at the beach. The grace, humility, positive attitude towards work and inner beauty of people like Mook is just one reason I love Thailand.

Mook, my waitress, brings a a soda water ...

Mook, my waitress, brings a a soda water ...

Yesterday I spoke with Mook about how someone snatched my gold chain off my neck at that very restaurant, two days ago – it was Mook’s day off and she wanted to hear all about the big story she had missed out on. So I told her: as I sat at my table alone, drinking coffee, somewhat preoccupied in thought, a man had aproached me and in the blink of an eye yanked off the gold chain I wore around my neck.  A chain purchased for $100.00 in a Kalgoorlie, Australia gold shop after an 8 hour train ride from Perth, W.A., 12 years ago. It had great sentimental value as that purchase came just one day before I met my wife, Ratree, for the first time.  I chased my assailant as quickly as I could, yelling, thief! Police! Repeatedly. The calls did not go unanswered. Four good Samaritans, three of whom are Thai motorcy taxi drivers, answered the calls.  One of those three was a large, strong Thai man with five Buddhist amulets dangling on his chest. He was most responsible for pursuing, capturing and holding the man for the police that arrived shortly thereafter amid a gathering crowd.

The man I call, Good Sam. He was most responsible for capturing the gold snatcher ...

The man I call, Good Sam. He was most responsible for capturing the gold snatcher

One small, very Thai detail: this man who stole my gold chain was a cross-dressing katoey as they are known in Thailand. There are many. And some steal often. The amazing thing was, the transvestite thief could sense the jig was up as the police arrived so he tossed the gold chain on the restaurant floor and then pointed at it, pretending he had helped find it. It was a good ploy on his part as the man in brown that talked to me in English soon after said it would be difficult to press charges with the evidence not found on him. I was so relieved to regain my object of sentimentality that I was okay with that. They did take his picture, 5’8″  150 lbs, red lipstick, real shoulder length black hair and common yellow house-dress. This is Thailand too. Did I mention the restaurant is located just 25 yards from the beach?

The view from Deutsches Haus restaurant on Beach Street ...

The view from Deutsches Haus restaurant on Beach Street …

As I recapped the story to Mook, which was still very fresh in my mind, she smiled the whole time and seemed genuinely happy, which made me happy to see that. Mook repeated in English several times, “You lucky. You very lucky.” On that point, I had to agree with Mook. I am lucky. Lucky to have lived for as many months and years in Thailand as I have. Lucky to have had so many small moments fill my jug. If I am really lucky, that jug is only 2/3 full.

Because I cannot think of a better place to fill the last third of life’s jug than Thailand. A country where lucky is defined as having a man wearing lipstick and a dress, snatch and break your cherished gold necklace. Stirling Silliphant got it right, “Even the small adventures are memorable.” Just another day of collecting seashells (and an occasional pearl, for the lucky) at the beach, in Thailand.

The beautifully smiling, Mook.

The beautifully smiling, Mook.

CityLife

This post was also published at Chiang Mai City News on Valentines Day 2014 and may be seen there by clicking the above banner

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Henry Miller by Mia Malone Jennings

Henry Miller by Mia Malone Jennings at http://www.miamalonejennings.com

Why are we so full of restraint? Why do we not give in all directions? Is it fear of losing ourselves? Until we do lose ourselves there is no hope of finding ourselves.

Henry Miller

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