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

Posts from the ‘Writing’ category

John Gartland (Photo by Eric Nelson)

John Gartland (Photo by Eric Nelson)

Bangkok is full of interesting expatriates. Foreigners choosing to make Thailand their home for a variety of reasons. John Gartland is one such interesting expat. John was born in Warrington in Northern England. He graduated with honors in English from Newcastle University and has a master’s degree in Elizabethan drama. He has spent time in the United States, has worked in the government sector, in the telecommunications business, as a rock n’ roll music producer and as a college lecturer and professor. He has recently returned to live in Bangkok a second time after being Visiting Professor of English Writing at Korea National University of Education , and  Lecturer in English at  Bayan University College in Muscat.

Gravity's Fool - Poems by John Gartland

Gravity’s Fool – Poems by John Gartland

John Gartland is a published novelist and poet. Thailand Footprint is pleased to showcase some of his poems today along with the art of Chris Coles as well as photographs by Bangkok photographers, Eric Nelson and Aroon Thaewchatturat.

Portrait of poet, John Gartland by Bangkok Noir artist, ChrisColes

Portrait of poet, John Gartland by Bangkok Noir artist, Chris Coles

The Company of Poets

You’ve heard a kind of clown
dismissing poetry,
as rarefied and precious, not real life;
till, cut and sliced by love’s
exquisite and inexorable knife,
he’ll find the bottle comfortless enough,
and fumble in his misery for rhyme.

Still craving for some vanished stuff of rapture,
attempting to contain the heart’s decline,
and learning there’s no science that will capture
or can resurrect a passion. It’s a sign that life
will seek out rhythms, incantations, dreams,
to celebrate its stature, and to wonder at itself.
Each dances, in his fashion, to that driving score it seems;
but poets live the fuller, by their nature, beating time.

And I’ll seek out the company of poets,
the company of poets I’ll make mine.
When poetry has bitten you you’ll know it;
it’s just an arc of words but in the overall design
of things, there’s everything in life laid out below it;
from birth to love, and death, and celebration;
and before the robot reaper can consign
you to your headstone you will ride imagination’s
launcher high above the milling cities,
be the Process speaking, for a time.

So I’ll seek out the company of poets,
the company of poets I’ll make mine.
They’re taking passion’s pulse
and they are signaling the future,
they’ve freedom for a mistress
and they’ve history for a tutor,
and they can image water into wine.
Each new day is their holy book,
and apparatchiks hate them
for scoffing at all priesthoods
while embracing the divine.
So give to me the company of poets,
the company of poets I’ll make mine.

Those black flags of mourning, who better to fly them?
The tender intrigues of the aspirant heart,
that life-shaking love that you have for your children,
how better to tell them? Where better to start?
Where else but the company of poets?
whose alchemical pilgrimage sets them apart…
Where else but the company of poets?

Those ephemeral fires of the beacon lights,
on the century’s headlands, glowing;
like poems, are markers we leave to rite
our passage and our going.
Bright seeds on the wind that flower despite
the perennial cloud of unknowing,
and they’re sown by the company of poets,
the indelible company of poets.

John Gartland

Soi Cowboy by Chris Coles now found hanging, prominently, at CheckInn99 in Bangkok

Soi Cowboy by Chris Coles now found hanging, prominently, at CheckInn99 in Bangkok

Chillin’

Judas hangs about in lost property,
channel hopping.
Reality Arena, Caligula’s TV hit,
has viewers congealed to their seats.
“It’s the same old bread and circuses shit”,
says Herod, still regal, on the Oprah show.
He’ll be networked once he’s out, you know,
a degree in demographics from an Open prison;
now, when he speaks the media listen.
But that’s old hat; there’s wall to wall promotion
on all stations for “Hits the murderers listened to.”
Can you get into that?
A six album set, if you didn’t steal it already.
“Suffer Little Children”, whispers Myra Hindley
and the social workers nod,
chillin!’.
“I’m immortal now”, croons De Troux,
“Let bygones be bygones”, says God,
“I’m chillin’, I’m chillin’”.

My cap’s on backwards, I mastered rhyme.
It ain’t complicated, so rap’s just fine,
I’m a tattooed mother’ and an arrogant swine,
I beat my bitch and she toes my line,
I’ve got a big shooter and I fuck with crime,
got jewels in my teeth and I done some time,
I’m rich, you can kiss my asinine,
I’m chillin’, I’m chillin’.

After this word from our sponsor,
Al Jazeera, embedded with the Taliban!
More amputations and beheadings, live,
and our token woman journalist who
reads the news at five. Commercial break,
a woman’s lips through an embroidered slot,
“Something for the weekend?”
Adultery and a drink will get you stoned,
Or maybe you forgot.
Relax! to a cool, fanatic vibe.
Sheikh, rattle and rolling heads,
no moderates are left alive.
The anchorman’s just chillin’. “Clive,
Reminds me of the view from the Republican
window at the old Rue Robespierre.
(These people can teach Europe nothing
about losing your head in a crisis!)”
And now at last we take you there,
To Isfahan, a missile silo filled with
Mullahs’ radioactive teeth,
to seed an unbelieving west.
With business confidence so low,
where else can you invest but Club Inferno,
fastest growing franchaise, and the best.
Four horsemen drinking margaritas in the bar,
chillin’. Scythes gleam in the umbrella stand.
Then, strikes up the band
behind the President’s address
on the State of Rape and Roll,
and everyone’s in lost property now,
to watch. With closing time at hand,
the speech is kind of droll,
and chillin’, really chillin’.

John Gartland

Chris Coles Landscape

Chris Coles Landscape

Bangkok De Profundis.

In a time of rising waters,
He has cried to thee oh Lord.
It was becoming hard to bear,
waking up each morning as a cockroach.
His junkie girlfriend stole the laptop,
the phone kept ringing at odd hours,
and insomniacs haunted him,
invading his rooms to smoke Old Delirium
in strange contraptions, fashioned
from detergent bottles and glass tubing.

False prophets network,
scares and admonitions,
“Seek shelter from the coming flood”
for markets fall, and pundits pall
like necromancers shocked by futures,
awed at stocks’ exposed positions.

More flashbacks of those corpses wrapped
in blood-stained sheets where Hades
meets Suwintawong highway,
and demons dressed as strutting cops
play out satanic games with car wrecks
and six lanes of hurtling pick-ups,
loaded with the damned.
Nothing stops, apart from hoping,
in that darkness;
hoping, and the grand design of God.

Years of debris; a throwaway world
is gagging his high watermark.
The residue of empires, dismembered ideologies,
gangrenous mullahs,
severed heads in doggie bags,
girls stoned to death by dumper truck
where high tech. serves Islamic rigour;
and women’s bodies, feared
and lashed with equal vigour,
float the septic tide to state,
that, rotting, raped and subjugate,
masked, or beauty acid-scarred,
this jealous hate redeems some family’s honour
and the keeping of a slave.

“Seek shelter from the coming flood!”.
More warnings from the networks
of disaster in plain sight.
Infected by the future
and recoiling from the light,
from the morning watch,
to subliminal night, Lord,
he channel-hops the ads. and lies,
awaits the blind inexorable wave.

Let thine ears be attentive
to the voice of his supplication.
Please take his urgent call oh Lord,
extend to him religion’s consolation.

Icons of old wizard monks,
expensive relics in a locket,
the sacred, decorated trunks of
twisted, bent, revered old trees,
an idol, or a totem,
or the fetish of of a prophet,
an amulet of Vishnu,
or a string of merit-making beads
to finger in a pocket.
A road map of the Tree of Life,
a prayer mat, sacrificial knife,
a sacred stone they venerate,
a holy spring where they prostrate,
and, chanting loudly, flagellate;
some mutilation rituals they find,
somehow express their
tortured, ingrown toenail of a mind.

To these they bow, by these they wait,
for heaven’s ultimate blind date;
hypnosis by a holy book,
subservience to a priestly look.

Yea Lord, he drinks a bitter cup,
deliverance eludes him yet.
The creator, playing hard to get,
has, once more, frankly, stood him up.

Manipulation, thought correction,
machiavellian misdirection.
Digesting God’s indifference,
inhaling insignificance,
in times of rising waters,
a Minoan maze of lies.

The sacred books, the king, the host,
those feet at which men grovel most;
the bloodstained flag, the Holy Ghost,
the biggest fairy tales require
most pious genuflection,
and these the thinking cockroach
will contemptuously despise.

Insomniac transexuals
are texting, seeking parts again.
Awake within the whispering walls,
illumination swirls and falls
to fractals in a pipe bulb,
when, aware God’s not returning calls,
or dealing absolution,
he crawls out of the depths, not least
to shun the poisonous fix of priests,
and charter his own flight to dissolution.

For, Lord, he’s turned his back upon
some name we may not utter
without slavish self-abasement,
the mediaeval violence policing laws of love;
a million milling zealots
trampling by their sacred monolith;
psychosis aping saintliness,
when push comes to fanatic shove.

And the globalised multiplex; virtual reality,
brand slaves on Prozac grazing the mall.
Where history simply is discarded fashion,
junk’s TV, rap culture, and soundbite celebrities,
mainlining cage fights, an armchair in hell.
In a time of rising waters,
He has cried to thee, oh Lord.

Last call for oblivion, welcome aboard.

Let thine ears be attentive… attentive oh Lord!

Last call for oblivion, darkness on board.

John Gartland

Female Guardian of the Bangkok Night by Chris Coles

Female Guardian of the Bangkok Night by Chris Coles

ANNA JET

Anna glides among the drinkers
and her girls at Anna Jet.
The customers pay tribute with their eyes.

Her girls are young,
available and beautiful, and yet,
as she irradiates the storyline
of evening with her smile,
and lets her hand rest lightly
on some shoulder for a while,
her backless dress of silken gold’s
as tight as gilt upon
an art collector’s statuette.

Her girls are young,
available, and beautiful and yet,
it’s Anna with her silken style
who dances in the memory
while we cross the floating world
to Anna Jet.

Hot night, the bar that’s open
to the dealings of the street,
the techno music, short time girls,
a DJ who is seemingly determined
to defeat our death in this
sublime apotheosis of the dance.

I think of Wagner talking about Beethoven
and glance at strangers who
are dancing on their naked lives.
Here in the floating world, the dream survives;
drink deep, and dance, and banish sleep
for Anna shines among her girls
like some erotic statuette,
and it’s always short time, you can bet,
golden short time.
And the bass is driving nails
into the past
in Anna Jet.

John Gartland

Farang in theBangkok Night by Chris Coles

Farang in the Bangkok Night by Chris Coles

GRAVITY’S FOOL

When she leaves me,

and I’m ordinary again,

a flickering filament,

a melancholy solo

in a wasted hour;

a speech without conviction

in an empty auditorium,

a cherry blossom bough

that will not flower.

When she leaves,

this falling rocket coughs,

its motor won’t restart.

I’m gravity’s fool again;

just ordinary debris

destined soon to fall apart.

And her absences,

like tree rings,

all her absences

will show,

that day they open

my abandoned heart.

John Gartland

Bangkok Noir Artist, Chris Coles prepares for presentation - Photo by  Aroon Thaewchattura

Bangkok Noir Artist, Chris Coles prepares for presentation – Photo by Aroon Thaewchattura

For more information about the Poetry of John Gartland please visit Poetry Universe by clicking the photograph of John, below:

John Gartland on Sukhumvit Road, Bangkok (Photo by Eric Nelson)

John Gartland on Sukhumvit Road with some of the characters found in the Bangkok night. (Photo by Eric Nelson)

For more information regarding the art of Chris Coles, please visit: http://www.chriscolesgallery.com/ or his excellent blog, BANGKOK NOIR, consistently voted one of the Top Two Blog’s in all of Bangkok by clicking the Chris Coles painting below:

Farang Fashion Designer at Q-Bar by Chris Coles

Farang Fashion Designer at Q-Bar by Chris Coles

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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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JazzonSuhkumvit

Yesterday, I went to the historic Bangkok Cabaret bar, CheckInn99, which has a colorful history that dates back to the 1960s and had a 1970s flashback – the good kind. In 1979 on a Sunday my best friend left after spending the weekend in San Francisco, where I was living at the time. After he left, on a whim, I went into a comedy club in the Richmond district of San Francisco. On that Sunday there was an improvisational comedy group doing their thing and they were doing it well. I commented to the guy next to me, in the not particularly crowded bar called The Holy City Zoo, “That guy looks like Robin Williams.” The response was, “That’s because it is Robin Williams.” The rest of the evening was spent watching greatness and it wasn’t all Robin; they were all great and improvisational comedy is a tough nut to be great at.

robin-williams-3

There is another art form that requires improvising, talent, teamwork and unselfishness. It’s called Jazz. To listen to jazz was the goal yesterday when I met a friend to check out the Sunday Jazz on Sukhumvit series that has been going on at CheckInn99  for about four months now. I have no good reason for not going earlier. Shame on me but I am very glad I went yesterday.

Whether it is comedy, basketball or music when you are in the presence of greatness it’s evident. It’s obvious. So it was yesterday; among the talented group of jazz performers that rotated in and out, just like a winning basketball team, was leading scorer and trumpet player Steve Cannon, whom played every minute.

SteveCannon

To be in an uncrowded, intimate setting at an historic venue, as I was at the now defunct Holy City Zoo, when I saw Robin Williams is something you never forget. Likewise to find a trumpet player the caliber of Steve Cannon playing on a Sunday afternoon at a place where Bob Hope used to frequent is also a day to remember.

Steve Cannon and a talented group of jazz musicians at CheckInn99

Steve Cannon and a talented group of jazz musicians at CheckInn99

Steve’s musical credits are too numerous to list in this post but a partial list includes: piano playing comedian Steve Allen, The Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown Big Band, Mary Wilson and the Supremes, The Temptations, The Four Tops, The Spinners, Frankie Valle and the Four Seasons, and the Fifth Dimension. He produced  his debut CD, NOWHERE MAN in 1999. His 2006 CD, the award winning release, FULL BLOWN by Steve Cannon and the Blow Hard Big Band was named “2006 Best Album of the Year” by “All About Jazz” Magazine. Steve is also among an elite group of jazz musicians that performed a command performance for His Majesty the King of Thailand. And anyone that lives in Thailand knows full well the high regard King Bhumibol has for jazz. The Jazzy King, as he has been referred to, once played side by side with Benny Goodman.

King and Goodman

I love living in Bangkok, Thailand for many reasons. The diversity and talent of the expat community is just one. After two long stints in Los Angeles, CA and Portland, Oregon Steve Cannon now calls Bangkok his home. Steve can be found performing regularly with his piano playing brother, Randy Cannon at the internationally acclaimed “Living Room” jazz club in the Sheraton Grande Sukhumvit Hotel in Bangkok. I will seek out Steve and his brother’s band soon at that venue.

Steve Cannon at CheckInn99 Sunday Afternoon Jazz Series

Steve Cannon alongside William Wait at CheckInn99 Sunday Afternoon Jazz Series

In the meantime, anyone that appreciates good jazz music and the somewhat limited options that exist in Bangkok should make a visit to the Jazz on Sukhumvit series on Sunday afternoon from 2:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. at CheckInn99. You never know when greatness decides to make an appearance.

CheckInn99Bogie

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Review (not by Thailand Footprint) of the #1 Film playing in China at the moment – A Comedy called, LOST IN THAILAND – It should translate to ENGLISH Automatically if you click the link first, if not apologies, unless you can read Thai …

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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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Buddha's Brain
There are many reasons why I like the book, Buddha’s Brain. I refer to it often. Author Rick Hanson hails from Northern California and gives a nice introduction to the basics of neuroscience while combining that with Buddhism and dharma principals. A key element to Hanson’s teaching is helping the reader understand the negativity bias that exists in the brain. Being aware of the negativity bias is the best way to shift to a more positive outlook on life and everyday experiences. It didn’t take much convincing for me to believe scientific evidence is out there to prove the negativity bias; one need only engage the world to find the anecdotal evidence to go along with it.

Hanson is a neuropsychologist who has practiced mindfulness for many years. I prefer Hanson’s style to that of Jon Kabit-Zinn, although I like Kabit-Zinn and his books as well. Hanson gives us evolutionary background of our brain and how the brain’s negativity bias was useful at one point in our development but not so much now. As he likes to say, “It was better to think there was a tiger in the bush one thousand times and be wrong each time than to think there was not a tiger in the bush and be wrong one time.”

What Hanson delights in teaching is that the brain can be reprogrammed by focusing on the good to create new, positive pathways in the brain which change the way we think. Why not? His simple task of “taking in the good” I found most beneficial. Because we do not register our positive experiences in the same way or with the same emphasis as we do our negative experiences – but we should and we can. For me it gets back to the footnote tag line in this blog, by Voltaire – appreciation. Appreciating the little, positive things that life offers every day helps reprogram the brain away from its negativity bias. I like that.

Rick Hanson, author of Buddha's Brain and Just One Thing

Rick Hanson, author of Buddha’s Brain and Just One Thing

Hanson reminds us we will have painful events in our life. Those are unavoidable. But how we react to those events is more in our control than we realize. The book is actually a “how to” manual, which is another reason I like it. Hanson doesn’t just tell you why, he tells you what you need to do about it. What I like about his style is he doesn’t preach an hour a day of mediation – although he is not opposed to that – rather he lets us know we can and should be mindful anytime and grab moments of mediation when they are available. And that could even be while you are in your car, waiting for the light to turn green. Minutes add up at the end of the day.

It is the combination of research about the brain along with practical steps anyone can take to increase their sense of well being that I appreciate about Hanson’s writing style. The East vs West angle I always enjoy. Hanson helps explain, scientifically, why Buddha got it right. My kind of non-fiction book. I highly recommend Buddha’s Brain and another non-fiction book by Rick Hanson, Just One Thing. Hanson’s YouTube videos of his lectures are also very good. For a free newsletter and more information about author, Rick Hanson go to http://www.rickhanson.net or click his picture, above.

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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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Today’s maiden interview at Thailand Footprint is with Malcolm Gault-Williams. He is the father of three grown sons, a husband living up in Baan Noen Soong, Pleui Nong Bua Lamphu, Thailand, an ex- radio disk jockey, a surfer for more than 45 years while growing up around Santa Barbra, CA, a writer and author of LEGENDARY SURFERS – Three Volumes and growing. You can learn more about Malcolm living in the Thai countryside from his Blog, “THE ISAAN: My Life in a Thai-Lao Village.” at  http://the-isaan.blogspot.com .

This interview initially had a working title of, “The Most Interesting Facebook Friend I have Never Met …Yet”. After spending thirty minutes with Malcolm on a Skype video call today, I knew I had to change the title. Not because my opinion had changed. Far from it. It’s just that the new title fits Malcolm and his story so much better.

Living in Santa Cruz, CA as I had have done for all or parts of the past 20 years, I know that surfing is a soulful past time. And Malcolm Gault-Williams, not surprisingly, comes across as a very soulful man. The type of soul Henry Miller tells us is out there, if we look for them. Malcolm has been going in his own direction since he first took to the waves in the mid-1960s and is still going his own way, in an Isaan village near the Laos border in 2013.

Malcolm with his three sons
Malcolm Gault-Williams, three times proud …

TF: Malcolm, I want to thank you for agreeing to be interviewed. This is my first conducted interview for Thailand Footprint so you are being very gracious.  You are the perfect first guest because you have left a lot of foot prints in the sand.

I’ve never been an investigative reporter, Malcolm but since you have authored books on surfing, and your email contains the words “legendary surfer”, I am going to guess you were pretty good and knew other great surfers. When did you start surfing, how old were you and what memories do you have of that first year in the water on a board?

MGW: Kevin, you are too kind. I am far from being a “legendary surfer.” I just write about them. I have been writing since 1963. I began writing about surfing’s heroes, history and culture, when I was in the midst of a career change. I asked myself: given my abilities and interests, if I had 6 months to live and had to make some money somehow, what would I do?

Well, I knew I could write OK and I loved to surf, plus I’ve always had an interest in history, so writing about legendary surfers seemed like a no-brainer.

And that’s the way it’s been. Of course, I’ve had to have “day jobs” along the way, but I’ve always worked toward who I wanted to be when the chips were down.

I was 18 when I got interested in surfing. My first board was a Weber Performer.

Malcolm Big Wave

Six-foot tall Malcolm Gault-Williams and big wave at a spot between Santa Barbara and Ventura Counties

TF: When did you first begin writing about surfing history. Who or what inspired it? How many books have you written since? Have you written or do you plan to write a book on anything other than surfing?

MGW:  I began research on surf history in 1993 and throughout the 1990s had several notable articles published in surfing’s best magazines. I finally self-published my first volume in 2005, after a decade as a contributor to the online community. Some people have, as a result, dubbed me “the most plagiarized surf writer of all time.”

I was inspired to write about the history of surfing due to the work of surfer and writer Gary Lynch whom I later worked with on the definitive history of Tom Blake. I was also inspired by Steve Pezman,  a former editor of “Surfer” magazine and the genesis behind “The Surfers Journal.”

I have written three volumes on surf history, in chronological order, and will continue working to present day, until my time comes.

Other publications include articles about East Timor and West Papua, and a history book on the student protests during the Vietnam War in Santa Barbara entitled “Don’t Bank on Amerika.”

TF: Most parents, if they are lucky, give their children roots and wings. Most expats that end up living in Thailand have the necessary wings to get here, but not necessarily the roots. Tell me about your roots, your family?

MGW: My foster father is a retired Methodist minister and he was the one who got me into reading, doing well in school, and constantly try to improve my thinking and my actions. These lessons kind of set the tone for my own nuclear family.

I’m fortunate that I have never really had a problem with my (three) sons. My first wife nurtured them well and I give her a lot of credit for how they turned out. Of course, I’ll take some credit, too. I think that if you are true to yourself and treat your kids as your true embodiment, everything’s gonna go good.

I came to Thailand via my third wife Thiphawan, who is Thai-Lao and absolutely the sweetest person I have ever known. We initially met via the Internet and have been together now for 13 years.

Malcolm and family
Malcolm with Thiphawan and family pictures

TF: I have heard stories that you were a bit of an activist in your college days at UC Santa Barbara. And yet now you are the proud father of a California State Assemblyman. What similarities, if any, do you see between activism, which you participated in during the turbulent 60s and present day politics in California.

MGW: During what Americans call “The Vietnam War,” the United States grew very polarized. You had to pick sides. I chose to be counter-cultural and active. In later years I was active in the anti-nuclear movement and much later than that, served on a couple of governmental boards.

My oldest of three sons, Dohassen Gault-Williams (aka Das Williams) grew up with politics part of his daily life. When he grew older, he volunteered in a county supervisorial campaign and saw that a good candidate can lose by as much as one vote (in that campaign it was four votes). That spurred him on to more political involvement and to where he is, today. He serves as the California Assemblyman for the 37th District, which comprises principally Santa Barbara and Ventura counties.His progressive position on issues is excellent. He likes his work and it comes naturally to him. You can imagine how proud I am. I just wish there were more people like him in governments all over the world.

Das Williams and Dad

California Assemblyman Das Williams with Dad after a day of weaving waves

TF: Tell me more about those three Volumes of Surf History. What are their names. How far back did you go and what is the most surprising or interesting thing you learned in your research on the history of surfing? What’s the current volume you are working on? How long did a typical volume take from start to finish?

MGW: With non-fiction, I usually write chronologically.

Volume 1 of LEGENDARY SURFERS  (http://files.legendarysurfers.com/surf/legends/ls00_vol1.html ) covers 2500 B.C. to 1910 A.D.

Volume 2 of LEGENDARY SURFERS (http://files.legendarysurfers.com/blog/2007/12/discount-thru-dec-7.html ) takes it from 1910 to 1930.

Volume 3 of LEGENDARY SURFERS            (http://www.legendarysurfers.com/2013/01/ls-v3-1930s-contents.html ) is all about the 1930s.

I am currently working on Volume 4 and that will cover the 1940s. It’s hard to guesstimate how long a volume takes to write because when I get down to putting it all together, it’s really just a matter of pulling in what I’ve already written and having it make sense as a whole. I’d say a year per volume.

I build my writings on the history of surfing around the quotes of the people who lived it. Not afraid to include excerpts from other surf-writers, my work is heavily footnoted not only for the reader, but for future historians. My stuff is not for the coffee table. I write for surfers who want to know the details of the heritage we are blessed to be part of.

The most interesting thing I’ve learned in all of this is that we really do not know how old surfing is and that it is probably much older than we imagine.

TF: You mentioned being plagiarized a lot.  Discuss the pros and cons of publishing in a digital age. Are your books available in print and E-books or only one format? Is plagiarism always a bad thing? Is there any benefit, like there often is in the music business?

MGW: Plagiarism isn’t a big thing for me, really. I write to be read. If I’m not credited, lao boa die. It would be nice to be credited, but my ego’s not so big that I would go hunting down the people who copy my work and not attribute it. My time is much more valuable to me than to waste it on something like that.

I self-publish paperback books and ebooklets. I haven’t put together an ebook, yet, but plan to, soon. What’s held me back is the lack of control when things go viral. I had a friend once, who asked for one of my books in digitized format, that she could use in her classroom. So, I made it for her and then discovered that almost 100 of her students also downloaded the file and I didn’t get a baht or cent out of it. I felt a bit burned by that.

Nowadays, you can distribute digitized works that have a unique identifier with a unique password, so if you’re careful, it’s much easier to protect your work than it used to be.

Malcolm Gault-Williams is on a mission to record oral histories as told to him by as many of our great surf elders as possible, in scholarly fashion, before they are lost forever.” Steve Pezman, Publisher Surfer Magazine 1971-1991, Editor, The Surfer’s Journal

TF: Contrast your life now with how it used to be, living in a California surf town and talk about your own blog at  http://the-isaan.blogspot.com . What do you like best about Thailand? What do you miss most about California?

MGW: Well, I used to be a surfer/writer and now I’m a country boy/writer; very different realities. I miss the ocean and wave weaving and I also miss my sons and parents. Not much I can do about the salt-water thing, but with family, I do my best to stay connected via the Internet. I particularly like Skype video calls

Malcolm Gault-Williams and his first grandchild on Skype video call.

Malcolm on Skype with Grandchild

Yes, I’m having fun with my blog, “THE ISAAN: My Life in a Thai-Lao Village.” I’ve always written biographical vignettes, but this is the first time I’ve ever put personal stuff up for everyone to see. Similar to my surf writings, I like to write about the details of everyday life. They are SO interesting to me because my daily life is so new to me. It’s like the title of one of my posts: “Learning a New Way.”

Malcolm Gault-Williams with monks, upcountry, in back of pick-up

Malcolm learning a new way (or not) to travel in Thailand

TF: Malcolm, can you talk about the benefits of writing, for you.  I started this blog with an idea that came from Henry Miller about how  best to engage the world:

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

Do you agree with the Henry Miller quote and how would you sum up your own philosophy of living?

MGW: Well, I agree with most of that quote by Henry Miller, except for the very last part. Anybody can write, but not everyone can craft and in order to be a good craftsman, you have to put yourself into it. It has to be part of you in some way. If you “forget yourself,” as I understand the quote, you are not adding that special ingredient that makes your writing unique.

As I mentioned earlier, I’m 64 and have been writing in one form or another for the past 50 years. It’s just something that I’m driven to do. I don’t know why, really, except that the more I did, the better I got and now I really appreciate the skill I’ve developed. I’m not a very creative or entertaining writer, but I can put a story together that makes sense to the reader by the time they’re done reading it. Not everyone can do that.

TF: Who are some of your favorite authors? What authors influenced you growing up? What authors do you read now? What percentage of your time is spent reading on the internet as opposed to real books or even e-books?

MGW: Growing up, I was most influenced by the writings of Jack London, Charles Dickens and Alexander Dumas – in that order. Later, I was very much influenced by the writings of Jack Kerouac, Baba Ram Dass, Mao Zedong, Carlos Casteneda, and James Willard Schultz (Apikuni).

My most favorite writer is David Cornwell (John Le Carre). In recent years, I have enjoyed the Vincent Calvino series by Christopher G. Moore and the Bernie Gunther series by Philip Kerr.

I’m embarrassed to say that I don’t read much, these days, nor do I watch TV. Last year, I think I only read three books. With the exception of “Carthage Must Be Destroyed,” which I read in America on my son’s ipad, I haven’t read anything thus far this year, although I am working my way through “A New History of Southeast Asia.”

I write several hours each day, but am in a phase right now where I’m not reading for fun or pleasure. When I do, it’s most always on paper.

TF: I’ve really enjoyed this. Thank-you again for being the first Footprint Maker to be interviewed on Thailand Footprint. One final question: can we meet face to face some time in the future – either in the Big City where I live or up in the countryside where you live?

MGW: Thank-you, Kevin. Of course.

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Balboa Island Newport Beach

Balboa Island, Newport Beach, California 

This is where I lived from 1959 until June of 1964, with my two sisters and my mother, Marion. Balboa Island, California.

That’s not entirely true as even back then the rents on Balboa Island would double in the summer time. So every summer we headed over to live in Corona del Mar. And every school year it was back to Balboa Island. Our family lived in five different houses on Balboa Island – all rentals. Four of them were still standing the last time I was there in the late 1990s. Now, why a single Mom raising three kids on her own would choose to do this every year, you’d have to ask her? If she were still alive. I can only guess why. But I can appreciate that she did it 50 years later. In fairness, my Dad, a career Deputy Juvenile Probation Officer with L.A. County, gave $65 per month for each child as part of the divorce agreement. So Mom got an extra $195.00 on top of her salary of maybe $300 a month as an executive secretary to various Newport Beach big wigs back then.

As the twig is bent, so grows the tree.’ Often the values of the influences imposed on us by our mothers and fathers, our teachers and certain friends, are not realized until years later, when we, as a sailor does, look back at our wakes to determine the course we have steered that got us to where we are.   – Buddy Ebsen,  April 2, 1908 – July 6, 2003

Although it was 50 years ago since I lived on Balboa Island, the memories are still vivid. It seemed like a magical place for a young boy at the time and it basically was. Friends were plentiful. I still remember their names: Bill Powers, Johnny Miles and Paul Connerty. We used to run around the Island, literally at times, and we were also blood brothers, having gone through the cut and rub ritual with our thumbs that we saw from watching the Tom Sawyer movie. I lost track of them but not the memories.

Fun Zone

The Balboa Peninsula and Fun Zone.  A 5 cent Ferry ride … 
There are two memories in particular that stand out for me, among hundreds, about that time – and it wasn’t watching Jack Ruby shoot Lee Harvey Oswald on live TV. One was a birthday party. A birthday party for one of my six-year old friends. There must have been thirty kids my age there. There were many fun events that day, including a Pinata bashing. But the most memorable event was an old fashioned scavenger hunt. We were divided into about 6 teams and sent out with a long list of items to bring back. I only remember two of the items on the list that day: a 1955 Lincoln Wheat Ears Penny and a red thumbtack. At the second house we stopped at, this very nice, elderly lady, who was probably all of 35 years old, helped us gather the complete list. We were amazed. We were six. She had everything for us and she helped us gladly at a time when a group of 5 six-year old kids could still knock on peoples doors in the daytime and have someone answer, with a Barbara Billingsley, “Leave it to Beaver” smile on her face – no pearls. She had everything, I should say, except for one item. The red thumbtack. She apologized, saying all she had were white thumbtacks. We were so happy to only need one more item to complete our list, we started to head off to the next house. But before we could she said, “Wait a minute, I have an idea.” And she disappeared for a moment, up the stairs – the kind where Wally and the Beaver had their bedroom at the top. When she returned she had a white thumbtack in one hand and a bottle of red nail polish in the other. She took out the nail polish and expertly painted the white thumbtack ruby red. Then she blew on it a few times, as if we weren’t excited enough already, pronounced it dry to put in the goodie bag and it was off to the races for us, back to the house to see if we had won. We won that day alright, by a good 45 minutes over the next place team. And the lesson that woman taught me has stuck with me for 50 years.
Balboa Island

This way to Buddy Ebsen’s Home … 
The other memory has to do with those friends I mentioned: Johnny Miles, Bill Powers and Paul Connerty. It was a hot early June, if memory serves. The year was 1962 or 1963, making us about 7 or 8 years old. It was a long ways off until late October and Halloween. Now Balboa Island, as you might imagine was a trick or treat’ers paradise. Among the residents was Buddy Ebsen, who was in his Beverly Hillbillies TV show heyday at the time. It was not unusual to see Buddy, shirtless, belly protruding, at the corner market – like any other local. Buddy was also the only resident on the Island that had a diving board on his private pier. Where Buddy also kept his boat and racing yacht. But unlike all the other residents who locked their private piers, Buddy left his open and let all the kids on the island use the diving board. Buddy was as cool as Jed Clampett. At Halloween time the rule at Buddy’s house was, two hand fulls. You got to stick your hands into this huge, Jethro Bodine-like bowl and takeaway as much candy as two handfuls would allow.

Buddy Ebsen Ron Howard

But now we are back to June – 50 years ago. It’s a Saturday and it’s hot. Bill has a bunch of Halloween costumes in his garage. One of us, I am sure it was not me, said, “Why don’t we go trick or treating today?” And nobody could think of a good reason why we shouldn’t. So we did. We got dressed up on that hot June Saturday, in four different Halloween costumes, and went went trick or treating door to door on Balboa Island. Now, we were not exactly sure how we were going to be received. But I know I was a lot cuter when I was 8 then I am now and my friends must have been too. Because you would have thought we had just made the day of everyone whose door we knocked on. And we knocked on a lot of doors that day. If they didn’t have candy, we got cookies, cake, or apples and oranges too. They all gave us smiles. One took our picture, with a camera that used real film. It was a good day for us. I am sure of it because I remember it 50 years later.

So what is the point of this essay you may be thinking? What does it have to do with Thailand Footprint? For me, it’s about self limiting beliefs. My Mom raised her three kids in the early 60s on Balboa Island, by herself, on less than $500 a month because she believed she could. Because she knew it was a good idea. Not an easy idea, but a good idea.

BarbaraBillingley

The nice lady who helped 5 six-year old boys, refused to believe she didn’t have any red thumbtacks in her house. And because she refused to limit her beliefs the world of possibilities became larger for her and a group of boys who won a birthday party contest, fair and square, that day.

And my three good friends, my blood brothers and I could not think of one good reason why we had to wait until October to go Trick or Treating. So we didn’t.

The question I pose for you the reader and me, is, what self limiting beliefs, if any, do you have today? What is out there in the world of possibilities that your belief system may be holding you from? The older I get the more convinced I am that the answers to the questions don’t matter quite so much. What’s important, I think, is that we keep asking ourselves good questions.

SurfMuseum

Steamer Lane. West Cliff Drive, Santa Cruz, CA

This is one of my favorite spots where I live today, when I am in California. It is Steamer Lane in Santa Cruz. It is a good 10 hour drive to Newport Beach. Is it a coincidence I ended up living in a beach community, or did the footprints left behind from those early childhood years have a life long impact? It’s good to live in the moment. It’s also good, as the sailor Buddy Ebsen suggests, to look back at our wakes to determine the course we have steered that got us to where we are. I know the answer to my question but it’s the question that’s important. And when I am not in California, I am in Thailand. Because life is not always about white thumbtacks or waiting for the one day a year you are allowed to wear a costume. Sometimes you need to add a little color to your life on your own. And it’s usually a lot more possible than we realize.

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slash-and-burn

On Thursday, Thailand time, Thailand Footprint will be posting a long review/essay on SoHo Crime published author Timothy Hallinan’s critically acclaimed Poke Rafferty series, which is set in Bangkok, Thailand. All five novels: A Nail Through the Heart; The Fourth Watcher; Breathing Water; The Queen of Patpong and The Fear Artist. In addition, I will have news regarding the 6th in the series, due to be published in February, 2014. SoHo Crime is also the publisher of Colin Cotterill’s latest: SLASH AND BURN. The long-awaited final installment in his bestselling mystery series starring the inimitable Lao national coroner, Dr. Siri. Take a look at http://www.sohocrime.com until Thursday … 

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