So Many To Follow

*

The notice. The final notice. There on the painted cliffs. Here in the memory. Things fade, of course they do. And terror stalks deserted streets. He gets sick, recovers, gets well; only to make the dive. There is nothing practised about this discontent. You should offer yourself for employment as a reality check, Peter said, after they commented, in ridicule, how closed meetings in Thailand, meetings only open to so-called alcoholics, had an entirely different meaning in Thailand to elsewhere; it meant, basically, that you couldn't drag your Thai girlfriend along to the meetings. And how stupid they did look; these ordinary looking men clutching their hostages, who sat not saying a word while the ancient rhythms crawled past them in the coruscating sky, while self-obsessed, self-absorbed, astonishingly arrogant Americans crapped on about God and their higher power and God knows what else, because he just switched off and refused to listen. And while they droned on, some of them clutched the hands of their long suffering Thai girlfriends. How stupid they looked, deeply stupid. Yeh mate, you can still pull yourself a f... Well, you can still pay for it anyway, one way or another, and we're all so terribly jealous. You think she's sitting there with that bored expression on her face because you're so stunningly handsome, such an exciting personality, so damned interesting that any one would want to be with you. Oh for God's sake get a grip.

Even Aek, who declared he loved him every single day, was much happier when the money flowed. Pappa, I want money. Lust and love and money intervened, intertwined; everything was twirled about and they could have been retrieved, could have been awakened, could have done what it was that made sense to them, if only, if only, so they took their hostages with them wherever they go, and what a sad bunch of gits they really looked. Paid for hostages, it's all you can pull. In this place. Here, tii nii, anywhere, as if anyone cared. You're all a bunch of drip sticks. A variation off the theme of dip sticks. They had sat on that balcony overlooking the valley and the plains, there at Tambar, and it had been a part of his life for a long time, that solitary escape, sitting there on that balcony alone, always alone, with the porch light shining out into the great Australian night and the sounds of the bush and the moths flickering around the light; an entirely different life to the one he now had. He told them that the State Debt Recovery Office were a pack of criminals and one of the reasons he was so happy to be living away from Australia now, these ferocious communist style organisations which tyrannised the people who could not find parking spots in the inner-city, their offensive persecution of the public, the outrageously large fines, the bureaucrats war against the car and those who drove them, yet there was no other sensible way to get around that rotten city he used to love so long ago, Sydney.

Now he was happy to be nowhere near the place. Even when the ATM machine swallowed his card, as distracted he had left it there; and he discovered it was impossible to retrieve it and the walking death, those skeletons in the closet, made it impossible to rest and impossible to pass over; here in the walkways, there in the distance, over and over; I like you, I love you, how difficult it was, how happy they had been, briefly. Everyone know he is too crazy to have a relationship with, Baw's sister had said; and yes, as he finally discovered, finally realised, everyone did realise that, everyone but him. I'll come back and rent a 2,000 baht room, he declared; as if it was the ultimate sacrifice, the ultimate come down, and it was from where he had been, flying high, walking high, everyone look, why you have that boy with you, here the thief, there the sailor, there the poor boy, so obviously poor. It should be obvious a boy like this does not have that sort of money, he felt like telling the kareoke manager after Baw ran up an 8,000 baht bill with three girls in a room, drunk, drunk as a skunk, but he didn't say anything, after being woken up at 4am having decided, just for once, to have a night off: they're going to kill me, they're going to kill me. Yes, well, it would have served you right. But of course he paid the bill and remembered the crime; and it was another nail in the coffin of their dying friendship, their dying relationship.

How long do you stay with a farang, he asked the queeny boy in the white shorts, the triss that flapped his wrists and emanated his sick heart throughout that long day, as if their own happiness was an affront to everything he believed; and the tragedy that beset these young queens so early in life, old and on the shelf by the time they were 24, or in this case 26, although he didn't look it, made it impossible for the discerning company to buy such an old and bitter heart, you think they're sleeping with you for any other reason than the tip? Well yes they were affectionate. Yes, you showed them a good time. But heh, let's face reality here. You're closer to 60 than 50 and any masculine beauty you may have had has long since fallen away; and the reasons for being are muffled by a thousand corruptions, by the hundreds of partners you have traded over a lifetime, by the muffled pleasures and repeated indiscretions, by the fast and furious and flacid and pathetic, there in the night hours, there in the cars and the saunas and the back streets and the parks and anywhere where flesh stalked and trees overhung hidden paths; that was the truth of this level of debauchery, the pretty boys were just icing on an old and stale cake; and he was glad of the company and glad of the passing days; thankful for Peter the young multi-media artists company as he loaded his computer up with Tom Waits and Radiohead and Johnny Cash and Nick Cave and Snog and Bob Dylan; as he accepted their blatant affection and his ruthless shrug: it's all paid for; they're here, they tell you they love you and they do in their own Thai way, but for God's sake be careful, don't get the heart, don't let your soul be destroyed. Don't let their large families take every cent you've got; be dragged to the gold shop; be eaten alive like so many before you, so many to follow.

THE BIGGER STORY:

http://www.theaustralian.com.au/national-affairs/kevin-rudd-insists-there-was-a-deal-with-julia-gillard/story-fn59niix-1225893030672

Kevin Rudd insists there was a deal with Julia Gillard
Matthew Franklin, Chief political correspondent From: The Australian July 17, 2010 12:00AM

KEVIN Rudd yesterday confirmed that he believed Julia Gillard last month reneged on an arrangement that would have saved his job as PM.

But Mr Rudd said he would not make any public comment about the June 23 meeting in which the arrangement was discussed, easing Labor fears that he might "go rogue" and derail the party's election campaign.

Scrutiny of the alleged deal over the Labor leadership exploded on Thursday when Nine Network political editor Laurie Oakes revealed claims that, in the meeting, Ms Gillard agreed to give Mr Rudd more time to recover his popularity but later reneged at the behest of factional powerbrokers backing her candidacy.

While Ms Gillard yesterday repeated that she would never reveal the contents of a private conversation, Mr Rudd, who was in New York, released a statement saying the only comments he had made on the issue came at the June 24 caucus meeting that elected Ms Gillard party leader.

While he did not elaborate, it has been widely reported he told the caucus he had believed he had reached an arrangement with Ms Gillard under which she would not challenge his leadership.

Mr Rudd's statement said: "Like the Prime Minister, Mr Rudd has not made, nor will he make, any comment on private discussions. Appropriately, the only comment Mr Rudd made on these matters was in the context of the caucus meeting specifically convened on the issue of the leadership."

Late yesterday, senior Labor sources said it was clear that Mr Rudd had believed he had reached a deal with Ms Gillard.

Although there was a widespread view that Mr Rudd or one of his former staff had leaked the details to Oakes, there was also relief the former leader had committed not to make public comments about the issue.

http://www.dailytelegraph.com.au/news/nsw-act/drugged-monster-pays-for-rape-hell/story-e6freuzi-1225892991603

NAKED, traumatised and desperate to escape the madman holding her and three others captive, the young woman ran for the balcony of her inner-city unit and climbed over the edge.

She clung to the railing and hung suspended between her balcony and the one below before trying to swing herself down to the fifth floor.

Moments later, her terrified boyfriend joined her there, reaching out to her as she fell 12.5m to her death on the concrete below.

Within seconds he also fell, suffering severe fractures to his pelvis, several vertebrae, right ankle, foot and left wrist.

The couple, both 19-year-old international students who cannot be named, were fleeing from a horrific four-hour ordeal during which they and two friends were subjected to "a reign of sexual terror" by homeless man Brendan David Dennison.

In the Supreme Court yesterday, Dennison was sentenced to 28 years jail, with at least 21 years to be served behind bars.

He pleaded guilty in December last year to 19 charges, including the young woman's murder and recklessly inflicting grievous bodily harm on her boyfriend.

The court heard Dennison, 28, was on an "ice" drug binge and has no memory of following a woman into a secure unit block in Waterloo on October 26, 2008.

Nor does he recall holding a knife to her throat in the lift and forcing her into her friend's unit, where he found himself alone with four frightened young students.

The court heard how Dennison took a large knife from the kitchen, forced the male to strip naked, cut the three women's underwear off them and demanded the couple perform degrading sex acts on himself and each other.