The One Where Travis Crushes A Little Girl’s Spirit.

This afternoon I found myself on a train. With other people. Which sucks. As previously established, I’m not very good at trains.

Sitting directly behind me was a mother, who I’m sure was a teenager in the 90’s, and her three children. The eldest, a girl that couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven, kept singing a single line from Aqua’s Cartoon Heroes. Over and over again. Very loudly.

Continue reading “The One Where Travis Crushes A Little Girl’s Spirit.”

The Twisted Ballad of Little Satan and The Jerk Queen.

Part I – Trouble In Paradise.

So I’m in Bali sitting in my usual favourite café/bar/warung enjoying a deliciously inexpensive meal and a quietly cold beer. After a big morning of riding around aimlessly on my bike and soaking in the human potpourri that is Bali I had built up an appetite for relaxation. I’ve given my order to the dependably perky waitress and eagerly await the forthcoming taste sensation.

paradise

Continue reading “The Twisted Ballad of Little Satan and The Jerk Queen.”

From Russia With Love.

I have never paid for sex. Well, not in the traditional way of exchanging money for goods or services. I have, however, paid through other less direct means. Dinners, holidays, clothing, jewellery, heartache, angst, slashed tyres…

For those keeping score at home; I don’t think that there is anything wrong with exchanging money for sex. A business transaction that happens between two, or more, consenting adults is strictly their business and by no means grounds to judge.

That said; it’s not something that I myself would do. My rationale being: why pay money to remove the pleasure of mutually thrilling exploratory conversation? I like conversation. Conversation with a girl you find physically and mentally stimulating is the greatest invention of all time.

Continue reading “From Russia With Love.”

A Sort Of Homecoming.

I’m beginning to loathe where I live. Like, really detest it. For those that are interested, I’ll share the most current of the ever increasing stockpile of reasons.

Were-sharks. Definitely on the list.
Were-sharks. Definitely on the list.

As I’m sure most of you (my faithful readers) are aware, I attempt to spend as much time as humanly possible in Bali.

Through some oversight in the responsibility = reward spectrum I’ve managed to spend an inordinate amount of time in a tropical wonderland drinking cheap beer, meeting fantastic people and getting into wacky adventures.

Continue reading “A Sort Of Homecoming.”

I Spy With My Little Eye, Something Beginning With “D”

It was a day like any other. I was still in Bali trying to do as little as humanly possible while continuing to justify my proclamations of being a writer; the only thing giving my drinking any semblance of legitimacy. Sometimes, like right now, it doesn’t come quite as easily as I wish it did.

I’m not sure if this is because I’m not a very talented writer or because I tend to get distracted by, well, everything. Loud noises, fast movement, beer, shiny things, all seem to want to drag me away from my SERIOUS WRITER BUSINESS.

Continue reading “I Spy With My Little Eye, Something Beginning With “D””

Jason and The Arguments.

Whist travelling one tends to meet many different people. Many different interesting people. I find this is to be especially true when travelling alone. For me it’s one of the main reasons I flee the mundane repetition of my everyday life and seek alternate horizons/experiences.

Luckily, I’ve been blessed to meet so many epic randoms in my travels: Connor the Highlander; with his Irish drinking powers, Elliot the Brit; master of the wry observation, Kara; German house frau supreme, Agung; The Balinese bar god of mischief, Miss Dynamite; the savvy Canadian volunteer, Reggie; the Rastafarian Jesus from Holland, Oni; the most beautiful waitress in all of Indonesia.

All amazing people that have, in one way or another, left a lasting impression on me.

Occasionally you meet someone who is not very interesting at all; at least not to anyone other than themselves. I met someone like this today.

Continue reading “Jason and The Arguments.”

The Sisterhood of the Travelling Angst.


Part I

Here I am sitting in a quiet Balinese warung enjoying a few quiet beers, for a change, when in walk a quartet of pretty young Australian girls and sit directly opposite me like some kind of hyper excitable, reality show judging panel. I honestly kept waiting for them debate my merits amongst themselves…
“Hm, I’m not sure. What do you think?”
“Too odd, too retro. “
“Grunge died 15 years ago. Can’t see you selling, sorry dawg.”
 Or something equally truthful and brutal.

From left to right the roll call went like this:

Continue reading “The Sisterhood of the Travelling Angst.”

Ignoreland.

Every day the same old man attempts to sell me, and anyone else who falls into his pleading buy trap, the same product. And every day he fails to sell his less than indispensable merchandise.

The old man in question has a weary, weathered face befitting his age. He looks at least 80 though he could easily be closer to 142. I’ve always had difficulties accurately gauging a person’s age, females in particular, this has lead to many “interesting” situations.

Continue reading “Ignoreland.”