Short Thought 036

For the last few days I have spent a vast majority of my time slowly sipping from a bottle of beer at a swim up bar in the tropical paradise that is Bali.

Tough gig I know.

It’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it.

As I’m sitting here people watching, as is my way, it slowly dawns on me that a great many of my fellow beer sipping compatriots have been sipping beer at this swim up bar for a great many hours.

All without ever leaving the pool.

This leads to a most interesting implication.

How many litres of this crystal clear water is actually liver distilled, beer infused urine?

Probably best not to think about it…

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.


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””