Tag: Secret Society

BLOG: And That’s How I Became A REAL Writer…

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Friday.

It is 9/11 today. That means no internet for me today. Speaking as a person who grew up in the DC area, that day was horrible. I do not care to relive it. I do not care to listen to people spew out conspiracy theories about it. I especially do not care to re-watch any of the footage from that day. Horrible. Just horrible.

Moving on…

When did I last post? Wednesday? Hmmm… what has happened since then?

Wednesday night I went to the Cantina to visit a friend who just returned from several months abroad. I was so happy to see her. We chatted and caught up. I told her everything that had happened with my neighbor in the last few months. She just laughed at me and said, “You two fight the way old married couples do. You know that, right?”

My other friend started cackling. “I know, right?” she exclaimed. “That’s exactly what I said! We need to stage an intervention to get them back together so this movie has a happy ending.”

“Ha ha, very funny. How can you reunite us if we were never together? He’s made it clear he hates me and wants nothing to do with me. I’m just the freak who stole his sweatpants in a misguided attempt at revenge.”

My friend called me out immediately. “You’re so full of shit! You took them because you miss him.”

“There’s nothing going on! We had a few conversations in the roof, after which he randomly decided to start picking these weird, random fights with me. He just freaked out because he didn’t realize I was going to fight back, which is ridiculous because it’s clear to anyone with eyes that I have an anger problem.”

The two of them just laughed and laughed. We hung around for a bit longer, then my friends went their way and I went mine.

On my way home, I stumbled upon the infamous SoHo Queen. Naturally, she wanted me to join her for a drink. One drink turned into many. Before I knew it, I was frat house wasted. I have no idea how this lady does it. She could drink an Irish sailor under the table. It’s actually insane.

I told her I have to go to Macau next week. She wants to come with me. Like, I love her, but there is no way I can ever go to a Macanese casino with her. It’s going to turn into The Hangover sequel no one asked for.

Eventually I stumbled home, where I promptly passed out in my street clothes. Big no no here in Asia. You have your outside clothes and your home clothes, just like you have your outside shoes and your inside shoes. That’s how drunk I was. I didn’t even bother to change into my neighbor’s sweatpants first.

Oh, speaking of my neighbor, I have a fun little story about him, but I’ll get to that later. Haha, it’s a good one.

Okay, back to my timeline.

I woke up several hours later a complete mess. I did not know what to do with myself. I swear to god, y’all. I’m holding it together with a single brain cell right now. I just reiterated to myself that I cannot go out drinking with the SoHo Queen and this is exactly why.

In spite of my hangover, I spent the next few hours working on my book. I managed to get something done. No idea how. There is definitely a reason why all of these famous authors went crazy and killed themselves. Locking oneself in a tiny room with their manuscript will drive you crazy after awhile.

Upon the realization that I was going to lose it if I stared at my fucking wall any longer, I decided to leave and take a walk. Naturally, my walk led me up to the Mid-Levels and straight into the Secret Society. I think I got there at like 4pm or something? Insane.

I told the bartender I was losing my shit and had to escape my apartment. We chatted for awhile. She asked me why I keep insisting everyone call me Liz instead of Betsey. I explained to her about my “Small Town Famous” past as a writer in South Dakota and what happened in Bangkok. I straight up said, “I was trying to hide my identity here because I’m afraid of going through that again. I really don’t like the attention as much as people think, especially because a lot of it is negative.”

She just shook her head at me. “I get it. I’m an artist too, but you can’t run away from it. You just have to be who you are. It’s okay. You’re in here for a reason. Remember that.”

That was the moment I suddenly remembered I had a question for her. I saw a picture of that writer I met up there a few weeks back on their instagram page, so I asked her if she knew who he was. She did, but she did not know his name either. I explained that he had given me a lot of writing advice but refused to tell me his name. He specifically said to me, “If you are a real writer, you’ll figure out who I am.”

Challenge Accepted!

We decided to make this my mission for the afternoon. She said, “There’s a guy who comes in here who always sits with him and reads his work. I think you’ve met him before, but I’ll make sure you’re introduced to him when he comes in later. Otherwise, just ask around when the regulars come in and see what you can find.”

I said, “I bet you any amount of money that (NAME REDACTED) and (NAME REDACTED) are going to know who he is. They know everyone here.”

She nodded and said, “You’re right. This is good. You’re learning.”

While we waited, we decided to ask AI if it could find him. We uploaded his picture to the AI and compiled a list of everything we knew about him. The AI gave us about 5 or 6 completely wrong answers before we completely gave up on it. AI is seriously the most useless shit I’ve ever encountered, and I have met a great deal of completely useless idiots in my life. What a waste of time!

While I waited around for our three most promising sources to arrive, I chatted with a few different people and made some new connections. Hashtag: Networking. I am getting much better about not sitting on my iPad when I am in there. As I said in my previous post, they expect me to socialize when I am there, not to sit in the corner and write. It’s hard for me because I am not naturally a socially gifted person, but I recognize the fact that it is a skill I can learn. So now I am learning!

When Source #1 showed up, I immediately asked him what he knew about our mysterious writer friend. He said he knew exactly who he was, but he also did not know his name! He asked around and we discovered very quickly that this man has apparently never told anyone in that room his name. Ridiculous.

The bartender and I were both annoyed by this. I said to her, “If he doesn’t know, I bet you any amount of money Source #2 will.” Luckily, right at that moment, Source #2 walked in. I walked right up to him and asked him if he knew who the writer was. He was like, “Oh, yes, of course I know him. Do you want a copy of his book?”

BAM!

Called it!

I went back to the bartender to report on my discovery. I said, “See, I told you he was going to know.” She just smiled at me.

“I guess that means you’re a real writer now.”

Yes, I am.

I admit it was fun to watch everyone in the room try to solve the mystery. It was like that scene in The Season where they’re all on the yacht and the party gets boring so they swipe a piece of jewelry from a guest and everyone plays the mystery game to figure out who the “thief” is. I thought that was fake, but no… they really do play games like that. Apparently, this was one of those games.

I see what you did there, sir. Mad respect.

This was when Source #3 appeared. The bartender introduced me to him and we chatted for a minute. He asked me if I had a card. I actually had multiple people ask me for my card last night. I used to have one, but I don’t anymore. I guess I need to design a new one and take it to the printing shop. Put that on my To Do list.

I just wrote down my info and gave him a barnap instead. I can’t say what his name is, but I can tell you that it’s a name that is well known in the publishing industry. I guess that’s why he’s always reading that writer’s manuscripts. I could be wrong, of course. I guess we’ll find out.

I went back over to Source #2 and started chatting with him again. I thought to myself, “If he knows everyone here, I wonder if he knows who my neighbor’s family is?”

I took out a picture of him and asked. Source #2 did not immediately recognize him, but he said, “He looks familiar, but I don’t know from where. You said he is English? What is his last name?”

I gave him the name and his eyes widened.

“Ohhhhhh. That is a very, very, very old English name. Very proper. I don’t know them personally, but I can tell you that he comes from money. Old money. Very old money.

“That’s exactly what I thought,” I said. “We aren’t speaking right now because I called him a spoiled, rich, overgrown party boy.”

He laughed at me and shook his head.

“He is,” he replied. “Someone else is paying for those boat parties. He’s probably trying to escape from his family and make his own way.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.”

“You’re the same. That’s why he’s angry with you. You can see through whatever act he’s putting on right now.”

I was surprised by how straightforward he was. It’s like… he knows him, but he’s doesn’t? Maybe he just recognizes “the type.” Personally, I know that type VERY well. I grew up around it. I can spot it from a mile away. I mean, I am that type. It’s not exactly a secret that I’m a spoiled little princess! How else would I be living in HK this long without a job? It’s not that hard to put 2 and 2 together on this one. The only real difference between us is that I’m a nerd who spends most of her time in the library, while he’s a jock running around outside in the field. It is what it is.

“He’s been avoiding me. I haven’t seen him in about a month and a half.”

“Are you sure he didn’t move out?”

“Yes.”

“He’s definitely avoiding you on purpose then.”

“That’s what I thought. I think he’s got a girl somewhere too.”

“Oh, he’s not serious about her. If he was, he wouldn’t be living there next door to you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just know.”

See? I know what I’m doing! I can read people! I need to learn to trust my instincts. Living in South Dakota fucked me up way more than people realize. I was treated so badly there. Everyone would call me crazy and make me doubt my sanity. Turns out I was right all along, and that’s why they all hated me so much.

I guess that means I’ve been right about my Andrew all along. I knew that fucker was contributing energy to his character. You can’t fool me, bro. I know exactly what that sneaky little fucking snake was up to all along. Somehow, I still love him anyway. That’s the last time I pay a witch under a bridge to curse someone. It didn’t fucking work!

It’s like… Really? All of that for a man who I stared at from across the room like five times? Ridiculous! Who the fuck do you think you are, Betsey? Sir Philip Sidney?!

That joke is funny AF, btw. If you don’t get it, you don’t get it.

ANYWAY, that aside, I guess we’re going to start calling my neighbor “Mr. Bridgerton” now. Hahahaha! That’s funny as fuck, actually. I guess that means I’ve gotta go stalk him on Lamma Island. That’s his “hangout spot.”

I told the bartender this and she was sooooo here for it! She lives there. She immediately wrote down the directions for me and gave me the name of “the good spot.” She was like, “I can’t wait to read about what you find over there.”

Oh god, I can’t even imagine. I can only assume the dress code is “All White Everythang.” I guess that means I have to go shopping now. Believe it or not, I don’t wear a lot of white clothing. I much prefer black. You know, like Johnny Cash.

Until we start to make a move to make a few things right, you’ll never see me wear a suit of white…

BLOG: The Judgmental Fox

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Wednesday.

Currently in my apartment having a coffee. It’s been a strange week so far. Things are getting better for me in general, but I’m still not where I want to be in life. I choose to be patient with myself and give myself the space and time I need to grow. I’m only 15 months into my new life. It’s okay to be at peace with where I am now.

Monday was weird. I went up to the Secret Society, which I am rapidly figuring out is not a “Bloody Mary’s-Bangkok” type of situation. The bartenders and other members are really forcing me out of my habit of sitting alone in the corner writing about people instead of talking to them. It is a social club, after all. I joined so I could be social, even if I feel awkward and totally out of my comfort zone. It’s not that bad, really.

I find quite a bit of value in being around non-creative people. They are the consumers of creative content, after all. I was invited to sit at a table with some people, so I asked them what they like to watch in terms of movies and TV. I grabbed a napkin and wrote down all the titles so I could study the screenplays. The list is pretty solid, actually. I was quite impressed. They have good taste, even if they may not think so.

Unfortunately for me, one of the people sitting at this table was Mr. Bathroom. I am still not a fan. He, however, is clearly obsessed with me now. I treat it like an opportunity to set boundaries and say No.

On this evening, I was explaining how artistic patronage works and how I’ve used it in the past to accomplish various creative tasks, such as writing a book. I could see the wheels turning inside Mr. Bathroom’s head as I explained, which is never good.

He looked at me and said, “Okay, let’s role play this scenario. Let’s say I’m the rich guy…”

I already knew where he was going with this. I’m sure you can guess too.

“I get you your own apartment with a studio space for your writing and art. I pay for everything, I visit you whenever I want, and if you don’t produce anything, I take it all away.”

His friend looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “That sounds like a Mistress,” she said. She turned her head back to look at me. “You know what he’s really saying right? He expects sex in return.”

O RLY?! You don’t fucking say!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Right,” I said. “So the only problem with your ‘roleplay scenario’ is that I’m not interested in you, like at all. Also, you have a long-term partner you live with, whose children you take care of. I think you should focus on your family instead.”

He just looked at me with that little sparkle in his eyes and said, “Okay, your loss.”

Hmm… somehow I highly doubt that!

He got up and left. The woman then said, “This is why I’m independent. I make my own money. I control my own fate. I never have to rely on men in that way. Neither should you.”

Noted! I agree COMPLETELY!

Seriously, though. How does this guy keep getting worse? ¿Como se dice “scumbag” en español?

Anyway, thank you for giving me yet another push I need in life! I really need the motivation right now. I need to get cracking on the whole job/visa paperwork thing. I took my little vacation from reality and used my time to work on my book. Now it’s time to get serious again.

Also, thank you for reminding me why I still continue to come back here in spite of the fact that I don’t necessarily like every person I meet. I don’t have to like them. I just have to be in the same room with them. It is what it is.

Yeah, I’m definitely learning a lot. I appreciate the fact that they are welcoming of me in their space. In South Dakota I was treated like the town punching bag and in Bangkok I was treated with suspicion. Very difficult to network and make proper connections of any kind. This is a very important life skill to have. I feel like I am learning how to do it when I go up there, for better or for worse.

Luckily, right at that moment, another lady walked into the bar and approached the table. The three of them all knew each other, but I had never met her before. She said hello and politely introduced herself, then essentially cut me out of the conversation. I was relieved to be ignored for a moment, so I took the opportunity to go outside for a cigarette break.

I got into a conversation with the guys standing outside about James Bond. They had a completely inaccurate reading of the Daniel Craig films, but I didn’t try to argue with them. I just listened. Sure, I was sitting there thinking, “Wrong. Wrong. You’re so wrong!” but it doesn’t matter. The point is to take a step back and listen.

One of them lives in the same neighborhood as me, so after the bar closed, we walked down the hill together. We went to the corner bar on Peel Street and chatted for a very long time. So long that we closed down that bar as well. Then we just sat on Peel Street chatting for awhile. He walked me home. I realized when I came in that it was FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING! What!!!! Disaster!

This one was pushing me to look for marketing jobs. He says his company in particular isn’t into AI and believes in human creativity and storytelling. He was going on and on about the importance of storytelling and how having creative minds of the team is extremely valuable to people like himself who don’t think that way. He was encouraging me to get back on the job hunt and go for this industry. He said, “I know we are drinking, but I can tell from our brief conversation that you have a significant mountain of talent and skill you are not using right now. You should be using it, especially in this day and age. We need people like you now more than ever.”

I thought to myself, “He is right. Thank you again, Secret Society, for pushing me to better than I am. I came to climb the ladder, they see it for what it is, and now they are pulling me up with them. This is great! Much better than that bucket of crabs back in South Dakota. All they did was drag me down into that miserable blackhole with them.”

I made a note of this and went to bed. When I woke up again a few hours later, I felt an extremely strong urge to make peace with my dad. I talked to him a little bit then decided to go out for a walk “with” him. I went to get my glasses fixed, stopped at the bookstore, then picked up some Lebanese food for lunch. He lived in Lebanon for a year, so I always feel closer to him in spirit when I go out for Lebanese. It was a good day. It was peaceful.

My trip to the bookstore was fun. I visualized my book on display at the front of the shop, picked up a new notebook to write said book in, and went to look for coloring books. They only had the kid kind, not the therapeutic adult kind, but it doesn’t really matter. A coloring book is a coloring book. The first one they pulled out for me was a Dr. Seuss coloring book. I just looked at it and teared up and whispered softly, “Daddy?” He used to always read Dr. Seuss to me when I was little. I just got so overwhelmed in that moment. I mean, I’m sitting here in tears just writing about it. Imagine trying not to break down in tears in the middle of a store in Central during lunch hour. Yeah. It was A LOT.

Someone I pulled it together long enough to pay for the books and get out. I picked up my food and went home to cry into my chicken shawarma, lol. I did some yoga, went to the shrine to make an offering, and then decided to stay in for the night and watch TV.

I got antsy after awhile and decided to head over to the Cantina around 10pm. My friends were working and I knew it would be empty. I was hoping to finish my new Island of Lost Guys script, but I realized I’m nowhere near completing it. Mostly, I just felt relief that whatever weird fixation I briefly developed with my neighbor got poured out onto the page and is no longer negatively affecting me.

I don’t really care about him anymore. He’s disappeared from my life now. I’m just keeping the sweatpants as a souvenir. I’m also keeping the weird little stuffed animal he gave me way back in the Spring after one of our first conversations. He called it “The Judgmental Fox.” It’s a little white fox with crazy eyes. I set it high up on the shelf so it can look down at me and judge me in that very English way. He said it’s supposed to be a reminder to hold myself to a higher standard and take myself more seriously because I’m always being watched and judged.

At first, I was like, “Uhhhh…. Okay?” but now I understand what he was saying. I just had to spend more time in the Mid-Levels, I guess. I finally get it. I am definitely being watched and judged at all times. Luckily for me, it seems like the judgment is skewing towards “Extremely Skilled, Talented, and Valuable, but Without Direction, Purpose, and Opportunity.”

I would definitely call that an improvement over my South Dakota days when the judgment skewed towards “CrAzY bItCh!” Yeah, of course I look crazy to a bunch of negative, ignorant people who will never leave their sad little town. That doesn’t mean I have to define myself that way. I was just trapped out there for so long I completely forgot who I was and how to make proper use of my skills and talents.

Now I’m in a better place. I just have to pull myself up again. It is what it is.

I can do this. I know it. I made it this far. I’m not giving up. Thjs is my life now. I am here by choice. I have the opportunity to do anything I want. I just have to give myself a real chance and go for it.

Thank you, Mr. Judgmental Fox. I appreciate you now that I see what you did there. I’m sending you back that same energy now. I wish you well on your spiritual journey, wherever it may take you in life.

Thank you.

BLOG: The Hungry Ghost

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Sunday afternoon.

My weekend was pretty boring. I went out to the Secret Society after writing my post on Friday night. It was crazy busy — busier than I’ve seen it in awhile. This was refreshing as I was able to converse with some new people I’d never met before. This is good. Socializing is good. Sitting on the iPad writing about people can only get me so far.

Joining this club has already taught me that I’m using alcohol and my iPad as armor in public to conceal the fact that I have raging social anxiety. It’s true. I admit that I’m not on the most stable ground right now and that I’m insecure about it. I definitely admit to the fact that I waltzed right in wearing my mask and my armor in an attempt to shield myself from yet another negative social experience.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t work there. Everyone is wearing a mask. They have no problem tearing it off to see who you really are underneath. I admit to the fact that I was never comfortable in my mask. I felt so much relief once they finally ripped it off for the big reveal.

Now I’m finally starting to get comfortable socializing again. I admit that I was really put-off by some of the negative experiences I’ve had this last year. But as I get closer to age 38, I realize… I just don’t have the energy to give a fuck what other people think about me anymore, especially people under the age of 35. You’re dumb AF. Turn off the fucking screen. Then perhaps I will take you seriously. Or not!

Ultimately, it doesn’t really matter. I know who I am. I’m figuring out what I want. I have collected all of the tools I need to manage my emotions and trauma. I have worked very hard on my spiritual journey to accept myself for who I am and love myself in spite of whatever mistakes I may have made in the past. The amount of work I’ve done to soothe my trauma is especially impressive.

I literally do not need to absorb other people’s negative opinions and perceptions of me. I’ve learned that people who feel the need to attack me and lob insults at me randomly out of nowhere are just assholes. Their behavior is about them. Their behavior is a reflection of their own insecurities and unhappiness. It has nothing to do with me.

I can validate myself. I can love and respect myself. I can become the person I want to be.

I spent quite a bit of time in meditation this weekend. Just out here vibing with the Hungry Ghost Festival. I did not attend the big spectacle, but I did leave a small offering at a nearby shrine for my ancestors. I think they liked it because I woke up today and felt like I could move forward.

I’ve definitely been held prisoner by my grief. I have not been able to move forward in life because I am trapped by my anger, sadness, and pain. This weekend I fed it all to the ghosts and let them take it all away. I know my dad can’t move on until I let him go, and I can’t move on until I let him go. I’m definitely engaging in any and every spiritual ritual I can in order to release both of us from this very complex grief.

I was supposed to go to a Complicated Grief support group meeting last week, but I freaked out at the last minute and didn’t go. I was afraid to speak about my pain in front of a group of total strangers, which makes no sense as I write about it all the time. I guess I will try again when they host it again next month.

In the meantime, I decided to cancel my usual Sunday plans of getting wasted at bottomless brunch so I could eat a salad and meditate instead. Good choices were made!

I just thought to myself, “I don’t feel like numbing out the pain today. I want to enter this week feeling rested and refreshed so I can maximize my productivity levels.” Then I went over my vision board again, visualized myself fulfilling my goals, and gave myself some snaps for the insane amount of progress I’m making on my current book. No one else in this world is going to be kind to me, so I might as well be kind to myself.

Since no one has said it to me lately (or ever in my life, it seems), I just want to say to myself today: “Betsey, I’m so proud of you. Everything you’ve done in the last year is amazing. I have full confidence that you will manifest your dreams, fulfill your goals, and become the person you’ve always wanted to be. Keep up the good work on the book!”

Or maybe that’s not me speaking at all. Maybe it’s my Dad trying to make amends. Who knows?

Either way, I’m heading back home now. I’m gonna eat my giant fancy salad and drink my juice and watch TV with my notebook next to me in case inspiration suddenly comes.

And yes, I will be wearing the sweatpants I stole from my neighbor. Yes, it’s true, I finally admit it. I did it. It was me. I saw them sitting there on top of his stuff in the stairwell when I went up to the rooftop one morning and I just took them. I don’t even know why. It’s not like I don’t have my own. It’s just that my pair is not as comfortable as wearing his pair. I don’t know why. It is what it is.

Either way, they’re mine now. I’m not giving them back. They’re really comfy and I wear them all the time. Like, literally every day. I’ve also discovered I am about 100x more productive when I wear them to write, as opposed to the brand new pair of men’s sweatpants I went to the store and bought for myself organically that did not come pre-worn.

And here I wonder why he disappeared on me. Lol. It’s not a mystery. I’m a 100% certified freak, seven days a week. And definitely not in a good way, lol.

Have a good day, ya’ll!

BLOG: The Hong Kong Judging Club

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Friday.

At the brunch spot. It’s about 4pm. I decided to eat before I go out tonight because I have learned my lesson, theoretically.

The server is from Nepal. I chat with her every time I come here. She’s pretty cool. She just asked me for my contact info. She wants to meet me on her day off so she can sit down with me and tell me her story. She offered to pay me to write it for her, but I told her she can just gift me a bottle of wine instead.

She has told me before that she sends most of the money she makes working here in Hong Kong back home to her family in Nepal. I think we can all agree they need that money more than I do right now. Do I need money? Yes, of course I do. Do I need money badly enough to take it from a Nepalese person after a major catastrophic disaster directly caused by climate change wiped out dozens of villages and killed thousands of people?

No. No, I do not.

Honestly, she doesn’t even have to bring me the wine. It would be an honor for me to sit down with her and give her a chance to share her story and speak her truth. I am flattered that she asked me to take down her life story. She doesn’t have to give me anything in return. I know she feels like she should pay me for any and all services rendered, but I’m not taking it. I refuse.

It is what it is.

Now for the juicy stuff. And by that I mean, the Secret Society content we are all waiting for…

So, first thing is first, our friend from the bathroom is still a problem. I saw him at The Wolf on my way up to the Mid-Levels. Without revealing too much, I will explain that The Wolf is located on a corner with one side that opens directly to the street. I usually walk by there on my way up the hill to check who is in there. I pretend like I’m not looking, but I am 100% always looking!

On this evening, Mr. Bathroom was sitting there street-side with two of his friends. I walked right by him, heard him speaking Spanish, and recognized his voice. I pretended I hadn’t heard anything and kept staring straight ahead as I walked past. When I got on the escalator and was far enough up so as to no longer be seen, I peaked into the bar and confirmed that it was indeed him.

As soon as I saw him, I thought to myself, “He’s going to follow me up to the Secret Society. I bet any amount of money he’s going to finish this drink and suggest to his friends they move on. I know it. I just know it.”

As per usual, I was right in my assumption. I walked into the Secret Society and he showed up with his friends about 10-15 minutes later.

Like, OF COURSE he followed me. Of course he did! He knows I don’t like him or respect him and that I think he’s a disgusting pig. Why wouldn’t he follow me?

Men are weird like that. I told my neighbor I think he’s hot and he literally vanished into thin air overnight. I told this Finance Bro I think he sucks, so now he’s following me around like a stray dog. Ridiculous.

Auntie Bella WAS right: If you want real results with a man, Call Him Ugly.

I decided to ignore this intrusion and chat with my English and Irish banker friends instead. They were sitting with a friend who I had not previously met before. He was wearing floral swim trunks and a t-shirt. He told me he just got back from two months in Thailand. Lucky him!

He told me he “works with horses.” I googled him this morning and that’s… definitely an understatement, lol. I will not go into further detail because one of the conditions of my membership at this establishment (or so I perceive) is that I do not doxx the other members.

This establishment is the sort of place where the big wigs like to hang out without having to feel “special,” or however you want to say it. In their lives and their jobs, they are Very Important. At this place… they are just normal people out having the craic at the pub after work. They will be vague about what they do for work, they may or may not give you a fake name to throw you off their trail (I am guilty of doing this myself, so I get it), and they will undersell themselves every time. They could be the top person in their field in the entire fucking world and they will not tell you.

Do you follow me?

Yeah. Right. That’s why I’m calling it “The Secret Society.” It literally is what it is.

I digress. This gentleman did allude to the fact that he was kind of a big deal multiple times, but he kept derailing my questions about his job because he didn’t want to talk about it. Obviously, I thought this was quite hilarious when I looked him up later. I just laughed when I saw his CV like, “This is the same man I just met wearing floral swim trunks to the bar in his post-Thailand haze?”

As the kids say… Sometimes it really do be like that tho. *shrugs*

He asked me to come home with him, but I said no, because duh. Then he wanted to know if I would ever date a man twenty years older than myself (obviously I already have) and if I am looking for a boyfriend. I said, “Maybe, but it depends on what you’re offering me.”

“What do you want?”

“I just want to have fun. Get me out of this goddamn bar. Let’s go have fun adventures around Hong Kong. I’m fun to have on your arm at a really boring party. I’m a member of the HKJC: The Hong Kong Judging Club.”

He gave me a little smile and took down my number, then left to walk up the hill to his luxury apartment or whatever. I guess we’ll see what happens now. Haven’t heard from him yet! Next time remind me to call him ugly…

LMFAO!

Yeah, I know, it’s not great, but it is what it is. Banging random hot sexy beefcakes is fun, but it would be way more fun to have a rich boyfriend who takes me to horse races, yacht parties, and on impromptu trips to Thailand.

IT IS WHAT IT IS!

After he left, I realized I was alone in the bar with Mr. Bathroom, his friends, and a lady I’ve seen hanging around him many times. She says they are “very close friends.” Mmmmhmmmm. I bet you are, Ms. “Loudly Brags About Her Sex Toy Collection To Anyone in the Bar Who May or May Not Want to Hear This Information.”

Anyway, this gangbang-in-the-making had “NOPE” written all over it, so I left the bar and headed on back down the hill.

I stopped at the Cantina to visit with my friend, then ran into the SoHo Queen at the corner bar on Peel Street on my way home. Naturally, she wanted to hang out, so I agreed, but only upon the condition that she never take me back to Wan Chai ever again.

Instead we went to a random bar around the block and got shitfaced. I love that lady. She’s definitely scary and crazy and ridiculous, but she’s also a motherfucking gangsta-ass bitch and I have nothing but respect for her.

I know, I sound like a shallow social-climber who only cares about money, power, and status. What can I say? I just spent 17 years of my life living in South Dakota, being treated like shit and kicked around for sport by the dumbest of the dumb and the lowest of the low. We all know I’m better than that.

As we have seen by the EXTREME reactions to my writing in multiple parts of the world, I am a very powerful person. At this point in my life, I have simply chosen to align myself with the people I see as my equals in this world. In order to become my best self, I must surround myself with other powerful people who can elevate me to the level I should have been on this entire time. I’ve spent enough time running around with the riff-raff down by the docks. That’s not who I really am deep down in my soul.

And honestly? I just want the lifestyle I grew up with back. I’m sick of struggling. I’m sick of working low-level jobs that any idiot could do for scraps from the table. I’m sick of being surrounded by people who act like crabs in a bucket. I want to climb to the top of the Peak, dress up in all white, and look down at everyone in my old life like they are nothing but tiny little insignificant nobodies to me. I want to get to a point in my life where nobody can ever touch me again. I don’t know what I have to do to get to that point, but I do know the entire idea of it is motivating AF. I didn’t come to Hong Kong to be a teacher. I came to climb to the top of the motherfucking mountain. So that is what I am going to do…

Off now. I should be finishing my Island of Lost Guys story, but I’m still letting it simmer for a bit. My Neighbor’s character has a lot of things to say, I guess. Let the man speak!

In the meantime, I will enjoy this sudden role reversal where I am the one who is now sitting up on the hill dressed up in white looking down at him. Just kidding, of course. Afternoon tea on the veranda is soooooo not my thing! I much prefer a balcony decorated with Mardi Gras beads where I can chill in my mask with a frozen daiquiri and look down at the plebs drunkenly wandering the streets far below me. As we say in New Orleans, laissez les bons temps rouler!

It is what it is… 🙂 🙂 🙂

Welcome to the Hong Kong Judging Club!

BLOG: Questions Answered

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Tuesday.

I was so sick all day yesterday. I don’t know if it was something I ate or the amount I drank, or if it was too much in a short span of time. I had stomach issues all weekend and then yesterday I just couldn’t get out of bed at all. It’s better today but I definitely already made a trip to the 7-11 to re-up on the Vitamin C/D/Zinc magical mixture that seems to cure most of my stomach problems.

I still don’t feel great, but I have stuff to get done today. For example, my apartment has fallen into disrepair because I went out four days in a row after barely leaving at all. It’s pretty easy to tidy up because it’s so small, but some effort is still required there. I just look around the room right now and think to myself, “Ugh, this HAS to get done today or the rest of the week will be completely shot in terms of productivity.”

Meanwhile, I did not account for Sunday, so I must do that now.

I started off my Sunday with the intention of making a bad life choice. Luckily for me, I did not make that choice. Instead, I went to my favourite brunch spot and wrote a little bit. Then I went up to the Secret Society to socialize.

Originally I intended it to be my “warm-up” so I would feel more comfortable making this bad decision, but by the time I got there, it was already too late. I thought about it too much and decided not to wander on back down the path of no return. What’s the point? What is all this for? It’s just… not worth it to me anymore.

Instead I chose to stay at the Secret Society and see who showed up on that particular day. My Irish friend stopped in for about 5 minutes to chat with me. My British Banker Uncle stopped in, ordered a drink, disappeared somewhere in the back, then re-appeared a short while later looking very, very happy. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and a hug and then left. No other explanation other than that. Didn’t even take his second drink on the BOGO Happy Hour deal. Weird.

Who else was there?

There was some super weird South African guy who was definitely married, definitely wearing tropical swim trunks, and definitely giving sleazy AF vibes right from the moment he saw me. I could tell he was going to be a problem because I caught him STARING at me multiple times before he finally moved in, as I knew he eventually would. He led with “I lived in Phuket for 4 years. I miss Thailand so much. I lived like a King when I was there. Now I have to live here in Hong Kong because of my family. Ugh! I like my kids, but not my wife. What about you?”

Ugh, gross! I instantly got the ick. The way men talk about their trips to Thailand should forever be put on the “Dating Red Flag” list. The things that I saw when I was there… unforgettable in every way. Ewwwww.

Anyway, so he was being annoying, but luckily this other banker I know and his wife showed up to rescue me. This guy would be the one who initially confronted me about being a writer and sitting in there watching people. He’s pretty chill, his wife is pretty chill, whatever.

As I said, I find these Finance Peeps to be pretty fun to hang out with in general. I don’t know why. It doesn’t really make sense. I guess maybe it’s because I get to be special and different, as opposed to hanging out with other creatives who are all special and different too?

Whatever…

Let’s see… who else…

There was a British couple in there that stopped by while on vacation. The wife was a teacher and had lived in four different countries, including the UAE. I thought she was really interesting to talk to. I enjoyed hearing her stories about her various experiences.

She mentioned that she “lived in New Haven, Connecticut.” The bartender, who lived in NYC once upon a time and is naturally a very straight-shooter, gave her a look and said, “Soooo you went to Yale.”

The lady looked down and blushed a little and said, “Yeah, it’s just a small school, ya know?”

Hahahaha.

The bartender and I were both very amused by this. It’s an East Coast thing. My dad would do the same thing. He would be like, “I lived in Cambridge.” Oh, so you went to Harvard? “Yeah, it’s just a small school. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

Ivy Leaguers. They are what they are, lol.

Ah, this leads me into my next character. I went outside for a cigarette after the room had cleared. This old man with a very thick Scottish accent walked right up to me outside and said, “Are you from Paris? I met a French woman once from Paris. She liked to smoke cigarettes too. I would always say to her, ‘Hey baby, can you blow some smoke in my face.’ So whaddaya say? Hey baby, will you blow some smoke in my face?”

I just started laughing right in his face. Like, what? This dude had to be in his 70’s or 80’s. Just ZERO filter. Hilarious! There was also something weirdly poetic and rehearsed about it, so I marked him down mentally as I watched him limp on inside the bar.

Later he came back outside and approached me again. He asked me what I do. I told him I’m a writer. He stopped and looked me up and down and said, “You know I’m a writer too. I’ve been publishing for 50 years. I’ve traveled all over the world. I’m on my way to teach a class over in Canada right now.”

He told me his name is Ian, but I have not found his work yet. He would not tell me his last name. He said it will be more fun for me if I have to guess. So, since I don’t usually use real names, I will make an exception here, because I have no further information than this.

Then he sat down and proceeded to give me ALL the professional writing career advice. I would say the majority of it is still relevant. He was big on the MFA path, which is unusual to hear. Usually the MFA students I meet are really fucking bitter about their experiences and say a lot of negative things. It was refreshing to hear someone said, “I had a positive experience at my MFA program. It benefitted me a lot. I have a successful career now as a writer because of it.”

He was also big on the “patronage/grant/outside funding” thing. He was explaining all of the ways to get money from people to support my creative goals. Then he looked at me and said, “You’ve been living in Hong Kong for almost a year now and you still haven’t found yourself a rich banker to take care of you? You need to get on that.”

Oh, right, as if it’s so easy in this day and age to just go out on a whim and find a random man who isn’t already dating/engaged/living with/married to someone else. Gee, thanks, Grandpa. Never thought of that one. Nope, not once did it ever occur to me to find a rich husband to support my creative career goals.

Haha, just kidding. It has occurred to me many times. It’s just that it’s hard to find someone who is single, attractive, and willing to tolerate me on my bad days. Most of them just don’t have the emotional intelligence required to understand someone like me. It is what it is.

I would say most people in general lack the emotional intelligence to understand anyone with complex trauma. I would say most people are very surface level. They don’t like dealing with complex ideas, people, or situations. If they can’t understand it in the same amount of time it takes to watch a TikTok, then they’re out. The lack of empathy for others in this world is very real.

I’m just at a point where I understand myself to accept myself for who I am in this moment and love her anyway. Sure, my goal in general is to be healthy and happy. I’m very invested in that project. However, some days are still really bad for me. For example, I get very emotional over my dead daddy issues. I wish I had someone to talk to about it, but I don’t. I just have to find ways to deal with it, like yoga and hiking the Peak, and writing in my blog, and getting drunk and singing and dancing on the rooftop.

Summarizing this point: look at my neighbor. He has complained to me multiple times about volume control. I get this, but he went too far on this, and this is why I’m mad at him. Instead of just leaving his complaint at that, he felt the need to address some of the things he could hear me saying to myself, to the camera, to my iPad, and give me what he thought was the “tough love” I needed.

Wrong. So wrong.

It was all very surface level. He had no understanding of my situation at all. He was just doing his British thing and wearing all white while sitting on top of the hill looking down at me. Then he proceeded to show me, multiple times, that he himself is not a financially or emotionally stable human being, and therefore his judgments are irrelevant to me.

Anyway, I digress. Yeah, it would be nice to have a rich banker funding my creative lifestyle, but what I really need is someone emotionally stable enough to communicate with me in a solution-oriented way. Like, “Hey, you’re having a bad day today. What exactly are you upset about? Are you caught in a loop where you are reliving traumatic memories, or are you cranky because you haven’t eaten anything today? What do you need to do right now in this moment to feel better? How can we get you back on track so you don’t go off the rails?”

Personally, I don’t think that’s very much to ask for from your partner. That’s like… the most basic level, for me. I really need someone who knows how to communicate and wants to work together. But no! Apparently this is too much to ask for, especially from men, most of whom look at a woman and think, “How can I break her down psychologically so that she gives up on all of her goals and dreams in life? Then she can focus solely on servicing me, as if she were nothing more than a convenient household appliance?”

Yeah, it’s really a mystery why someone like me has ZERO fucking interest in dealing with a man like that.

Sigh.

Anyway, back to the writer…

He finished his drink and wandered off back into the night. It was at this point that closing time was looming in. I settled my tab and finished my drink as I watched the bartender start his closing tasks. That was the exact moment when our friend from the bathroom wandered in…

It was just the two of us alone with the bartender, so I took the opportunity to ask him the burning question on my mind: Why don’t you just marry your girlfriend?

So, first he pretended he never said that he wanted to get married. Then he went into some whole thing about how they are equals so they don’t need to do the formal piece of paper thing. Then he admitted to me that she had two kids (not his) that he’s taking care of, which annoyed me even more.

Legally speaking, this is not a good situation to be in. People say that piece of paper doesn’t matter, but… it really does. Trust me. Someone could get sick or die tomorrow, and you’re gonna find out REAL FAST how much that piece of paper matters, lol. Ask me how I know!!!

I think people just don’t plan ahead for these kinds of situations. Anyway, it definitely gave me the insight I was looking for in terms of human relationships. This is not the kind of relationship I would ever want, personally. I need that piece of paper. That shit is real and important. Now I know it’s 100% non-negotiable for me.

The amusing part of this conversation was when he looked me straight in the eyes and told me he was happy. Bro, you ran down here to the bar 15 minutes before closing time (11pm), then proceeded to down THREE double tall rum & cokes over the course of our very brief conversation.

That, combined with the incident between us at The Wolf, tells me something is extremely off here. I guess it’s technically none of my business. I just wanted to understand what’s going on with this guy and why he acts the way he does. So now I know.

I’m just like that, I guess. If someone is acting weird towards me, I want to know why. Like, this clearly isn’t about me right now, so there must be something up with you. Time for an investigation. What are you hiding? What are you insecure about? What is eating at you so much that you feel the need to take out your bullshit on me?

Now we know.

The bar closed down and I waited outside for him to leave. I smoked a cigarette and called an Uber, which is something I usually don’t do. However, I’ve learned that sometimes, it really is better for me to get a ride back home instead of walking all the way down the hill. I decided this was one of those days.

Then I came home and when I woke up in the morning, I wasn’t feeling well. I made myself some ginger tea with lemon and honey, then spent the day asleep. Then I slept all night. I feel better today, but my stomach is still revolting against me. I guess this means I’m taking a break from going out again.

Back to my yogi diet of fruit smoothies, herbal teas, giant salads with everything on them, my special Ayurvedic spicy noodles recipe, and the snacks I know are safe. I’m pretty good at sticking with my healthy diet. Like I said when I was in Bali, I tried to go full vegetarian but I was missing the protein too much. So as of right now, my biggest weakness is still McDonald’s…

Okay, that’s all I have to say today. I have an apartment to tidy and a trip to the market to make. Then I can work on finishing my Island of Lost Guys story. I see now why it stalled. Apparently my Neighbor’s character has more to say. Okay. Fair enough. We’ll keep that open until it finally feels like it’s “done.”

Off now! Have a good day. Farewell!

BLOG: The Court Jester

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Sunday.

Here we are at brunch. I’m still trying to finish my episode of the Island of Lost Guys. It’s just about done. I just can’t get those last little bits connected for whatever reason. I’ve been working on it since Wednesday.

I decided to wander back up to the Secret Society last night. I got there pretty late, so I wasn’t expecting much. I saw my Irish friend and my “Uncle,” who is an English banker. He is the one who gave me the stack of spy novels.

I chatted with the two of them for a bit. Once again, I asked my Uncle why he and his associates seem to be so welcoming of me in their club. He explained it to me this way:

“You have no idea what my days are like. I sit and stare at spreadsheets all day long. I’m working 13, 14, 15 hours a day. I barely talk to anyone at the office. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. I’m not a creative person. I could never do what you do. You’re so alive. You have interesting stories to tell, you can carry on a conversation with just about anyone, and you’re funny as fuck. I didn’t like you at first, but as I’ve gotten to know you better, I find you to be extremely entertaining. You bring light to an otherwise dreary day.”

Awwwwww! That’s so sweet!

But also, that does officially make me the Court Jester, as I said in my previous post. Since this is such an illustrious post, I just have one question and one question only: when do I get paid?

Meanwhile, my neighbor is sitting on the other side of the wall like, “I hear that!”

I seriously haven’t seen him in like a month now. He straight-up pulled a vanishing act on me. It’s incredible. True talent, right there. Love him in his new role as the Invisible Man. It’s really doing it for me, haha. I can tell he’s really committed to this role. What can I say? I inspire the best in people. I’m definitely bringing out the best his acting abilities have to offer, lol.

Well, inevitably, I couldn’t handle the obsession anymore, so I made the decision to get under someone else. Enter Some Random Stranger. I don’t know his name, I don’t know what he does, I don’t even know where he’s from. Nothing. I know nothing, and I don’t care. The less I know about him, the better. I have zero interest in adding another character to my roster. I just wanted to get laid.

I’m just gonna say that he definitely looks like he could be a rugby player. Therefore, we’re just gonna say he’s a rugby player. An international rugby player who travels all over the world. So, you know, obviously I let him go ahead and tackle me to the ground. And now I’m about to go do it again. It is what it is!

My goal here is really just to forget about my neighbor, because it’s become very obvious this movie ends with me going to Cambodia and whispering his name into a temple. It is what it is.

So I’ll just go get this itch scratched and hopefully we can forget all of this ever happened. Then I will be free from distractions and get back to writing my book.

Okay, that’s all for now. I have a story to finish…

BLOG: Be A Muse or Be Muse’d

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Friday.

Here we are at the Cantina. I’ve spent the last three days working on my new episode of The Island of Lost Guys, which obviously features my neighbor. I am planning to tell him about it. I guess I have to write an apology note to him and say, “I wrote you this story as my apology for writing mean things about you when I was mad.”

My decision to Muse-ify him was the right one. I’m not angry or fixating on him anymore now that he’s been properly written down on the page. I did have a dream last night where he was dressed up like one of the Avengers though, so… maybe I am still fixating just a little bit, lol.

Meanwhile, up at the Secret Society, the situation changes by the hour. Yesterday I went in there to write. I was up there for about three hours working on my story when the regulars all showed up for a party.

One of them went upstairs to his apartment and brought me back a stack of espionage novels set in Hong Kong. I guess I’ll be flipping through those in my spare time if anyone needs me, though I admit I’m having a hard time taking an espionage novel written by someone using the name “M.C. Butterworth” seriously.

Otherwise, our friend from the bathroom is still making casual passes at me. He keeps saying he wants to get married. Last night I asked him why he doesn’t just marry his girlfriend and everyone laughed at me like I had just made the most hilarious joke in the world. Not sure what’s going on there, but I’m nosy AF and I want to find out.

I don’t know why I go up there, lol. It’s so painfully obvious that I do not fit in or belong there. Plus it can get really weird in there sometimes. I don’t know why. Maybe it was something else before it became that bar and that’s why the vibe is so weird? I’ve noticed that’s A Thing here in HK. The “Old Hong Kong” might be long gone, but the energy still hangs around…

What I do know for sure is that I’m still trying to keep my distance from this group. They are interesting to observe from afar, but there’s still something there that prevents me from getting too close. I don’t know what it is. It’s probably the fact that I’m an artist/writer and they all work in Banking and Finance. It could also be the fact that I am the only American and therefore an outsider. It’s very obvious that I’m seen as more of a “Court Jester” type than anything else. Even I can’t take myself seriously when I’m in the room with them. I guess maybe I’m not used to taking myself seriously in general, so…

Maybe the reason I go there is because I know I’m an extreme outsider in this group. I don’t have to try to fit in because I know I never will. There is some level of freedom that comes with that. I’m not trying to get them to like me or accept me. I just want to be comfortable as myself, which I am learning how to do by standing in that room with them.

I suppose there is always the fear it could turn into another Bloody Mary’s and/or Bangkok situation. That’s part of the reason I don’t write too much about them. I watch them and listen in on their conversations, but I don’t “character-ify” them the way I’m doing with my neighbor right now. I guess now I’m starting to do that now since I’m getting to know them better. Still, I feel uneasy about writing too much about the people I meet in that place. There’s just something off about it for me. I can’t put my finger on it.

Meanwhile, the couple sitting at the bar is arguing with each other right now. Ugh. What a buzzkill. It’s mostly the guy yelling at the woman, telling her she is lazy and disrespectful and he’s tired of taking care of her. White guy/Asian lady, just in case you’re wondering.

I’m supposed to be finishing my story right now. I’m not working on it at all. I’m ready to just go back home and go to bed instead, lol.

BLOG: The Weirdness Continues…

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Tuesday.

Recovering from my little adventure out at the Secret Society last night. That place is weird for sure. Let’s just say I’ve definitely discovered the next layer of weirdness lurking underneath the surface up there. Mid-Levels Madness, indeed.

Let it be recorded for posterity that I am making a definitive note that this place is WEIRD and OFF. There is something that is not right up there. Last night was only the latest example of the repeatedly occurring weirdness.

In the meantime, I agreed to go to another stand-up comedy thing tonight with an Irish friend I met about a month or two back. I don’t know why I agreed to it. I guess to push myself out of my comfort zone and fulfill things on my vision board. But now… I hardly feel up for it.

Also, I’m not sure, but I’m pretty sure I saw my neighbor out with his “mates” last night. I can’t be certain. It definitely looked like him. Whoever it may have been, he was definitely giving me a very strange look that I cannot describe. He was also holding a very small dog, which was actually pretty cute.

I’m probably imaging it. I’m sure he’s actually quite generic-looking for a white guy in Hong Kong. I just can’t tell right now because I’m currently under his Scorpion’s Spell.

I don’t know what this guy did to me, but it’s working.

Whatever. I’m sure it will pass. Three months ago I was mooning on about The Russian, and before that it was that Irish Guy, and before that it was other British Guy, aka that stupid bloody wanker I met in Thailand. Ugh.

It is what it is.

Something about these male Scorpions though. Hmmm… I like it.

Well, in my experience, the only way to get over this guy is to either get under another one or go full throttle on the Muse thing. Seeing as my previous attempt to get under that bartender from the Secret Society didn’t go well, I guess I have no choice but to turn up the Muse dial to level 14 on a 10-scale.

Well, that’s fine. I’ve been in the market for a new Muse. Anyone but Andrew! You know, a good Muse is hard to find. Do you realize I have already been through six in the last year? Mr. Next Door could be lucky number 7!

Okay, it’s official! The Six Nations is over! Welcome to the Hong Kong Sevens!

Hahaha!

See, this is already going so well! And hey, if it doesn’t work out, I guess that officially puts Andrew on the same level as Larry the Cat. Give the man some credit! He lasted 10 years as a Muse! These guys can’t even hack it for a couple of months. Like he literally is the Muse version of Larry the Cat. Good for him, I guess?

Also, it helps a lot that Mr. Next Door has completely vanished off the radar. He’s invisible now. Little does he know, this only makes it worse. Now there’s more space between us to fill in with ridiculous, made-up stories. I need a Muse to write side stories about while I focus on the main event. It’s a stress relief thing. I need something to focus on that will make me laugh while I cry through my dead daddy issues.

Yeah, I can see this working out well for me. Not sure how he’s gonna feel about it. If he’s anything like the rest of them, he will 100% hate it. I think he’s shown me he already does!

But, whatever. He’s the one who decided it was a good idea to get all up in my grill. Maybe he should have thought more about who he was talking to instead of saying dumb shit to me like, “All you do is get drunk and make out with random guys in elevators.”

Oh honey, I do so much more than that. Let me show you what I can really do! what if I wrote a story about making out with you in an elevator?!

Listen, what do you want from me? My friend described this man as “looking like one of the Avengers.” He’s so my type! That’s probably why I hate him so much! Is it really hate, or is it just a one-sided, completed unrequited, slow-burn enemies-to-lovers story in disguise?

I don’t know. Let’s just make some shit up and see what happens. He’s probably not used to starring as the lead in a Western romantic comedy. After all, he does describe himself as someone who “plays bad guys in Chinese movies.”

Welcome to Hollywood!

And just between us, this guy is WAY better looking than Andrew. Plus he’s got the accent. I’m big on the accent. The accent is really doing it for me. It’s the small details that count.

Honestly not sure if it was the accent or the ridiculous “Dad-chelor Party Destination Phuket” t-shirt with the sleeves cut off that flipped the switch for me. I am ashamed to admit that it might have been the t-shirt. It was probably the t-shirt.

Yeah, it was definitely the t-shirt…

Why? How? I don’t understand. It’s simultaneously the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever seen but also the hottest? What is that?

Yeah, I’m just gonna go for it. Let’s lean all the way in. Lean in so hard we fall over. Let’s burn through this obsession and see how many words/pages we get out of it.

Done and done. I guess we have to give him a fake name now. What should it be? What should it be???

BLOG: Get Me Off This Boat

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Monday.

Currently at the Secret Society. There is no one else here except for me and my casual bartender friend. It is what it is.

I spent most of the last week cooped up in my shoebox working on my book outline. I believe Thursday night is the night when I finally cracked and went completely insane. It happens! It was ugly. I don’t want to talk about it.

I decided to take my mind off of everything by going to see The Odyssey on Saturday. It was not my favourite adaptation. It was very testosterone-fueled. Just a lot of men and war and gritty Batman-style narration. The pacing was killer, especially for a three hour movie with no intermission. Let’s just say I was relieved when the journey finally came to an end. It left me drained and exhausted.

Overall, I prefer the Wishbone version. The End.

Otherwise, I spent the weekend a prisoner of my neighbor’s Muse. Weird. Needless to say, I was ready to get the fuck out of my house tonight. There might not be any old British bankers here to toy with, but at least I can clear my head and get some writing done. Who cares if I have to hike all the way up to the Mid-Levels to do it?

Is my head clear now? Somewhat. Sort of. It could be clearer. It could be clear enough to get my paperwork sorted out so I can achieve HKPR status. Instead I am just sitting here like… all over the place.

Let’s just say… life would be much easier if I could find someone to marry me, haha. Looking around this room right now… that seems… highly unlikely, lol.

Alas.

What else do I have to write about? Ugh, nothing. I am so focused on assembling this new book. I have no energy to collect new adventures, new accounts, new characters, etc. I’m just going to have a couple of glasses of wine and watch the escalator until it’s time to wander on back down the hill and head on home.

BLOG: Wan Chai’d

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Monday morning.

How do I explain yesterday so I myself can understand the progression of events?

Ridiculous.

Okay, so I started by going up to the Secret Society around 5pm. It was the most dead I’ve ever seen it. They told me I was customer #4. They opened at noon. Just in case you’ve never worked in a bar before, that’s bad.

So I sat and I waited for something interesting to happen. No one showed up to improve the afternoon. We speculated that they were probably all at a yacht party or on Lamma Island.

Not gonna lie: I was jealous of this thought. I want to go to a yacht party! And not just some random junk boat party full of 22-year-old college interns who found this event via Facebook. I want the full “Season Experience.” If I’m getting on a boat to drink for 7 or 8 hours in the sun, it’s going to be with a bunch of rich people in the middle of their own little soap opera. I don’t want to be a character in the soap opera. I just want to watch other people living in their own little soap opera and write it down later to entertain myself and others.

Television has ruined me, I know. It is what it is.

Anyway, none of that was happening. It was boring AF. I went outside for a cigarette and wished to the universe that something interesting would happen. All I can say right now is “Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.”

This is around the time my “Auntie,” aka a lady locally known as “The SoHo Queen” messaged me out of the blue. She is called this because everyone in F&B on this Island somehow magically knows this lady. No one seems to know what it is she actually does. As far as I can tell, she is called into manage various establishments when the owners are away. My friend and I like to joke about her being a gangster. At least… we were joking about it… until last night.

I met up with her at the Cantina, then followed her down to Peel Street to check in on one of her spots. There was only one person working there at the time. She was a very young Filipina girl. She looked at my Auntie with an expression I can only describe as “fear and terror.” I noticed over the course of the evening that this is generally how everyone looks at this lady. Like they know she’s a messy drunk, but they’re also absolutely fucking terrified of what she’s going to do to them if they step out of line. This is one of the many reasons why we think she’s a gangster.

So we are chillin there for awhile. Then she gets a call on her phone. She walked away for awhile to take the call, then came back and said, “I need to go to Wan Chai. Do you want to come with me? I can show you a really good story.”

I hesitated at first because it’s Wan Chai. In case you are unfamiliar with HK, Wan Chai is the neighborhood where creepy old men go to prey on very young women. Are there some good restaurants there? Definitely. Is it nice during the daytime? Sure. But once the sun goes down… it gets gross and creepy FAST.

This is one of the reasons why I prefer to stay in my “Central Bubble.” In Central, one is far more likely to meet a mix of people from all over the world gathering on a more equitable level. In Wan Chai… well… let’s just say it’s like the Thailand of Hong Kong. It’s pretty much exclusively old white men and uncomfortably young-looking girls and women from SEA.

Knowing this, I still agreed to go over there with this lady. I was like, “Sure, I’m always down for a story!”

So we get in a taxi and go over to Wan Chai. While we were in said cab, I suddenly realized I was traveling far away from home in a semi-compromised state to walk straight into a sketchy situation. I know better than to do this at this point. Yet I still did it. No idea why. For the story, I guess.

So we go there, we walk into this very famous, very well-known bar that people have recommended to me several times, and whaddyaknow? It’s a bunch of creepy old men and a bunch of uncomfortably young-looking girls. I am saying “girls” instead of “women” because “girl” literally means “an underaged, minor child.”

This is nothing I haven’t seen before while traveling through Asia. However, it does bother me a lot, mostly because these women are not “making an empowered, feminist choice.” They’re sold into sex slavery from the time they are small children and forced to provide money for their families. There is nothing empowering or glamorous about it. They literally have no other options. The men know this. They don’t care. They just want to get their dicks sucked. It’s just… sickening to watch.

As I said, we might as well have been in Thailand at this point. It is what it is. Once again, everyone in this establishment was looking at my Auntie with fear in their eyes. She left me at the bar, went in the back to do her business, then came back and sat down with me. Everyone on the staff was STARING at me. It was weird.

This was around the time I realized… ohhhh… this isn’t a joke anymore. This is real. This lady actually is a real-life gangster, and she has just brought to into a bar where women are being sold to the highest bidder, and now all these creeps are looking at me. Is she going to sell me too?

This would not be the first time someone has tried to sell me off to an old rich man in Asia. It’s happened at least three times so far (that I know of). Usually I think it’s funny, but this situation was about as far from “funny” as you can get. There was nothing funny to me about being in that bar at that time of night with the clientele that was there. Truth be told, I was legitimately terrified.

At some point, I became uncomfortable enough that I decided to leave. I hailed a taxi, which dropped me off like five blocks from my apartment (typical HK taxi driver shit), and vowed never to return to Wan Chai at night ever again.

Then I walked up to my apartment and tried to be as quiet as possible so as to not wake my neighbor, whose obnoxiously strong scent was still permeating the hallway. It hit me like a ton of bricks when I walked in. It’s kinda like a dog marking its territory, you know?

Anyway, as I said yesterday, normally it drives me up the wall, but when I finally got back last night, I was just grateful to be Safe and Home. I thought to myself, “I’d rather deal with this annoying overgrown manbaby and his weird smells and his moody, Diva-like behavior than ever go back to a place like that again.”

It is what it is.

We’ve definitely hit a turning point in this narrative…

After having been directly exposed to the reality of my two worst fears in life (homelessness and forced prostitution), I have officially decided it’s time to stop fucking around and get my shit together. So, that is what I will do. Just as soon as I cure this hangover, that it is. But after that… it’s hustle time. We gotta get dat visa paperwork, fam.

This is it. This is your Home now, Bets. There is no going back to whatever your life was before. The only way is to keep moving forward… and so we must move forward… and just do whatever it is we have to do…

The End.