Sweetness

Have you ever had a moon cake? They come out every fall for the Chinese Moon Festival and they are strange and delicious -- sweet sticky lotus paste around an egg yolk, all wrapped in a lovely lotus-shaped crust. I like the ones with two yolks -- they are supposed to be extra lucky -- but the varieties are wide now: fruitcake, chocolate, black sesame, cream puff, etc.

I'm also all about the namaste right now. "Namaste" is a Sanskrit word that means "the Divine in me salutes the Divine in you." It means that all the love, compassion, and joy in me stands up and waves at all that in you, with appreciation and celebration. It also means hello, and can mean goodbye. Traditionally it is used to end yoga classes, and I always used to use it as my bank password back in the days when you actually spoke your password to a teller in a bank -- seemed like a nice thing to say to someone!

Last night I woke up thinking about "namaste" and all its meanings. I've been struggling with some things lately, change, loss, uncertainty -- just the usual angst of existence. I've been at a loss for words -- you know how rare that is for me! "Namaste" floated into my head and I realized it was all I had to say. Hello, I salute the Divine in you, in change, in loss, in uncertainty, I say goodbye with love -- that's everything, right there, in a tidy and peaceful package.

Between the moon cakes and the namaste I am filled with sweetness today. I have stopped struggling because I have been reminded that everything changes, that seeking to hold something causes suffering, that loving with an open heart is the only way to do it, that all you can do against passive aggression is let go, and that all you can really do for someone is release them to be what they will. Most important, I've been brought back to the present moment. I am not caught in memory of the past or hopes for the future. I am here, in Ambassador's Court, while Barry works on a research paper and the Thai sun shines. It's a beautiful day.

Bourbon and Tequila

Today Barry and I went to Coyote's for lunch -- it is a Mexican restaurant in the middle of Silom Soi Convent -- right down the street from two convents. We ordered margaritas -- two for one on Saturday afternoons, how lucky! First we had some lime and chili deal, but it was too spicy for B, so then we ordered the Kentucky Margarita. OMG -- LOVE LOVE LOVE!!!! It is tequila, lime juice, and BOURBON -- three of my favorite things in one glass. And then it started to rain, and I mean MONSOON, so we had to stay for a while, so we got drunk.

I want to bring the Kentucky Margarita to Portland. You'll thank me.

Movies in Bangkok

We went to see "9" a few days ago. The movie was meh, but the movie-going EXPERIENCE was something else.

The theater complex is huge -- there are 17 theaters, an IMAX theater, a bowling alley, a full bar, and a snack bar. The lobby is enormous and full of boards that blink and flash and tell you stuff, like what movie when and how much it costs for the deluxe "Enigma" seat.

After you have decoded the movie/time/theater/seating available matrix you proceed to the ticket line. Each counter is equipped with a computer screen that allows you to see what seats are still available for the movie of your choice, and you reserve a seat when you buy a ticket. We opted for the love seat, which had some fancy silly name that I've forgotten. From there you can avail yourself of the refreshments, but bear in mind that NONE of them are allowed INTO the theater. People go the movies and have drinks and popcorn before the show.

Our love seat selection was a good one -- a huge cushy sofa that came equipped with two blankets, because the AC is set at about 33 degrees F in the theater. We were right in the middle in the back -- perfect seats. And then the movie started.

Oh. My. GOD!!! It was the loudest thing next to a jet engine that I have heard lately. I actually moved to cover my ears. It HURT. I got used to it, but there was never a time during the movie when I was unaware of the fact that the sound was too goddamned loud. Where's Stew Dodge when you need him??

The trailers go on forever. Or at least it seems like it -- a good 30 minutes, anyway. Hey, doesn't "Sorority Row" look like a winner? Ew! But I do want to see "District 9."

After the movie we stood up feeling sort of stunned, and straggled out with the other dozen or so people who had watched the movie with us. We were a bit deaf and disoriented, and then we hit the lobby. Again I have to say: Oh. My. GOD!! When we bought our tickets there were 20 people in the lobby. When we got out of the theater there were HUNDREDS. It was packed. We managed to learn a lesson the easy way, for a change: go to movies in Bangkok before 7 pm unless you enjoy a good mobbing.

Still not sure what the "Enigma" is all about -- further research required, report to be filed at a later date.

Kenzo show

Think Russia Meets Mongolia. Cossacks and Tribal Horsemen. Fur and brocade and brightly colored, roughly woven, mirror-studded fabric. Rose-patterned silk and thick leather belts. Muted colors and flapper beading. Delicate and sturdy. Earthy and gorgeous. All this, apparently, is what Antonio Marras had in mind when he put together the Fall/Winter 09-10 collection for Kenzo.

What we saw:

Mustard, teal, aubergine, russet, maroon, pumpkin

Fabrics thick with mirrors and metallic threads

Glittery mirrored brocade and velvet

Wrapped robe jackets, dresses, and vests

Nubby sweaters, cropped and oversized

Cossack pants with tight legs, buttons from the knee down

Hip interest in trow -- pleats and voluminous pockets

Pegged ankles

Dresses in thin knits and/or damask with drop waists

Longer skirts

Quilted hems on skirts and cropped trow

Square shoulders

Puffy sleeves

Seamless shoulders with drape

Empire waists

Deep cowl draping at necks

Neck wraps

Floral 3D crochet appliques on knit dresses and boiled wool jackets

Heavy 1920s-style beading on bodices

Fur hems and collars

Fringe hems and collars

Asymmetric random gathering on skirts and dresses

Suede platform stilettos

Platform mules

Opaque hose

For evening, gray, brown, and black gowns in silk with thick leather belts and neck wraps, some with double and triple skirts in different lengths

Eyes were lined and lips were matte

For men:

Brown, maroon, taupe, and gray

Large windowpane plaids

Small scale to suits: shorter cuffs and trow, close fitting

Long, thin-gauge sweaters under suit coats and cardigans

Large cable-knit cardigans with belts in dark colors

Square, unpadded shoulders

Wrinkled matte stretch jersey with a slight sheen

Duffle coats in shorter lengths

Fur collars

The show closed with Kate Bush's "Babushka," which is one of my favorites. It gets stuck in my head.

Barry and I were photographed some more, and spoke with some of the Kenzo people -- or maybe they were some of the fashion show crew? We all smiled a lot and didn't really understand each other very well, but had a lovely time. (Communication that would have been sketchy at best is being further hampered these days by the fact that Mercury is retrograde until September 29. Mark your calendars and sit tight until then.)

In summation, this season you can expect to wear whatever the hell you like that looks good on you and makes you feel beautiful and COMFORTABLE. I have spoken.

Escada show

Things I can say with confidence this season: platforms, any shade of red, hip interest, structured, ladylike, and drape. I saw all that two nights running and expect to see more tonight at Kenzo -- stay tuned. After I've seen everything I can formulate an over-all theme.

Last night's Escada show wasn't a glittery as Ferragamo's -- no champagne and fewer Hi-So 'Fros. Nevertheless, B and I had a great time, were photographed, and wangled good seats. Still no swag bags.

I wore a black Italian sheath with satin trim and X-top Charles Jourdan sandals. B wore a navy pin-stripe suit and a violet shirt. I gave myself a Hi-So 'Fro that would have made Texas proud, and off we went.

What we saw:

Camel, brown, aubergine

A sort of "camouflage" print in brown and aubergine on camel

Platform shoes with stiletto heels in colors ranging from red through all the wines right up to aubergine -- RTB, your new red boots could not be more au courant!

Fur -- collars, hats, trim on sleeves and hems

Bell sleeves

Cropped jackets

Drape. pleat, and tuck details at the hip on skirts and trow

Long ruched gloves

Double skirts -- a short pencil skirt under a shorter flirty skirt

Trench coats

Long breaks on trow

Half-belted dresses

Structured, architectural boat and funnel necks

Square but not padded shoulders, sometimes with pleating

For evening, ruched tops with empire waists and long draping in the front and/or back a la Givenchy circa 1978 and an anomalous lavender bubble dress with pockets -- beautiful but Easter-eggy and I had to wonder where it came from!

Shiny lips, geisha eyeliner, and hair slicked back into chignons at the nape

The fabrics were gorgeous: silk georgette, silk jersey, wools jersey, quilted silk in saturated colors. And don't get me started on the fur. I love fur, and I'm sorry if that hurts you. I promise not to buy any that wasn't dead before I was born, ok? That being said, I need a mink hat!

Ferragamo Runway Show

Tonight I went to my first Bangkok fashion show -- Ferragamo. Salvatore Ferragamo is known for gorgeous leather goods, especially shoes. Amy has a spectacular pair I found for her at Goodwill -- pale brown pumps that look like sports cars, all sleek and sculptural and classic. That being said, guess what I had on my feet for the show? That's right, baby -- a pair of Nine Wests!

I laughed to myself all the way to the show. You can get a pair of Nine Wests at Marshall's, for god's sake. They are not what you'd call a luxury good. Nevertheless, the pair I chose was comfortable, stylish, and complemented my dress (a black Jil Sander) -- you couldn't tell by looking they were low budget. Good thing I was wearing them, too, because I ended up walking part of the way home after fighting with a cab driver -- unscrupulous bastard! He told me his meter was broken and that it would cost me 290 baht to get home -- in actuality it should cost about 70. We yelled at each other in different languages for a while, and when we were close enough for me to walk In These Shoes I just got out. I'm glad I wasn't wearing delicate shoes. Good old Nine West!

Anyway, the show. Here's what we saw:

Maroon, navy, mauve, gray

Draping at the neck and shoulder

Three-quarter sleeves with interesting diagonal hems

Long gloves and arm warmers

Platform booties with stiletto heels

Lots of pleating at the hip for pants and skirts

Cropped pants full in the thigh and narrow at the bottom

Moc croc velvet

For evening, back interest draping on gowns and deep open peeks into the cleavage from demure necklines -- think one big decolletage slit

Lips were RED and hair was slick on top, side parted, and pulled long down the back

For men:

Maroon, navy, ivory, gray

Classics -- pea coats, duffels, bombers, with interesting details like metal clasp fasteners and banded waists

Wooly scarves at the neck

Extra long break in trow

For evening, a velvet tuxedo worn with maroon velvet loafers

As fashion shows everywhere tend to do, this one started late. I was alone, since B had school, so I spent a lot of time drinking champagne (pretty good champagne, too, I have to say!) and looking at everybody else. I got to see some real live "Hi-So 'Fros," or High Society Afros -- the doyennes of Bangkok Society (the cap "S" is intentional) favor big teased hair-dos, and the more money they have, apparently, the bigger their hair gets (if only that worked on my Jew Fro!). They each had a young gay escort and they all (escorts included) carried Hermes Birkins. The great damn big ones.

When they announced the show was opening I simply walked in. Since the announcement was in Thai I had no idea what was said, and I took advantage of that to blithely breeze in with what I assume were the reserved seat holders. Nobody stopped me and I got a good seat. I would have gotten a swag bag, too, except there weren't any. Not bad for a pair of Nine Wests.

Autumn makes me think

Let's get one thing clear: it's always summer in Bangkok. From September through March it is about 85 or 90 degrees F, sunny, clear, beautiful. April it gets v v hot -- temperatures of up to 115 degrees F are not unheard of. May through August it rains. When it doesn't rain the sky is often gray, and it's humid. It is almost unbearable, sticky, cloyingly humid and the temperature ranges from 90 to 100 degrees F.

Well, it's September and autumn is coming to Bangkok. The days are clearer and sunnier and there's an unmistakable yet ineffable sense of change. I feel the sadness of closing up the summer house, even though I'm not. Although I'm halfway around the world, I AM in the northern hemisphere and it IS fall and I DO notice.

Combine the seasonal weather with Scott's death and you have a recipe for melancholia. Things change, all the time. One of the most fundamental teachings of yoga is that nothing lasts, and god knows I've spent enough time lying on my mat with tears rolling into my ears as I thought about it. People come and go. Babies are born, friends die, circumstances change, people move, nothing lasts. I wouldn't want it to, but every now and then I do the Lot's wife thing and look back. Not much, not often, but it happens to all of us, me included. I look back.

I spent the afternoon wandering the city. It was a gorgeous day and now it's becoming a beautiful evening -- there is a long and gentle gloaming in Bangkok, the sun seems to settle more than set. It sinks down slow, enjoying the slide, and the light fades and the birds make all their crazy noises and the bats come out. It's lovely.

I spent the afternoon thinking about Scott. When I met him he was dee-RUNK. It was at a show at what used to be called O'Connors, down on 2nd Avenue in Portland -- I think Chiva Knevil was playing. Scott came up to me and said, "Hi, I'm Scott, and I'm an asshole!" I liked to point out to him in later years that he had never let me down on that front, but I said it with admiration and respect. Scott was the best kind of asshole, the kind that says what he thinks and tells you where he stands and calls a spade a spade (why do we say that??). And a rake a rake, for that matter. We got along and I loved him.

I spent the afternoon praying for Stacy. I have two prayers: thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou and helpmehelpmehelpmehelpme. I said them both. Thank you for letting Stacy and Scott have each other. Help them to deal with the separation, give them the grace and strength to do whatever comes next. Feel free to join me in the praying -- no worries on my end regarding to whom your prayers are directed.

Now I'm spending some time with you, missing you, wishing you were here to talk with me about all of this, and about all there is to come. Another move to another country. Another climate change, a different wardrobe. More travel, more exciting surprises, more things to learn. Which reminds me: I need to buff up my French and will be looking for a tutor when I get back to Portland. Let me know if you know anyone.

You and I may never see each other again, or we may live together next year. You might become a parent and drop out of the world for a while, or you could enter a monastery. You might start a new business that hits just right and become fabulously wealthy, or one of us could get hit by a bus. It's all so frangible, life is so tenuous, the future is so wide open!

I recently finished re-reading "One Hundred Years of Solitude" by the incomparable Sr. Gabriel Garcia Marquez. At the very end you realize that the pages being deciphered throughout the book tell the tale of the pages being deciphered throughout the book, and just as they become clear we are able to read about the end of it all as it ends -- it is breathtaking. And that is where we all are, deciphering our stories at the same time we spin the tale of ourselves deciphering our stories.

Life is so short. Go tell someone you love them. And do something fun today. I love YOU. xo

Scotland Barr Moritz

Scotland Barr Moritz was a great musician, a true friend, and a wondrous human. He made great hot sauce, too. We had to give him back today, but we get to keep the music.

Please say a prayer, however and to whomever you pray, for Scott and his wife Stacy.

You can listen to him here and learn more about him here.

I love Scott and I'm proud to have known him. The world is better because we had him with us, even for a little while.

Hold the phone!

Don't you just love it when they yell that in old movies? "Hold the phone!" What's that mean???

In this case, it means "Guess what! I might be coming back to Portland, at least to get a sweater!!" Barry is considering doing a semester or more at one of Webster University's European campuses (campii?) -- Amsterdam, Geneva, Vienna, or London -- and I don't have any clothes with me suitable for the chill of northern Europe.