another blog post

Best time for me to write I think sometimes is when I turn all the lights off in the room. Then I plug in this little night light. The purple, yellow and pinks shine in little orbs. Like strange Venn diagrams where nothing is shared. Instead the lights go down and the fan turns. I can feel the desire to write.

I never know what. So the blog titles are kinda iffy. Today particularly so. I have more times now since my wife has taken to visiting numerous times a day with the landlords. Or owners as they are called here. I don’t partake in that social time. Ever. I guess because I don’t like them. Or dislike them. They are just them. The distance across the dirt road might as well be light years. Their little planet is full of words. Laughter. Rapid fire Khmer I don’t pretend to grasp. Or want to.

My problems with them I guess are personal proclivities. I don’t trust them. I don’t know why. It’s a feeling. My daughter in law understands. She has feelings about them too. Secondly is the house. I guess I figured out they did not fix anything they knew was broken and we just took all of it. Leaky roof for years I suspect. Rainy season was months away still so who needs to do anything. I complained about the front door not closing. Now why would I want that. After all we are one big happy family here. Well cats. Cats would come in. It took months. Then I wanted the lock to work. Why? We are one big not so happy family. Well because now people break into homes and steal. Yeah. In this happy place. Finally and purely personal is their daughter. Their poor little girl that is not allowed to play with other kids in the neighborhood because she once was hurt. Well kids get hurt and it happens. Parents care for them. It reminds me of Mikaela in Merida. A precocious 9 year old girl that had no friends. Her mom ran the Airbnb I lived in for months. Mikaela hung with us. Talked in her fluent English. Until her mom said no more.

I mention all this and I’ve said it’s all personal. I don’t care for them. I won’t ever want them around me. It used to bother my wife. I’ve told her we are different. I will not be around people I don’t like. Another finale is living here. I don’t like it here. Never have. I would like to be closer to town. So I could walk where I like. Go to different coffee shops. See the social and cultural parts of Siem Reap. Now I ride passapp. It’s not a solution. It’s just a way of doing a thing. We stay here because it works for my wife. She loves it. I signed the new lease. Another year. My daughter told me to just move. Well I cannot. So we stay. Even in a house like this with people like these. I bet you understand or you don’t. No biggie. I feel the same way.

so there ya go

Another day writing not enlightening diatribe. All claimed by me. I’m a mongrel here. Half in one world. Half out of the other. Not fitting well. Like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle that was somehow lost and then put in the wrong box. I accept it all.

Still don’t do the things I don’t want to or befriend people when the little voice says no. I just listen now. Before I withheld the judgement and people my wife held in friendship took advantage. Lied. Cheated. Stole from us. Now I just listen.

All if this rolls around. Little bubbles of thoughts laid down as words. Parts of the same jigsaw puzzle but disjointed and missing. I can’t see the whole picture. I just know what I see. It’s enough.

Enough to sit in the dark and Springsteen comes on telling me about Thunder Road. I can fess up. Find my own time to write another blog post.

Like this one.