Mary Baker Eddy

I saw my old teacher at Wat Po today. She looked at me and squinted her eyes.
"Nick"
Yeah that's me, Nick. She couldnt pronounce my name so she re-named me. I stayed for class and let them use me as a model.

On my way back I ate on the street. Last night Sasha and I ate on a corner in Khao San during a thunderous downpour. Today the sun was shining again. I sat at a tiny little metal table on a red plastic chair whose maker's western market must be primarily kindergartens. I was served a bowl of angle hair rice noodles, with two little fish balls. A ladle full of spicy peanut cream sauce topped it. In the middle of the table was a large flat bowl with a piece of gauze covering it. It was filled with bean sprouts, raw green beans, cucumber slices and fresh basil. The customers picked from these and added thier choices to the warmth of the bowls before them. The owner smiled at me glowing with pride. I smiled back. Further up the street I had a banana leaf with a serving of crimsom blue stickey rice. It was white peppered with nutty grains of wild rice. The vendor had put a dollop of coconut cream on top, followed by a wedge of sweet brown paste.
"What, name?" I asked in broken Thai. She looked at me quizically.
I pointed and asked again.
"Oh. Dom."
Dom is good.

On the bus ride over I was telling Sasha what pirates the tuk tuk drivers are.
"It would cost us 500bht a day to go back in forth to Wat Po. IF we could argue them down that far."
"That's ridiculous." She said. "Especially since its so easy just to hop on a bus."
I had spent the entire afternoon yesterday trying to find the bus to Siam Center while she was at school. She wanted to know how to get there so she might take a yoga class. After struggling with the tourist center I stood by the roaring traffic laden with two incomplete maps. Then I had been put off the correct bus twice by operators who insisted that I wanted to go to the airport. It took me four hours in that blazing smog to get there and back. The entire trip, now that I know it, will probably take me less than an hour. I looked at Sasha.
"If you say that again I'm going to toss you out the window."
"You wouldn't do that you like me too much."
"Let's say I like you enough to warn you that if you say that again I'm going to toss you out the window."

Last night I had a dream that while I was cleaning the kitchen counter I heard my old cell phone ring. The ring is unmistakable. It sounds like what a gold Caddilac easing down Lenox Ave in 1974 might have sounded like if it could be transmuted into music. I reached behind a box and there it was, brown with rust, even though it had only been missing for a week. I wondered who could be calling me since I had had the service suspended. I flipped my old Lazr open and answered. It was Bruce. My face was hot with shame. I couldn't speak. I hadn't called him in years. Mainly because he was dead. It had never occured to me that you could still ring someone up, Mary Baker Eddy style, once they had passed over. How stupid was that? Finally I managed to stammer.
"I love you." It was all I could think to say.
"I love you too." came the reply.