many times before, then walked away distractedly without even bidding him good night.
He put on his clothes in a daze and decided to go home. He would normally have lingered for a while after he had fulfilled his criteria for the night, watching things other members did to themselves and wondering how they managed it. He’d look at them attempting stunts he’d never imagined: real whips, real knives, iron rods smouldering from a fresh fire. Suddenly, he wanted to try them all, each and every one. More and more, the appeal of Club Koyaanisquatsi grew on him, and the fear those practices held for him waned. What had been foreign and dangerous, machines and mindsets that threatened to topple the order of what he believed to be right, felt freeing and energising.
This world of the club, he decided, was no worse and no better than the one he was casting off. He wasn’t so afraid any longer of things that couldn’t actually hurt him, or even of things that could.
PAININ
Brenton Rossow, Thailand
I forgot to write Painin’s phone number in my notebook. I could check it from one of her emails or go to the restaurant where she worked and ask one of her old workmates. I’d told Painin I would stay at the same bungalow but I didn’t tell her the time I was arriving. It was stupid to think she’d be waiting for me. The man at the guesthouse said he hadn’t seen her, so I pissed the colour of a hornbill’s beak and headed towards her old restaurant. Painin’s friend remembered me and giggled when she asked if I was Painin’s darling, and tried to call
I began to feel anxious. I adjusted my shirt, so I didn’t look fat and positioned my chair so I could see Painin when she came into the restaurant.
After a dry sandwich, I began leaning over the balustrade so I could see her as she drove up the street. I began to feel sleepy, stretched out on some cushions and fell asleep.
When I awoke an hour later, Painin still hadn’t arrived. I went downstairs to speak to her friend with the mobile. After trying a few times and getting an engaged signal her friend got through and handed me the phone.
‘Hello’
‘Who’s this?’
‘It’s Blinch from Thailand.’
‘You no like me. Why you want see me?’
My heart sank.
‘If I didn’t like you, why would I come all the way to Vientiane? It’s Blinch from Thailand. I was here six weeks ago. We sent each other emails.
I miss you… I want to see you.’
‘I busy working now. I told you we finish already. I not want see you.’
‘What? What are you talking about? You never said we were finished.
Come and see me at the bungalow.’
‘Okay. I come see you at 4 pm.’
I picked up my bag, smiled faintly at the girl in the restaurant who was blushing with embarrassment and began walking down the street. How sure I had been that our story would turn out the way I wanted. How confident I had been as I boarded the bus to Vientiane with photographs of Painin and Sai in the top pocket of my rucksack.
I decided to visit Uncle Mimi. Old Funky Lips wasted no time skinning up. We sat upstairs on his balcony, blowing smoke clouds into the street. He waited patiently, every so often nodding his head. Then, after I finished my story, he told me to forget Painin and find myself a new girl.
‘Many girl,’ he said, patting my shoulder. ‘Lucky you no kid.’
I thanked Uncle Mimi, stepped out the doorway—heart hurting like crazy as the weed weaseled its way into my stream—and walked into the sunshine. In a vacant block across the street, I noticed some artists had strung paintings between the branches of a few spindly trees and fastened them together on a length of string. Cigarette at lip, beer in hand, I began to lose myself in the colours of jungle villages and the swirl of water lilies. I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. I turned and Painin was standing in front of me; toes hanging from high heels, miniskirt and a tight white midriff.
She looked up, smiled and took my hand.
‘I was with my friend and I saw you look painting, so I come see.’
‘I missed you, Painin. I don’t understand why you’re angry with me. I came all this way to be with you. What’s going on?’
‘You not help me when I ask you send money for motorbike. You not call. You not care.’
‘Of course I care, but what could I do? I have to work six weeks before I get a holiday. It was impossible to come and see you right away.’
She raised her eyebrows and squeezed my hand. Looking down, I noticed she was carrying a plastic bag.
‘What’s that?’
‘My new telephone, I just bought from market. I borrow money from friend.’
‘How much was it?’
‘Seven thousand. It have many song and photograph. It very expensive.’
Something in the back of my mind registered things weren’t okay, but I kept staring, hypnotized by her voluptuous lines.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked as she led me by the hand.
‘I want go temple.’
‘Here,’ I said reaching into my rucksack. ‘Here are some photos of you, Sai and my apartment in Thailand.’
She studied them, carefully lingering on the photo of my apartment, then stood on tippy toes and kissed me. It was a long slow kiss, full of absence and ecstasy. I held her by the hipbone and relished her warm tanned skin.
She reached down and grabbed my balls, looked me in the eyes… let go…
then continued walking. We walked past the temple and across the road to the grassy banks of The Kong.
Three of her friends appeared to be waiting outside a restaurant. It was obvious I’d be picking up the check. If I refused to go along with her plan, I’d embarrass Painin and she’d be furious.
One of Painin’s friends—Noi the Freeloader—was slouched in a plastic chair, smiling in the sunshine. The sight of her made me queasy and flyblown.
On this occasion—quite like the first time I’d met her—she failed to acknowledge me. She quickly grabbed Painin by the elbow, turned her back and began devolving her plan.
From the moment I met Noi, I was aware she was young and foolish, but I was forced to tolerate her. The previous time we’d met she rolled up at a restaurant Painin and I were eating at as if it was her right to be there and my sole purpose was to pick up the bill. It made me sad to think Noi was poisoning Painin with her schemes. Every time I looked at her, she sprayed a sickly green film across my skin.
‘You okay, Noi?’ I asked, best I could.
She raised her eyebrows as if to say
