The Siargao Curse
Some journals from my last stop in the Philippines. I tried to go on vacation and heal myself but instead I got very sick and ran out of money
In the back of a big square grey van driving through an island in the Philippines known as Siargao. Siargao is the most sparsely populated island I’ve hit so far. It’s really really rural, in the sticks, but there is —
the van slows to a 2mph bumping grinding halt as we go over a particularly undeveloped plot of road…
Siargao is apparently tourist surfer paradise. The food is good for the Philippines, it’s still pretty cheap, people travel here from all over the world, and apparently there’s this “Siargao Curse” which is that White people come here just to visit and then they never leave. We’ll see about that—I’m here for 10 days or so and then I’ll fly to Japan. I’ve got about a thousand dollars in my bank account and the bumpiness of this van is making me queasy. I sat next to a somewhat pretty island girl on the flight wearing a red and white striped dress, we didn’t talk for most of the time but my leg grazed the fabric of her dress for like half an hour, our follicles tickled, I could smell her, I was almost getting a little hard with anxiety and my head was surely tilted in towards her—I finally talked to her just after we landed, which felt like a win to me. She seemed to want to talk to me more but her face wasn’t absolutely perfect and so I had nothing much more to say.
I deplaned. Wide open jungle view just like Dumaguete. This land seems wholly untouched by english hands. It was pouring rain. It seems to dump pouring rain hard out of nowhere and then stop, like Florida. They handed me a yellow umbrella as I stepped off the plane so I wouldn’t get drenched. The girl who I was talking with in my seat stood around at baggage claim somewhat near me wishing I’d continue the conversation but I didn’t. I was being screamed at over Whatsapp by “bimboy” who was apparently my driver. I scheduled this ride last night at like 2 AM and here he is, here I am, yes I know I’m waiting for my bag, he called me like 10 fucking times I’m like YES I’M STILL WAITING FOR MY BAG YES!! carrying my heavy heavy shit wearing my bose headphones loud noises everywhere japanese tourist girls oh i want them so bad one of them was wearing this tight white shirt tucked into blue shorts and she had circle glasses she looked like a goddamn chipmunk oh i could feel her japaneseness just from her posture i didnt say anything of course I just stormed off trying to find my driver Bimboy.
I got into the wrong van. he kept calling. i was like i dont give a fuck i cant do this i cant hear you you dont speak english im just gonna get into this other van they’re probably going to general luma (across the island from the airport 30min east) and so i was packed into this other van with these blonde germans and i couldnt ask them if this was the right van cause they were german until suddenly somebody opened the van holding out his phone showing my stupid ugly face on Whatsapp: THOMAS? THIS YOU? yes this me. i get out of the packed van and into this other one with bimboy who surely has an iq of less than 80 and miraculously just one other guy, tall attractive fit healthy white dude, not talking to him i dont care he probably isnt even american i’m on my own as always, i hope the rain clears up so i can just ride around on a motorbike in peace. that is the very first thing i’m doing once i get into my place. motorbike. motorbike. motorbike.
December 4th
There is not a quiet place in all of the Philippines. They are a screaming people. A honking people. A totally infantile race. You think they must change their tune when you turn around and leave, you think they must turn to each other and go: what a stupid white foreigner, I can’t believe we had to act that way for him, but no, there is no such tone switch. They are like this everywhere all the time.
I’m in Siargao. Which is supposed to be the quiet island. The surf town by the beach, tranquility. Instead I am withdrawing from adderall. Hearing DING!! DING!!! Every Filipino phone is set as loudly as it can be set, they BBBBRRRING!! and go CHUKI! every four moments in time, the greeter at this cafe, yes there’s a greeter, it’s a transgender built like a small linebacker with the tone of a woman but the unmistakable bravado and volume of a fully grown man wearing makeup. This fully grown man wearing makeup gets real close to me as I enter the only cafe open at 6 AM with AC and I can smell that familiar trans fucking smell— I am reminded of Dumaguete… I hate these people I wish they would die. Trans, not FIlipinos. Hating filipinos would be like hating children. Come on, have a heart.
I stepped in here after being assaulted twice on the road by teenaged men selling jewlery—please sir for sale sir please sir, I just shook my head in a way that hopefully said: I AM WITHDRAWING FROM ADDERALL RIGHT NOW PLEASE DON’T FUCK WITH ME!!! — but they did. I stepped in here after that, after I parked my motorbikee nearby on the sand, immediately the entire staff of like 6 or 7 people in this 200 square foot space is singing: WELCOME TO BOOKSTORE CAFE WELCOME SIR WELCOME SIR!! I can not force a smile, because of the withdrawals.
No adderall yesterday. No adderall today. No adderall for the next 9 days, until December 14th, until I leave for Japan. It will be an extremely unproductive week. The trans man is back to waiting on-guard for the next customer to come in so he or she can assault him or her. No dice—you’d get a lot more business if you just let people come in and didn’t throw them a whole birthday party with every fucking entrance, or maybe it’s just me, I don’t know.
Despite all these things I’m saying here I love Siargao. I really do. I will come back unless I die in Japan. It’s a simple place, it’s cheap, it’s beautiful, I will find a quiet part, I know.
The other thing about withdrawing from adderall is the food. The hunger. The endless ravenous quest for food, more food, shut the fuck up tranny stop singing, I will not complete one sentence today without interruption, thanks lack of adderall, yes I’ve been taking adderall every single day for the past entire year and now here I am not taking it and here’s what it looks like in writing. Adderall keeps my head screwed on straight and now that I’m no longer on it my head is screwed on gay, I am lead astray by every passing thought like a dog, regrettably I am going to have to leave this cafe and go to another cafe where i’ll be seated outside because the sound of this faggot’s squawking voice is impossible to vanquish from the palace of my mind. Goodbye.
One more thing. One of the waitresses has her back turned to me from outside through the window, her hands are on her head and she’s rocking her ass in that circular motion only filipino girls are able to do. Oh it hurts. Must have sex soon. Can’t pretend to enjoy the social games you have to play to get there. Business as usual.
December 5th
Siargao is the best place in the Philippines and it’s not close. I see why so many people come here and never leave. If only I wasn’t so god damn alone.
December 5th, again
I can’t do it. I can’t stop working. You hear those stories about those guys who go on vacation and they can’t stop taking calls, reading emails, they can’t stop working, you feel bad for these guys, but I get it. When you know what you want it’s so hard to stop chasing it. I only find joy, occasional joy, though less and less so over time, in making something good here on the screen in these words. I know this will read psychotic to my future self. But I gotta put it down.
It’s 10:30. Another peaceful day in Siargao. I woke up 7:30 feeling the sticky massage oil all over my body from my outcall last night. Her name was Meme. Not pronounced “Meem” but “Mimi” — I’m going to refer to her as Mimi so my future self reading this can stay immersed and not think LOL MEME every five seconds.
Mimi was difficult. She wouldn’t jerk me off. It was a shame. It was Friday night. I was driving around on my motorbike through this cute little island looking for anything to entertain me, satisfy my need for dopamine left by the lack of adderall in my brain, I had just had dinner alone on the beach, another mediocre pizza, reading Hemingway, up on this treetop, yes I had just done that and then I got some boba at some shack on the side of the road and I asked the guy in the shack: is that massage any good across the way? There was a hut. Some women, not girls women, in a hut with a fan and a menu for massages. He said “I dono. But I see many tourist go in there.” I said thank you and went to check it out, which I was going to do anyway because I need women touching me all the time but I have too much autism to cold approach strangers.
I went to the place. Old fat bitch was a kind of filipino mamasan. 30 minutes? 1 hour?
Uhmm… uh, there was a slightly older more brutish short woman and a younger less brutish more cute insectoid brown girl too. The first one was maybe 43 and the second one was maybe 26. Then again I have no idea how old any of these people are, it’s a different country, but obviously I wanted the younger one. I pointed at her. Can I have you? Everyone stopped and the girl blushed looking up at me. I’m just 26 myself. I got the sense it was not the standard fare to ask for the specific girl at this place, because it shouldn’t matter, because it’s a real professional joint, Siargao is for surfers and asian families, not for gringo sex pests, that’s all the other islands of the Philippines. I’m so horny these days I don’t even care. So, you? Everyone stops for a second and says no... There’s another man who materialized beside her. I notice him. I say Oh she busy? They all say yes. Big fat lady says Go inside sir. I say ok and shuffle inside.
Extremely standard 30 minutes full body massage with oil from short slightly below average looking 40 year old Filipino. The girl I want(ed) is next door through some sheets that do not work well to soundproof anything. I hear her talk to the man who got her, older Filipino guy who clearly wants to fuck, I get to hear his whole life story and some of hers because when you want to fuck you ask the girl questions like: You married? You have kids? How old you? She kind-of answers, he really answers: he works in Manila as a “project manager,” he loves her soft hands and I get jealous annoyed & kind of sad cause it sounds like she might be jerking him off… I can’t tell. It should be me.
My standard boring massage ends. Old lady leaves me there for a very long time, I half-think they’re intentionally keeping me hostage so that when Mimi finishes with that man they’ll give her to me, cause I said I wanted her, and the filipinos love to give the white man what he wants. Nope. Eventually after literally 20 minutes of silence she comes back— you done? Yes I’m done. I ask do you do outcall? Yes. I say what is your name? She says DING DING. I Lol. I ask what is her name? She is like what.. um.. her name Mimi. I say OK. I will call. Thank you. Bye.
Massage with no happy ending is like dinner with no dessert. Most people can tolerate it, but not me. I’m an addicted little baby who needs dessert every single time.
So I Scoot on home, through the dark windy perfect island roads, make that turn into this narrow little half-paved pathway leading up to my penthouse airbnb. This road is dangerous and my parents would have a fit if they knew I was driving up here on a motorbike in the dark with no helmet every night. It’s steep, really steep, slippery, narrow, just everything you do not want in a road on a motorbike, but I’m confident so I drive up and make it up every time and so do a lot of other people I’m sure.
So i get back to my place. It’s a big square house at the top of the hill with a very nice view. I got it at a discount because Starlink wasn’t working. Hey that’s better for me actually… I hate the internet. That’s a good impediment to have. So I’m back there, I shower and call the massage hut place on the side of the road I just patronized 20 minutes ago. I say can I get Mimi for outcall? Now? They say yes Sir, what kind of Massage. I say Uh Swedish? They say yes sir, she is on her way. It’s that easy? You just simply summon them and they come to your place? Can I fuck her too? I know the answer’s no and I’m not drunk enough to try that on my own. By the time I finish my shower she’s already there. At the bottom of the hill, seated atop her own motorbike using her phone.
She’s pretty hot. This pretty-hotness is bolstered by the sight of her seated atop the motorbike, the curvature of the steed always exacerbates the shape of these girls’ bodies, it has been killing me everywhere I’ve gone these past few weeks, I’ll be riding on and a girl passes me, or a guy with a girl strapped behind, I nearly crash appreciating her god given form, it hurts. So I see Mimi and oh gosh okay lets go up the hill. It’s treacherous for me but I’m sure she’s been riding this thing since birth so she gets up there no problem just fine.
She follows me into the place. Nobody’s there. Big huge wide open living room, eerily quiet. She speaks and hears her own voice echo and it scares her, she smiles, I smile. We head into my room. She wants the lights on, which is a bad sign.
She gets to work. No music, dead silence, she gets to work. It’s a slightly better massage than before. I’m mostly face down so I can’t appreciate the fact that she’s hot. She does the standard thing.
Almost a full hour passes. Eventually she tells me to flip. So I’m on my back finally getting to look at her. Finally for some reason talking to her. I tell her I was jealous of that other guy who got you, earlier, and she said she wanted me too. Oh. She’s now on the bed, or at least one knee on the bed, doing hard work on my thighs. One leg at a time, it’s a huge king sized bed so she can’t do both at once, she needs to walk back and forth on each side. She’s rubbing my thighs with both her soft little hands and oh fuck I’m finally getting hard. ohhh it hurts, ohhh please touch my dick, i don’t say this with words but the little sounds I make, the winces the moans the struggle in my lower facial muscles, I’m trying to say please touch my fucking dick Mimi, but she doesn’t do it. There’s a soft special blanket over my crotch at all times, I don’t know if she even noticed my erection aaaaaaagh,,,,,,,,,,,
She finishes with a head massage. Wrong head. Scalp. It feels great but there’s somethign else that would feel much greater. I ask do you do anything else? She says, knowingly, no, only massage sir… I curse this gay nigger world. here we are in my bedroom in dead silence and i’m willing to give you 3,000 pesos, which amounts to a small fortune in your impoverished lands, to simply just plunge cum out of my dick it would take what 2 minutes? 1:30 if you’re good… but she won’t do it. I say you don’t do happy ending? She says no sir… I say Sigh. I say OK that’s good thank you. I say what is the total. She says 1 2 hundred. 1,200 pesos. maybe $22 USD. Still 1/5th of what this would cost in America. it’s Friday night and I could’ve gone out but instead I did this. I wish meme had let me touch her. if I was drunk I would’ve done it. Sigh. I should try surfing today.
She just leaves. I give her 1200 and she just leaves. She says call me if you want massage again sir, any time. I say OK but I know I wont because I need to cum. CUM!!!! I need to find a girl who will make me cum, that’s it. Not just any girl, a cute hot girl, I will pay I don’t care, I need to find a girl. Or not. I’m supposed to be on vacation.
December 6th
This morning I drove around on the motorbike with my noise canceling headphones on listening to Kanye. Shades on, headphones on, fuck da helmet, I know what i’m doing, I drove right past some cops seated on the side of the road and they just smiled and waved. I don’t know what they’re looking for but it’s not me.
I went to “Secret Beach.” It’s so pretty and no one’s there. I swam around pointlessly.
I rode around looking for another cafe where I could charge my headphones and do some typing, because I am addicted. Addicted, I want nothing else but to type words. I think I’ll go to Cloud 9 today, rent a surfboard, and get in the ocean.
December 6th
No adderall means always hungry. Even just after finishing a meal I am hungry. When is the next meal. More food. Dessert. Where will I go for dinner. At least I have dinner to look forward to. After dinner I’m looking forward to breakfast. It’s 11 now—is that too early for lunch? The lust for food is greater than the lust for sex… the sexual urge is at least tempered by the fact that sometimes I am away from women, so that I can forget about them, but with food it is ever-present, I get how obese niggers like my beloved Patrice Oneal ate and fucked themselves to death, this longing just never ever ends.
I am fattening myself up for Japan. I need to go into Himbo mode. The woman who is shipping me out is ~30 and I don’t know what she looks like. I hope we like each other, I really really do, I want to use her for her money but also give her love… I don’t just want to use her for money, I want to use her money to stop performing for the internet and letting the algorithms decide what I share. I will decide what I share. I can only do that if money is no longer an issue.
It’s 3:34 PM. I’m back in my room at the top of the hill. The cleaning lady came in and cleaned because there was oil all over the sheets and they live to serve me.
I will not check my bank account. I will instead read/rest for the next hour or two, until it’s time to go out, get dinner, have a drink or three, and talk to the other humans of Siargao. Let the night take me wherever it will. I’d really like to shave the pubes off my face but I think I left my razor back in Cebu, or maybe it was Dumaguete, because I’m retarded.
I read the Hemingway thing, just him gossiping about his week with Fitzgerald, and it was funny/interesting. Fitzgerald was a primadonna manchild just like me. I can’t send out this message, because I don’t have wifi up here. It’s probably for the best.
December 6th
I should write of Elaiza. But there was nothing that exciting, interesting about our night. The sex was un-notable. She was un-notable.
I was nervous and then I drank and then I wasn’t and then I fucked her in my airbnb. The end.
We first fucked in the shower. Face to face, standing up, no clue how, maybe that’s just some 5’7 shit, it was hot.
She said “lets go” or something, deep under her breath, which is probably what she says when she decides she’s going to let a guy fuck her with no condom who she just met three hours ago. Luckily for me on this night this guy was me.
I came too fast. It was embarassing. She seemed intent on getting on top, which is usually not how it goes, but she went for it and I just let it happen. I let her do her thing and get in her zone and elicit these weak little moans from herself before she seemed done with that and mentally I went OK my turn~and grabbed her pelvic bones and pulled her down into me so that I was fucking her from below. This, unfortunately, is very hot and a lot of girls don’t seem to be ready for it. In this situation neither was I.
Due to the lack of adderall in my body this week I lost focus in what I was doing and submitted to the feeling of her third world brown island girl pussy attacking me from above and within maybe 4 minutes post-penetration my story was done. I removed myself from inside her right at the very last moment before eruption. She was a bit confused until she saw what was happening and then she just nodded. I hit her with the tight-lipped smile white people hit you with when you pass by them on the street. You know the one: :| She said why you look at me that way? I said… ‘cause I didn’t last very long. She said It’s OK. I think girls take this as a compliment more often than not.
I didn’t think we’d get that far. When she first arrived at the sushi restaurant, Nami, the look she gave me communicated: Oh, he’s not that attractive, whatever, I don’t care, free meal, not going to fuck, just gotta get through this date, Next. I took that as a challenge. I actually felt that too, throughout the first 20, 30 minutes we spent together. From the tone of her voice and the way she didn’t ask me anything about myself and the general lack of eye contact I thought: yeah she is not attracted to whatever I happen to be today and we’re not going to fuck and that’s fine, the night is young, so young, it’s only 6 and we can just go our separate ways and then I can get more drunk and find another partner. BUT THEN I had an alcoholic beverage… which completely changes me as a person and so slowly the pieces all fell into place.
December 7th
Felt like such a faggot ordering this and taking it to my table but I’ve lost control of my life. 320 Pesos. Like, 7 USD. I’m just guessing now. Spending money. Just all I’m doing is spending money:
Got a haircut by the beach. I saw a barbershop across the street. Walk in. Get an incredible cut. He does a perfect job, with no direction, I look sexy, it’s not too short, he’s very nice, he shaves the fuck out of my face more closely than it has ever been done, I want him on my face every week, what the hell he used like 10 different tools, my chin right now is smooth as a baby’s bottom… it was a 10/10 experience. Anyways, 300 Pesos. So like 7, 8 dollars.
Buy questionable sunscreen across the street. 80 pesos because fuck you tourist.
Head to beach. 100 pesos entry. Again because fuck you tourist. Swat off brown people asking me if I want to surf. I do, but I don’t want to be coaxed into it, sold to, I want to come to it myself.
At beach. Finally try “beach club” thing. Outdoor bar/patio/cold tub/peace and quiet until they start blasting loud rasta niggertunes. But for the first, ~40 mins I’m there it’s nice. I get a scrumptious platter of seasoned potatoes and a chicken sandwich. Eat it by the pool watching the waves reading Gatsby on my Kindle. Tourist life. 680 Pesos. So like 12, 13 USD.
See people surfing, hey I wanna surf, how much to rent a surfboard. 200 pesos only sir. So like 4, USD. OK. Give him my stuff go try to surf, epically fail because it’s a hard short board and not a soft long one. I thought I knew how to do this but only with a long soft one, damn, I just flailed around sadly feeling like the gay loser loner in middle school really far away from all the people who knew how to surf and there was this one east asian girl up with her black hair in a bun and i wanted to talk to her but i didn’t—she probably doesn’t even speak english so waht’s the point, it was nice to be in the water I guess and that’s dopamine but surfing was a bust, still i’m gonna try again tomorrow just with a different board because this is what Siargao is for. But yeah, 200 pesos for that experience.
Almost spent more there on food but got yelled at by some gay filipino boys: COME SWIM WITH US!! COME SWIM WITH US!! HEY SIRRRRR! Go fuck yourself you retarded worthless faggots, I’m standing on the spiky corals it’s killing my feet they hurt so bad and I hope those guys in the moments following my departure immediately contracted cholera and died. This wasn’t money it was just a thing that happened.
Exited beach. Saw another convenience store, bought a bottleawater cause I was thirsty and some kitkats because I was sad, because of the gay filipino boys and my inability to surf. Like 140 pesos for that.
Drive back to place, motorbike ride feels good, play Creep by radiohead in noise canceling headphones instead of helmet, fuck a helmet I actually hope I crash and hit my head and become concussed/retarded/dead, that would be better for the world than what I produce and bring into it now, anyways yes so I drive back to my place, the AC’s off again which is just super, I’ll message the lady who runs the place again, still can’t charge computer, what is wrong with me, girl texting me on tinder but it’s a dead end it’s always a dead end they don’t speak english well enough I miss Hannah I hate you Hannah and now I’m back on the bike wearing different clothes showered on the way to that Japanese restaurant I enjoyed so thoroughly the night before. The night before I was with.. what twas her name… Elaiza, yes we fucked but before that we went to Nami which was a wonderful japanese place, god japanese food is so much better than all other food it’s not even close, they’re an alien race of people, so I went back there alone this time and ordered the same thing + one thing different. Felt like a freak eating at a restaurant alone again but this is what I do, I put good stuff in my mouth, I read more of Gatsby, it delights me, Fitzgerald was a true romantic like myself in this world of senseless barbarians, I am affirmed, read and eat and try not to stare at asian mens’ girlfriends and get the check and pay, what, i’m gonna say 650 pesos for the meal and GTFO of there back on the road for one last date with myself— TomTom’s Cafe, because I saw on the way in they had a three pronged outlet, so I can charge my computer, so I can download a movie, so I can get back to the airbnb and I can put on a movie for myself to watch all by myself completely alone. Watching movies alone is better than watching movies with the vast vast vast majority of people. Because with most people I’m just watching them watch the movie. When I’m watching a movie with someone and they go on their phone I think I may as well be dead. What will I watch. Something Christmas-y, it’s time to get in the mood. I am so bad at enjoying vacation.
Daily total expenditure… 3070 pesos. So like 60 USD. That’s not so bad.
December 7th
I’m nervous for Japan. I’m nervous Ana won’t like me. I’m nervous the math won’t add up, she’ll see me as a retarded selfish manchild and not as a brilliant artist. She’ll see I have no other options. She’ll feel it. She’ll get sick of chaperoning me through Japan and paying for everything in three hours, we won’t even make it to day 2. She won’t enjoy the sex despite my proficiency—nothing can overcome the circumstances of our relationship.
I’m worried she regrets it already. I’m worried she has no friends and she’s completely alone and it’s because there’s something seriously wrong with her, and not in a humorous way.
I’m worried I won’t like Japan. No one will speak English, I will only have Ana, this will make Ana tired and hate me, and I’ll run into that oh-so-familiar problem: i’m with a girl and what do i do on substack? i write and post about the girls i’m with. so if she’s got big weird pepperoni nipples or something… you know how it goes.
A small part of me is worried it will go well, very well, and I won’t have any problems any more, and so that’s the end of Worst Boyfriend Ever. I just live in San Francisco as this girls’ housepet and that’s it, nothing else, The End. I am always worried about the end.
December 8th
My lunch: a humble coconut. This kind man chopped it up with a machete for me because he saw that I was White.
Went surfing again today. Made sure to lather sunscreen all over my body, but it wasn’t strong enough, or those insect people sold me soap in a bottle that said sunscreen, because that potion had no effect at all. I am paralyzed.
My sunburn is so bad I feel done with Siargao. How could I enjoy any of the islands’ pleasures with this big huge burning rash.
December 10th
Feeling so retarded today.
I go to these restaurants alone and get a table for one and have the same non-conversation with these people every single time. My eyes say don’t talk to me. I just want to consume, read my kindle.
Now I’m in Tom N Tom’s Coffee again, interrupting some kind of party which has consumed the other half of the store. I said are you guys open? Feeling unwelcomed, they directed me to the non-occupied side.
It’s a few girls in their late teens in dresses, a big mama in her own different colored dress, the incessant chatter of this obscure race of people I have gotten such an intimate look at over these past 45 days… yes it has been 45 fucking days here in the Philippines, I hate it so much, I post this envy-porn like yeahhh i’m living the life i’m fucking bitches it all costs nothing but this is not my home… this is not the stove I know… my deepest insecurity is that I show my hand too fast in Japan—I show this girl Ana that what I really want is for her to adopt me as a pet and take me back to live with her in San Francisco, because then I won’t have to be in the Philippines any more. I wonder how much money she really has. She says she has enough to where she doesn’t have to worry but she also said she uses Slack, so how much can it be really? The stuff she draws is good but she does it on the side, she’s not like me, maybe that’s why she admires me, I am very clearly all-in.
She understands: you use these stories about sex to explore intimacy. yes… yes… someone gets it. I also use them to make myself laugh and make money. But they are always sincere. The best ones are the ones that hurt the most. I am an artist, yadda yadda and so on.
The girls at this somewhat formal party which has colonized half this coffee shop seem to be healthy with good figures, like all Filpino girls are. Fat ones do not exist, I think that will be something of a culture shock to me if i ever get back to America.
December 10th
I did something for the first time today, I tried to learn another language. Of my own volition. I’m heading to Japan in 5 days and I don’t know a single phrase. Today in my notebook with limited wifi connection I learned “Please.” —wait no I didn’t because I can’t conjure the word now from memory, sigh fuck my life. Onegaishimas?? Was that it? They all look and sound the same once you separate yourself for an hour. Please remind me, onegaishimas… I got it, it just took a little reach.
What else did I learn. Wakatimasu…? That’s almost a word. I’m trying to say I don’t understand. Wasabimash.. fuck this bullshit language, I haven’t even started with the hiragana yet…
Wakarimasen. I don’t understand. Wakarimasen.
I don’t understand Japanese. Wakarimasen Japanese. Wakari Im Sorry Masen My friend. I’m sorry my friend — Wakarimasen. I don’t understand, Wakarimasen.
This dog’s greeting me in the cafe. Tail wagging lazily. He tries to communicate with me but I don’t understand… Wakarimasen.
The pain of the sunburn is compounding with a different, deeper kind of pain.
I want to live this pain through Gatsby. But it won’t happen because the wifi won’t allow it. I’ll just continue to lay in bed in pain. I can’t even emote at my screen now because the obese girl on her phone across from me feels it, every time, in her animal brain, and she winces, and so her party winces, none of them knowing exactly why they’re wincing but still wincing nonetheless, I can’t be in public and I can’t be alone, I’m starting to come to the conclusion that I shouldn’t be, with a much greater frequency and conviction than I ever did before.
Here’s how I make Worst Boyfriend Ever good again, I fake my own death. Ana is a sociopath like me. She helps me do it. Even my family is not in on this incredibly epic joke. All my closest friends, and all the people who must feel like they’re my closest friends as a result of reading way-too-intimate psychological smut, I crush them all… for artistic purposes.
I can’t do it. Even I am not that committed. The main rub is that it would kill my parents. It would kill my sisters. Okay so just tell them! No. Then it’s not real. Then… they tell their closest friends, M tells A and S tells T, and they tell their closest friends, and the real result of this retarded flopping around lying is that my closest human allies on earth are strained holding the bags of my secrets. Maybe one or two of them will find it fun. The rest will just be constantly strained. People will find them, reach out, ask, did he really die? Really? People who sent me lots of money, people who were not only emotionally invested in my well-being but financially so… they will feel horrible. Why would I do that to people who love me.
Then again, that is exactly what Jesus did. And things seemed to work out pretty well for him.
There is nothing behind my eyes tonight. I hope that getting back on adderall fixes me. I’m just going to deposit stool into the toilet and leave. Check the loud loud bookstore if they have anything in japanese, take it back to my place, retreat, i can’t be in public any more.
December 12th
I’ve been off adderall for almost 10 days now. What a colossal T break. I think I’ll get back on it tomorrow, sort out my thoughts in one big fat blaze of glory 6,000 words long. That should make up for all I didn’t write while I was in Siargao.
To be frank, Siargao has not given me much to write about. I don’t care. I don’t care about this place, really. I don’t care about the people… I care about it like I care about anything. Only in terms of what it can offer me. And it has not offered me much. I like riding the motorbike. I like that I can get around without a map. I like that it’s like Hawaii but cheaper. But I can’t talk to people with accents any longer, it’s not fun, I miss Americans, fuck. I miss talking to people who read my blog, who I actually have something to talk about with, if that makes me insane then so be it I’m a psychopath, I haven’t written for myself in like 4days now since I’ve been sick and that has felt like such an epic betrayal.
The really cute girl in front of me wearing a big yellow t shirt here at Golden Bell cafe is working on some marketing flyer art thing on her computer in front of me, I can see. See if I had a ton of dopamine in my body I would say oh excuse me miss, what are you doing on your laptop? and she would tell me, because people are like that, and i would say oh I used to work in marketing in the united states, in seattle actually, and that would impress her, people here think i’m at least 30, and she would take what i would say about her project seriously, and i would foster this dependence in her from this little conversation into a different conversation about who she is and what she wants and then i would pretend to be busy, oh i’ve got to —
I’m done with the Philippines. I can’t take it any more I hate this place, i hate it all it’s not worth it, it’s so cheap but you get what you pay for it’s not worth it, I need Ana to like me so that I can live with her in san francisco because i miss america and i hate this fucking place, i just endured diarrhea in a tiny filipino toilet that doesn’t flush and there’s no fucking toilet paper and there’s no bidet and so i’m in there with this wood door that’s barely closed held together by a piece of fucking wire i had to wrap around the knob myself,
… i hate the philippines, i’m done i never want to experience any of this shit ever again i got it, i’m good, japan sure korea sure china maybe europe definitely but southeast asia, FUCK YOU it is so not worth it.
now there’s a european couple in the cafe in my periphery and they’re not interested in each other so i can feel their periphery attention both being on me. sniffling, restless legs, can’t i go a single minute in this gay alien world without being raped by some less sensitive apes? oy vey, i need to get practical , i’ve got an inter-island flight to get on in a few hours, and then another one, and then one last flight to japan monday, and i have no fucking money and i’m not ready at all. maybe taking adderall tomorrow will make it all make sense.
WHAT MUST I DO
1. Book a shuttle from Gen Luma (1:15) to airport (2:00)
2. Drive back to airbnb. Return the bike. Get your license
3. Pack up, charge laptop, no need to download movies you’ll be at an airport with wifi and outlets
4. Check out, leave cash in room
5. Take shuttle to airport get on plane
6. Cebu
7. Repeat, Manila
8. Now it’s Saturday night in Manila. Make something of it or don’t.
9. (you should probably fix the phone thing if you can)
10. Now it’s Sunday in Manila. You have no pants for Japan. Or shoes, really.
11. Now it’s Monday in Manila. You get to the airport and you get to Japan and from there Jesus takes the fucking wheel.
I was at the airport withdrawing from adderall for the 11th day in a row when a man started bouncing his leg in my peripheral vision, so i pulled out a pistol from my jansport and shot him in the face so he wouldn’t be bouncing his leg anymore . theres a girl close enough to my phone screen to read these words, hopefully she does read them and signals to the siargao airport security officers that this guy (me) is no bueno very no bueno so that they come take me out so i can just go to jail already and stop worrying about what i have to write on substack.com to stay alive
December 13th
Pain, pain, pain, pain, pain, and more pain. That’s what’s been up with me this week. I’m in the Cebu Airport. I don’t have much time. I was so cold so I found a corner in a cafe that’s at least less blistering cold than the rest of the airport, I’m wearing a t shirt and skimpy shorts and my body temp has decided to plummet again today for reasons I do not understand, maybe relating to having eaten a whole big bag of gummy strawberry sugar clusters, and now the backspace is finally croaking on my new laptop i bought like a month ago, and now i have like $400 USD and i look like an ugly dying holocaust victim mental patient, i am in no shape at all to meet the girl who I NEED NEED NEED to woo to get to the next stage of my life. Why does God test me like this? I can’t let Ana see me and lose all attraction instantly just like that last girl I thought would be something different. I know she’s expecting me to be handsome, I’m worst boyfriend ever, these stories don’t make sense unless I’m handsome, and they’re all true right, and if you’re not even handsome… what are you then? just manipulative? no, I am, I swear, it’s just sometimes life kicks me in the ass with food poisoning and the elements and this weird random fatigue i can say i have never felt before, i am not sick with mucus sick with a cough it is a full body weakness, malaise, i can’t tell if my keyboard has been damaged since i last used it or i’m just impaired, it sure is a lot harder to type now than it was earlier today, i need a jacket i need a coat i need shoes that are wide enough for my toes i need a doctor, i need a doctor, he wouldn’t speak english, engrish, he would ask are you sick? you have cold? you have flu? no? you OK. take medicine. that’s what the last group of brown people told me to do, fuck i really really really really hope i start feeling better tomorrow, if i see ana like this any spark between us will be dead on arrival, she will regret this whole thing after all.
Getting really sick just as I get down near $0 again in another country completely alone
i’ve won these before i swear
December 14th
I Can Do This
I Can Do This
I Can Do This
I Can Do This
I Can Do This
I Can Do THis
I Can Do This
I Can Do This
I can do this I can do this I can do this I can do this I can do this I can do this I can do this I can do this I can do this I can do this I can do this I can do this I can do this I can do this I can do this I can do this I can do this I can do this icandothisicandothisicandothisicanicaniacai I CAN DO THIS!!!!!!!
I CAN DO THIS!
December 15th
Good News
Good news: I’m on a flight to Japan
Good news: I didn’t miss the flight
Good news: I got my adderall on the flight
Good news: I’m next to a friendly white guy my age and I started a conversation
Good news: there was no one in the window seat so I took it
Good news: the sickness has subsided
Good news: there’s no wifi on the flight so I have to write something
Good news: spotify saved a ton of songs for offline listening
Good news: this flight is the perfect temperature
Good news: my sickness is finally subsiding
Good news: I bought some comfy clothes from Uniqlo last night
Good news: Angel took most of my drugs for me to retrieve when I get back
Good news: my bag isn’t that heavy
Good news: I didn’t drink coffee today and I feel fine
Good news: everything’s going to be okay
Good news: my seat is comfy and it goes back
Good news: Ena/Ana is going to love me. She’s going to love me because I am Good. That’s why they let me cut everyone at the airport all those times. Because everyone can tell that I am Good.
I thought I was the only one who hits the tight lip smile after a premature bust, what else is a wigga supposed to do in that moment
Nigga acting like he didn’t get a handjob from a tranny