Bobbing Head Eric and The Dragon Lady, boy he had bad breath and she needed her teeth cleaned, and they weren’t the only ones wanting something from me.
Jodric the Clown kept himself active in the background, monitoring the web for any unusual movements. He was waiting for a tasty treat. He had loads of time on his hands. ‘I always suck the victim dry and spit them out. I always say if it’s too good to be true, then it usually is.’
I really need to find the plot outlined by Jodric of my epic The Gropamine Diaries.
It was supposed to be Duromine, but Jodric changed it to Gropamine, making out it was a big editorial achievement to replace Duromine to Gropamine, '250 times.' I suppose it was if you didn’t know how to use find and replace.
Gartland, Jodric, same guy. I guess by sending his bullshit on his Jodric account, it didn’t make him feel so bad at being a professional hustler.
Lawrence Osborne, in Bangkok Daze, does a wonderful little exposure on the conmen of Bangkok.
It’s really not that unique. I use to be one myself. But I stopped those games soon after I was cemented up and thrown in a dirty klong. It taught me a lesson, study Houdini footage and always have an escape plan. A ticket out of the Kingdom helped. I was safe. Just.
The Poet lived in a world of make-believe.
Didn’t we all?
He longed for crack whores.
Once upon a time, he was a somebody.
He was in demand.
He was taken seriously.
He was courted by the international correspondents.
John Gartland was going to show those other teachers who he really was.
‘If they didn’t get my vitriol in my crack head novel, they’ll get it now when they see The Bangkok Post and The Nation lauding me as South East Asian’s best writer.’
Delusion after delusion was his specialty.
(I've almost got my $500 buck's worth, then I'll work off the other $5000 he owes me.)
