Thursday, March 18

I woke up at 5:00am—meditated, showered, etc.

I've been emailing with Davis, who let me know that Ross McKeen passed away yesterday. Oh, Ross. Ross was the Managing Director at OCT for most of the time I worked there. He was so funny, so smart, so observant—the best person to get a drink with or have a chat with since he noticed everything in his wry, thoughtful way. He was also a great leader—he treated everyone well, advocated for us, always had our backs. He was also supportive of my creative work—he proofread my RACC grant for me, arranged for OCT to donate studio space for my rehearsals, and came to the staged readings I did over the years. He had the best taste in books, and I always looked forward to his annual post about the (many, many!) books he'd read that year. He was such a wonderful, warm, brilliant person, and I am so sorry for his wife, Robin. 

Photo of Ross, taken by Rebekah Johnson

I don't know what today's blog will be like. Or what today will be like. We'll just have to see.

I had breakfast sometime after 7:00am:

Roman and I brought a few packets of Justin's nut butter, and I was planning on having it with toast, but I just wasn't feeling very hungry, so I skipped it. Had some toast and tea and fruit—nice that they actually brought the whole wheat toast this time.

After eating, I texted my mom and Roman to let them know about Ross, read some of the posts about him on Facebook, wrote the above about him, and wrote a FB message to Robin.

I watched the street below from my balcony for a while—for the first time, I saw several biggish (and well-fed) dogs, wandering around the parking lot behind the restaurants, scrounging for food. I watched people ride motorcycles up to the 7-11 parking lot, and watched a construction worker get food from the sole street food cart. I wish I could see what the woman is preparing—maybe some kind of grilled meat?—but it's just a little too far away.

I also watched a hotel worker in a mask and hospital gown cleaning off the sliding glass doors of one of the hotel rooms on the opposite tower. That room housed one of the few guests on that side—at night, there are few (if any) lights on in any of the rooms. Also, the person across the hall from me just left—this morning their room was wide open, just-cleaned. Comings and goings (mostly goings) at the Maple Hotel.

Sybylla pointed out—brilliantly!—that you can download stuff on Netflix (which does let me use my vpn, meaning I have access to the US site/films) so I started downloading some shows for the evening.

I read, I messed around on my phone, I did a long yoga class.

Lunch was pork stir-fried with black pepper—not bad. Nice ripe papaya.

I felt kind of sedate after lunch. Looked down from my balcony for a while, meditated, took a second shower, read and watched dumb videos on YouTube.

Dinner was pad thai with chicken (it's supposed to be served with shrimp but apparently seafood deliveries have been complicated by Covid. Except, it just occured to me, you'd think Thailand would have plenty of access to local seafood? No matter.).

It was definitely one of the best meals I've had here—especially after I added the packets of fish sauce, pickled chilies, and chili powder. Am I going to become one of those foreigners who comes to Thailand and eats pad thai every day? Maybe.

After dinner, I hung out on the balcony for a while. I have become really fond of my view, but that is one smoggy skyline.

Ah, well. Goodnight, Bangkok.