The Pavilion of Mirrors VOL. 3

Davi dGot l i ebi sal waysonami ssi on.

Hei st or t ur edbyf al seorr ealmemor i esofbei ngabusedby

sel f st yl edcount er cul t ur eact i vi st s,Vi et nam Vet sandnewagehi ppi esashegr ewup.Af t ert hebr eakupofhi s f i r stmar r i ageaf t eronl yayearandhal f ,hel osesal lhi spossessi ons,hi ski ds,heevent ual l yvent ur es,unwi t t i ngl y , onasext our i stspr eeofThai l and.Pander edasamai lor dermar r i agedeali nal ocalnewspaperandt he cat har si st obr okendr eams.Onar r i vali nSout hEastAsi a( SEA)i nst eadofpl ayi ngvi ol i nwi t ht her est ,he devel opsahar dcor epenchantf orki nkysex,r evengescr ewi nggi r l swi t hl ongsl i nkybl ackhai ri nf ul lpur vi ewof t hei rf ami l y ,husbands,l ocalboyf r i endsandcommuni t y .Het hi nkst hi si st hedonet hi ng,sol osti shei nhi sown f ear s.Remuner at i nghi s‘ wat cher s’handsomel yhecont i nuest oveerof fonat angentt hathashi m vi ewi ngt he ent i r ecul t ur eandr el i gi onasaconspi r acyaboutscr ewi ngandpayi ngf ori t .Anyt hi nggoesasl ongast hegi r li s 18+andet hni c.At ypi calcat egor ymi st ake?

Fur t herunhi ngedf r om hi sdr i nki ng,dr ugandsexualexcesses,her et ur nst ohomet ownAmer i cawher ehef eel s deepr emor se.Unset t l ed,hechoosest oat onef orhi si ndi scr et i onsbygi vi nguponr eal ,‘ l i ve’ r el at i onshi ps, pr ef er r i ngi nst eadt ouseaphone.Tot hi shebui l dsanunheal t hyt r i par t i t ewhi chi ncl udesanI nt er net ,avacuum cl eanerwi t hdi l doat t achment s,andheadphonewi t hmout hpi ece. .Theybecomet he‘ wi f e’ hewassocr uel l y deni edonhi sl ast ,ver yl ast ,SEAt r i p.Hevent ur esf ur t heri nt ot her eal msofAmer i can‘ cuckhol d’ and‘ moneypi g’ eggedonbyadomi nantAmer i canAsi anwomanphonesexpr ovi der–Pr i ncessLU.Hi sl i f ehi t saj unct ur ewhen, backondut y ,andaspar tofhi set hni ccommuni t ysensi t i vi t yt r ai ni ng,hei spai r edwi t hanAmer i canVi et namese par t ner .Thet wooft hem ar er eal l yusel essof f i cer sandgetsuspendedaf t erl et t i ngasuspectl oosewhi l eon Cour tdut y .Dur i ngt hi st i me,heget st omeethi spar t ner ’ sat t r act i vewi f eandt heneedf orar eal ,l i vi ng,woman ent er st hear enaandcar eer st hr oughhi spsyche.Whi l eonsi ckl eave,ponder i nghi sunbear abl el onel i nessand l ackofdi r ect i oni nl i f e,andhi smount i ngphonebi l l s,andt hati ncessantbackgr oundofvacuum noi se,hehasa chancemeet i ngwi t ht hosewor ki ngi nt hef i el dofant i t r af f i cki ngofwomenandchi l dr eni nCambodi a…

“ We,manorwoman,ar eal lDavi dGot l i ebwhenhescr eamsatt hegr eatneongogobarsi gnf ort hem t ocome and“ getsome’ t hathei savai l abl e,hei soutt her e,andhei sr i ghtupf ori t ,t heexpect at i onofbei ng,andi ti sa pr operonei nt hatl ocat i on,i st hatt heyar easupf ori taswel l .Theymi r r orhi sent husi asm i nhi smi nd’ seye,and hei snotahungf aceoft het hi r dni ghthungover‘ t hi si sani r r eal i t y; ’ br i gade,nori sheavacuum cl eaner mast ur bat oranymor e.Hei sf ort het i mebei ng‘ f r ee’ orsohet hi nks.Wear eal lDavi dGot l i eb,peopl e.He,me andyouar eal lpi nbal l si nGer shang’ svastmachi ne,andIf oronel ovepl ayi ng‘ hi m’ . ”SeanAqauamando, Edi t or i nchi ef ,CUl t ur ez

W.H. Wong and Myiad

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors The poetic economy of repression, sex, love and relationships in a multicultural global society.

Edited by Derek William Nicoll

Volume III – Gotlieb [Gotty] – Police Officer‐in‐Charge

Dr Winslow Harris Wong MD, PhD, MRE. is a licensed psychotherapist based in San Francisco’s Bay Area. He also runs an office and clinics in Bangkok and Pattaya, Thailand and travels extensively in the South East Asian region. A Rogerian therapist and practitioner of Eriksonian Hypnotherapy, his speciality is trans-cultural relationships. Dr. Wong handles a broad church of clients which include the US military, various US and European Embassies and international organisations working in the public and private sectors. He is widely published in this field with over 345 refereed articles in international journals. He was also the writer of the networked programme ‘South East Asia: Where they find an alternate reality’ broadcast on television networks worldwide, and he is the author of the self-help book Why me – the roadmap of sensuality and travel? Published in 2003 and translated into 26 languages and a No.1 best-seller in Italy and Russia. This is his first venture into literature.

Myiad is a Greco-Romanesque would be pretend warrior-homosexual. He is cast in a Macedonian or Spartan tradition and terrorises online whoremonging forums with his monolithic ludicrous and persistent fantasy. This is that he is ‘back-packing’ vanquished male foes on a forgotten beach located under the midnight moon on the Aegean (was it Rimini?). In the aftermath of such delusory victories he drinks excessively from rancid goatskin wine sacs, and ravishes opposing kings, and heads of state, and opposing religious factions. While he does so he lends free reign to the very old and dilapidated and the overly young warrior-homo breed to scavenge assholes from the bleeding dead and dying scattered wantonly on his battlefields. He imagines this, all of this, while he picks up and consumes prostitution services in South East Asian bars and bordellos and whilst mashing little blue triangular pills under his tongue by the bucket loads.

Derek William Nicoll carries a Ph.D. in Psychology and Science and Technology Studies from the University of Edinburgh. A former Founder/Editor of itvnews.com an online magazine dedicated to highlighting advances in domestic mediatechnology, he is a consultant and educator with a deep interest in technology transfer in the region. He is an art critic and writes for several online publications. He has published articles in online journal including CTheory, CultureMachine and Cultronix, and Convergence.

Published in the United Kingdom and The Kingdom of Cambodia in 2007 by 24hourworld Associates 4 8 15 16 23 42 Copyright © 24hourworld 2007 The right of 24hourworld to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988 This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.

First Edition by 24hourworld Associates part of a limited number of first print run editions of which this is number ________ A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Papers used by 24hourworld Associates are natural, recyclable products made from wood grown in sustainable forests. The manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.

Printed and bound in the Kingdom of Cambodia.

ISBN 07493 0503 7

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors Volume 3 Gotlieb [Gotty] Police officer-in-charge

Foreword to the first edition, the third volume MYIAD I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world Life in plastic, it's fantastic!

You can brush my hair; undress me everywhere Imagination, life is your creation1

David Gotleib, wow what a case! - failed police officer and failed father, a sociopath in the making, has finally come across, purely by accident a web site. It’s replete with clowns and red noses and depicts the Edinburgh International Arts Festival. Nothing whatsoever to do with where he is in life, nor even why he is browsing and researching today, he’s browsing for fun. Red nose goes on, the guise is set. He doesn’t know it at all, but he is already on a mission. He has already embarked, and it was mapped out long ago, all he has to do is breathe and move, breathe and move, he doesn’t even need to think or compute, it’s all being done for him. You can do anything at all, but you can’t do ‘anything’. No man, after

1

‘Barbie Girl', Aquarium LP, MCA 1997, heard in a Thai go-go bar in Chiang Rai, 1998

all is an island, no matter how they try, and if they are an open system why makes communication, and behaviour ad hoc, arbitrary and random? No it leads from somewhere, it all leads to somewhere. He has already delved into the rabbit hole. In his world right now he would believe anything as he always did. He could only navigate according to default, and to default his counterculture parents meant strange confluences in the mapping out and performance of his life. He was always open to psychic attack but with no training to be an officer, how could he do his job right - especially as a stickler for details and rules and codes. He is bright, intelligent but gullible, a strange and powerful mix. He is secretly, unconsciously searching out a different life, a different David, one that would make the public self meet the hidden self, the dark one fostered by high-impact masturbation and too many internal thoughts. He believes in this. He is sick of the one he is, and like how it says in the Tao Te Ching – when you sick of being sick you cease to be sick.

He clicks a few links and imagines himself as an arts buff, not an image that fits. ‘Pointless crap’ scoffs David to himself, in his head; ‘residual hippy shit, going nowhere’.

Red noses. Nose on, he clicks on the ‘personal’ column tacitly looking for kicks. “These people wouldn’t even think, dream about screwing, sure as fuck not the way I do.” The messages seem to be about people meeting.

Simple innocuous stuff, accommodation offerings and desires, there are some advertisements for puerile shows

on during the festival, it’s a veritable Criag’s List gone wrong for David until he notices one message: “A pair of well-hung black dudes now available for calling. Bored housewives who have had too much culture that it hurts, very welcome. Can accommodate or will visit.”

Is this art questioned David - some weird indirect form of upsetting people by being provocative? Or were there really functional men of colour ready to service on demand? Did they have afros? It’s upbeat and chirpy.

Were they around the arts only to screw or take in some shows and screw on their downtime? Was there really, a stratus of audience, which were indeed ‘bored’ housewives, which away from family, career and friends would take up this offer, just like female sex tourists do in the Caribbean or Ghana? Nose off, David became livid… and alone, intensely alone. He was not available for visiting, not at all, he had no-one to visit - “why is the world so complicated?” His life was simple. He had nobody to team up with. No fun-loving friend to compare notes with, just his career… going nowhere. Nowhere since he was on medical suspension. When he read this he felt disempowered, not part of the plot nor action, when he needed change of state. That is, from ‘on’ to ‘off’ duty he phoned princess Lu, ate more than his share of Semenextra, injected testosterone, with help from manmade devices.

Political power, personal power, power to effect change of any sort in concordance with will or simply casual

interest, including short-term fickle, self-interest. What is ‘power’ over ‘another’? What of ‘power’ over oneself? Is this relevant, important anymore? Can this be the route to ‘power’ over ‘another’? Or is it just its illusion? Power over self. The lone masturbator has tremendous power flowing through his or her arm, allure over self. Perhaps that is why the Egyptian god Atum created the universe by jerking and jacking. Atum, like David Gotlieb after ‘him’ was the self-begotten creator god, who creates universes through masturbation – seeing as they were’ are, totally alone, eligible singletons. The notion of ‘judge not lest ye be judged’ and ‘treat others as you yourself would be treated’ are the fundament of any notion of ubiquitous ‘human rights’ and any constructive notion of ‘the social’.

Reciprocity is practically all we have to learn with, and certainly all we have to love with, in the end. But if we lie and deceive and would have others lie to us we are in a hall of mirrors, within a pavilion of mirrors within a pavilion of mirrors. We are in the fish tank looking out into our own kaleidoscopic reflections, we are watching the movie in which we are the bit part players acting the part they are making a movie. Those whom may be killed off in the first piece of action so the hero; the ‘star’ projects. So it is seen as rightful that they command so much attention.

The author, the script writer who performs uncovery on the plot, is a self-proclaimed static. The scene and actors, the plot, represents the Budda’s notion of ‘all is change’.

The very notion of ‘having a life’ surely hints of infinities of scripts and organisation. It means organisation and correlation around a ‘self’, via a self, a self that exists

floating amidst the flux, the sounds and sands of time and change, and the balance between self and other, self and the social.

It means this self, this identity, coping with rules, promises (false and otherwise) and proclamations coming from that world without, from others in a position of power, power to inform, preach, teach and enforce.

You, individually, decree, mandate, proclaim, travel, advance in your life, using self as vehicle to navigate your permissions. You advanced masked the inner self that nobody sees; it projects like nobody should, lest you upset him or her with the socially unacceptable. You never see your inner or outer self, not ever, no mirror is powerful enough to reproduce the image, like a TV image, interfered with, poorly received, but which holds the power to showcase the entire universe, the entire universe beyond that of the astrophysicist. And yet that little old you, however meritous or insignificant, old as the trees, younger than the leaves, corrupt, debauched, innocent as they think, whitewashed, you, you still advance, masked, and shine and rule from within, but you still can’t see past this self which is you in your mind’s eye, the ever present found everywhere ‘self’. It is everywhere, found, discovered in every land, every planet, interfering with what you do and can do in this or any other world, and what you can know about and may affect in this or any other world. You go to Thailand or India or Alaska and its there waiting patiently for something else. May I draw from the wisdom of David Gotlieb:

“I found you… and you... and you found me, you found me in an unexceptional side wheel of a street reeking of sickly sweet, overly ripe and pungent oriental aromas.

Your claim, a pathetic ruse really, was that it was your ‘night off’, but with a visit to your bar, we knew that this was all bull, a hse ‘front’ - there are no ‘nights off’ when its boom-boom. Just a ramshackle bar with orthadox accoutrements - johns and tricks. Ha-ha - in ‘your bar’… under the pink fluorescents we find ourselves, now rearranged, reconfigured as a ‘loving couple’ – how sweet is that?

Inseparable, like twins, the very picture of love devotion and affection, pictures of us under a Christmas tree, our half-caste runt at my knees. Here we are grasping hands, and running fingers through one another like desperate long-losts, staring

wantonly into each other’s eyes, stars, pissholes in the snow, carrying with us lovers’ promises, sweet burdens of the soul, the promise and curse of many honeymoon nights of incomparable public, community and familial display, bound together like a witches brew - your discomfort, dismay, alarm and ultimately, if you fight back, passion. Use your ass to protest your innocence.

My sweet, wow, there will be exacting contests held within your dilapidated and overpopulated excuse of a family home, phew a fucking joke to be sure Darlin’, my very, very own ‘third world shithole’, a fucked-up place for me to sweat and anoint myself with condoms and lubes and maybe the odd buttplug for when I cuff you, and your cockroach ‘asiancritter’ family, wasting your consciousness, time and attention. Fuck all that though, I subscribe to squalor

and its despairing cry for more, much more, infinitely more, monetary help and make-over. And to this notion ‘home’, I carry your small frame over the threshold and loudly announce, in good ol’ clear American English, we ‘were home’. I scream out to neighbours and family members, all those punters that could and would be roused from their slumber for hard cash. You objected, but I needed them desperately. I needed them to be awake, aware of my presence and predicament that is sprightly, attentive really to details right down to the mole on my jacksy, oh yeah then there is the colour, aroma and size of my balls and gapped asshole. Oh come on, smell the beans and get with it, your decrepit hovel is turned into my bowel movements, packed to the gunnels with human and other kinds of god’s detritus. Shit no one wants

anymore, no one cares about, Human trash that occupies dead space and that hasn’t brought dollar back for ages, if ever at all. They eat on someone else’s boom-boom dollar; and see if I were president the pig-bolt would be used liberely. No point in wasting resources.

Your walls with laughable water stains straining to look like A Jackson Pollock gives me extra hardness, they have Jesus heads running through them, the floor stained beyond belief, no doubt through accumulating loads of come shots, and clearly has ‘aunty’ never heard of detergent cleaners like wank booths mop man’s clorex. Sick Asian critter bodies writhing on your floor at 3.30 am, - they litter these floors without due decorum for the V.I.P. in their midst.

Man, so ungrateful, no sense of duty, they exercised no noticeable evidence of hygiene or grooming habits, good grief!

Saints preserve us!!! An old toothless hag coughed objection to be roused, she was hiding behind an excuse for a curtain...

GET HER UP AND WATCHING ME DISROBE!! Oh sweet lord what a venerable Dickensian bag of slack skin, bones and rags, an Aunt perhaps... granny? That salacious old bitch has seen it all, seen the lot and now she can see a little bit more... Her purpose in life is not yet over, she arouses in me strange deep infatuations… obsessions really, and that she should and could observe me in coitus.

How would she view my castigatory exertions? I’ll give my all for her purview, as long as she makes some noises cheering me on. For a fist full of Baht that old scoundrel must be revived and made assiduous at 4 a.m., does she need a smoke of our Yaba pipe? And

yes, indeed yes, she will suck on goodly chicken porridge we bought at the road side vendor while she discompassionately observes, makes mental notes, and makes unintelligible but forceful comment, advice and scathing criticism of my exertions at your backdoor. Tutting and finger wagging is permitted at all times, and it is most welcome when I’m reaching peak.

I obsessed of nothing for days after that much more than that of the excitement, the inherent debauch of your kith and kin, nearest and dearest, in a manner totally foreign and alien to them and me.

This is my equity, this is my mania, I pay dollar for this parade, and I dispense my munificence, and I do so from where I have come from; emerging from my past, I am the first and last, I am my source and destination and the sub-culture that I was brought up in. Fuck you all, as I

have cast asunder this audience of mine in favour of your audience, prick, I place them and situate them in the role of American voyeur - coaches - if you will, to my virile American manhood, my blueblood sexual athleticism and rapture, my girth and length, and my lust for results. You are the fleas and flies to my stave. You all are, you ride its length as I walk magnificent with a monstrous hardon, through 3rd world public and market spaces while looking at exotic foods and curious wares smiling. I strike the fear of death into ethnic women, and laugh as I mock their menfolk, their micropenis and pixie balled males. I’ll fuck all of them given half a chance, their genderless, regardless of demographic; it’s all the same out here, it’s the rage on these trips. I have parachuted in, and will work the lot of them if they don’t watch out - I’ll care little for your pleasure, well nothing

at all really; don’t kid me honey, you thought only of the money like ol’ toothless over there, her face full of porridge soup and betal nut, the rest of your motley crew of degenerates eating fruits I bought them… With this in mind I doubled the tempo of your ass pounding like what I imagine a Chinese emperor did. Shit, I used my preparatory gym sessions and andro-testosterone injections well, and yes, YES! Other shit like my beloved Semenextra and other proprietary under and off the shelf pharmaceuticals that get me ‘on’ do kick in... Your ramshackle brood were witnesses to the source of life itself within me, within my actions, they are worthless and annoying, embarrassing really, and especially after I came. That’s not to say I want do this again and again baby... just let me build reserves... pent a lil’ somting up... just leave me alone...

My love, to kill the pain of that night’s unforgivable miscreant beauty, I hit heavy booze and partook of valium breakfasts and largactol suppers for three days and nights afterwards. I felt the sweet sick, pungent mania of performance and Jacky D loved it as well. You and that fucked-up old hag dog aunt or granny, you were in cahoots together, don’t kid me, I could sense that. I woke, flat out, face down on the hotel room floor, cock in hand, a whining in my head, whilst you and ‘toothy’ silently and earnestly placed gold leaf on a fat bulbous temple idol, no doubt the pair of ya waiting for another free bite at my bounty and wishing for good luck that night, yeah... that there would be less demanding johns and tricks, yeah... that the pair of you would again hook another greenback like me for ‘same same’ treatment. You people offer decent

hospitality and are quite accommodating, but don’t let it go to your heads, you are ambitious as much as you are ambiguous, plural and morally sick such things for money.

This self is so large; you can’t just stumble over it, so it’s not found this way. And this self that David has cultivated and nurtured is so wide, you simply can’t see (nor would want to see) around it. This thing called self seems, and yet it is, all. It is obtrusive and blocks the path to reality.

But then so does the rest of the world, all that which lies beyond that self, things and other selves, all that seems also to stretch to infinity without end. The stuff of campfires and stars peppering the sky, what is beyond? If self is infinity then so are all the other selves, other worlds, and your self is your only path to them, your only interface. Forget your mobile phone or get an entirely new sim card in your head.

They could go on forever without you, but not you, your self. That existential self you will sleep with tonight, the self that cares for and loves another, loves your self, the self or world that threatens or is fearful, gives or takes the self that appears both dutiful and laissez-faire.

And what can you do? All this is like the fact you can’t know everyone, and conversely no one can ever really know the whole of you, at least not ever in the entirety, not even you. You can’t know ‘end’. But you can trust

yourself, but you have no choice, so why not? The dogged double bind of ‘you’ is that you can do anything you want but you can’t do ‘anything’; you can remember some things but not others. Do you ever wonder why?

Why did you build those castles those reasons for ‘the’ and against ‘the’? Why you rebelled and broke the law.

Social life is comprised of the atom individuals with gaps and overlaps and interstices of awareness and knowledge of our selves, people like the world of the shells, the molecules of other people and worldly knowledge; the physics of police, judiciary and legal systems and their billing and cleansing and removal services.

Ostensibly, many people are the invisible, become socially invisible, consciously make themselves or ‘are made’ invisible by default, existing outside the periphery of any other’s knowing, or desire or even compassion.

They are only invisible within the social, the perpetual strangers, the marginal, and the romantic wanderers of the waste. They can make themselves visible or not, and then, only then, under certain circumstances where they concord with accepted customs and conventions they suddenly appear as if form a spring, but in a constrained and controlled fashion, maybe even paternal. Some people’s work is controlling and constraining the behaviour of others. Many people’s work is this. They earn a living from it.

We can’t speak forcibly about the psychology of primitive man, our forebears. Before we were aware of the organisation of the self, how we, ourselves are organised

as physical and mental beings, we were already aware of the organisation of the environment. Modern humans check out artefacts and deduce reasons. Where no pattern exists we will happily concoct one. We simply must. This is as sure and certain as time’s arrow.

Romantically, we cast ourselves, our desires as [the only] model for the other’s behaviours and expressed wishes.

coevolved. Exotic birds in a poetic economy of trance and dance and flirtation and courting or whispered voices?

But regardless of all of this grandiose history there is someone, somewhere that can see what I can’t see, feel what I can’t or have never felt, love like I have or have NOT. The proverbial tree falling perpetually somewhere, someplace in the wood.

We organise towards pleasure and pain, towards togetherness and loneliness; we organise between wealth and poverty, stupidity and skills and knowledge.

Inner space is the most extraordinary place, as it makes sense of inner and outer organisation, it illustrates how to accomplish it, and yet also how to access and develop it.

And it can be hellish the labels we attach to self. Selfpain, self-hurt, self-mutilation on a bargirl’s arms physical manifestations of the socially acceptable dichotomies of self and other. The body is interfaced via the organising principles of the senses, and the organising principles of the universes of atoms and the social. Then there is a knife. They are organised according to evolutionary principles set a long time ago. They are only relatively whole there is much that is extra-sensory, maybe even fantastic. Example: In three and a half billion years we have gone from unicellular lifeforms to speaking in social circumstances about unicellular lifeforms. Billions of them, distributed, making a footprint, some larger than others, some having an effect and others less. By speaking of them only in a nightclub in a foreign land do we distance ourselves from being them? What lies between the ‘1’ and ‘0’? The individual and the social

Organising from the inside means creating and identifying, structuring communications, ins and outs, misunderstandings, wrong wires and commitments.

Where there are none, or where those existing or apparent are weak and poorly defined according to some designated organised purpose, then they are replaced or re-invented. Nothing is totally hard wired its all-soft systems, really, it’s a safe pill. Well it was till the more superb and evolved superbug entered the arena. Viral and genetic husbandry. We all have time to kill after all, and David Gotlieb has plenty as well when he is suspended from duty. By individuals and groups – an offence free future is not something you can achieve alone. No way. Its always consensual realities. David should maybe belong to the Society of Janus, the main heterosexual SM organisation in San Francisco, but you won’t read that here. After all, discipline and duty loom large in David’s agendas. They are not petty and being disciplined by superiors when his job is all he’s got is heart wrenching in the extreme.

As is said in his foreword of the second volume, “there is no direct conduit between the needs and desires of

individuals and those that look after their interests or provide goods and services for them.”

Hmmm, good words indeed, protection of the public can mean protecting Ma and Pa Kettle, Joe Q. Citizen, Joe Bloggs, John Doe and the straw man from you. You cease to be a member of the public, of society, when you fail to interpret and adhere to its laws and conventions, and this is verified when you are convicted and removed from society for ‘its’ protection. Microlaws require micromanagement of self, and the dam can break from the smallest of holes shored up by the Dutch boy’s thumb. Policing oneself is what is required, as society is always under threat, the next non-member is just out there, they are staring you in the face from across the road, you don’t know you are pawing his or her wife or husband, or he or she are just round the corner, peeking.

Getting intense, letting go of their constraints on drink and drugs even. How scary!

Where an officer-is-in-charge direction is according to dictates and procedures passed to them. Insubordination is the act of a subordinate deliberately disobeying a lawful order. They don’t. They shouldn’t, certainly according to the book, improvise. It is simply not required of them or of their adopted role. They try to act accordingly with prescriptions although it is true that they may not think or feel accordingly. Intellectual and emotional intelligence is not required. As long as they act accordingly, that is giving a good show, which is all that matters, surely? They can commit their body, but are not in command to commit their soul, regardless of the moral

import of the task at hand. Unless they study at this level, but it is not many people that do or are interested in doing so. There are few opportunities in everyday life and employment for this persistence of dedication and altruism. So, for most officers, there lies at every turn moral peril, bribes, opportunities to disregard, disagree or resist that which is received and what is perceived in a real, non-hypothetical world of action and behaviours. If everyone had lain in a snug shell hole during the battle, then all would be one of not the ‘few’ survivors until the enemy came, but like lemmings they advanced, in the short term, under microselfmanagement conditions that was all there was to do. . Words and actions, the appropriate response, that which is recommended and commended, that which should be acted upon by themselves and others may not fit the immediate localised needs in the presented situation at hand.

However, they are not supposed ever to be maverick, to act as free thinking actors, pebbles of concentric wistful wanton actions yet capable of executive decision making, and lithe intelligent manoeuvrability, but represent dutifully and unequivocally, unerringly and uncaringly, the aims of the institution and laws of a given society.

David Gotlieb is not expected to ad lib or improvise upon behaviours, yet he must remain in charge for the time being for the common good, and to be authoritative over the general population. A peacekeeper, maybe like the super NGO the United Nations. And of this general population, particular individuals are of note to David and his authorities, perpetrators of crime, human terror

seekers and bringers and the particular situations they favour and that favour them. The peculiar nature of every such event, the elements or factors THAT MAKE THEM SEEM FAMILIAR OR REPTITIVE, and their interpretation means that he has no choice but to exercise personal judgement, which means there is an onus on him to interpret and invent. He like everyone else in the world invents possible assailants, killers that move right into your face without you knowing about or even seeing him or her. However, he works in tandem with his institution to reduce or eradicate this facility or happening. This is the way for effective and efficient justice.

What has kept us from seeing life as active, as actively created in our mind’s eye? Was it our parents somehow, the wider conspiracy of those in power? The burr is where the training manual of youth and work ends and personal responsibility takes precedence and becomes empathised, or at least allowed. Sometimes no training, no gurus, no masters, no rules of thumb, no strings, no bullet points or shells, no handy locker room advice can apply. This is the land of nod, that which cannot be captured in words, assimilated by dealing and coping with situations, and he must fly by the seat of his pants. Just bouncing around in a fun hall of mirrors - who can innovate under these conditions? The difference is in the analogy of the paper outline of a man being shot, and a living human being who was situated in the world dropping in response to being penetrated by heat and gunmetal steel of a shell. David Gotlieb is a man who does not like this. Then he is a fish out of water liable to

failures in performing his duty. He loves his weapon. It is up to his mentors and superiors to identify this and discharge him from his duties before he kills or damages people and reputations.

His own judgement may be wrong, inconsistent and incongruent, even if he, internally, repeats the mantra that it is ‘right’ for him. Truly, he has learned to view his moral compass as showing NW, when he is obeying command and going SE, and can live with this, as others simply can’t. Nevertheless, he does not do this every time, it is impossible to be alternative all the time. It is so contrived after all. Only some decisions or acts may go against the grain, it may be a cataclysmic outpouring of creative energies and powers, an over reaction, too much too soon etc., but it is only a statistical minority that do this, and do it on a regular basis. It may not faithfully represent the ‘big picture’ of the changing mores and tides of media, public and governmental opinions and rules. So long hair is not fashionable anymore, or is it anything goes? Homosexuality is no longer treated as a matter of criminality, and so forth, the changes, the charges are relentless, the liberal and conservative streaks and opinions and discussions and beliefs. He may bend them and become corrupt, different, no longer cast in the shape of common good. He carves a sword of ‘truth’ from a wooden oar. In David’s world punishment occurs as a means of shaping the actions of others in the future. Moral Relativism does not describe the way things should be, but the way they are, and he is there to train and curb, to educate and prevent. Modern pederasts,

unlike the ancient Greeks, are not villains because of what it is they do; they are villains because they do something they are told not to do. If they have long hair, David doesn’t want to put them in jail because they damage children, he and his crew put them in jail for disobeying arbitrary conventions. The Greeks happened not to have these conventions. “My father would praise and allow their nefarious practices, as he did the rape of his son [me] by moral relativists, and especially as he believed it meant great art and philosophy, I would batter and arrest these men, I’d be prepared to step outside the law to punish them personally.”

David is the out-and-out middle manager, the veritable cog, lost in the machine with a resolute acceptance of sex and death and never ending-loneliness. It is expressed as fears and a lost inner life, the governing mechanism in the machine overriding the ghost-in-themachine. He is important and indispensable when he is on his own, but a cog never-the-less. He is pretty suprarationale and doesn’t like any bullshit. None at all. But even supposing this he is not central; he has lost control, he is not an autonomous agent. To be effective and discharge his responsibilities ‘properly’, he must decentralise and must keep and enforce order in harmony. Even if this means the chaos of getting absolutely hammered drunk in Bangkok in the midst of an entertainment plaza. Here inhibitions strip whether you like it or not. The collateral is not the currency Baht, it is inhibitions and sexual potentials, and sexual kinetics. The dancers and freelance ‘hse’ [slang for ‘whores’ or ‘sex

workers’] hung their ‘this’ and ‘that’ to engage with the barworld, now David Gotlieb must follow suit or be at parlance with the universe, and moreover, entropy and dissolution. He must sing with the rule of law formulated by more centralised committees of those paid to ponder and argue, compete and win. The condensed thinking of these groups is the ghost-in-the-machine, and he must be operator, true KING! Only when he comes upon that which does not conform or condemn to law, including the third law of thermodynamics, does not fit his received and programmed category system, transgresses, then, and only then, he must act, do something, act according to procedures, all whilst keeping awareness of ‘on-theground’ local community sensitivities. He is an application which interfaces between the theory-based machine code and operating system and the situated outside world of people performing complex market and practical individual behaviours. He has always been something of the pawn; puppet, robot and golem, even when he is all on his ownsome. Life will always be stressful and arduous for guys like him who feel duty bound until the veneer of respectability finally cracks, and decadence and hedonism gushes in like the Atlantic at full tide into a dark secret unarmed unmarked neglected rock. You don’t have to go ‘Ted Bundy’ or ‘Ed Gein’ – there are many shades of pale in this world – David decides he must do something to stem the paedophile epidemic which is plaguing Cambodia.

And as he engages with this that fissures or breakdowns occur. But the mechanistic view of David Gotlieb is strong and robust. To discharge his responsibilities and duties correctly, there will be a reliance; a leaning upon proper interpretation of acts, as when a man is spotted breaking the rear window of a house. Common sense will prevail here. Just how much ‘common’ and how much ‘sense’ are to be pondered, decided upon. Is he a burglar or is he the occupant or is he a landlord gaining access to a rented property without consent of the tenant? An officer called to the scene by concerned members of the public must distinguish which of these scenarios are in play and then act accordingly. Here he acts as judge and jury at the place of offence. He, and he alone, decides whether this act is innocuous, I which he lets matters continue, or he warns regarding what he knows or has picked up about local laws and tenants’ rights, or he makes an arrest. An arrest is when the pinball goes down the pinball hole, the rabbit hole if your Alice that is...

From a larger perspective, an officer-in-charge marks out time between felonies and misdemeanours that are always happening, or just about to happen. It’s not just babies’ born and old people passing in their sleep at every given moment in time. Somewhere in the world, rape and murders are playing out as you read, David Gotlieb isn’t there to intervene, nor Sue Tyler, and so they just don’t stop. The figures may reduce, like when Mayor Giuliani shut down all the tip n’ touch masturbation cubicles in Times Square, New York, but they never stop.

They happen not only because of incidents, but also

because there are laws to cover most or many aspects of what can and may ever happen that someone may take offence to or with.

So what happens when an officer relinquishes his charge and becomes autonomous? That is, casts off the shackles that care, sees things anew, unfettered, childlike, primordial? He starts to act upon his own initiative? What happens when he dares strike out and innovate upon his directions alone and independent of the backing and support of the significant larger machine, that significant ‘other’, the institution of which he was once a loyal and faithful part? When the Priest renounces his faith, the solider hangs his uniform, the football player hangs his boots?

What if he becomes a self-styled vigilante? We sort of like them and also don’t like them. No government endorsement means that mistakes could be rampant.

Say he goes to another country, not quite evolved to the same level as our own which now boasts ‘zero tolerance’ to incidences of domestic abuse and sees a woman dragged down the road by her hair caveman style, by her kicking and slapping husband? The officer takes charge; he steps in and gets shot or beaten to death from onlookers, like ants en mass devouring a much greater beast who succumbs to their invasion and hunger, witnessing a foreigner harassing a local conducting his private and personal affairs. We vs. you coalesces at remarkable speeds in countries like this where westerner’s are viewed as having too much influence, money, power already. Whether it is insecurity and

overreaction, whether it is pure unadulterated jealously, whether it is a psychotic streak in the individuals, group or culture you die.

We are all institutionalised in one way or another. Simply being part of a culture suggests it; socialisation can develop it, groups and clubs support it, and even protesting the protesters, or going against the law or flow of common sense can lead to incarceration, death, or merely a default acceptance of other off-the-shelf reality systems, tunnels, ideologies or directions. You can adopt them whole or piecemeal, and they may not necessarily be better ones, in many cases these may be less powerful, or less moral, or more or less corrupt and opportunistic. In addition, it should be accepted that laws and the institutions that manifest them are not fixed, like many other cultural artefacts they mutate. They evolve or even become unwieldy and redundant, unflavoured by a Darwinian motif.

Congealed legal knots pertaining to gender, sex and sexuality and the domestic are moot points here, they have underwent significant adaptation to accord with changing tastes, logics and rationales, and fashions, to accord with the interests of various interest groups with clout, rationale and power. They all seem to forget that the consequence of error is death, and that we have a short time living. Do we have the power of mind and spirit to blindly believe in them all, to take there games of chess all on board before the end or die fighting or playing PAN’s pipes? Or resist their onslaught and form our own invalidated and silenced opinions?

We cannot underestimate the changes to laws which create the world we live within. The may stem the flow but not the tide. When a one o’clock law bar closing law was enforced Bangkok, almost immediately did new kinds of casual and formal late night options opened up.

The same is true for most laws, including those aimed at preventing paedophiles from seeking out their prey. The most perseverant will usually succeed in finding illicit drugs and goods and behaviours, the most perseverant murderer will stalk out and find the opportunity to get their man or woman. Only the most perseverant legal and justice system with find and punish them. Whereas in the past the domain of the domestic relationships was a tetchy area for the state and law enforcement to get involved, it is now an arena which receives the social can opener and much previously private behaviours are policed. Statistics draw our attention away from dark figures lurking round corners waiting to rape and murder to focus upon family members and even friends. When this coupled to surveillance of online activity happening within homes, and high-resolution night vision cameras at the end of every street, and every mobile phone letting us know where people are when they are saying what to whom at any given time, we could be forgiven for saying that Orwell’s 1984 dystopia has already crept insidiously into everyday life. And with this surveillance comes regulations, policies, new codes of ethics and laws and enforcements. It is ironic that in the same novel the insightful author blends extreme surveillance and compliance and anti-sex campaigns and constant war.

Many of these have come through or being tweaked to accommodate the will and determination of various activists and pressure groups. Many of whom arose under the umbrella of the counterculture, and have through debate and presenting cogent rationale defences in courts that the existing statutes are lacking and in need of review. But we are now witnessing post 9/11 fissures and incompatibilities between laws aimed at protecting the democratic rights of all citizens whilst maintaining the security of a nation state, laws and rules which are aimed at reducing discrimination, but conflicting with people’s religious beliefs and codes, such as individual’s rights to wear crucifixes and veils at work.

So can we blame Gotlieb in his incredulity that he was abused at the hands of those subsequently lauded by the political left as champions of the oppressed? Women’s groups, uneasy about low conviction rates for rape because of lack of witnesses to such crimes, want reforms so that corroborating evidence carries more weight. Many of those who oppose this do so out of fear that such a shift will leak into many other misdemeanours. The result may be increases in miscarriages of justice. Some others take a much stronger view and say that it lends to strong a voice to women’s accusations that they were raped. The underlying logic of this is that obviously a woman would never lie about rape and that men are practicably animals that constantly crave sex, and will use force if necessary to achieve it.

If they seek it out where ‘it’ is more easily found, where they do not have to employ such despicable and Neanderthal practices as brute force then this will be frowned upon as well? ‘It’ must be achieved in approved ways, rationalised and hardly spontaneous, consider the tips given by agony aunts to teenagers embarking on sexual adventures for the first time; they are hardly positive and encouraging now are they? No, these advisors prefer instead to speak of unwanted pregnancies, STDs, and endless disappointment. No we have to have safe sex with media. The video and the telephone are widely accepted as channels for sexual titillation. The video ranges from anything from tantalising MTV music video clips to full on no holds barred hardcore pornography. Again this is disparaged, ‘they’, the sexually correct, are always looking for links between porn and rape and murder. Phone services create their own cornucopia of avenues for the mind to explore its role as ‘the sexiest organ’. Again it can range from calls which are role play and may seem real, say to a ‘secretary’ or ‘bank’, through to full on ‘I am in control’ domination. The most abstract of all may be the SMS sex services where you engage in a ‘naughty’ conversation by txt to an imaginary lover.

Where institutions and laws are not explicit, for instance where there are none, or they are and their enforcement is weak, then a reality tunnel is bootstrapped by the individual. It has to be. It is impracticable for a human to function without one. It is manufactured as we humans cannot but, stay on some rail or another and the

likelihood is that it will relate to that which you were exposed to upon growing up. Groups of expatriates are like this, they reinforce elements of the home style in the foreign climb.

This contests with and may even be antagonistic towards facets of foreign institutions. It may make them seem archaic, even chaotic, lacking method and rigour – perhaps like Sue Tyler’s impressions of ethnic street food. This is drawn out in very well in texts such as the The Ugly American, or the Anthropological writing of E.T Hall. They highlight incongruencies between Asian views of life and the first world western views. The view of the civilised cultured American, European or Australian is typically patriarchal in dealing with the ‘native’.

But it is in our relationships, as was explored in the first Volume that we are seeing dramatic changes and shifts.

One can argue the bonds that hold us are more ‘liquid’ or certainly they are more fickle than they were in past times where the local church served as perhaps the only courting ground for young unmarried people.

South East Asia serves as a panacea for an overly complex age for some men when they consider their need for a partner, or perhaps it is rather a symptom of this overly complex age. It offers a smorgasbord of ‘golden ages’, amongst them the heyday 60s and 70s and free love, James Bond exotica, and even earlier 1950s myths of perfectly domesticated and subservient housewives. Above all, when it is viewed as the crucible for the very chance of union that it is perhaps most

valued. Of course the love and sex may seem morally free, but it is not economically, housewives and subservience and union invariably come with a substantial dollar sum attached, and regularly, and it will vary only slightly for either young and handsome or old and ugly alike.

And so in this volume we have David Gotlieb abroad. But his own personal mission is far greater than mere travel; he is there as reparation, atonement for his last trip where he embarked on a litany of hedonistic behaviours that he just ‘found’.

He may not have, in his entirety consciously subscribed to these behaviours, his public persona and self-identity as an American police officer could not accept them, but he certainly engaged wholeheartedly in them, made a meal of them and refined and built upon them, crafting and sculpting these encounters to refine his raptures. We could all this down to classic denial and repression, but like many people, male and female, the very act of ‘going abroad’ means that you can hang up not only your daily chores but your inhibitions and daily codes and rules of practice, and you may go a little wild, or in the case of Gotlieb, stark raving sex mad to point of social sexual sadism.

When Gotlieb returns to America, he is ostensibly unaffected. Instead of trying recreate this penchant at home he choose instead to embark on social sexual abstinence, punishing himself for years over his behaviour, chastising himself indirectly through forms of

sex, where their were no explicit watchers at all, such as his new found love for ‘phone’ and his exploration and celebration of his alienated self. Perhaps it is though that he wished, he felt the call was listened into by security agents, and they in essence became the family and friends of his Bangkok prostitutes in their rickety private homes?

But eventually he comes to realise his salvation lies where he left it, in South East Asia.

For Gotlieb, this is merely a geographical place, a foreign debauched place which was patiently waiting to be abused, it is a victims’ place, a victimised place, a place of victims, a place needing a steady paternal hand to help to set it on the straight and narrow. That parent is Gotlieb’s America of course – not really the land bristling with opportunity fro every man and women, but a land where common sense is often denied in the search for identity and individualism that is denied by its own collective value systems. Values that all must share in and subscribe to, values that one is then supposed to not only possess as one’s own but also project and reinforce in discourse with others. Consider the American born and raised Asian girl, does she not only sound different, but also acts differently in conversation to her Asian born counterpart? Mainstream civil society’s acceptance, sublimation of the 1960s counterculture upsets and unsettles Gotlieb, as he views them as a bunch of pederasts and hypocrisy, but we are not sure if his memories are sound. Being fed acid and having nude people making love unabashed all around you in your

formative years doesn’t provide for a sound basis for thoughts later in life. Children in the youth culture dominated west have a tendency to differentiate themselves from their parents at all or many levels. And this may include reacting against their ‘openmindedness’. So today you have people who may look on the forefront like a hippy but have attitudes which are more akin to being serious members of the John Birch Society. Like a wayward child who needs proper parenting rather than heavy handed chastisement, it needs the security that he, the representative of his fair and just parent land, is there in its midst with its best interests at heart. I suppose the host country need be grateful, as he is giving more of himself voluntarily, altruistically, whatever that is worth, than Susan Tyler and her organisation is lending, perhaps even when he having intercourse with local prostitutes.

Back in America after his first trip he eventually d absolves himself of, and works through his blame. Living and being alone and engaging in high-impact phone sex simply become his modus operadi, his peculiar expression of a modern and alternative and secret lifestyle. It is normalised and he is grateful. His Thai experience could, should never be normalised. After all, the debauchery was never within him, it was created by the options available in that place.

He had become a victim to the pull and gravities of these options all leading, he knew, towards sexual oblivion. He is not there to stop all of this; he is merely there to halt negative aspects of ‘non-legal age’ girls being abused by

reprobates from his own ‘superior’ society. What’s his strategy and tactics? - Nobody knows, not even him. He will improvise when he gets there; with years on the force in a stable country and economy he simply knows the answer is inside. Unlike the debauchery… The attitude is that, after all, nobody [nobody that matters that is] is going to see you, and the people in these countries are amoral anyway.

This is Gotlieb’s view anyway, and it is perhaps ironic that this is how many ordinary Thai citizens come to apprehend the foreigner; as an amoral, selfish, drunk that demands to nothing but drink and have even more sex with uneducated illiterate prostitutes and has too much money. For many of them there is little observable, even in conversation, to suggest that they may ‘normally’ live in a grey skied reality, with jobs and lives as mundane and repressed as anyone else. If you tortured them they would be hard pressed or be simply lying to say the sky is ‘normally’ blue. He will not again become an officer-indischarge.

All this journey asks for is like the Pavilion itself; all it asks for is engagement. David Gotlieb is more than an atom or molecule, he engages, unwittingly engages in a program lasting years. Call it the underlying order of apparent chaos, or the commercial interest of GOrinNOsho Corporation When he thinks he is alone he is actually performing less dynamic, dormant functions of the overall system or plan. In reality it’s just a fucking game, anyway… He is in the space between flashes of lightning,

the click of a second hand, and those times between sex with prostitutes on a high impact sex tour holiday. The times when all one can play is solitaire, with the help perhaps of a phone sex partners or two.

In this age of the continuing diasporas of people’s sexuality, emotionality and intellect into cyberspace, that is ‘you’ rendered as text and image, a grave danger persists: that is, our thoughts and motivations with respect to sexual practice and identity becomes categorised, homogenised and ever more pasteurised.

Tastes and predilections become mere matters of debate, disclosure serves as group discussion, with some exposés being validated whilst other are contested and even chastised according to wider, traditional and received canons. Groups then congeal and crystallise order according to their interests, proclivities and orientations, and then they proliferate. Some these may become transgressive, and one such category is the online forums which address issues of whoremongering in global ‘heat seeking’ locations. They are ‘heatseeking’ because they tend to be orientated towards seeking out paid for sex in hot, third world countries, and they are heatseeking as they relate to an age old limbic desire for real, kinaesthetic, face-to-face encounters between warm bodies.

As modernism continues its project of alienation such as was suggested by the likes of Herbert Marcuse and others, it opens the vistas on self-organising fragmentary worlds of people living alone and independent longing to be otherwise, searching for each other in the ether. Open

the hatch and take a peek inside their pods. They find themselves according to the categories that they have listed, or are looking for. Even the machines can help here as the order begins here. We move further from the vagaries of the ‘classified’ ad [‘tall, handsome, man, educated and successful…’] or something more akin to a full demo and psycho-graphic run-down on who you are, where you come from, where you are going and who you are looking for. They rarely ask “why are you here?” We can say off the cuff, that many men are looking for unattached uninhibited sex with beautiful female partners, and this may contrast with female interests. But how much of online seducing, courting, ‘grooming’ and so forth is based upon neo-cortex skills of being able to manipulate text and image becomes hazier. Due to the nature of South East Asia, the man is offered the prospect of sex and relationship almost at the same rate as a mouse click. He can delete relationships almost as quick, and he can cut and paste experiences to a certain extent. Based upon human intimacy and sensuality, not of the mind, but also of the body; the pure visceral existential ‘hit’ of these countries, their cultures and their populations, become a panacea to the disembodied experiences of the Internet and of course, Television, which makes people gaze out from their white cells, their empty homes, their safe secure cocoons and private rooms into a world hubris of action and activity of which they [are not yet] part of.

On the Internet, endless dates can be arranged and made. Not only that there is more pictures of naked

women and men in suggestive poses than you could even hope to view and jerk off to in 20 lifetimes, more articulation on matters of intimacy and sexuality than you could ever read. But that giant experiment or Malthusian glut, that is the Internet, it is Internet dating, that leaves a hole that it is meant to plug. People and their relationships are becoming more plastic as the Sociologist Zigmund Bauman suggests in his recent idea of ‘Liquid Love’. Not only are bonds weaker – ‘Maybe the other twenty choices that the database came up with would be better then him or her’ but people living increasingly singleton existences may have exaggerated the warped senses of self. ‘This person lied about their weight, age, income, interests and star sign online’. But did they lie? Did they not construct themselves out of the available choices lent to them by media, the same way they may cut and paste a new head on a slim body, if they only did this set of exercises everyday and ate from this menu which restricts calories? So as much as the internet homogenises and sanitises and orders humans according their own dictates, it also creates a means through which people can lie to others and themselves about themselves.

Real chaotic, unruly, disordered, haphazard and downright dangerous encounters are sought; and not only by the adventurous. Entire diasporas of first world western males are throwing themselves in the cauldron, or ‘Pavilion of Mirrors’ as the authors term it, of encounters with South East Asian prostitutes or ‘Hse’. In terms of men seeking ‘the real thing’ South East Asia is

one of as number of global heatseeking locations where men can get out of themselves and run the risk of being turned inside-out in a fun fare ride threat may never know when to stop.

South East Asia still offers a real alternative. The chaotic hands on and humanistic experience that contrived relations arranged. At the core of this work is a belief by Dr. W.H Wong and Myiad that the Internet is not enough will ever be enough. It has encroached upon our personal lives. It infringes upon our identities and sustained and constructed, too much. While people spend more and more time living socially segregated in the west, under the positive rubric of living ‘independently’ the opportunities for serendipitous encounters and scenarios are diminished, including meeting and falling in ‘love’ with someone. Perhaps this is the explanation why so many single men are venturing to South East Asia annually to engage their own Pavilion of Mirrors **** Whilst spending more and more time flirting and dating online, finding and using pornography online suggests the conditions upon which humans they encounter each other diminish and are degraded.

A date with someone deemed totally compatible is possible, but outside of the machine, the social networking software, is the visceral ‘real world’. Online cannot provide. But a warning. More and more young women, who would’ve been prostitutes in the ‘real’ world,

the bars and bordellos of South East Asia for instance, are seducing and courting men online. Many are paying stipend to theory ‘lovers’ in order to ringfence them, even before they have ever set foot in the geographical region.

The needs of these men for husbandry, there is no better use for dollar, I’m sure Dr. ‘Dollabill’ will attest to that (heheheh).

Departure (sometimes called Separation), Initiation and Return are momentous landmarks in our adventures.

"Departure", according to the theorist of myth, Joseph Campbell, deals with the hero venturing forth on the quest. "Initiation" deals with the hero's various adventures along the way; and "Return" deals with the hero's return home with knowledge and powers acquired on the journey. Our hero, David Gotlieb, does return, but he is not the same man. He represses his found penchants, he tries to convince himself, over years, that these was anomalies, symptoms really of the loins and heart dependent entirely upon place, foreign societies (those Asian critters…!!!) rather than self. The place, the people, the watchers he paid to view him copulate with a family member was their degenerate ways and mores, not his. They corrupted him. In fact they abused him like so many others had done in his formative years. No wonder the Beatles went to Asia to find enlightenment!

Now he returns to South East Asia to the place he once felt free within, but he knows that this freedom led to dissonance with his sense of self-role and duty, so much the lounge and crystal lights of my youth.

It matters not whether this obsession of ‘self’ makes you unsympathetic, uneasily interpreting the needs and behaviours of your new found lover, or you are an aid worker seeking the best for ‘your clients’ or even something of mix of the two (like David Gotlieb in this volume). Westerners are constantly planning and engineering their next move forward in your battle of the hearts and minds. It’s the most essential fashion item to pack in the drawers of your mind today. Your being there, not the Internet promise, but you and your actual baggage and ways of learning will colour and contaminate your strategies and tactics in coping. Unless you leave them behind, in a little locker at the point of Joseph Campbell’s departure. That seems for some people impossible. South East Asia should carry the surgeon general’s health warning; ‘Magic Theatre: come on in, not for everyone…’

“The physical aspect of travel is, for me, the least interesting; what really draws me is the prospect of stepping out of the daylight of everything I know, into the shadows of what I don't know, and may never know. Confronted by the foreign, we grow newly attentive to the details of the world, even as we make out, sometimes the larger outline that lies behind them.

"The music of the world," as Camus, lost in Prague, observes, "finds its way more easily into this heart grown less secure.

Finally stripped bare, the slightest solitary tree becomes the 2 most tender and fragile of images."

2

Iyer, P. (2005) Sun after Dark. Flights into the Foreign New York:

Random House

Indeed the pavilion most mirrors the west’s condition, its schisms, its paradoxes, its abundant everyday hypocrisies, and its totalising inability to cope emotionally or conceptually to its own complexities and confluence, it’s self-defeating, self-perplexing ‘Möbius strip’ logics. If it can, indeed, be indexed to an adult Disneyworld for whoremonger it is more like a cheap fairground attraction, yeah, more like the house of horrors. If it is indeed a battleground of the soul and against poverty and exploitation then it is also a glass bead game, played by an elite for almost purely aesthetic reasons. The more either of these two camps project and fail to listen (as they usually do or rather, do not) and learn, the more they risk creating the biggest chimera of them all. Their efforts, industry, hopes and fears will be totally, unquestionably, in vein. It would appear that they are all there to play out that indomitable creation myth and fable regarding the creation of the world. They would hold, even those who profess to be agnostic or atheist, that the Garden of Eden was the pavilion of mirrors, full of lies and treachery and stupid men and deceitful women, eating fruits, being naked. That they should be cast out in to a world where men pamper themselves like women and women behave as men. And this is deemed correct and accepted. Where the old are dismissed as sexual beings, where women should be, and are on top 100% in some vague effort to heal all social wrongs in a matter of 40 years – since the rise of counterculture.

Rather than being a world or a entire void characterised by clearly defined boundaries and rules of engagement,

the Pavilion of Mirrors is an ephemeral and amorphous terrain where the price tags for engagement can vary considerably and, moreover it is a space where meanings, identities and understandings can slip.

Morphing realities for the new age of “I can do or say anything, anytime, anywhere, to nobody at all.” This can be due to delusion, projection, misconception, miscommunication and misinterpretation. So what? The underlying reasons for this slippage are not always clear; they are not always by design, but they are often deceitful by default and thus hold the possibility, the prospect of fun and game. They can also be absurd and hilarious, and help keeping you coming back for more. More hse, more of their stories, scenarios, passion plays.

Whether by design or default, they can be attributed to a person’s conception of self and the other and others, the acceptance or refutation of certain myths and stereotypes that circulate – such as Thai bargirl’s are all “X”, and farangs always act like “Y,” and/or by desire, intention and strategy. It is not certain that “X” and “Y” can find some homeostasis and balance, “Z”, but this will always be challenged within the Pavilion of Mirrors even if they do uproot from Asia and set up home in the west. This is perhaps captured in the popular myth that you can take girls out of the bar, but you “cannot you take the bar out of the girl.” No, certain heuristics can be supplied to enable this, as each man and women are individuals, and act as individual within their own cultures.

But something, somewhere, somebody in summer time of what is held implicitly in the text of these four volumes will

help highlight and frame this problem, at least from the western male’s perspective. And this is a perspective sorely neglected in discussions of heatseeking zones and their inhabitants by non-patrons, as is the real voice of hse.

Myiad, East Berlin, May, 2007

th

Incident Outcome: Required car was finally stopped by patrol on 145 and th 5 . All occupants eradicated when they opened fire. Commendations for Sgt. Stuart Wilson and Sgt, Bream Orlando, and Officer Peter Quang Dao.

Recommendation; Sick leave for one year with benefits pending continuing psychiatric reports, Likely medical discharge

NEW YORK POLICE DEPARTMENT: QUEENS PRECIENT Prepared to do away with life to protect private property and moreover tax liable investments

Astrological Sign: Pisces (head in the clouds – vivid imagination) Marital status; Very single (divorced) believed to use personal use marital aids. Wife and Baby left him after only 1 year of marriage.

Interests; Working out, TV, Internet, hard core telephone sex Fav. Movies; Anything with police work involved, Vietnam movies, ‘Hearts and Minds’

Incident Report form 10376646 Name of officer: David Harry Leo Colin Gotlieb: Badge number 2224777

Fav. Music; None claims he ‘hates the stuff’.

Fav. Books; Anything to do with US foreign affairs and policy

Age: 45 Specific Experience; 15 years, very average service record, placed on ethnic awareness program 1992 after assaulting ethnic community members. Dressed his racism up as ‘they had long hair’. Endemic liar in constant denial according to psychological profile at the time. Gotleib has experienced several mental breakdowns, psychiatric evaluations hint at several potential psychopathologies including early Schizophrenia. False memory syndrome, bi-polar delusional. Claims his father was a counterculture activist apparently on the witness protection programme, no such records exist with law enforcement or federal agencies.

Any other relevant details: Visited Thailand for sex-tourism in 1989, telephone bugged since 1992. Became a phone sex addict in 1998. Not recommended for promotion, but not deemed to be a serious risk, to be employed upon routine tasks only. FBI psychographic profile indicates potentials to be paedophile, but no indications that he has indulged in such activities. th

th

Incident Details: Stopped car north of junction between 145 and 7 .

Occupant discharged weapon and drove away. Officer collapsed on ground uninjured but psychologically screed. Was reported screaming “they have long hair, long hair. Second officer Peter Quang Dao reports occupants of car were Arabs.

Favourite quote: "Who's going to believe a con artist?" Ben Matlock of Matlock responded, "Everyone, if she's good."

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Chapter 1.

Cons - long and short, medium and rare

This writing is trying to pull you in much like an eye-catching picture. It is designed to get you to READ IT. This is called luring the VICTIM, and you are the VICTIM. But if you have a free mind you should STOP READING NOW! because all we are attempting to do is to get you to read on. Yet this is a DOUBLE BIND because if you indeed stop you'll be doing what we tell you, and if you read on you'll be doing what we've wanted all along. And the more you read on the more you're falling for this simple device of telling you exactly how a good commercial design works. They're TRICKS and this is the worst TRICK of all since it's describing the TRICK whilst trying to TRICK you, and if you've read this far then you're TRICKED but you wouldn't have known this unless you'd read this far. At least we're telling you directly instead of seducing you with a beautiful or haunting visual that may never tell you . . . . But we've just warned you against that. The con is a con... 3

I

magine a child brought up in a Dickensian chaos,

life’s rich pageantry, an interesting order if you will, disorder, grime, hubris, non-order, organic maelstrom of life 3

The album cover of Go 2 British rock band XTC released in 1998.

The cover comprised an essay written in Courier typeface, designed and executed by the design firm Hipgnosis. the album included a poster which among other things had 'Moulding’s Map of Swindon' which noted various events in the bass players Colin Moulding’s life, including his loss of virginity (indicated by a golf flag with a '1')

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

such as can today be found still in the orient as I write and you read this passage, picking cats up in an inelegant fashion and throwing them awkwardly by their hind quarters where they scythe through the air with claws prone not necessarily for human skin. Defecating ecstasy. Maybe it harks back to primordial times when the child and mother and father en mass were taught to adapt to their environment or else fucking extinguish, good riddance!

ancient earth into the fish bowl of the social, the purview and gaze and critiques of the others, they come to give a shit or they don’t. Or at least they declare they don’t. The Ego, after all, is only the constructed image we have of ourselves; a misrecognition and consolidation of the essential processes around us into an image that we call: “I”. The child learns to identify with this crystallization or sedimentation, this thin or way we see ourselves. If we indulge it too far, then we are egotists or narcissist. David Gotlieb the egotist, the able bodied, the lonely and the dispossessed are all egotists, are all narcissist. They have no choice. They can’t get lost in the idea of witness to their own lives. They is no-one receiving, no human CCTV.

Imagine that same child, adopted, transported and now inhabiting a minimalist home in North London. A home that responds to its inhabitants, quite stupidly, concordant with the will of geeky engineers themselves poorly tutored in human computer interaction, and the interests of parents who were taken in by the showroom demonstration that it was viable for a conspicuous and highly visible form of consumption. Defecating ecstasy.

These men who have designed role purely with themselves in mind, or the propensities of the machine’s ‘this’ or ‘that’ new chip: they incorporate their bachelor or spinster or sphincter selves, with no real sympathy for children, and no concern for their needs or the person who may have to clean this space, and make it orderly, and not have unforeseen stains down its concrete exterior dating it in an inelegant way some 15 years later. Directly or indirectly the child in the west or east is trained, by people and the built environment. They emerge behind the rocks of the old

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The minimalist parent’s habitat with straight unfussy edges, no-where to hide, precision sterile fittings, and Stark furniture and forbidding ambient lighting, integrated worktops and self-closing storage spaces. How child’s designer and boring wooden blocks and other toys stick out like sore thumbs on blank interiors of rare Indonesian teaks against cheery woods and clean, clean lines, stainless steel and order. Their order is reinforced, like rote learning of English that you hear when passing Schools in Cambodia;

“ONE!”

“ONE!” “TWO!”, “TWO!”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

. . . in-out, in-out, and so on ad infinitum. No wonder they converse with you so stiffly and rigidly.

II

Legend has it that David Gotlieb arrived in Queens, possibly dressed in a checked shirt and farmyard jeans, still carrying the smell of countryside, still chewing first straw then tobacco. He really carried a switch blade and wore a leather jacket. Males regularly watch over females and females regularly watch over males, fostering relationships. His mother, wanted to be, like many other young country girls of her age, a film star like Doris Day, but a hooka pipe got in the way, so did John and Yoko and their bed and moreover, their long hairstyles.

His father, as he grew in the 1950s, with TV and leisure and the corporation, wanted to croon in the front of the big band, as his father had. In all the crap he’d heard his parents spin these strange, contrived imaginings stood out like nipples on alert in his limbic brain, howling like a wolf, secret as what lies hidden in the deep of the South China Sea. In any case they had no idea that their son would become the embodiment, the subject of an economically determined voyeurism system.

-4-

Every second of our lives, millions of bits of information are streaming through our five senses into our minds, but only 7 plus or minus 2 bits gets consciously registered. Limerence is merely a state of mind characterised by intrusive thinking, longing, uncertainty, hope, misperception, fantasies, and passion. Limerence has been described as "having a crush", "infatuation", "passionate love", "puppy love", "romantic love" or "being in love." We feel it probably most when we are young and experiencing ‘first love’.

This is how Otto Gershang, locked in his Cambodian hotel suite, once felt towards Linda Tran, and not just Linda but in particular her backside, which even she would trademark if she could. Otto would help here. He was in Asia because of this soft porn star. Because of her. How many men have thought this thought? He had met her in real life, she is a Chinese-Vietnamese-American and her voice and commercial attitude left him cold, but when she arched and gave a slightly pouting look to the camera, even this battlehardened sex magus felt like a second year computer science sophomore. Otto felt it, Otto Gerhsang whom we shall meet more fully later. To the sound of Manhattan saxophone David felt limerence when he screwed with Asian watchers in the roaring heat and noise of a concrete bunker home in 1980s Bangkok 12, a clapped-out fan beating asynchronically

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

on its very last legs. There Asian faces hung in an uninterpretable way, he liked them that way, and it was the Tao for him.

table (sorry grotty floor) would give them money for another, a cut of Gotlieb’s bounty even if their hoe had a pockmarked face, her body was right. She was out of the skinflick mags. He was the lone D.J. ‘doin it’ only for their entertainment and pleasure. They’re eggin’ him on. “Oh coach, look at dis shyt!”

All religious shit in the East had a pseudo-tantric ‘fucking’ element that he thoroughly approved of, and he basked in it.

In fact it made him laugh, it cast an amusing ring to hooking and banging and its consumption in the orient. Otherwise it would become too self-referential and drab and serious, the same old thing at the corner where there is a bar and hamburger joint on the junction, the crossroads, of 154th and 270th, across the path he is making today. But some time ago, in Bangkok, the trip that he keeps close to his heart, and never utters a word of to anyone, the rickety fan was set up by an old watcher to compassionately cool him while he was already on the job in the sparing heat, it worked off of a car battery, he felt the dustbowls blow up his ass in a distinctly tantric style, the squalor was very amazing indeed as it rocked his boat and he trebled up his tempo like an ol’ Chinese emperor on heat again. This ‘old inscrutable’ was like the animal husband who was now mating prise cocks, making sure that their comfort was assured, massage and great diet rich in scrotum assuring protein. Cool, where did that service go in the U.S.? It became all service, phoney, with no indeterminacy, no shock nor surprise, regimented, yep, monotonous and regular. He would give them money and provide them with another show, he put food on their

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Such good ol’ American altruism, he was sure they had never known. It was Southern State manners a he understood them; he was the Southern National Star. South East Asian star. On his arm was the best lookin’ gal around, well at least the one with the best temperament, or the one which really loved him or him, who genuinely laughed at his sense of fun, who listed attentively to his wisdom, who wanted to brush his teeth and shave him. Who quietly watched the ball game, and cheered when he cheered and took care of him when he was despondent and scared and feeling or even felling vulnerable.

GGGG In the background in his dark, dark room 24 hour Khmer karaoke channels played. Another and another, endless romantic musings of the rural life, non-erotica, simple rustic love. It could be middle England, but he didn’t know that, best nostalgia he could get nowadays was the days and wiles of Eisenhower and when G.I’s did the same thing in

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

England. It was the rights of war, like when Mongolian communists hit Germany with a vengeance, the rape n’ murder was incredible; it shamed the entire rape of Nanking.

The great Kahn was spreading his DNA – the real Diaspora had begun. Vast tracts of Asia and Europe in the 12th and 13th centuries became the Khan’s pleasure zones, and to repay, he sired many offspring, it was assumed that zillions of European men share his genetic fingerprint.

we have seen Otto with over the years is a 40 or 50 something women, bit fat, Indian or something, with peroxide roots…” He had had not recognised the name or face of the Bagwan’s ex-assistant Sheela.

But watching the Khmer Karaoke videos with a light gentle air meant that they lent Otto soft idyllic scenes of shy immature coy romantic love, so uncomplicated gentle in idealised rural settings. Nothing to do with an AmericanVietnamese soft porn Queen working with her lawyers on how to convert her “assets” into harshly-enforced protected intellectual age property. Or other broads and ‘klims’ wanted to show on film how many men they would do in one day until their vaginas ripped. But the men’s sacs never fell off, there were over 350 of them, and the whole thing was caught on film, she was Singaporean…

“Playing the dating game in Austria, Otto, surely it is a fucking joke.”

David, the worldly American ex-cop, was told regarding the aesthete European stranger at the bar that the: “Only women

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Why should he? It’s a big world even if you were super notorious, not every stone upturned is stored, marked and remembered. It all goes by the by eventually… and then comes out in the wash…

GGGG Cambodia is where you can safely understand that; that “ABCD” and “1234” is completely right, unquestioned, enough, empirical, unquestioned, proven and rewarding, giving rise pen-ultimately to the tail end a thousand years of unfurling linear western history until the last generation, generation ‘Z’. Unless, of course, you are an NGO fighting for funding. Until then, there is no time or space for graffiti, or any other intrinsically motivated act or profession, except that adorning the capital by Sue Tyler and her ilk. Instead of chunky letters spelling nom de plumes and nom de guerees we have Sue’s charges spreading their concerns about male representatives of her own culture coming to claim ethnic kids for depraved and banned acts in their own culture. In the stead of large chunky letters are pictures of western ‘teacher’ types (men identifiable through their white shirts

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

and black slacks) incarcerated for crimes against local children. If they were tourists they would have Hawaii shirts and shorts on. If they were backpackers they would be wearing ethnic Indian clothes and substantial beard growth.

If they were Thai ex-pats they would be adorned by 1 or 2 BAHT Thai gold necklaces with Buddha’s hanging off. No, these were ex-pat English teachers.

unconscious learning. Yeah maybe if they kill the go-go bars and make it illegal for single guys to go there, unpoliced by wives, girlfriends or other western Sue Tyler types who can influence and control local corrupt police to act in their interests and highlight how they should get more funding for dinners for the next 1000 years while paedophilia reaches ‘epic’ ‘epidemic’ and ‘torturous’ ‘terrorist’ levels.

The locals are broke, so it is obvious they sell their kids’ en mass, and we are here to prevent it, we do a great job, we just conducted research to show how much we do. We still have a part of it in ourselves, kept to keep us certain when we travel, but in our business philosophies we now emphasise some lateral thinking, and the idea of chaos in your web based operations, confusing export. These are largely bastardisation of the work of 1950s geniuses, Buckminster Fuller, Gregory Bateson, Norbert Wiener, and later 1960s thinkers like R.D.Laing, Franz Fanon, even Ralph Nader. 70s ex-libris editions are on sale in Phnom Penh bookshops. Of why things are as they are and why we think and are decisively ruled by how we find against how we found ourselves. But, seriously, do we ever have the chance to find ourselves? The perennial questions of these liberal sages. Can we ‘find ourselves’ sexually? Can we do this in South East Asian heatseeking locations? Psychiatrist Fanon says “it takes a sharpened knife…” at the end of each sentence, repeatedly like a tribal drum beating our

Minimal, that is how David Gotlieb used to screw in South East Asia. That is, voracious appetites for petite size 8 figures, but minimal emotional commitment, well, zero really. With no sympathy or empathy for cultural or individual concerns, feminist commentators would equate it with rape, sure.

Conformity to his pleasures and will was all that was ever at stake. All his cultural fact-finding was received viz-a-viz gung ho whoremongers field reporting in a mail order sex travel brochure [with accompanying VHS video footage of beauties that you can get your hands on quick and cheap].

The only other advice was from the exceedingly cautious sexless young puritan Lonely Planet Guide. The distilled message here seemed to be ‘Please feel at liberty to intrude upon and otherwise interrupt the routines of classic ethnics at anytime, anyplace. Feel free to scathingly critique them, look, prod and disparage their futility, even laugh and joke and smile blankly with ethnics imagining they and you are sharing fun together, but please, do no touch their prostitutes or touch their children on the head, remember

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Soi dogs are rabid, and for Christ sake’s don’t ever touch the ice with that opening on your face, it may have nasty CFCs or nasty nasty AIDS!’ But do the pussies, and if your dare, the assholes.

American ones. He issues American decrees, as an American citizen practising his rights can and should do, from his lonely house in a lonely street, where one has edicts, U.S. ones. Some countries are also upgrading their law enforcement units by capacity building them and supporting them with more resources and political will. America doesn’t need to, he is the poster boy of all of it, Bill Gates highlights that the English language is rootless and no longer umbilical tied to that place or people who bear the same name. They are renamed, ‘Brits’. David Gotlieb preferred the dated ‘limeys’ because he is an autonomous agent that will bring that American will in his suitcase, and as an officer of the law in a decent law abiding and Christian country, and as an officer in charge, he will enforce and discharge that will. He is not there to revenge fuck, to come, but he will come to atone. To prove more to his self than any other living soul that he has control, and he is central, more than life had ever let him be.

David was truly learning, that means out there, in that country, as maybe it should everywhere, loving.

II “That’s all bullshit” grunts David; socio-political matters, American ones, are his king. “We have the world’s most powerful army, full fucking stop…” No points in highlighting how ‘they’ the American originates elsewhere in the genepool, that was swept under the table by revolution and counter-revolution and the self-definition that arises from it. David objected to those Irish and other ‘ethnics’ who harped on about their roots whilst singing their heritage folk songs and pipe bands. They don’t stop an empire that stretched from the Sea of Japan to the Danube.

According to the society of whoremongers’ international the Kahn had it all.

Besides laws, effective policies, programmes, enforcement practices, mechanisms, personnel, resource allocation, capacity building, education, networking and co-operation are required both within countries and across boundaries.

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David has finally, rock bottom when he hit Phnom Penh and like an American found that most of the brothels have already closed.

Shock, horror, does this mean his mission is off? He felt like Apollo 8’s crew hitting space and finding there was nothing there, that the moon was a delusion, or it was just barren rock after all. Not cheese. Fuck’s sake he is a fucking god

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

astronaut wanting to burn out the streets of Avalon… He meets a monger, a serious rawhide U.S. monger, oh shit the genetic diversity, who spends his life in a Phnom Penh, Internet café, and learns Vietnamese to help his punting crusade, he met him online on non khmer440.com, and he is prepared to give him the low down on the scene:

“Look at all these girls…”

He scopes, selects some passing young Vietnamese teenagers, slender, Chinese style, paler, gracefully, walking, holding flowers dressed in their ubiquitous pyjamas that denote and distinguish their ethnicity from Khmer teens in the Cambodian capital.

“Shit, they would have populated the bordellos before, and be on their backs right now, but now they just sit in the Internet café, meeting Chinese and western men, men who are willing to pay stipend even before they ever set foot in the capital. Instead of spending life on their backs, smiling, coping with perpetual 10000 riel short times, they are now courting men online, tantalising men via webcam, and when they come, they ring fence men in select hotel rooms, the bordello hotel rooms – the only one’s the men know, so they become their personal projects, their personal ATM.”

“Fuck man, you know that for sure”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

“Shit yeah, you sit in some of the hotels with bars on the front and you can see beauties rolling in, they don’t stop to ply their wares in the front anymore, not to me they don’t, they go immediately upstairs to rooms where their lovers are, that’s why the quality and standard of the girls that hang waiting for tricks in the front have gone downhill dramatically. Its all stage managed and stage door now, all stage doors. In those rooms you think those suckers are paying 10000 riel, more like 100 dollars, they take one look at the freelancers outside and who can blame them? In these private rooms, they fall in fucksake love. Those hookers who know and can use the Internet are using it wisely; fuck only knows what is happening in Thailand. They’ve had broadband for years. Sex is fuck all for these girls; it’s the hook that counts. They are also courting ex-pat American Khmers, long-island Khmers who have all the endemic problems of picking up that any other American teenager has. They send stipends and ring fence their beauties.

Potentially hordes of disenfranchised Chinese as well.

Malaysian Chinese that can make it happen and can come and touch flesh with a 2 hour flight from Kuala Lumpur.”

In a sense he must have been right. David has been doing his ‘pedo’ internet research for days, weeks, months ‘on the ground’ and noticed how the same young women spending inordinate amounts of time online. At 50c or 2000 Riel

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

(20Baht) an hour they were spending at least $5 a day in there whilst not working and earning a living. Is this what they call ‘ecommerce’? Some had food brought in, others drank beer. It was clear they had no daytime job; he had assumed they were hooking at night. They never lifted their eyes when a foreigner came in, that, after Thailand, he found unusual, hookers like most average guys are always scoping for trade, but not these beauties and they were ring fenced. Could this be an emerging reality? If so his raison d’ etre is snuffed out, that is the wind out his sails, what is he ding here? Could they be peddling their virgin young sisters using this mechanism?

While David had been absorbing irrealities of an country filled with hunger, wayward Buddhist morality, paedophiles bringing more AIDS to an intrinsically indigenous AIDS ravished population courtesy of a multitude of NGO Adobe PDF files with very slick professional finishes and complex wording and a multitude of mucho official looking acronyms – especially the homogenising super NGO - the U.N. In his observations so far, the very number of those organisations addressing these issues seemed to outweigh the adult aged hookers now populating the freelance bars, Sharkeys, Martinis, and Walkabout, all dead, sparsely populated, skeletal. In truth, there were more streetwalkers in Queens than what he’d seen here in his surveys. He heard of orgies in Mikados, Le Cyrcee and Sophie’s.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

He was just coming to grips with a country where sexuality appeared to be migrating online, where a hooker’s technology was more than simply make-up and attitude bound to a 40kg tight body, but to the acts of ring fencing and being ring fenced. To manage johns and tricks, to entice them remotely to pay for their dream; automating johns and tricks, it was all much safer, more akin to their cultural dispositions than freelancing and parading in bars. Western finance uses increasingly amounts of western technology, hse use western socio-sexual alienation to automate personal and intimate services. It’s all good and in keeping with the times. Economies may come to depend on automating boyfriends, liaisons, and marriages.

It was difficult for David to know, experience or do ought else, but his mission. He craned his neck to take a peek at the internet girls’ screens. He did so to the point opt ‘bothering’ them. What he glanced were static western men, illuminate

by LCD light and screen, smiling and typing. Two girls huddled together and one bald man was smiling in his office.

“Was he at work,” thought David, with adjacent thoughts on how he may report this man who was sitting smiling miles away. It was difficult for anyone to know what the state of prostitution was in any shape or form. He, and they, the girls were patiently typing, patiently communicating. He was grooming them. And they were gromming the smiling bald

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

man with way too little hard action and way too much testosterone.

Application of western engineering and science could help structure development, but there seemed those whose sole remit was aimed at closing down certain social behaviours without addressing others. David began to realise that very tall white women must abound in global deprived areas and this lends them gravitas, but shit do they look awkward or not smiling and passing platitudes in market spaces? Their very height lends them insincerity and lack of ‘fit’, they do not mirror their environment, a key idea in trans-cultural training back home. Reciprocity is the fundamental basis of any notion of universal trans-cultural human rights. Is this more than shopping? Do unto others as you would have done unto yourself. David had been shafted as a kid in a loving secure permissive communal setting, so was he just echoing, mirroring what he had done unto himself? Later tables turned but not in any predictable ways. As a man living alone, rumours, were around his neighbourhood that he was paedophile, whose other definition was ‘A single man’ with few male or female visitors’. Suspicious. Kids threw stones at his house, maybe parents too, he rarely saw the perpetrators, he remembered he was insured, he was unable to stem the build up and charge of community hatred and needed to move out to escape the tirades – this, even as he was an officer of the law. He couldn’t take matters into his own hands; children were now protected- by law. He wanted to kill the people that persecuted him, but he was scared. Scared that the rumours would spread to all other

But most puzzling what he was witnessing and what he had heard on the street did not concur with what he had read – all his Internet and library research on sex in the tropics.

This was his linear thinking coming out. He was inflexible and couldn’t reverse or change direction. He’d have to fill in his time. These were mostly legal age women engaging in long distance remote flirting. They were not manacled in filthy bordellos. His fish bowl was threatened.

III Why should that child brought up to acknowledge the disciplines of the infinitely sterile environment to eventually call the shots on right and wrongs in the organics’ limbic environment? Business thinking in the global environment was taking note of the importance of local issues in managing global enterprises, but this seemed to be the opposite. Sure not every SUV with logo attached would be imply some empty fact finding mission, some had actually dug wells and built schools and roads etc…once…OK… I will say the word, the word is twice. Marched back, by brazen, stoned, tuned in, turned on, and randy long-hairs, to the outhouse again… His abuse, what value?

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

communities in America. He was scared of this every bit as much as the idea that kids would escalate attacks and jibes, that he couldn’t provide ‘descriptions’ to colleagues as new entrants came on stream every other night to throw stones or scream names. Would they all finally coalesce and lynch him? They would if he retaliated. He wanted to shoot. All that he knew of the offence of paedophilia pointed to the propensity of the abused to abuse themselves. He was in a paradox, a pavilion of mirrors. Should he shoot himself?

and ‘them’ ‘this and ‘that’ are terms outlawed by authority of the community who try to live by the tenets of Jiddu Krishnmurti. He who professed that people should have “no gurus, no masters,” having been raised by the Theosophist Madame Blavatsky as the Matriea. The Savour. Christ?

Maybe this is why, with many other characteristics of his message or teaching, why he was referred to as “the intelligence that knows.”

While cultural relativity wasn’t his beef, David began to wonder how would we like Asian men coming to our countries and shafting some of our poor and delinquent youth? How would we like Muslims working in cahoots with the police gathering up masseurs and locking them up with a copy of the Koran? This was the reckoning of David’s parents when they talked about the nature of raising children in Chile. All of this was flooding in, and it did so at times. He kept his Jacky D close in the fridge just in case of depression. This was David’s information environments and children were brought in to the conversation as young as possible and listened to carefully.

Imagine a child being brought up in goodly homes on new age farms, with the dangers of unpasteurised milk but no MSRA, where there is muck, donkeys are there, and nudity is normal. Where clocks and the word ‘nonsense’ and ‘they’

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An ‘intelligent democracy’ is not the result emerging from the binary of global capitalism whose aim is to ensure access and provision, by heavy handed force if necessary, of a wide range of resources, manufacturing, cheap labour, goods and services to a ever more growing and widening demographic of atomised and ‘connected’ global consumers. At the same time it serves, broadcasts to this undifferentiated alienated mass synthetic sexuality in the shape of gigabytes, legions upon legions of nudes, images of women ‘right up for it’. At the same time they want to prevent two real and actual people providing, paying and consuming sexual services.

This more reprehensible than taking ice in your Tanquery and orange in a foreign climb. Jacky D, was for home use.

All these women who posed and run away with the cash cannot be wrong. Sweet Lord, David was even absolving his wife, the former Mrs. David Gotlieb from within this frame!

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

He’d taken pics and had burned them in some quasi-ethnic ritual one night on whiskey.

beauty, background foreground aesthetics, featuring highly against the average in the west, what with its emphasis on staying fit, young and slim forever. A Marxist-Feminist critical approach would highlight the constant and very cruel oppression by the economically-privileged white male of women and social ‘others,’ as well as denouncing the excesses of individuality within a capitalistic society like from where like to roam. There is no art gallery white room for their domination and oppression by Britney and Beyoncé and Christina without mentioning the moisturised male celebs trick a-treating John Doe.

All these men like David who gaped at woman’s nude images as god-like images and sorted them in their own order, into their own hierarchies, who struggled and battled with poor download speeds, all to store and save and finally savour their graven suggestions can’t be wrong. He needed organised religion. The joy of their pretend invites, and their managed and imagined positions. Their mental animations.

Isn’t this pay for play? If you don’t pay for sex then who does? Why shouldn’t you pay for ‘it’. On the TV another expose. You pay for your own white roomed cell, your independence, freedom to possess designer kitchen and mall and police force, you also pay premiums for freedom from it, into the dark, into the void over the South China Sea with the fall of West of Saigon.

IV Global capitalism is hung on the precipice of this juncture.

Do you really want to travel all the way round the world to shop in the same stores for the same goods produced in the same country? To screw in dank bordello ‘dungeons’. What about travel round the world to have paid sex with strange and exotic people, people who are genetically fit, and moreover, yeah much more over, ‘fit’ the western canon of

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GGGG David cared little for fucked-up ideas, although he tried to subscribe to them, but they had no effect bar the fact he entered the hotel massage where he was given a choice of picking from the book of photo, real live girls he could orgasm in the presence with, or inside, or he could view them live, viscerally, in the ‘fishtank’.

He preferred the tank as the two-dimensional images made some of them look like a Britney or Beyoncé, and he had no real interest in them, their creativity regarding neither their image management nor the work of their stylists. How can one learn of, work through, one’s sexuality and sensuality

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

alone, when it is at root a social phenomenon not only a psychological one? The strange games people play both with themselves and others… He objected and yet was seduced by this idea.

All this, as he stayed in Phnom Penh week in week out, was beginning to become common sense in South East Asia for David.

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

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IV Earlier David was reading a mag in the policemen’s locker room and getting excited at the pics. Everyone knows masturbation is an extremely enjoyable way to spend some time. The mag had just lain there, lain there waiting to snag David, to communicate to deep within his soul what he was so much missing right now. There were many messages of a related theme.

Friend, Here's a topic that every man has thought about, but few discuss: the abundant, potent volume and intense shooting power of the healthy, virile male.

Maybe you desire a bigger, more impressive load of cum; Maybe you have always felt that your orgasms could be stronger and longer; Maybe you seek ways

- 24 -

Semenextra; was developed by a group of committed professionals focused entirely on the enhancement and improvement of sexual function and enjoyment for men. You know something; I’ve helped thousands of men achieve the sexual health and satisfaction that are integral to overall health and well-being. The focus in recent years has mostly been on size and erectile function of the penis. But in our studies, we found that many men are concerned with volume - how much cum they were pumping out, and how forcefully. Not only did they desire bigger loads to impress their partners, but they wanted the incredible experience of shooting wave after wave of potent semen every time they came. In fact, the physical aspect of the orgasm - the way climax occurs in men - is

- 25 -

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

enhanced and intensified by a greater volume of cum.

It's true: more volume means more pleasure for both partners! And is the all-natural, doctorapproved supplement to boost volume and potency to "Mind-Blowing shooting new levels"!

Impressed, David approved of what he was reading. But he did not want others to know this. He sure didn’t need cock enhancement, he needed something tight to shoot into. He leafed over to check the mags’ name: Asian Invasion, and admired how the nudes inside choose provocative poses and spoke of their smooth hairless bodies, He had always hated Asian gold diggers. He checked out two more ads, one for a Fleshlight. The Fleshlight was designed and patented as a "device for discreet sperm collection" by former police officer Steve Shubin. He was impressed regarding the testimonials from fags as well as straights. After the wife left David had dabbled with vacuum tubes, watermelons, sock puppets and soft toys. But when it comes down to it, it looked like nothing beats the rhythmic pulse & convenience of a Fleshlight. Was there some way to combine a Vac cleaner and a supertight or butt ribbed? As a teenager, David had tried out various different vacuum cleaners, and in his experience he avoid the ones with too much wattage that

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

sucked really hard, He preferred a smaller, older Hoover, with a gentler pull, this would marry up well with his designer fleshlight. “Hands free feels a lot more like the real think and I cum a lot harder that way.” David was thinking creatively and strategically about his needs. “Experience the tightest anal sex imaginable” sounded good enough. He could never really consolidate the fact that his wife had caught him twice armed with mags connected to the old hoover in the basement. He choose to forget that his new twist on house cleaning when reporting his loss.

So first there was Semenextra, it would be ordered by phone that night. An order for a customised Fleshlight with three inserts and an adapter for his 1960s vintage Hoover Hooverette model 2294!!! Last on his list was an Asian phonesex number for a woman called Princess LU. He pondered upon why a man would simply pay a woman at the end of the phone, with a handful of scripts, why would he pay most of his monthly salary including nay bonuses he earned. This man was the proverbial ‘money-pig’ after the Hans Christian Andersen story of the same name: “The pieces of the Money Pig were swept into the dustbin, but the next day there was a new Money Pig standing on the cabinet. It didn't yet have a penny in it, so it couldn't rattle, and in that much at least it was just like the old one.”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Is your future free of risk and lacking adventure and are you just ticking along? Will you leave any footprint less the sadistic statistic based upon what it is you consume and when you do? Is that all you leave in your wake? David was meandering again as he discretely packed the mag into his bag.

“He called Drunk and horny and needing to be abused. Well, how could I say no? Lol. Of course I used him. Of course I drained his wallet. And of course when I was done, sent him a mail saying that I will be taking more. I hung up on faggot features David a few times and kept raising My rate. Hee, hee. I finally wound up at $10/minute and kept him on the phone for a couple of hours. Dumb ass.

Hahaha!”

Do you want to be remembered as a number for the brand of butter you use? Some guys would like to track their Thai girlfriends with homing devices which highlight their movements on Google Earth. Armed with this G2 (US military term for ‘intelligence’) they can corroborate or refute accounts they get that evening in their weekly video

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

cam session. They can highlight evidence that they were not where they said they were at that particular time. But will it matter in the end, does it matter? You get neither banana nor cigar nor medal for it. You will get a feasible excuse or straightforward grief, a blue fit, temper tantrum, one of the two. They buy a girl who gets angry at the paranoia of her lover and switches off. This is taken as passion. He goes running after her, he phones her twenty times a night, she phones him five times (he doesn’t answer out of principle) wanting only one thing, to believe it’s actually all right and that he has offended her and he promises an extra weighting on this months stipend so she can buy a little gold or a new phone to cheer her up… The Passion play acts again and again. “Please if you go round to some man’s house, who lives Thailand long time, you can’t resist who is better than me in bed, with a bigger cock, who is richer than me, and younger and better looking, please oh please darling, wear the condom!”

GGGG David was never like that but he could be… When he pushed the hotline number in Bangkok in 1989, he left Sri Mom some 500 units of a strange currency (he remembers it could be Nepalese or from the Oman). This was her reward for her incessant theft. He got it as change in the bar the night before, from that 1000 baht. He was hardly compos

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

mentis. She went by what he said when he told her he was leaving in two weeks. That was her cue to start robbing his wallet when he slept. They had broke up- got back together, broke up, patched up, broke-up and broke down – all of this intensity over the last two weeks. It was like compressing, condensing 20 years of western marriage and relationship into a two week schedule. Faith break-down, nervously stolen unfaithfulness, psychic persuasion, hard luck, broken dreams, kept and whispered promises, the lot in a two week time frame. The presentation of gold and his hawking, its reappropriation, and its hawking again, saving oneself and giving one’s self away – all of it sincere and completely. How would he take to the silence back home? Beyond the friendly “Hey David how’d you get on?”

note and only some inkling of his last minute instruction on how to cash it in for some more family coinage.

He actually left, quite suddenly, the very next morning, just as Sri Mom thought they were coming back from breakfast for his usual morning short time. The tuk-tuk had already loaded his bag and was waiting, the guest house already squared up for his whirlwind 10 days where typically at 9 am when the Katois transitory and flip-faced bar translated in to its daytime guise as a travel agency. When she saw him leave she was devastated.

Gotlieb opened it and there inside was a picture, a series of images poorly drawn.

David waved her good-bye her faced filled with confusion and shock, shame, clutching this strange non-dollar or baht

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“Bye hooker!”

He whispered gently to himself with the confidence of some mythical Joseph Campbell, or Joseph Conrad King-Hero now moving on in other lands. He was off to India. Nepal, Japan, anywhere apart from silent back home. Some months later a letter arrived from Thailand, it was in hieroglyphics, and so, so funny.

V

It was a dated picture of a man tumbling through the air as if from an aircraft. He had no parachute, was this suicide (heheheheh)? He had drawn it to illustrate to her when he was leaving and how dangerous it was to fly, and that aircraft often crashed. She had superimposed upon it a picture of girl sitting in a bare white room. She was lying in a foetal position.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Small. Alone. Amusing. And a heart broken and a clock as well, whose face was crying at the side, likes two loaves and meagre fishes. David wanted to draw infantile spurting cocks round the headbowed girl and her fucking broken hearts; he wanted to do this there and then. This thought made the communication comical and gave him hope for his shift. He is never going back to the shameful kingdom. Animal-like behaviours are widely regarded as being an inherent part of human nature. He is above it all… the bible says so.

enlarged manhood inserting into her pussy. He didn’t rip her clothes off, he objected deep down to rape, it is a felony. Old and young alike were sort of nullified, stunned, aghast even – but they knew for sure that farangs were morally bankrupt, completely foreign and unnatural. David loved it this way. Sri Mom protested more, she wanted him to finish up and stop making a Thai meal of it, a similar dominance traits to those of apes, revealing similar relationship structures.

As he drove to the precinct he pondered: “It couldn’t have been her shithole room.” As he remembered it, seemed like it had always been covered in water stains and Asian fungus, private areas dominated by a murky strategically placed, stained and poorly designed curtains. It certainly wasn’t white as it was in the unfilled spaces, negative spaces in the child drawing. All these excuses… “Fuck them, the money, the money just don’t stack up with these gold-digger whores... they want sympathy as well, how much do they take monetarily for me to perform my morning ablutions in their gaping mouths?”

“No, No, it good fo me baby, me a-lovin’ it, and so muh so muh.”

Quite pathetic really. “That’s no privacy,” David said derisorily in his first encounter with the actual room. “I no want come here,” she said, “I want go hotel.” Shut-up David laughed at the expression of an old wizened face which showed not so much disgust but confusion when he saw the

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Decreed insincerely, misogynist? Whatever. “Who saw me?”

“I’ll tell ya, a bunch of third world nobodies, a bunch of greedy thieving low-lifes, on the take forever, incapable of making their own crusts – shyt them are privileged that they may check the countenance of David Gotlieb while he is on the job... fuck man, I let them eat while they take in the best sex education they’re ever goin’a get, they couldn’t do that at school now, could they? I ain’t doin’ them no harm, I’m just doin’ them, Don’t tell me they are not on to yet another good thing.” Then he realised its true virtue, which up till then had lain dormant in his head; “fuck man,” he could perform in there, this excited him, and after some new cash negotiations and breakdown of resistances he made very violent aggressive and very loud public love so all and

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

sundry could hear him making a meal of it. His mouth furred he was so turned on. The echo was good; real good, he had ‘power’ even found the resonant frequency of the room, Bangkok itself, the hoe and her brood, all those Achilles who take it in their stride, I take it better, known this, known this, carefully adjusting grunts and tones while screwing, and where grunts and gasps penetrate the walls like snare and kick drum to the heavens themselves which opened on the command of David Gotlieb’s Asian sensation.

rapture. It was worth the money when he broke the bed with his ‘real’ ‘boom-boom’.

He was in his early 30s, he commanded. The room had delighted him in its fucked up manner, all its water stains down the wall, the poor workmanship, the unacceptable finishings, it was all his sex needed. The laughable window patched up with the cardboard of many Johnny Walker Black boxes, they had never drunk that, so ramshackle, all they have to really offer is sex and watching, you would have to be patently insane to eat in this hovel. But in it he fell in love, not with Thailand, like some lilies do, nor his girl, which some numbskulls will, but with the wonderful predicaments, the shitty curtains, the poor to non-existent privacy, with these haphazard encounters, shit rooms, scenarios, his skinny white leg hanging there awkwardly off the plank of wood pretending to be a mattress, with flimsy, almost comical, piecemeal construction, the room itself, and all the others, Thai neighbours no less, had total access to his

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GGGG “I’ve lent to you the capability to attract Gotty, and I have leased to you the power to remove him from the bar. I’m now to deliver unto you a chance and party with you. All night hard XXX style. I hope that all you have is a tiny cramped shithole to return to, I don’t need no fan.

I will crawl out of it in the morning after occidental boom-boom has be shown to have occurred. And it may occur to you, hoe, that unlike others, I am a staunch believer in the survival of the fittest. You might as well be as well hoe... I’ll split yo ass, I’m here with one motive to break hse in South East Asia, you have been given a chance – GRASP IT AND USE IT!”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

GGGG Some years later, while David was cuckold to this dream, this proclamation, the tables had turned, but he just didn’t know it, so much of the intensity and degradation aspects of this nightmare became lost and ethereal, dream like, impossible, yes it became an impossible world. It didn’t fit rationale or proper behaviour so much it was sublimated, relegated to fantasy. In reality where David had performed these acts - this entire dungeon dragon apartment, which housed seven hse, became the singular home [and tomb or mausoleum] of an obsessive-compulsive Japanese man and his ‘wife’. Can a home, un-cleansed, carry on malevolence?

Did the bad karma carry on into the Japanese man’s life?

Screw metaphysics.

While the water stains and fungus marks stubbornly remained, and were even contributed to, the partitions and curtains were hauled down and it came to boast some of the latest developments in home entertainment technology.

That is, until they were sold for a song after his lingering death and a genuine, real, genuine marriage of his ‘wife’ to a Harvard educated executive whose predilection was for champion blowjobs. He couldn’t see past them. The Japanese held a paper that said he was owner, they were bullshit. He drank Johnny Walker Black whenever he wanted to. His ‘wife’ worked to stave off boredom, she hated TV.

- 36 -

Just another stupid repetitive story of broken dreams, broken people, masquerade of sexual deviancy and sex addiction madness in South East Asia: where the world is love and innovation in that? Where does it end? Should it end? Read the lines, read between them it’s full of them, open you eyes and awaken! Every letter, every word, every thought has its pace and space for ‘it’. Seething at the edges, irate at the corners, what did this space do? The Japanese man failed to learn Thai. He was in a Thai fishbowl. The neighbours hated him as very argument that arose; every time they were woken it was his fault the wife told them everything about his bad behaviour and his criticisms of Thai ways. His aloof manner and his poor treatment of her, how he did not buy her gold or anything of worth. They learned to hate him. He first noticed it when they would not smile anymore, not even the Thai smile that hides every conceivable emotion.

They were able to testify to the cops when his body was found, that he was a very bad man with no respect for their beloved nation and King, and how accommodating his ‘wife’ had been.

David screwed up his daft pathetic communication from Thailand, this little letter from his itsy bitsy petite 42kg shapely Thai beauty, the one he received in his United States home and threw disdainfully it in the garbage, as if it were bad ju-ju dismissed by laughing gently to his self. He broke

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

the spell that Sri Mom had attempted. The ones that many Cambodian women arrange to trap their lovers and to affect social and financial security for their selves. She underestimated the cynicism of a cruel and unforgiving western neo-consumer society, the mall, the manicured gardens, the regulations the lack of mysticism, the wasting and improper interpretations of the old ways and nature.

The way that nature first becomes wealth then the markets.

internet. He’d got a glimpse of how some guys have problems with hse in South East Asia, how they couldn’t shake them off. LOSERS. This ‘messy’ special was a mantra that Gotlieb tried to impress upon himself in the infinite depths and loneliness of his modest apartment, those infinite boring nights in-between his vacuum/internet and phone fix. Was it that the vacuum had become more than a metaphor? On his days off he used to think, “When are they going to get fucked?” But no matter how much they multitask and multimediaise and virtualise sexuality, it is not even close to the real thing. Not at all, baby. It can only get 0.00001% of the distance required cognitively and 0% physically to the encomium of sex and sensuality available on the streets of shit parts of shanty town, chicken ranch and the fucking world! The sickly sweet smell of shack bordellos, ah the water stains, the hard make-shift beds and the beautiful teen which is the sugar in the salts and sours…

So different to the wanker’s booths of 1980s London and Amsterdam where separation was the norm. Inside the booth man smells dominated. The performer was hermetically separated from them.

Later David was sealing the faith of her primitive magick. He was on the phone, really enjoying and playing with himself, fluffing, while speaking to a sophisticated American Asian lady, Princess LU! She knew how he had gone and been duped by that travel agency. She knew everything about his trip and absorbed the lot. Only she understood, his parents wouldn’t, nobody at work would, and no U.S. girlfriend would, not even o the Internet. Indeed, he loved ‘fake’ Asian accent more than he’s ever loved the real deal after all! Or though he deluded himself… Uh UH! Uh UH! Me so horny, will you lick my pussy big nasty American man... Uh UH! Uh UH!” VI Actual visceral human interaction, fucking, and hanging with, handling (not managing) hse, is so god damn messy compared to the way they cleaned things up for us all on the

- 38 -

Crazy, crazy macho man, crazy macho, thinking about the booths, zillions of atomised individuals viewing the glut:

‘Goliath, I’m David, fuck me’!

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Legions upon legions of ‘suggestive’ captured and stultified nudes are available to browse forever. An endless succession of passive dupes getting frothed over by minds and brains that must animate them and resize and moreover, desire them. You train yourself to appreciate the vocabulary of two-dimensional nudes. You train yourself to understand the language of the phone. You train yourself to let teen whores gangbang you with strap-ons in a perverse reenactment of a U.S. maximum security jail. The staged reenactment of a man who has been raped, or who has been the receptive partner during a sexual intercourse. He is often regarded as less masculine and hence a target for future rape and other violence. If only it as spontaneous. His rape and his performances in front of indifferent watching communities. David felt like a depraved scavenger of holes and shape as he pondered and searched then considered who he would blow his wad off with when Princess LU gave him permission to be a stupid cum receptacle. He is unwilling to kill or die to protect himself from rape or is willing to negotiate a relationship to protect him from attack by multiple rapists. Her proper boyfriend, not a loser like him, was willing to meet and let him lick his cum out of his girl.

Her was a Viet card player. David drew a line in the sand here and particularly when she indicated he had shoulder length hair and wore shades. He perused. Cams can now open a little window into the Philippines where girls provide live nude experiences via web cams based in

bordello stylised rooms, and let’s face it, it is safer than safe sex in a jangle box that says more ‘wish you were here’ than ‘darling, mister, ohh your dick so too big!’ Violent sex wielding his wand, “feminists are right of course, they are right, men are sooooo predictable.”

- 40 -

King David of the perfume garden admonished them all, all these cruel vixen commentators, those humans who are on top. If he was lost in trying to conceive of having a ‘normal’ relationship, he pondered on the relationships these women had with their menfolk. This encourages and perpetuates sexual violence in an atmosphere where power and the perception thereof is regarded as paramount. He became totally be befuddled in his private rooms, suicidal as well, when he thought of their dinner parties and their children.

These feelings, thoughts drove him deeper, deeper into feeding his electric ego, where somewhere in the dark back of his unconscious spirit he felt safe and that he had a future stretched out in front of him, beyond his childhood fear of the outhouse, to the same future that he had as a child.

‘Princess Lu’- unforgiving Asian women, who had him in her database.

Information and pictures and discussion online can temper your offline experience desires and wishes and intentions.

They can tell you in no uncertain terms how to get there, the best nights and season to go, detail and list exotic food

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

and drink available nearby, places to stay, and even pics and/or videos of actual working hse licking spray can cream off awkwardly and untutored off each other, so that you can make a date with them when you arrive. Men can even by GPS equipped phones, and using Google Earth can track the movements of their hse when they return to their country.

This may be used in evidence against them, eventually the evidence being thrown out of ‘court’, and an extra ‘cheers you up darling stipend paid’ for any offence you caused, any offence.

SS

SS

In all the effect of online is anodyne, insipid and tame, not like travelling to third world heatseeker zones, which require dedication and ingenuity, creativity and nerve. Not even like a sterile date that emerges after grooming your prey for months. Your likes and dislikes, real and imagined.

Not to mention power and strength. Teens can take it out of you. But the Internet can serve well as a date arranger and protect the male menopause. But the authorities don’t like the grooming that goes on when kids get access. Grown adult men who should know better even in their darkest jack-off fantasies should not go there and learn that language. It is forbidden like the pronunciation of the unpronounceable name of god. He is in the orgasm:

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Does that mean he lives in a Vacuum on Valium - 'mother's little helper' - in Vietnam?

But what happens after the date is arranged is what is important. The human effort, the human contact, the way with words face-to-face. If it is a minor then this is sacrilegious territories. Maybe this is why first world consumers, male and female, and those desperate for scenario, adventure and a bit of burr are taking off to heatseeker locations. They don’t want tame, not at all, their societies and economies at home see to this very well, and so do most of their communities and commitments. They don’t want tame and when they can get even a whiff, a mere tiny whiff of he/she is wild. A controlled duck’s arse whiff of the wild child locked inside This is what David had. Screwing in the unruly claustrophobic enclosures of hooker’s rooms and shacks, crashing through their make shift beds with impunity.

Ignoring shit manufactured by their shit artisan husbands with not the farang in mind, their shit planks of wood with thin mattresses, his power battering of their homes and assholes, all in purview of their nearest and dearest, friends and females, paid audiences, husbands who think of Baht,

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

who were told to root for him like their were watching Muay Thai boxing.

paraded, cocksure, and resplendid in your authorities to hold dominion over his bounty. It was like an palm oil rape scene all night long, a backdoor pounding inviting you to thrash yo head from left to right, staccato with words like your word for ‘pain’ being repeated monotonously like a broken record or some porno film on a maddening loop.

Whatever you say,. You simply utter that you want money to rise, and you are getting half hoe. If you argue I will beat, rape and murder you. I will commit to hideously violent sort of forced anal.

Being a former beat officer, I am no stranger to homicide and hse and beating my wire. I am not looking for a wife, baby, nor you a ‘husband fraudster’, nor are we looking to do anything wrong or bad or impossible with respect to your butt hole or ‘face’, I am just willing to screw you in full purview of

If it were her rag week, her period then more the merrier, he wore industrial strength Trojans for the job and a lot of spermicidal and showered like fuck afterwards, spreading Listerine on his nether regions, purity, cleansing.

SS

SS

Sue Tyler’s presence when at the fishmonger is always for Scottish over Norwegian wild salmon, caught by fly, and no more than a day old. When you taste the difference you don’t want seconds. You’ll pay a little extra for the Devil you know then one more, one more, and one more you don’t.

That’s how tastes become sticky, like walking up after a hard coarse session with a menstruating Thai whore at home.

“Hey, what the fuck, I’ve delivered unto you the big fat monster ride of a young fucking life. I have a fabulous penis and if you had not encountered and condemned Gotty, as if he were random, then you would never have known...

Never have known life. You have now

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

your miserable dirt scratching family, your rip off friends and your excuse of a ‘community’. Everything god damn thing opens to me cause I hold $ I am now going to decide what’s best for you, what is going to go good for you, as a sup my beer just tell me, in your opinion, using your own words hoe, just what it is I want to hear. Not what you think I need to hear…”

Thus spake David Gotlieb, as he lurched into yet another pontificating. The sexual behaviour of men and women reflects not only their personal tastes, but, to a large extent, also the basic values of the society or social group to which they belong. David was becoming expert at creating group realites.

VII Intelligent democracy is a democracy of compromise and by acceptance, trust, in the moral majority of the small group living separate from the larger mass, the Straw man opposed to the tethered masses and their hindered, severely reduced and narrowly channelled means of communicating.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Where weapons are kept or given away and there is much talk of ‘legacies’ and ‘cults’. David Gotlieb had faint glimmers of recollection of a childhood trip to India, Macho Peru, and Chile. In-between the bombing and the witness protection programme, the feds saw fit to send the Gotliebs on their journey – as long as it wasn’t ‘the hash trail’ (overland to India via Turkey, Syria, Iraq etc.). Round his life and round the world visiting holy sites and political dissidents, most of them wore long hair, which repulsed him, were unwashed (typical), and were no doubt linked by their interests in children, pedo rings. Before the age of 10 and several years of psychoanalysis courtesy of he American tax payer and via the FBI witness protection and support programme. It seemed like counsellors of sages had been shadowing him all his formative years. It was either long hairs doing things to him, or wanting to find out what the other’s did to him. It was a significant additional burden on the witness protection programme to learn of this abuse. Infinite maddening loops of physical and mental abuse. Which of course was just hum-drum life to young David, torturous to needy, wanting lonely David in later life when hairstyles and life became a chore, and why it was needed some answer. In hedonistic and tolerant cultures, most people are likely to be joyful and sensuous; in puritanical and repressive cultures, they tend to be anxious and inhibited. In the first case, they will celebrate sex as a source of happiness; in the second case, they will

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

deplore and conceal it as a source of shame. Therefore, when we study the sexual attitudes of any individual, we are actually dealing with two separate sets of questions. We ask not only: "How well does this man or this woman conform to the sexual standards of his or her society?" but also: "What is the basis of these standards? What does this society believe about the ultimate purpose, or meaning, or 'nature' of sex?"

dark did for that falling unwavering Vietnamese Prisoner.

The dark looked to him identical, the same featureless space as the dreaded ‘real’ white room. And he was just like our other tragic hero, obsessive-compulsive Japanese man, particularly the point where his sight was failing dramatically due to kidney failure.

GGGG A break for the authors from David’s course of thinking.

Here you go, dufucknationality, is it? Maybe. I am prepared to venture into the realm of sexual sensationalism and perversity to sell this volume. We had enough of order in Volume 2. Go out with a bang. Sexual deviants and South East Asia nothing surprising now is there? The only deviancy is in the mind and that is cultivated and harboured in the atomised, consumerist wasteland. If you don’t like switch off, tune out and drop in or whatever it goes like.

Re-read the disclaimer at the start of Volume one. Heard it all before, remember and arguer the toss in the second hand Indian bookshop. For ‘you’ is the victim of this writing and the writing is ‘my’ victim, and I am the victim of her – the reason for this writing existing at all. Her indoors in the pavilion of mirrors. I lost the entry, and I think I have screwed up on the exit. They look the same. All I can do is communicate, and hope someone is receiving, just like the

- 48 -

He had come such a long way, both these men did, all these men did, and time mattered not to either, only events and internal affairs. And by the end of this story so will have David Gotlieb. I hope it’s merrier.

Every channel on the Japanese man’s Plasma TV came to look the same, it was all just nonsense. That’s when he knew it was close, he had stemmed the flow but not the tide, that which will kill you is always inside. But they kept scoping, looking, worrying about sex till the end when all channels, all mirrors collapse in to one.

SS

SS

Then a typical normal lifestyle, in a loving close family home, with a dog and fridge and garden and paper round, and finding his father’s magazines in his basement workshop and masturbating to the lovely ladies inside, some of them Asian with loud blue eye mascara.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

VIII

David and Otto Gershang his ‘partner in crime’ are having a full English breakfast at the Rising Sun Pub, near the Riverside in Phnom Penh.

The obnoxious substitute of real time for shift time was one result for Officer David Gotlieb as he travelled, like today, reality TV both conjures and dissuades the real with which it purports to deal.

The real and the produced, the manufactured are as one. By singing up for and being categorised and chosen as a participant, the ostensive object is to highlight the mundane, you can be any one of them.

But they are not ‘natural’ they did not come together by free choice or will or volition. They, as a group are contrived by another group. They act out in ways which are delimited, and they are given tasks to perform to keep them on their toes and keep us viewing public entertained. These are not mundane; they are artificial like the aircon and Bloomberg News Channel in the Nana Hotel room. The moral dilemmas and attitudes and emotions they ‘play’ out, wow! They are real. The UK government recently made issue regarding happenings in one UK based show. It concerned that bugbear ‘racism’ and that mote political agenda ‘national education’. Any obduracy, hindrance or pitfall manufactured by those in control can elicit genuine frustration and negative emotions. Rather than a Disneyworld for adults are heatseeker zones not more like this?

- 50 -

The very fact they are doing this means inherently that they have not integrated in to the foreign culture in which they reside. They prefer, instead, appropriate and necessary distance. They would actually like to remain; ‘miles from home’.

Proximity can mean burning, think Icarus (he who flew too close to the sun); images of dead American and British soldiers broadcast by Al Jazeera, and when they were picked up and rebroadcast in the US, these images were considered “contraband” by the Pentagon. They love stag movies there, well awaken! they are military after all. They now have lap dancing, no touching either. Making live nudes multimedia.

As stated Mayor Giuliani took out the tip n’ touch booths in Times Square where men would rim black assholes whilst tugging furiously. A particular sex. For some crucially additive, and debasing according to the edicts. Sex, like the category ‘love’ got high jacked in Asia, along with MTV who also high jacked some terms, and other accoutrements, like male penises. David objects to self-proclaimed feminists using the word ‘penis’ as they have no idea what this means, just as he doesn’t need to know what ‘vagina’ really means, he doesn’t have one, so it can only be referred to in the

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

language of the non-patron. Like the alien bizarre

These morons were sick of them too. Sick of it hogging the news in their experience economy.

commentaries of young men who not only do not want to pay for hard action, but despise prostitution as an institution.

Overheard by David on the boat to Sihanoukville:

“Did you notice there was a red light shack village populated by whores outside Koh Kong?”

“Yeah we saw that, about a kilometre out, yeah? Yeah mate, but we’ve had had enough, yeah way too much already, we’ve just come from Thailand, see, sick fucking fed up of looking at ‘them’ to be quite honest, they’re fucking everywhere in Thailand. They’re like flies to shit, know what I mean?”

By the same token, reports about US troop advances and Iraqi soldiers surrendering, from embedded CNN journalists, resulted in their expulsion from the country by Iraqi information officials, frustrated by the invasiveness of CNN.

- 52 -

Good old dependable rape n’ murder, civilian forms and war versions, more solid than Toys ’r ’Us, the weather in global warming, sweet, the age old theme, Starbucks, low risk stocks, media and cops and military and insurance companies of others are complicit in the loss of experience, life for others. The real was violently close, too close, evidently, for anyone’s comfort zone. All this learned in a metal tube hovering in the sky, in the sky to the tune of incessant white noise, the pressurisation of the carriage, unless you are in business or 1st class.

Noise reduction only kills some of the racket of the white.

All tone, like all colours comes from selectivity of this. This is why we need reality tunnels, and their arbitrary daft category systems which only carry the appearance of being shared, it is their use. You must adopt the martial approach, its only right in this war of worlds, between two opposing camps set upon setting and resetting their agendas to accommodate the ever more encroaching realm of liberalism and commercialism. In this case, it is struggling with the journey, it is long and arduous. In this case, it is struggling with the journey, it is long and arduous. The race is not the prise, it does not prise you from reality, it is simply the

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

chimera of the dignity of labour, and the unadulterated vanity of one-upmanship and conquest and finite dominion.

curse all these ideas that culminate in a truly multicultural and developed nation with a true sense of self honed by a 19th century civil war, expert and ‘advanced’ ideas about professional and sexual development, which to be candid has been fucking awful since the last time he was in Thailand.

What the fuck had happened to be precise beyond getting hooked on phone sex services and being publicly branded a paedophile because no friends, male or female were seen visiting. Being a fully fledged homo is OK now in the public domain, better than the hermit delinquent…

Value and meaning, and positions and weapons are chosen almost at random. Anything to be different, anything, anything at all to stand out from the crowd, to be different, to create division and distance – horizons. It’s the only way for the westerner to identify with himself, or identify himself to others. Divide and conquer. This is the moral of the story in this volume, David’s experience of this was his private thought that tantalised and horrified him, that he’d been ganbanged and privately raped by hippies and counterculture pundits in a stupid outhouse while his parents were in a doped slumber and would have probably condoned it anyhows as part of their ‘open’ views about lovin’ and learnin’. It was all dissolving into bullshit and he was freed to enjoy now the horror of existence unabated, purely visceral and non-symbolic.

IX The play-offs begin.

David Gotlieb has arrived for his second time in shameful South East Asia. He is on a personal American mission, a vendetta against himself, nay, all those that abused him, and for the corruption of his personal and core identity, and of

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Yeah fuck it all, just like that, the cataclysm, its all broken down into its constituent parts, and he has went into sweet state dependent learning, Thailand hookers and pipes, means that he does them, he has been abstinent for years, living an fucking irreality, this is real, THIS IS FUCKING REAL AS WELL!!!

Layers of reality, realness, just a little teaser before the serious stuff, kids etc., just a little treat becomes a Dutch boy counting the fingers of both hands as they draw over brown silken flesh and the damn has opened, broken and Winslow Wong’s Atlantic power ocean drives in as if it where winter is remembered, conjured up in Old England. Gotty is here all right, all in one piece, whole he is here to break as many hse as he can - psychically, mentally and spiritually. He is united once more, united with himself, with Mr. Hyde, and it is

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

good, all good. He has booked into the Nana Hotel, he has already smoked an illicit pipe with what he took to be a chamber maid, yaba, and got her to massage him all over including his private parts that nobody has touched for years, and all this after that fucking hideous flight, and rub him down naked with oils and her tits. Her toothless mouth sucked him and licked his balls and anus, her older rubbery woman’s body was sumptuous but fuck her, he wouldn’t let her bring him off, just to peak several tantalising times when his brain flooded with already stored eidetic pictures of fit young babes he’d checked that day, oh no no no no; “baby, that’s for much younger sisters… OK!?” “Haha, yeah, he thought to himself, those who still have their teeth… and not carrying so much weight.” He paid her 2100 baht.

on. To fuel and stoke his sexual obsession, his real true self as a maniac of sex. From loosing his way, to finding himself.

He has downed almost a bottle of his litre of Jacky D duty free, he’s drinking it neat now and not bothering to order any more coke from room service, he is that far gone, and he is yet buzzing, more alive than ever, buzzing with promise and pipe, and he is testy, and thinks he needs to orgasm.

Orgasm in a presence. Orgasm with a non-hairy body.

Smooth, fresh clean Asian flesh, so different from the gaunt hairies that took him, burgled him as a youth. His heterosexuality was a response, protest to his abuse. He can protest here, openly. Who can challenge? This was not proper sexual and emotional development. Not at all. And David Gotlieb now used this negative energy to drive him

- 56 -

In the hotel lift as he decides, he shares his deliberations with two fat German mongers and their single catch of the day.

Two whales of men who will attempt and may even fail and pay to perform coitus with a willing and able and consensual partner – where is the harm is this? He fucken approvingly 100% nods to them, and he fucken loves them, their look and style, they are not abusing, them are using, performing well as trick and john should do and hse is a hooker and she is playing out her role. Both parties, all parties are in command and moreover, fucking alive!!! They are players after all. None condoning or admonishing, or disapproving, none outraged, none of these things or states, they are engaged! He is enraged! And he needs this too and he will get some. As they depart the lift this menage a’ trois “It’s been so long, oh babies… too long time, so long, eh?” Oh shit, he gyrates his hips, leaning and grinding them a little forward. They like him too, he’s funny, and sex is fun here, not austere. Why make it such? They are all laughing nervously silently. David in the lift. David in the lift, going down, down, down into ecstasy.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Now something happened. Some tectonic plate deep in Gotty’s soul snaps. It must be the drugs, it must be the unearthed, suppressed, repressed memories, it must be truth arising, Prometheus rising.

He knew it in his soul and yet, King David, was unafraid. He accepted his fate, and would be happy instead. It had always been on the books. All those nights of potential kinetic energy, potential that he thought he had spent. Wasting himself, his sperm. Whilst masturbating furiously with fur and rubber gloves, mugs of soapy water, rolled up newspapers and girlie magazines, vacuum attachments, lewd phone conversation at up to $50 a minute with a make believe Asian, his make-believe masochism, it was all changing now. Bullshit. This was epiphany. Can you, can you imagine the Christopher Columbus, underneath the Holy Cross Sails and the conquistadors in full battle dress coming to the shores of what they have searched out, the New World, new rules for the new game, the play-offs, finding what they had cherished and searched for, the grail.

They had found it at peril of falling off the end of the world.

Something big and epic was rousing in Pan’s abyss, a fucking leviathan was uncurling in David Gotlieb’s Kundalini, one magical movement such as felt by Elvis dying on his throne prematurely, but beyond death and mortal coils – LIFE! Yes something real, something really happened in that lift.

You know the feeling a lift provides. You can’t get it vicariously on film. It’s that sinking feeling, so central, that mysterious feeling of movement when all around you is relatively stable. David linked it to his electric marital aids, like the first time he had self-penetrated and jacked with the phone in his hand, like tapping your head and rolling your hand on your stomach, sensory overload and the jackpot.

Well David had that, and some more. While he was conversing jokingly with the inhabitants of this life world, his unconscious mind was falling, tumbling, falling whilst expanding into a huge great abyss but comin’ out of it with what is now know as a gay’s pride, almost a parade in Sydney or Frisco.

- 58 -

From that ocean now emerged David Gotlieb right now.

Through the milieu, the noisy thoroughfare of the Nana foyer, foregoing his complementary drink with the older women, yet more older ‘sisters’ at the foyer bar, and the first batch of Katoi at the dismal bar. He advances unmasked.

Passed the geriatrics entertaining their fiscal teens with a light and easily digested evening meal wishing colostomy bags massaged and a [pure dream] on their diabetes and

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

other blood pressure meds that prevent them hard-ons but not their memories of ‘Nam the bars of New Petchaburi road. How will they introduce them? Oh the pace, the pace, the spec of their existence. Those that rarely leave the hotel choosing instead selectively to socialise in Angels disco in the Nana basement instead. Outside into the humid night he, King David, passes. Glazed eyes, the chance offers of spontaneous [or healing] emergency unrequited love cabs to Pattaya and Hua Hin, dismisses the gauntlet of freelancers and marches without checking traffic. 0h! road and female straight into the middle of Soi Nana, bang in the middle of the road. Where he brings everything, the whole caboodle, his lot, his prostate gland, to a halt under a totalising will.

David lets the ocean go, he decrees:

was advancing masked. Instantaneously, they around the vicinity wonder what the commotion is, but they suspect because of the district a farang or foreigner, an alien, and when they get a little wiser they want to also kill the source.

“Nok doesn’t want to be with you anymore friend. She’s with me now...

Right... Straight to business, I’ll give you the first hit prick, it’s free, no charge.

After that we go full on and dance, OK?” In a moment, a single lovely moment of reverent silence, a death denying incredulous momentary halt to affairs, cars and motorbikes screech to a halt, why do they want to know why? Not because David had just stripped a punter of his 3 year fetish, the whore by the handle ‘NOK’, but because he

- 60 -

He has single handed fucking well has stopped the traffic in Soi Nana, its in his personal service, it just don’t know it yet, but he has them to heal even if they resist, he has punctuated, punctured their existence, he has intervened never to go away, they will never forget him, and to broadcast it, his veins stand proud bursting at his temple delivering the message as well, drug and drink unfurled, so terribly inappropriate for an U.S. officer in his won space he raises fists like a victorious but shell-shocked and totally fucked-up U.S. marine who has Vietnam or Iraq rape n’ murder specific experience, murdered his way into deep abstraction in life hates the men on the moon because they were escapists from his hell at the hands of the Viet Cong, and a near grand mall seizure ladled on, ladled on ladled on like military food, but still, loud as fuck, it was enlightened in a way ‘lost face’ Thais would ever never get to in a month of Sundays. He screams in the style of Descartes; ‘I think not because I am so drunk, therefore, I am not’, these Chinese:

Everybody...! [Breathless, expressed as a sigh, a relaxing of the ages] .

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Listen to me…! [repeat] Me. I

am…[pause,

stutter,

stumble]…

David Gotlieb!

“And…hell... whatdouknow? Here … I…

am!!!” [repeat] am. [thumbing at his self Queen’s style or John Travolta Saturday Night Fever style] He created a lattice of image, a Theatre of the absurd. ‘Lost face’ Thai motorists wanted to kill and murder him, he held them up, they are not ready for history, kill him quickly, unequivocally, knowing, in the pause that followed between this bit of speech and the next.

His stance was offensive to their families, nation and King, and it was offensive to them as Thais, as socially embedded individuals who had community and dependants observing their handling of this unnecessary hold up. They were under surveillance with respect to how they defended their

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kingdoms both personal and social. Wives, daughters, mistresses and girlfriends, the stuff of Thai soaps were each and all, watching them and had expectations even thought they would never taunt nor mention them. Most, through over exposure to hideous Bangkok traffic congestion couldn’t stand being held up in this manner any longer, not at all.

Not even for a foreigner’s ‘pretend irrelevant’ ego. Que David Bowie’s Heroes track; “Just for one day…”

It was too much like admitting that farang were here, forever, as a karmic retribution, to consume and act entirely as they will. That their unruly, bizarre, drunk, and unpredictable behaviours should be accommodated. That they could consume prostitution services without dignity, that this was a shameful kingdom and that they could act and do and say whatever they wanted… all with no consequence. That all was permissive here… libertine or the Thai word for it, debauched and lesser. That is what the Thai motorist they must defend against.

David Gotlieb stood obtrusively, staring at each and everyone individually that was looking at him from the tiers of open bars and from the dotted street food vendor stalls.

Some stared back, some averted their eyes, some giggled, some were upset, some were angry; some shook their heads in disgust. He afforded each individual westerner and each

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

girl a studious look. It was most unusual for anywhere anytime in a city, really.

somthing couldn’t let her go but he and she needed that money, were used to it, couldn’t see beyond his money, the monthly instalments, he was catch 22 and on the bleeding edge, with suicide and good to go, if only they could kill the German man and still get paid. He packed heat as well; maybe it was him that fired so many avenues.

This spell and tension was broken only by Thai traffic police, they energetically blew whistles and came running down the centre of Soi Nana between cars, also wondering, curious to what was happening, they came running from the junction with Sukumvit towards the hold up, shouts and screams enthusiastic to each other self-organising into fact finding missionaries hands on guns. Juts then, a civilian firearm went off near a tuk-tuk beside a Mercedes; across the street one could easily see sparks of a ricochet bullet.

The cops slowed took cover, as did many other people, two or three screaming the cops withdrew weapons and tensions mounted Defcon 1 style.

The shooter was either a pissed-off Thai ‘lost face’ motorist who fired the gun out his window as a sequel to his frustrated hornblowing or it was the a 20-somewthing yaba smoker husband on the comedown who was fucked off that his 20-something wife was off yet again with the 50something farang, that, after 3 years of paying stipend and on his 12th trip in that time to visit her, threatened, demanded that she marry him and come to Germany or that was it, his money would be redirected at little Noi, another hungry Thai bargirl in Hua Hin? The yaba afflicted 20-

- 64 -

But all this is peripheral, an aside, peripheral to a million zillion stories and plots, background noise and sound that augment and support the main focus of a story, and that is in this case ‘10000000% Lovin’ it’ David Gotlieb.

Fuck our protagonist was leering like a satyr with full hardon, who had already caught and was dallying with his nymph but still looking at each and every female face he could muster in woodland, regardless if tricks; the women’s ‘husbands’ and ‘boyfriends’ - their pet farangs, were watching (or not from the eves). David now felt disdain looking at the other punters. Their hung faces insulted him, made him like a ‘lost face’ Thai.

Regardless of their non-verbal apparitions, and disparaging looks, David continued to scouring the faces of the hookers as if they were dirt, felons, guilty, aware, recognised, Christian or even praised, goodly women. Regardless of this, regardless of all of this melodrama, and the pending blood

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bath, and much more, David delivered the rest of his ‘welcome back’ raising fists to the air.

Shit man, they were rustic ancient fists of joy, not of fury, that actually became aggressive beckoning waves, like a benevolent Zeus or the dark vengeful Jehovah from the deep;

“HSE…!”

[A below from the unfathomable depths attested to his retributing Old Testament soul, and grabs %75.47 of those sitting in trance state in the outside bars in Soi Nana. Long pause]

I am… HERE! [Comparatively whispered like a humbled New Testament Messiah, a quiet Buddha, a reticent Mohammed, a quiet Krishna]

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[Shorter pause fists brought to beat on a puffed out chest]

And ‘me’ lookin’ for a lil’ business…!

[Playful demure but totally insincere pidgin English] [Head lilts to one side the non-verbal for a playful questioning, slight implausible shake of non-acceptance – the first of several - shorter pause, fists rise to become loose beckoning gestures, he taps on his wallet pocket]

Come and get sum…! [sharp, so snappy of militaristic, WWF style chant challenge] Sum Lay! (the name of a competitor of Princess LU, an Asian phone domanatrix). Sum fukin’ LAY! [Fists clearly mutate to become open ‘negotiating - nothing to hide’ style hands, pleading style, head and neck rolls again sinuously almost snake-style to one side, but teasingly,

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

suggesting a kind of cute, coy shy incredulity of a young teen asking for a first date]

a real spectacle, five bargirl pickings, mostly all of whom return approving smiles, on the same wavelength as David hse, regardless if their putrescent and spent johns and tricks were watching]

Ah! and ohhhhhhhyeahoohhyeah…!

I kinda find myself a-wondering…

HA!

[body and hands now stop dead, Southern ‘finger-lickin’ states’ style, but then they freeze to punctuate, emphasise, exaggerate, his pretend heart felt sincerity]

so muh… of

you

...and by that, [playful again]

[Hands rise to become asymmetrical pointers, left and aright simultaneously like a Roulette wheel, pointing wildly and sinuously at random hse]

…which one beauties...

…Is getting an itsy... bitsy... tiny piece of Gotty tonight…

2000

Baht

I also mean a piece of the fucking bounty lying tight and snuggled, RIGHT NOW, in the man’s fucking wallet, Gotty’s fucking pocket, Real near Gotty’s fucking love stick?

[Now hands slowing like a Chinese Roulette wheel, pointing even more exaggeratingly at immediate selects, in fact now more like a Dutch windmill with a storm blowing in from the North Sea, so obvious that this man is off his face drunk,

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[Theatrics pause, lengthy, pouting, then hands drop limply, ‘pretend’ despondency, his whole body writhes magnificently mimicking ‘giving up’, even though its bursting with energy, and as if he is built like a supra-

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

muscular Greek figure, yeah WWF style again, observers think this is the end of clearly a mental inmates positive side, like moon and earth, he’s surely bi-polar and now in front of their eyes, a dangerous and unstable drunk, capable of any chaos, shifting to the dark side, his euphoria is now disintegrating, shattering into his other half, David’s little dark twin, the afflicted, the bent and clubbed foot man in shadows, arcane and infinite depression in need of shock and apprehension, ugly, not even open to criticism like the ‘up’ side, but from that perceived abyss in the eyes of the deeply anticipating watchers, looking searching for his next bizarre comment or move, he eclipses them with direct challenge to their observations, their expectations, anticipations, their very being, Gotty surprises and rises from the spring, suddenly Gotty crops up over the hill, from the thickets he surprises and jolts, he howls through their limbic system, and mutters as if his very last croak words, but loudly, or like he’d just remembered lost words from a past life, or left the cooker on, holds his forehead, Buddhist hse responded delicately to this as it was proof…]

beautiful fucks! [he is addressing both genders, all and sundry now]…

Oh, shit hookers… for one night only… [to himself incredulously] fuck one lil’ tiny night night one lil’ tiny night night one lil’ tiny night night - you

- 70 -

[Hands regimentally with control rise into pleading masquerade – a hollow, forced, fake wai – then explodes into direct provocation pointing at men who are boiling over]

Lose your losers!

[Address to self] “And then some!”

“yeah, OK, fuck you impotent fuckwitts, I led my welcome back!”

He is right. He advances unmasked right into the faces of those in the thoroughfare, he stands proud an tall amongst their stares, their looking for more, for more climax, but he ain’t giving them that, it wasn’t about ‘them’ at all, cops are shooting down the street as some Thai honchos, Gotty don’t give a fuck. Not even if it takes his audience’s eyes of him. It wasn’t about attention, not at all, it was entirely about self and permission and social affirmation. It was generative, not about reflection. Not here not now, he’d done his ‘monk’ bit

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

in the depths of his home, the vacuum and outhouse, now it was about expression. Dancers know that.

communities back home where he would be seen as a virile and goodly man. Ticker tape returns.

Suddenly the car honking, and the short term memory of a firearm being discharged made some presence in the theatre of ‘Gotty’s’ consciousness. But all too late he was already immersed in the writhing bodies as he sat and ordered Jack D, scooping scanning ass. Where it was readily dispatched like a Khmer Rouge confessor. Left behind, outside, there wasn’t, really, a single male member of that audience that didn’t envy Gotlieb, or at least his verve. But it wasn’t easy.

Not only was David Gotlieb wanting his presence felt profusely, he wanted to impress upon this male audience of whoremongers, punters and tricks, all varied in their exposure and dedication to the barworld, that he was superior to them all and above ‘it’ and them all. It was a message to the pedo contingent buried in this range of miscreants and whoremongers. She was drinking and washing away with cool paper towels applied to his forehead by several attendant hse the taunts of home by those fit kids and their behind curtains parents. He was player, central stage, he was no pedo, and he had but a single regret – if they could see him now! He wished he could view their show and let the pedos present ‘come out’ like gays publicly announcing their sexual orientation since it was legalised.

He would parade them and his attendant hse for his

That he contained his and the totality of all of their past experiences, when he had been more debauched in a million years of their petty diminutive fantasies, he had already come to be above and beyond their stupid know-it-all flaccid hops sexuality. And he was here well-hung on a higher purpose, and it made him feel like a running victorious prince, and those miscreants hiding, lurking there introverted in the shadows better watch out an officer is finally assuming charge where once he lost it. Above all there they were, framed by beauties, which accented them as an atrocity exhibition, the espoused and declared fucking bullshit, the ‘talking’ bullshit, the ‘acting’ as if they mattered bullshit, with their laws and borrowed morals and identities and little realities bullshit, and stupid, stupid bullshit ‘tips’ on how to be here man, with the women. “Fuck man.” David ventured to himself, “half of these miserable fuck ups hadn’t looked down and seen their half and quarter stub dick in years, their idea of girth was a large meatball sub, or a cigarette, it long went underground in shock horror response to an engaging Jupiter moon eclipsing it evermore from above. What in fuck’s name have they got to tell me?

And what, far more importantly, what the fuck are they going to do for and with these young beauties apart from

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

brag about themselves, their wealth and share little of their bounty?”

love of Christ he was using it to its full advantage. He left footprints. As he said this he jabbed and pointed at hung face men, shocked out of their lulls. “Arrogant prick, he’s getting ripped off tonight.”

His critique was scathing, “They ain’t leaving any footprint for that money, them are just throwing baht on the bed for the hse to be,” all right, be that as it will, what they will get in return is just grief, beginning and ending with their own putrid stains from the night before, staining yet another cheap hotel room bed, they are just broken records the lot of them, even the young ones.”

And to royally cap it all he really wanted to let all the hse in the house tonight know that they should just tell these useless deadbeats to go fuck themselves as they usually do, home alone, and get on with the chore of jacking themselves lying, face slack in the corner of the room, as prelude, training if you want for their boo-hoo return journeys home.

Impotent jacking, struggling for evocative images. Hse should then be freed up to themselves to a buyer’s market of one, that one being of course, the officer-in charge – David Gotlieb.

There is not a motherfucker’s hope in hell that the Gotty was staring at an abyss, or even gently hovering over one.

He was looking only at chance and possibilities and the way he could, and would craft it. Man, this is a window, warcraft, that comes but only on configurations and by the

- 74 -

He shouted and marched into the entertainment plaza grunting as a fucking anointed prince made king, the parade reminded him of Las Vegas or a Macedonian victory parade, and he was Alexander but with all the neon. But inside hookers, not machines, this irrespective of the hung faces of over half a million men in the bar, some of them were strongly opinionated and disparaging Englishmen, sardonic, mordent and sarcastic English working men who delight in being moronic as an emblem of their ‘normality’ and whom are now into money and Thai hookers, who bring younger workmen to enjoy ‘real’ stag holidays with hookers they don’t want to pay, but want to love them for what they are, clever funny people with puck and wit as their upper classes told them. “They used to look down on builders 20 years ago, now we’re the boys with the dosh.”

Indeed, good interest rates meant that the property prices had made it a sellers market in renovation skills. Noise reduction only kills some of the racket. “Arrogant prick, he’s getting ripped off tonight.” Gotty had a large winged eagle shirt on, and winged belt, that just spat out “King” in American for them all. He never did get to know that two of

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

the men he has just tarred with that pitiless brush were two detectives Lieutenants from LAPD on holiday sampling wears; they viewed Gotlieb as a mentally ill embarrassment to the American race, but funny. He could’ve passed as a stand up comedian.

fucking eavesdroppers. He really needed to get in tow with some agency, what could he lose? And who better than Unityview? He had seen the director speak in Manhattan the previous year while he was planning his tour and doing another lot of his community training. He’d been in Bangkok days and Phnom Penh months now, killing time, annoyed that he had tracked down zero paedophiles.

SS

SS

SS

SS He didn’t get ripped off, shame be to those that decreed that King David would.

He awoke, as a prince or American professor or abstract expressionist, the next day, face down, drunk hungover on his bedroom floor, which if you removed the expletives, would suggest art worthy of this manual, wretchedly hungover, but still in time to get his free breakfast and then spent the day watching Bloomberg TV in a daze before hitting out the next night, a little bit more sedate, but determined to score some ‘legal age’ flesh. It was the only thing he could properly think of, he was still jet lagged and hung-over, thank goodness his sac was still full.

SS

SS

David gave up. It was getting close to about 10 a.m. No fucking converts today, no fucking audience either. No

- 76 -

What do Europeans like Otto read or hear every day from our intellectuals and politicians, they can hardly wait to have any choice in the unpleasant particulars? He angrily remembered the sympathy the French expressed for America in the immediate aftermath of 9/11, Le Monde's Jean-Marie Colombani, “Nous Sommes Tous Americains” "We are all Americans," was revoked in its sympathy by Sept. 12. Euro-double think had kicked in again, and again, and again. David would reduce this with certitude, dogged certitude and obstinacy, he was learning over the months spent with English ex-pats how to be scathing: “This, this is going to be the first, this, this is going to last.” So decrees King David, coming with selfless pride from his ‘ABCD’ culture, attested by its 1000 years of linear history. From humble beginnings in 100 years to man-on-the-moon and intense double and treble think counterculture maturity where the very structure of knowledge itself comes to be

- 77 -

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

questioned at every juncture in meaning and politics, cybernetics and distributed communities, they are desperately seeking difference and facts in an age of 10 gigabyte storage on your camera and iPod, Ctrl-c and Ctrl-v and sampling creativity. The U.S. had no enlightenment instead they had a civil war; they skipped that important ideological development in the place of good over evil and the sense of redemption and enforced complicity.

Distance is not a problem, but it is not enough.

They are looking for one different kind, for separation and construction, peculiar destruction and deconstruction, a vast grande pavilion of mirrors in its place is irrelevant. Its mirages of desire. He is looking for arrival and departure, alpha and omega in there, but he in with the enemy, he is in the arena, the barworld inside of him and outside of him.

The lot. He learns nothing from NGOs whose remit is to educate and inform, expect from posters stating the obvious ‘lay off out kids’. Tinkly, fairy light, glittery shiny love in South East Asia’s barworld and bordellos, but he doesn’t know it yet, he is divided within himself for love’s sake, after all. It doesn’t take long before he is a hung face looking for Sri Mom, 14 years after.

His reflections rage and are piecemeal, the ramifications being that lampoon Gotlieb is on a mission to free people, and as he does he will free himself, at least from an economically handicapping ‘phone’ relationship with a Princess LU.

- 78 -

There is no banana for surviving the journey. Time and learning must play some role. It is not linear for him as he progresses in his quest and learns of his pearl, ions within the deep, dark centre of the pavilion of mirrors, as black and as pungent as the devil’s arse, and a tumbling former prisoner realised like a temple bird, but as it rises he tumbles in ecstasy and falls, wingless. The shock of a man who was once kept on ice in a freezing white room now lambasted with darkness and falling. But David didn’t know any of this.

He was too focussed on paedophiles, every girl he took to his room he interrogated “when were you first screwed, how old were you, did you have to jack you fathers and brothers off every morning before cleaning baby shit from the shack floor, how often did you wash them nude, did you French kiss or just smell them in their private areas?” Tons of questions to which there was either alarm [to be expected], answers like “yes’ [the answer to everything when the girl speaks no English] or [“I don’t know” meaning their memories, like his were so terrible, they were repressed.].

Often he gave them money and sent them away, especially if they cried, which because of the pain, they often did.

SS

SS

- 79 -

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Gotlieb was also used to lying; every officer is as every felon is innocent. Its part of he job after all, “Nobody is ever guilty, jails are full of them, the innocent.” He scoffed to himself; “But I nail their ass anyway.” There was shit going down out there, it’s just how to get hold of it. Every night and day in his cheap hotel room his surveillance devices were out. The device that listens in was useless baggage that he had brought, he couldn’t understand Khmer. But the telescope was useful. He watched mother’s cleaning their kids, watching closely for genital manipulation and there was some. One even kissed a small boys donger, and then another women did too. A man tried to stick his finger in a sleeping baby’s ass, before women scared him off. He caught them on Camera. Good work, pity they weren’t westerner males, aged between 30 -50, 150-200 kg, unmarried, unkempt, habitual masturbators with large caches of kiddy porn… if only… “I bet these Khmers have super large caches of pornos as well, but I ain’t here for that.” Then he realised that US Customs might think that they were his ethnics, performing for his pleasures instead of their own weird fucked-up ways.

that’s OK inside you can still be happy. He approves. It makes it more like Asia. But its still not like here, where in amongst myths of family – level solidarity there is not even the slightest social solidarity, apart from a whore fucking to provide food for family, and for sister to learn English so she can whore efficiently and effectively in a bar, rather than the street and beach front. Grooming is a big part of it, but timing is as well.

X But, there is no safety net in America, no unemployment benefits, no retirement, no assistance for the destitute, but

- 80 -

It’s all about mobilities of the mind and the body. Check out the streets as that luminescent light kicks in at dusk.

Mobility. Europeans firmly believe taxonomies of caricatures - because they are repeated every day by our elected and otherwise unchosen elite and the media. In Hollywood every menial worker returns home after a hard day in the diner to a large spacious well decorated and furnished home.

Nice interiors, well appointed. Most of us intelligent people do appreciate that US foreign policy is complex and contains many strands, but it rests in people’s interest in America via those images of mundane family life in decent sized homes.

But it is not a computer game, where the variables and the elements can be customised, or a game of any kind, really. It can only be realised in the play. But it doesn’t have rules of play, it doesn’t have pre-defined limits, it doesn’t lend itself easily to game theory or small, concise irreducible units of action and reaction, an appreciation by the designer of all your possible and actual heuristics, of all people’s ‘actuals’

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

and ‘possibles’ come to ‘this’ and ‘that’. While its results seem to be indeterminate, its motivation or fire isn’t. David figured this was a rather flat affirmation;

behaviours which elicit results not to the benefit of the target, or ‘mark’.

He went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office. There isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or the word "No".

David had read a proliferation of novels, even those set in South East Asia, that feature cops of various hues and persuasions as the main protagonist. ‘Ex’-cops and ‘working’ cops solving intrigues in the idiosyncratic or peculiarities of the socio-political and socio-cultural contexts. He fucking liked that. Poking their noses into other people’s private affairs; Is that what erroneous notions of world policing is?

This is why eyeing witnesses and recovered memories give courtrooms such trouble. “You go by what people say, confess they did, not on what you see.” I’ve heard too much out here. Some asshole that is doing two and three on one, or spit-roasting some women with their friend is only a couple of clicks away from doing kids – that’s my theory, Now I need proof.

The most intriguing crimes beyond ‘inexplicable’ rape/murder surely must the confidence tricks – the cons – the art and theatrics of deceiving someone by stories and

- 82 -

Using a variant of the classic gold salting scam where gold fragments are peppered onto ore samples to suggest Klondike, and money is raised to build the entire infrastructure to make it happen.

However, substituting ‘gold’ for ‘love’ begins to make South East Asia’s barworld one where the folk running the con [the bars] actually know there are real artefacts, in this case ‘love’ and ‘relationships’ on site, but they are unable to put together the resources needed to recover them. They get a small cut which is the barfine. But wouldn’t the bar owners, acting like pop music managers, like to get a cut of the royalties from every hooker working and showcasing themselves in their bars? A percentage or sliver of those Western Union payments. Ohhhh Klondike…

So run a long con that not only has to convince the marks that they want to ringfence their ‘loves’ [“I love only you, you only’], but that once recovered they are worthless [[‘love only you’ was Ctrl-V’d to several other men, but the hooker mixes the salutation names wrong and send a ‘love picture to the wrong man]. We can dress things up with a touch of the post-human to make things harder for the protagonists. Like the best long cons it'll need a big team of players - the key

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

actors, and then their support infrastructure. The later is actually critical - and could make in an interesting focus for the story.

still be a million miles more complete than if a Thai hooker did it.

SS

SS

Romantic love is, of course, a phenomenon of western society and folklore which is condensed and repeated again and again in passion plays which end in tears and disillusion.

In David Gotlieb’s opinion, romantic love is the most prevalent and overrated fetish of our culture it’s why he married Mrs Gotlieb and she fucked him. He remembered ‘love’ with his previous conquest from 1980s Bangkok, Sri Mom. It is not clearly found in the antiballistic rites which are the stuff of MTV videos and the acts of libidinous dancers. However, to the best of his knowledge, erotic infatuation is found in all cultures. And if David Gotlieb drew his mental map of the world on paper, in a journal it would be shallow and many parts missing and redundant, like what he really knew of a woman’s vagina. American states would dominate. And it would be the same if he were from memory cast the biography of the world, its histories and its events, key dates and outcomes of a thousand years of linear history, and successive U.S. administrations. It would

- 84 -

XI One day in Bangkok, late 1980s.

David had been in Bangkok only for half an hour, when an attractive young female sat next to me on the bus. “Call me nuts but I got the impression she wanted a western boyfriend/husband, and one forever. We exchanged conversation; she took pleasure in the fact that I expressed excitement about learning Thai language. But we had absolutely nothing in common, how can we? Every life experience we'd had prior was completely different. Yet in another fashion, I thought that perhaps we had everything in common, both being human with the same desires, needs, and feelings, of love and life's infinite struggle, coupled with a constant desire to make a better life. I had to think about my appointments for the next two weeks, with prospective brides, and especially NOK, the girl whom I indicated was my first choice for a wife. I had here in a negligee (or négligée, literally meaning "neglected" - French: négligé) baby doll. Thinking this I stopped and had a beer, then another, and another, I wanted to go home. It didn't seem as

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

if this particular veteran Tuk Tuk chauffeur was taking me back to my guesthouse. He then exclaimed, "Pad Pong Road". He offered marijuana, and by his lascivious smile fed my intuition with the notion that this was the smut center of Bangkok. Surely if he could cajole me into hiring a prostitute, he would receive a commission. He kept insisting showing me nudes and a man being serviced in a sunken tub by two beautiful girls. I kept saying no, finally I felt forceful.

I mildly fantasized the infliction of violence upon him, perhaps I’d been intoxicated by too many Americans movies, but I quickly realized it was merely due to my extreme fatigue.”

A younger David Gotlieb is trying to make sense of what happened the night before, as we do. Often. The heat and windless humidity of an opaque Bangkok produced a mildewy stickiness all over his body. His dreams were tortured. he wondered what he had done? “Why did I come here? Am I an idiot? Here I am, on the other side of the world, not knowing a soul, exhausted, and all alone. All this anticipation to come to Asia, but for what? Am I a masochist?” He is nothing new, but he is dreadfully hungover, and while trying to use a Thai noodle soup as a cure, while tackling the ferocious heat of this mouse hit pepper chilly, another tuk-tuk driver sees him and weighs up pros and cons and stops. He takes another gamble.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

“Hey man, you want tuk-tuk” Pseudo American English always fails to impress suspicious David. Why do they insist upon it like AMEX? To David it always sounds like ‘fuck-fuck’ in the reply to anything which means I don’t need anybody, anything between me and my whore, so first instinct had taught him to automatically reply with the negative first. ‘No’, then ask questions…

“No thanks, I’m just eating.” (Just saying no to drugs doesn’t work because addiction proceeds from deep rooted limbic brain interests and needs, he meant “I have just sat down to eat and its rude for you not to realize that”).

“You want to go to temple, see Palace...”

“No really, no thanks. Slurp!”

David thought: “what the fuck, Slurp! Am I going to do today?” It was only 10 a.m. and he was fucked but couldn’t sleep, his main was racing trying to pack in the events of the night before. He had a hot, hot date in the bar with Sri Mom at 8 p.m. He would buy a bottle of Jacky D around 5 pm as the sun set, get himself tanked, and prepped, in the hotel room before he hit her bar on the cusp of a king.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

He felt real freedom after one or two drinks and gazing out into that cityscape of endless promises and sure as shit certainty, certainly when it came to getting his rocks off.

Maybe tonight it would be another hungry gluttonous orgy, mustn’t get too pissed, Ae and her two friends form work, they had joked about it the night before now what is entailed in making this a reality? He leafed through the yellow pages; it channelled choice, and toyed with the idea of a high-class escort. “Would they really be classier, better looking than what you can pick up in the bar?” A perennial question.

“You want to go see lady?”

“No.” he said emphatically leaving no misunderstanding, no misinterpretation in the mind of the driver. Followed by the echo more gently to his self “No, No, no, no, no, no” But he, the driver, was persistent. But he was lying, but he just didn’t want to pay and didn’t want to upset the nice roll his libido was on with Sri Mom. The driver understood at the first ‘No’.

“You know something, this is special day. Special for happy Thailand”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

“Special, special, special, does that include anal...or what; everything is special here?” David was back in conversation to himself, reading his own thoughts, previously his own fears, to make clear his intentions. He was always open to snake skin oil in this shameless place. And he liked it. He liked its questions. He loved the smorgasbord of delicious services; he had dined on the crocodile meat, it was OK, he thought that all was available, anytime, anywhere. It was all so different being here in this social cacophony than in that empty house. That house was him there; this is new him, elsewhere in this country.

Yes, this country was so furnished with strange moralities and prospects and sweet strange fruits, even that little girl swinging wantonly, his swinging morality, in that hammock in the backdoor of the shack his hotel. His window overlooked. She swung like the hypnotic pendulum, back and forth, back and forth, rocking herself into reverie. He thought, Valium? Why? To shut out life? he was saddened and horrified, but went to the chemist.

From this aircon room with beer inside he toyed in his mind with the idea the hungry fat middle-aged men, American men mongers with decent girths, such as them, in the room next door, they flow and ripped from their hotel room over this Berlin wall of ideologies,

- 89 -

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

...just like liberating or lubricating Rubberman from the Fantastic Four comics.

they? Yeah, even though they did not boast about it in the bar, or played it down.

That’s how it felt in his mellowed mind. In they glide glacially over the horizon of wall separating them and the youngster below. They are Trojan style as they ease in like Pythons and after she egged them on by blowing them innocent kisses. She picked it up this behaviour from satellite MTV, divas to black men, and her admirers, these American comic heroes had harboured their obsessions about ethnic societies for years before they embarked on this adventure. They came from pretty non-permissive societies, and even less-permissive communities, villages really, where there was a vast disparity in the women to men ratios, and not in their favour. One hadn’t kissed full on the mouth for over 20 years next month, and the other never at all before he barfined and went berserk and lost his cherry in Patyhhaha some few weeks before, the prospect was overwhelming him, making him flow. His sac tightened, at the thought that all of this was to be found in Cambodia, a place which even on the web sites and the back of every tourist publications indicated that child prostitution was rife in Cambodia. But originally they had read of it in the New York Times magazine no less. This was their chance to sample it, take a piece. Every motherfucker else had, hadn’t

- 90 -

Reading all this, the same stuff that made David Gotlieb get on his white charger to get guys like them, furious, he was drawing them in to look for it as a part of their repertoire of sexual deviancies. Garbage collectors back home, these men were posing even to themselves as high-value travellers. One of their pals the year before finally married and exported his beau to the states and you can imagine the horror of moving from a five star hotel to a one bedroom bed-sit in a crack house project in Chicago. The marriage lasted about two weeks. The men replied in kind, and thus flowed for more, much more, they packed dollar as they expect noting for free, except their flow. When they confronted the girl she looked petrified and they hamfistedly started producing dollar. He girls father and brother arrive and the men are making out they are harmless barangs and miscommunication is intense. They leave unescorted in a flurry of bills. The family look confused, they read nothing libidinous or sexual in their behaviour whatsoever, they just wanted to know what they were looking for and how they might help them, and whether they might stay and eat and help the brother with pronunciation and grammar. The girl encounters them and has her first real lesson in western non-verbal communication, don’t blow kisses unless you want dollar.

- 91 -

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

For David Gotlieb, non-verbals were a glimpse through the Bangkok yellow pages under ‘escort’ while sitting on his throne doing a crap. If only they had taken up scripture reading, it could absorb so much cognitive processing that you were never bored, and there is an answer for everything between, myth, allegory, literal reading and metaphor. Is it a myth that the King, Elvis, died on his throne with clay guts in his 40s?

SS

SS

The lack of follow up of divine explanation of what, or why it was ‘special’ was obviously aimed at intriguing the listener and evoking some response or enlarged view of the world.

Interpreting foreign and ultra domestic behaviour is very much like that. We can only wonder what it was really like watching your daughter, sister, neighbour and friend getting banged by a tall, then gawky, well-honed American, with really hairy legs, a 70s Honda leather jacket in the soaring heat, sports socks, on long hairy legs, behind her curtain. He screaming “Oh Josephine, take dick, love it, Charlotte, Charlie, Chicka, you fuck!, I’ll fuck your ass sweet bitch, then I’ll whip and do your Daughter fuckface… etc. etc.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Check me grandma… we’re hillbillies!” the name and identity of the former Mrs. Gotlieb.

XII David just shot a glance at the tuk-tuk driver who was still waiting ever so patiently, a Neanderthal’s primate glance, jumped straight from the limbic brain, and the first time he, the driver really came to focus. David’s clever non-verbal said “fuck off my space asshole.” As opposed to evening use of that aspect of the triune brain which said revealingly, like a jackboot stamping on a face forever: “I need to fucking procreate people, is there any female out there, anytime?”

And there was, there was… many then. Not too much hunting and gathering necessary. Made to measure. Up too soon.

He had focused upon so much, so far into this trip.

He really loved to concentrate on ass, not on the street furniture and eat stalls, and other tourist consumers and definitely not the superabundance of taxi forms.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

The look that David gave him indicated to lend David, it elicited not ‘back off’ but rather ‘one more’ – not what David meant:

entertainment, like a television play where he would politely and apparently attentively nod, or giggle formally and gently to himself. He was slightly angered by the attempt to play heartstrings, did they have no compassion for the Burmese, Cambodian and Vietnamese people and what they had survived?

“Yes Thai government very good, nah, they pay all fuel for student to look temple and speak to foreigner – only one day one year”

“Ching, Ching, sure mister, I sure, sure, sure, yes...”

“What?” David replied curtly.

“You pay me small money, maybe 60 BAHT, I take you around maybe 6 maybe 7 temple, all day.”

“You will take me around all day?”

“Maybe all morning for you” ”you sure, “

David considered, and then reconsidered, then considered yet again, what effort. He had no real interest in temples, but he could pretend to, wear a ritual mask, one in the corner of his room back home, picked up in a dime stall or garage sale, he couldn’t remember which. Normal tourists love them and the vast photo opportunities they afford, and as apropos for tale of Asia or Africa, or South America.

XIII

David was actually being trained in voicing the affirmative unless proven wrong. Its life… out there.

Indeed when hse spun stories of ‘sick elephants or cockroaches or second-aunts twice or even thrice removed’ officer David simply feigned interest and didn’t pay more than the going rate. He never challenged the stories of hse, simply treated them, and received them as a passive

- 94 -

Eastern religions held no allure for him, none whatsoever. In fact he actually detested them in a very particular way. He found them banal in the extreme, garish and worst of all he reminded him of the pretentious dimwits who claimed to be ‘hippy’ in his youth. Such ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ and, worse ‘comrade’ hippies and black men of his insane and deeply mislead reactionary parents.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

For we mention the word ‘hippy’ it may spark quirky or even fun type images of long haired nudes dancing in a serene or even disturbed fashion, in rain, sun and mud, and lovers of music, especially rock. Or they were the dispossessed and disenfranchised Vietnam Vet, the wild eyed boy that grew up in Redhill to distort or not survive emotionally. Or it is an eccentric, a lover of the Earth an inventor or software mechanic who was a kite maker in another life, makes money and still does LSD as it is part of his in-group, or a majestic beautiful serene man viewing far vistas in the Himalayas whilst purposefully toking chillums of temple balls, and wears a flute in his immaculately laundered ethnic pantaloons – he has many shapely lovers and knows all about mejek.

David always read for ‘hippy’ - ‘miscreant’, ‘deviant’ and ‘pederast’ – any of the stereotypes above are in dire need of the weight of his nightstick, and most have taken the weight of it under protest and to David’s delight.

Yes, he remembered so vividly his younger brother playing with brass Shiva in tents, a lovers gift of some bearded black panther man, a politicised ‘man’ with an exaggerated manhood who shuffled around naked with an open bathrobe in the open air continually smoking joints and his body smelling of the hideously sweet smelt of hashish and patchouli and jasmine essence floating over the air.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

But more than this, these Eastern manifest gods, not just playfully garish he loathed their kitschy concrete being.

Why should they be mostly male? Although not religious himself, he preferred ordered non-ornate religions. He preferred non-ostensive Protestantism, no naked ‘hairies’ to hate on a cross. Even though they were being tortured, ‘in our name’, David saw through this one. David saw right through the pretence of this one and his graven image. He no doubt lay with children,

‘Suffering them to come unto him’ no doubt to suffer more as he espoused his enigmatic observations and philosophies which absorbed the conscious minds of the parents who let him do what he wanted with them. David’s subtitles to this plot would be ‘observe how this cult operated, this man has no doubt smoked drugs and has consumed the consciousness of sheep-like followers who gratefully hand over the kids for gratification of his ego’.

SS

SS

The FBI had highlighted the malpractices of Jim Jones, Koresh and many other parishioners of this faith. In each and every case there was abuse of a sexual nature. Like other

- 97 -

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Christian groups including the Catholic Church of late, it is a religion that is obsessed with paedophilia and abuse of the family. A lot of philosophies, sapphires, scripture interpretation and hard-ons, all to realise ‘God’.

has happened until the con artist has moved on to the next victim or the next town. This is migik, gone in puff of ritual smoke. If you have ever read a news story about a sucker getting taken and wondered how he could have fallen for that, you need to carefully read this book before an honestfaced stranger offers you a deal too good to pass up. "Who's going to believe a con artist?" Ben Matlock of Matlock (the PI TV series) responded, "Everyone, if she's good."

XIV But he wasn’t without pity, piousness and shame In his heart or hearts he knew it wasn’t Jesus’ fault, Or Siddhartha’s guilt that he looked like one, it was because it was part of their con was they were all trying to look like him, many even thought they were as him, acted like him and/or Osiris, Prometheus, Moses, Buddha, and Christ. But they still gave it away when they gave his brother a Shiva. The earth mother gave him a fucking Kali. This female deity wore a garter belt of male heads similar to how a Thai bar girl collects email addresses of her sponsors of her big con game and Short con games. Players: Con Men, Hustlers, Gamblers, and Scam Artists. Names like:

Devil's Island Eddie, the Honey Grove Kid, the Hashhouse Kid, Arctic Pete, and the Limehouse Chappie, Sri Mom, Tee, Pang, Gee, Ae, Siriporn, Bong, Lin, Yang…

A fool and his money are soon parted, so the saying goes.

And if the job is done right, the fool doesn't even realise it

- 98 -

Cops – ‘good’ guys and robbers - ‘bad guys’. The aircon debunkle in your Bangkok hotel room - you know, you want it on = she wants it off. You share a space, it is negotiated, you win or lose, next time you win or lose, it’s her turf, you have game rules so does she. All others of your in-groups act out the same. In The Biology of Moral Systems, Alexander asserts, ‘‘ethics, morality, human conduct, and the human psyche are to be understood only if societies are seen as collections of individuals seeking their own self-interest.’’4 This is the con artist and there is the conned, two sides to the same coin only realised when they interact, intermingle, have intercourse that most intimate and human of adventures. To penetrate and be penetrated, consciously and

4

Alexander, R. D. (1987). The biology of moral systems. New York: Aldine. p. 3

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

physically, both ways, together. There is nothing like it on earth.

only when you shield, try to prevent the flow does misfortune enter.

SS

SS

Two opposing forces locked in a magikal discord, a cops and robbers battle which goes on till time immemorial. She waits until you sleep and then she switches it off. It is her movie.

The towel. She wants it on you want it off. On and off, on and off. Longing for acceptance like a god without followers, recognition, acceptance, opportunities. You are the same.

You are feminised, she is masculanated. You sleep she steals.

You go toilet, she scans punters for acceptance. She goes toilet you check her ass, then all the others scan. Cartesian space and co-ordinates in full tamarind animated Technicolor flow. Sexy or what? The really big con games are played for big money and involve a whole group of conmen working in concert to create a grand illusion in which the "mark" (victim) is shown a way that he can make a great deal of money from a corrupt scam. Thai teams killed men with drugged tipped nipples, entire consortiums of reality players’ right up for it and pick-up artists and Thai boyfriends, brothers and uncles slipped underneath the radar of fear, and luggage and personal security, the room safe, to present their show. If you are open no blade can penetrate,

- 100 -

GGGG The first temple visit went pretty much without event. On the second, a professorial style man, with a goatee remarks: “This is splendid example of Buddha’s from the blah, blah blah..” It was very quiet when David arrived, and he said he couldn’t understand why as he had been told that morning that this was the special day, that the Professor was getting driven around for 40 BAHT. “Shyt, my guy is charging me 60 BAHT!!!!”

David smelt a soi rat, a big ‘un disintegrating being eaten by roaches en mass and what was left by legion of read and black ants of various sizes, who were also eating an incapable but still alive roach, thus the pecking order.

“No this is not right,” said the professor, “…every tuk-tuk gets free gasoline if they take a tourists round at least 5 sites . . . Wait, well let me speak to my friend he is half-Thai, Suvit! Suvit!”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

They spoke for a while and the man made clear that it was 40 BHAT. This money was more like a tip, and that 60 Baht was excessive.

several of the government run Jewel shops. The anti-sex and prostitution angle of this sexless young puritan’s guide to exploring lent it a credible air, but David and no doubt others felt it aimed at young wannabe hippies, this put him off. Anyway he wasn’t interested in which places did the best ice-cream for 500 clicks, or which garish fat gold man’s temple was built in 1207 AD. It was all gibberish to David, who preferred the social to the abstract, the visceral to the conceptual. CNN to MTV. No tax was being charged on Sapphire which was bought today, and that tens of thousands of Thai students return to Thailand on this day to buy stones that they take overseas to fund their studies in decent universities. They are worth up to 10x what you pay, but only if bought on this day in this country. At other times they a worth typically 2x.

They challenge the Driver on David’s behalf, on doing so the diver appeared genuinely apologetic, waiing both men then David. He said as retribution for his deception he would take David wherever he wanted for free, and that, further, he could eat at his sister’s street restaurant. “Aloi, aloi mak” David’s lamentation then shot to consider that he may try to marry his sister off on him, he knew how Thais thought. The offer was extended to the other two gents. The Goateed man accepted the other said he had eaten. They parted.

SS

SS

They pulled up in their consecutive tuk-tuks, Goatee and David, to an indiscriminate roadside restaurant where they were served iced cokes and got a plate of green chicken curry each. A western backpacker was also eating there and asked if he could join them.

David asked him if he was doing the rounds, taking advantage of the special day. He said he didn’t know anything about that but there is a special day

Buddha day

the lucky

– detailed in his Lonely Planet Guide, in

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The driver told us to take our time, take as long as we wanted. Everything as unhurried and unagitated, and unignited, inflamed, everything is the same in the fetid heat.

XV David thought he was trying to put us off going around. He wanted his whistle-stop. The ‘professor’ made his apologies

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

saying he had an appointment and left. He wished him good luck on his travels. Once he had gone and the food stall holder and his tuk-tuk man were engrossed in family stories.

David was bored of this and fantasised about the dialogue the night before:

told him not to tell tourists, not to broadcast, but to only tell Thai overseas students of the offer.

This backpacker cautiously showed David his own stash of stories and stones – he drew them from a concealed and impregnable pocket sewn in his trousers, it seemed so much exotic and plus easy money. “This pays for my trip and more…” Much more fascinating than going to the temple, David wanted to invest; this had nothing to do with avoiding ice, nor choosing prostitutes for girl friend experience. Upon entering the grounds of yet another temple, both men were greeted by an American gentleman who seemed very interested in where we were from etc. etc. He is the last straw. He confirms. And the backpacker buys a further sapphire from him in a private deal just outside David’s periphery of vision.

It was finally finally 100% platinum clinched when David was shown the Tourist Police ID of what appeared to be the security guard. The driver indicated he was reluctant to let him in as he was a foreigner.

SS

SS

Back on the road and going towards the Emerald Buddha, David plunges into the pavilion of mirrors. He asks the trusted and faithful driver if he knows about the

Buddha day?

lucky

“Do you know any good outlets?” David was now anxious, fuck, he must get in on the deal, come on, what’s the score?

David by this time was subserviently flashing his own Police credentials from the States.

G “Protect and serve buddy!” The door was then opened, and, David almost rushed to the counter like women, his mother, in the January sales and demanded to be given the private interview upstairs.

He says his boss [the owner of the tuk-tuk]

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On production of his passport and police ID he led to a private room upstairs where the manager asked hi if he needed a drink. He had indeed penetrated Thailand. He was following the advice of the knowledgeable seasoned backpacker who said not to buy the set jewels in the gold downstairs but get the more raw polished stones upstairs, they had the most value. David was a gemstone dealer in darkest Asia – he paid $5456 for gems worth $923 back in the States.

Needless to say he ends up losing rather than making money.

But not his soul. Not yet, it was away to be fragmented by falling in love.

In effect the ‘victim’ becomes involved in a piece of elaborate theatre in which he is the only audience member, and, unbeknownst to him, everyone else is acting a part.

Reading the details of these scams it is very easy to see how someone would get caught up in the theatre of it all, and parted from their money. Oh… The Lonely Planet Guide to existence could have shown him the way, in amongst highlighting how foreign bars in Hanoi are the watering holes of ex-pats and their (mostly Vietnamese) wives (therefore if you lie this company go there), it would have warned him of the scams.

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

SS

SS

Oh David Gotlieb, the austerity of a Cistercian monastery or a Lonely Planet guide, the simplicity of a Zen garden thorn tree is both emanations of the same urge to reduce, to make clear, and to unburden. Tips - on the best nights to go, the best seasons to tread, the best locations, exotic food and drink available near-by. In architectural education, the study of materials and the study of design are often treated as separate areas of discourse, when in reality the two are utterly intertwined. And so it is with scams. The choice of construction materials affects the look and feel of built form, while inspired design sense injects life into a building's ingredients. If only he knew. If only he knew.

XVI Short con games generally involve one or two con-men rather than dozens and are for small amounts of money. The roots of all the frauds that appear in the current papers are in these old scams, the details of which make great reading: Israeli Brokerage Services

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Employment

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

would Europe’s leading company need to send out unsolicited emails for a job vacancy?

Add a dash of GAS and a pinch of Norway, and you’ve got the latest money mule scam called Israeli Brokerage Services.

Israeli Brokerage Services claims to be Europe’s leading brokerage service specialising in selling, buying, privatisation, arranging deals and brokering.

The company has a vacant position for a “financial manager for co-operation with private individuals”.

It’s a prestigious part-time job offering a 9% commission for transferring funds for clients.

And you do not need to have a higher or professional education. All you need is a few free hours each day, a bank account, and a computer.

In fact, what Israeli Brokerage really wants is a job applicant who is GULLIBLE. This email should ring big alarm bells. How prestigious can the job be when the company asks for no qualifications and no experience? Why

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The email is a reworked version of the Global Austrian Syndicate, UK Modulus Invest and Norway Consulting money laundering scams. Don’t let the sophisticated-looking website fool you into thinking this is a legitimate company.

The scammers are trying to recruit money mules to accept illegally gained money into their bank account.

Often the money has been stolen from other people’s bank accounts via the Internet. Scammers use Trojan and key logging viruses to capture customer online banking details.

Be warned: There are laws against money laundering and you could be prosecuted. The scammers can work for major organised crime syndicates – do you really want to be involved with these people?

If you do get involved and accept money into your bank, immediately contact your bank for assistance.

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XII. David Gotlieb is a make-believe cuckhold but only in his mind and aided by the phone How many more reasons do you really need? Men aren't worth much anyhow and when you add the lack of pigment, lack of brain power, and a small little tiny winy itsy bitsy worthless cock, Now that's a recipe for even a hardcore big, big feminazi who holds the keys to big project aid spending, somebody like Sue Tyler to hate, despise and humiliate, even when she is cavorting drunk at the ‘Heart’.

SS

SS

It's a brand New Year and a new Asian Queen is here in town to force lily-white boys like David into the submissive pigs everyone knows he really is. David has spent lonely days in the 1990s, working, working through his time in Thailand. He is not Catholic he is not working through penance. The dispassion of his ‘love’ there. The insincere way he reflected the insincere advances, and neutralised them in degrading short times in concrete bunker parading his sexuality, actually his paranoia, to all and sundry. His castle gates open so the peasantry could observe their lord deflowering virgins on the special Buddha day. What bizarre fantasies are harboured in quiet suburban homes with

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manicured gardens? Sri Mom was a simple province girl, meeting a complex western man with tons of hang-ups and distorted advanced or retarded sexuality. What did she know of counterculture anyway?

Sri Mom was not at all like his dragon lady friend on the phone who knows precisely how to work him. Let’s get it straight form the start. David is a product of sex in an advanced political correct and policed information society.

At its base is a normative and outsider perspective of prostitution, one which is endemically non-patronage, and revels in delusion of difference. They are not mere mortals because they are police; they can observe the most degraded worst and uncivilised behaviour because they are police.

Police never arrest those who are not guilty, and when they are arrested and incarcerated they are guiltier the more they protest their innocence. In order to understand these behaviours they must find outlets. Safe outlets where nobody gets hurt and those which hurt are found to be guilty. Not like one of his short times where, after getting the girl to have a haircut, he screamed and just managed to falter the battle cry “forced anal!” and engaged without lube, a virtual rape scene had ensued and the girl and her family had went hysteric. He paid the motherfuckers some $1000 to shut them the fuck up. He couldn’t risk police intervention that was what he thought they were insinuating. It was then

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

he returned to Sri Mom and decided to fuck off from this madhouse with its unsanitary cooking methods and diseases.

arranged meetings, but tire of them when he realised that they were all hookers. That pissed him off. Motherfuckers arranging dates for him! Fuck that. David in the true American tradition was a rational and self-interested actor who preferred free market economies than having things in any way determined for him by A.N.OTHER. I mean, surely, as a westerner he can just ‘pick-up’ a girl whom he is attracted to, and who self-selects Gotty as well. “Are their ‘pick-up’ joints in Bangkok, there just gotta be..?”A women who through complete free choice [picks him out from the crowd as the one to love. They wouldn’t need any intermediaries, they would not need videos, they would not need middle-things and people, and nothing should stand between them and their free choice of each other. That’s how he met his wife. Both were cavorting at a local pub disco and stumbled into each other’s arms, and just let their eyes meet and they kissed. But that ended in disaster. But the methodological individualist moves on, one moves on...

SS

SS

He has given up dating since his sex tour visit many years ago after his divorce and catatonic level depression and he now chooses to engage in ‘safe’ fantasy relationships with women on the American ‘phone’. He simply couldn’t risk going into his rapture in the States. He’d end up as the rape victim of minions of black men and pseudo-prisonhomosexuals, including his worst anxiety, long hairdo felons.

The truth is his journey to find an Asian sweetheart to replace his absent wife turned sour. It was supposed to be a mail order format, with ‘interviews’ or ‘dates’ arranged with a bevy, a succession of hopeful women whom would be whisked off to the west “I have dreamt every night since I was a little girl of a big strong foreigner taking me to his country, holding me in his strong arms and protecting me.”

David fell for big time and loved that shit. What a panacea to the horror of loneliness he felt when his bride left with the kid. He viewed these women themselves as babies, ones he could protect and serve. He went through some of the

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Gotty started breaking appointments, breaking with the formalities, and spent time instead hunting, it was here he first met Sri Mom, in the German beer garden on Soi 7. In the midst of the 5 p.m. crowd, there she was looking at him and he was looking at her. They self-choose each other.

They started ‘dating’ – she clung to him and him to her. He bought her bits and bobs, and she was able to pilfer his wallet prudently at night when he had had his skin full. She

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

paired his bounty, and he was sometimes gently rocked by how much he’d spent while in rapture the night before.

paraphrase Britney spears “She did it again...” – the reserve money he had stashed downstairs was now gone. It was quicksand theft. Epistemological crisis.

He hit a crisis as he knew he was leaving, He wanted desperately to speak to her about it, make some plans for the future, but just thinking this through seemed a nightmare.

What he came out with horrified her. She would be alone again soon, in the roulette wheel mission of finding moneyed foreigners; he was going back to an empty, empty house. It was not easy to marry quickly without the help of the already dispatched intermediaries. What came to her was that he was leaving in a week and through panic she decided to take him for all he was worth. After a heavy petting session she made him a drink and spiked it with Scopolamine and little Rohypnol or Gamma Hydroxybutyrate (GHB). Out of the 5000 women who get raped in Thailand a year through virtue of these drugs and others, Gotty was going under, and he awoke the next morning with a banging head and his entire bounty had gone. The safe was open.

He was pissed. She came back the next day and under the guise that she still had the money and she was scared he was leaving, he let her in the room again. They banged away like their were no tomorrows, like they were underground résistance fighters with little or all to lose. Their was a high risk of them getting caught. when Gotty awoke: to

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“The figures just don’t stack up. Here was I trying to work out some plan, some way in which to ring fence this little lady, someway to protect her from these reprobate whoremongers squatting on bar stools forever, and she burns my bounty. I treated her like a lady, like she has never been treated before, and unlikely to ever be treated like again. I made her my Queen. Heck, I didn’t even ask to do things like kinky sex. She returns and I give her a long talk upon how this thieving activity does not build trust. She insists it is to set her up with a mobile manicuring enterprise; she wants to give up the game when I leave. I naturally approve, and I screw her accordingly, and with a genuine sensual love. She repays this with another

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

vicious unprecedented snap at my bounty. They come to believe not only that they can do what they want, but that others will never be clever enough to figure out what they have done, or to get back at them. You can only pity them and you get wound ever so ‘muh’ deeper into their looms. Their surely can be no explanans this time, no rational explanation beyond the base survival instinct for ripping me when I had just forgiven her and let my defences down again. The economics of these hse are ridiculous, they deny logic and rationale, maybe that’s why they are beautiful and hideously dangerous for body and soul at the same time? It only adds to the theatre of the absurd. Why should I waste time trying to work it out, I’d simply tie myself up in a mass of Gordian knots.

Just throw more $ at them to lubricate the realities and harness and provoke

positive outcomes – that’s what my Dad would say.”

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He had one week to go. He was getting way too deep and philosophical for his liking. He drank a little more. He sounded more like his Dad all the time, the stupid relative, pluralistic hogwash nonsense that Dad spouted to confirm his existence and career choices amongst other shit. Time he was getting home to reality, to base camp no much wonder men drink too much if they can out here. He got money wired across from his sister. He went berserk. He would not open doors for hse again, nor would he insist that they stand proud, head high during the ‘walk of shame’. Nor would he be making sure they had at least $20 in their pockets for snacks and silly market purchases at all times. No, from now on a woman’s ‘front’ would offend him; he would only use their back passages for coitus, he would treat them a despicable long haired hippy counterculture homos. “Front’ was figurative and literal of course. He saw it referring to the veneer or ‘mask’ that the whore puts on to affect her trick and john (such as improper or inappropriate or insincere use of the words ‘love you too muh’). It also referred to at the more macro level anything to do with women’s political stances, i.e. the doctrines of feminism, claiming that women have some special or separate human rights. I mean would western feminists condone the drugging and theft of money from men, benefactors, and philanthropists with sexuality

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

whom manifest sexual tendencies, have sexual needs, requirements, ideals, men saving third world women and their families’ one at a time...?

things that some would call ‘dark’? – he’s fighting these forces all the time with his buddies in his own force – is it really as Dad would have it - just one side of the moon. Cash is the great leveller. With it I can really make things happen here that are incredible. I can even show the Thai’s a thing or two (well at least families how ‘worth while’ their budding daughter is. If I am in a back street where foreigners are rare, you often see them gazing at inoculators, standard routine activities like eating noodle soup.

I adore them positioned as ‘watchers’ of my sex drive.)”

This is where he went off the rails and demanded depraved screwing in full purview of family and local communities. A loose, bizarre, unorthodox (even in a sexually liberated place), weird form.

“I am here liberally paying for sexual experiences and encounters which I accept are way outside of the normal bell curve of conventional practices back home. But I am miles from home. I wish to innovate and explore who the fuck I am by fucking in different contexts, fucking myself, my mind, and tight, tight young teen bodies which are liberally available for $. Whilst doing so i acknowledge that I am banishing those nasty hairiest pederasts, that robbed me of my childhood with the permission of my parents, I mean how does an officer get to fully express and explore these

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SS

SS

More than 73.45% of his disposable income went on telephone jacking services. He was a Marshall McLuhan wet

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dream gone nuts. He had repressed that ‘mail order’ trip, and had long forgotten how much sex and relationships cost. ”Its all about the $”David would muse, and think about the poor rich suckers who lost millions, but still had millions.

Lots of guys want to be like David, they aspire by convincing themselves it is dangerous out there. Murderer and homosexual AIDS rapists abound in such shameless places.

Them are waiting to get you. They are both foreigners and debauched and inconsiderate with no regard for your pleasure, only their own, which is insatiable.

So, he figures that clubs and pick-joints in the US are like discount brothels. He goes by what the guys tell David on Monday mornings in the precinct. Even the smug marrieds are out on the pull. A guy pays a cover charge, plus drinks, plus labour, to convince a girl to go home with him, instead of paying $400 up front for sex. For David, it’s a lewd circus, and the girls are oblivious. He just sees it for what it is.

“So, keep donating your bodies to the profit of “the club,” and keep parading around with your air of VIP prestige, you bitches you ain’t got no class. Just remember that it goes hand in hand with a lack of dignity and self-awareness. Have a great four-day weekend. One girl I met had shit her pants when she got fucked by two boys in an Alley she’d picked

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up. Cheap drink did it I think. Haha! We busted the lot of them.”

He had arrested two guys from another precinct for lewd and libidinous behaviour off 143rd and 7th. Needless to say, they had long hair-dos. David’s obsessive ‘forgotten memory’ always came back to haunt his present actions. it was his most remembered ‘forgotten memory’.

But David, like all the rest of the ‘good’ male citizens, entertained, pondered, scoped ass as he did on every checkout queue, it was democratic: “I am not worthy of this gorgeous woman that is so superior of my existence, I have nothing to give to her that excites her pleasures not even my little Johnson can keep her happy!”

SS

SS

He wasn’t always like this. After his first wife, a beauty pageant queen no less, left him to be alone, taking with her the kid and all the furniture and a short time later she was raping and murdering his bank account, she hammered him with legal aid, and her family, especially her sisters, who had

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

been through the ropes already. So he had been fucked financially. Fucked financially by a woman.

So mother had really said: “love is really learning…” So what had he learned apart from that he had a dick and he liked to use it? He learned that he had met Sri Mom and eventually became so sexually obsessed, so much so, that he started to figure Buddha as a sex god of the lonely and unloved. But she also fucked him financially.

He was left in debt up to the eyeballs, and the state condoned it. His father lent him cash and then he wanted more. He said it was for the child. He spoke indirectly, it was to replace the money, the women, acting as agent for the child, and the layers acting as a agents for the women and child, had taken from him. He had always hated lawyers like his father before. Now he fucking wanted to pig-bolt them all come the revolution…Noise reduction.

He then embarked on an ill-fated trip designed for the lonely and dispossessed to the orient to marry some illiterate farm girl. He had cottoned on. Billed as ‘mail order bride’ it was little more than an organised sex tour. There was nothing at the end expect a return to the empty home and empty existence. Sure, mad, mad realms of sex, but man, going back to work in January, shell-shocked and sensitive.

He cried every night thinking about Sri Mom, getting banged by many clever dick limies, their ‘football’, their smug impenetrable working class abstract humour, stoicism, and some Nam’ vet hippies working out their fucking residual angst against the American people. All on Mom. Nobody on the tour guessed it, but they quickly, did “we travelling Americans are not as stupid as they make out…”

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I decided I was going to leave. I also made the executive decision not to be up-front. You stole all I had anyway.

Your ‘sorry’ was remarkable, and so was your excuses. I ate the ‘sick buffalo’ and thought I could use it to explain how people have to work for money, but your friends on the block sized me up as being higher net worth than you imagined, and because I was being tight you had to punish me and readjust my finances. When you took all my belongings, and all my bounty, I still needed you, like a junky needs a fix. But I will pull the plug before I am addicted, before my soul is sold to the devil. The

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repetitive nature of theft, apology and no retribution was met with accusations of infidelity on my behalf, and threats that you will pick up a fresh trick that very evening. This is quicksand.

XVII It was on that ‘plane’ in 1989 that he first laid eyes met Otto Gershang, he was another passenger going East.. He was in a ‘flow’ and seemed to look right through him as he sat in an adjacent seat. David thought he was straining to look out the window. David assumed he was also going to meet a ‘wifeto-be’.

What David didn’t learn though, strategically and important, was that he unbeknown impregnated Sri Mom on this trip.

In his Nana hotel room the night as a matter of fact, that he already did non-consensual ‘forced anal’, just another banal episode of rape back home, and paid handsomely for it, he was still shuddering from that chase, she, like his wife before him in his short-lived marriage, drugged him, and left him, to die in a hotel room stripping him, of course, of all his assets. She had found panties and condoms in his pocket, and lube, which she knew first hand he only carried to do assholes.

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But she came back, maybe for seconds, no bloodline just a bloody afterbirth in that cheap unqualified; doctors; room, and some Baht, and he took her for seconds.

Otto had observed them at a distance for days, blending in just like any other drinker, when David left and he established that a magical child was to be born, he Rosemary’s Baby style paid money for mom to have the child. He wanted it for another one of his projects. He knew it would be some time before him and Gotlieb crossed paths face to face again, but he knew it was on the cards. IN fact Otto decided to set up home somewhere in Asia, first it would be Bangkok, but later it was Cambodia. More energy, less scripts played out. It was worth every penny. Don’t worry dear reader, it wasn’t satanic ritual murder, nor was it Satan’s baby. Not in the flow.

David’s wife left him to die in an empty house in whichever way he pleased. He, in turn, left Sri Mom in a similar fashion. She didn’t care. He never knew. He decided to become something different after that. Well, it was no difference at all, he would become asexual and celibate and he would not have another relationship again. Not ever.

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SS

SS

It was then he began to remember, hurt. He had been too hurt with the disproportion of the ‘thin man’s’ penis and his young anus in that field of tents. He remembered that while the man gave up trying to hurt and penetrate him, he demanded felatio, and how he threw a pathetic stoned ‘peace’ sign while he came loads. He would never wear crocheted jumpers again. He knew intrinsically what it was like to enjoy being a hooker. Nobody knew except him. He never did things like that… he would never do them. They were repulsive and not recommended by any country guidebook. Not at all…

By his phone, silent phone, in the silence of a shrill still silent night at home he thought to himself as if he were writing a letter to someone who truly cared for him, It was written and delivered to her waiting ear as if it were the Declaration of Independence, and speaking of self-evident truths. Sri Mom, it was an affirmation of love to a women’s.

Princess LU’s distant scratchy breathing on a phone: He spoke about LU in the third person:

“Dear Mom,

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

“As soon as I get off my ass and work hard for this woman to give her all the cash flow that I make at my new job I soon want to see her smile! Fuck, it is my duty as an officer of the law to stop being a lush loser and owe this woman everything that she deserves I love for Princess LU!” Bowing down, not to his phone in his empty room, rattling in an empty house, in an empty street devoid of traffic on this early, Sunday morning EST, to barren asexual city, bar the places where it claims “Live nude’s inside, got a fat ugly one at home, come check out a nude beauty here!” No, rather he bowed to her beauty. :) He continued: “My goodness I cannot believe that Princess Annualise has bothered with me, but I am so grateful. Please do not be fooled this Princess is hard but she is fair too.

She took me from the depths of my home and I mean depths and 'rescued' me. I was wasting my time, my life, boozing.

She is wonderful, her words, her voice helped me get out of that hole like no one

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else could ever have, family, friends, anyone. I so look up to this gorgeous Woman and have pledged now to work for her benefit. I owe her so much and not only in monetary terms. She is my life now and I will serve her forever and a day if she will allow me to. Make no mistake, asswipe, slaves this Woman is hypnotic.

Eat, drink, sleep, for my Princess Annualise she is the best habit that I can just keep giving her what I can give out of my wallet to her bank account. I will work hard and lavish this beautiful woman of my dreams.

She even controls my words as if she is reading me so well, I feel trapped that there is no escaping her poison web. I don't even want to live with out my Princess LU. I love you :) Princess, you are incredible and have sucked me in to your extensive world wide web of slaves before I knew what was happening. I can only begin to start to think when I have your lover’s cock hardening in my mouth getting him clean and ready to mount your magnificence.

You have my account details, passwords,

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etc. For me there is no escape. My every thought involves You, You have turned my life inside out and I thank You for it. For slaves reading this Women does not play games, fantasise at Your peril. She will get into You and underneath Your skin. Her words will bore a hole into You to hypnotise You into submission to become Her toy, Her plaything. I take pride in serving Princess. She is more beautiful than pictures can portray alone. I am building a shrine to Princess Annualise so I may worship her when she is busy elsewhere.”

I hope you are happy for me Sri Mom love David (‘Gotty’)” ‘Gotty’ knew was like sadomasochism, but it was more, it had a technological bent to it, made it kind of quirky and fun like Yahoo’s logo font.. He never saw these women on the phone. The reply to his formal and pathetic and heartfelt message was rip-roaring laughter, totally disparaging mirth.

As she laughed, she slanted him in every way possible linguistically, and he fell to the ground jerking like jack-ina-box.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

He had been speaking to a 350 pound fat, bald man with a hippy wig, 63 years old with voice changing machine, and whom has bitch fits when they get one minute men on the phone. Assholes, not in for the ride, the guided visualisations, but only for the money shot. She was as female and Asian as Pocahontas’ left big toe chopped off by a mad survivalist Frenchmen.

As self-styled ‘Gotty’ praised and drew himself into the golden line which became silver then rightfully silicon, at the beach of bytes and bits, he became the Golem of Otto Gershang entirely through his own volition.

Gotty came clean to this human. “You’ve seen me for what I am. I’m a yellow-belly coward, a monster molester, I am robbed of my wealth and dignity, and I stand before you naked, alone, shadows and humiliation. All of this against you disembodied phone presence.”

The fat bald bitch fit man worked for a company which was a subsidiary of GOrinNOsho Entertainment and Reality Research Division. It gathered and harnessed the power of event patterns, communications, orgasms and virtuosity for divine purposes. The machine he used could only be had via a lease from the company. It was all under control and worthwhile.

SS

SS

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XVIII David’s sum total sexuality was now entire and infinitely masturbationary. He tutored himself in this way over masses of lonely nights and painful excruciating preparations. Such rituals!!! Dildos and plugs, vacuum attachments dutifully cleaned for tomorrow hard action. It was sophisticated through him being coached at great expense in his jacking by anonymous women offering phone sex services.

He had a variety, an armoury really, of apparatus to augment the technology of phone, including a fleshlight [a torch-like device with a rubber pussy at the top = he had several replaceable ends, the pune he loved to use at the risk of damaging himself was the super-tight just like prom night one. It really was for micropenis and Asian men].

"The dreamers and of the day are dangerous men, for they may act out their dream with open eyes, to make it possible.

This I did."5 Where is the man’s ego? He tried in vain to find 5

- T. E. Lawrence, known as Lawrence of Arabia, T. E. Lawrence (1991) Seven Pillars of Wisdom New York: Anchor

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it in solitary late night browsing sessions with a bottle of Jacky Daniels. It was in vain when he read:

Shyt, The culture was not just wiped out, it just has chronic and endemic post-traumatic stress syndrome. This is just another example. But it anything but just . . .

Arm yourself, in the central market I understand theirs is mace and pepper spray, cattle prods, tasers, handguns, serious knives, and never get lulled into it is safe. Kill natives discretely if necessary and there is a way. You can dispose of the bodies easily there. One advantage. One only… Nobody misses an ape. There's no hospitals and no police . . . when it comes down to it: 'fight for your fucking life'. If there is a crew of monkeys, ‘run for your fucking life’, use anything to kill them. It’s your only chance, fool.

Tips on being sober and polite to the monkeys are meaningless when it comes to the crunch. They

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'know' more than you that there is no medical backup and they still fucking go for it. And they do so in demented states and for shear ferocity. The savagery, old women tearing into a man, ripping at his throat for no apparent reason, screaming, beating him to a pulp with by-standers getting a boot in, out of control. They were taking a few steps for momentum, and kicking his skull like a soccer ball for a free shot. One random guy jumped off his Daelim and ran to the man on the ground and starting punching him like it had all just kicked off.

The guy was a smashed watermelon lookalike by then, in reality he had already died some minutes before. It was all so casual at 3 pm. cheers MYIAD

Wow, he thought, “It sounds rough out there. It’s real man’s territory...”

Between the ultra violence and the paedophiles they need the rule of law. Maybe I could help here? Sounds like this guy is up against it.” His ‘mail order’ trip was an anomaly,

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nothing like ‘that’ would happen again. He wouldn’t be messin’ with hse, just pedos.

XIX. Affirmations On David’s fridge is rose a few things, affirmations really.

They attempt to take him, and we readers away from his Johnson. They were written in fridge word magnets.

Notes to the self One thing is “Do one thing different each and everyday.”

This was surely a joke. The plugs and dildos, the vacuum attachments were cleaned meticulously in case he gave himself AIDS or severe depression? No one lived a more ritualised and regimented life than Gotlieb. Monk or soldier, it was difficult to tell. Exercise, diet, TV, and lately; long periods surfing trying to learn more the miscreant life outside the security of his cocoon, his shell like room or contemplation. Another was “love is really learning,” an old Japanese saying, although the word ‘love’ had different meanings really. And not the courtly love that the average punter faced with a barworld of hse.

It was something that would be hard in David’s chosen role in life. His life was repetitive and lacked syncopation with

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his emotionality and pent up frustration that he had been dealt a bad card. Several arrests went badly for the assailant as they had long hair; they resisted arrest into David consensual fantasies. They could be forgiven quite happily for saying in this case the cliché [while they were being shoved in the car whilst walloped]: “what the fuck man, take it easy, take.. it….easy man, what’s your fucking pig problem pig!”

He took breakfast at Denny’s on Thursdays and Sundays if he wasn’t working nights. Then it was serious daytime selfabuse, behind curtains, just glimpses at the young Latina teen as she came and went with ‘that’ attitude. He wanted to raid their washing line for trophies but it never got off the mind page as a design of doing. Pity, love lost.

“These days, Lord, I am certainly no stranger to anger and I am certainly no stranger to self abuse, no one is getting harmed and my bounty is shared, people and the national economy benefits.”

Work for a married man fills in the spaces between family commitments. For those who live alone, it is a godsend and it is social, the only social interaction transacting possibilities there is. It is a human job with much contact with the

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

public, including felons. David’s world was other police officers, offenders and transgressors, potential land actual, and TV. He rarely saw his neighbours. He had given up on dating after a few failed attempts. He kept thinking of his horror, his disgust and shock on finding himself alone when those women left “hi.” The beauty pageant queen and bank teller, and the Cambodian hooker who seemed like she was his life. It repulsed him, sickened him deep to his stomach that he had once went on that ill-fated singles tour to Thailand. Better just jackin’ He disliked that he had experienced the touch of another human... And had paid for it, it alienated him from his home and hearth and career. He hated whores with a vengeance, but not as much as long hairs, and long hairdo sex offenders made his blood pressure rise and boil` and actually got him in ht gut and made him want to vomit.

leave the warmth of our mother's womb. But sooner or later [sooner in heat seeking venues like Bangkok] we become unwittingly entangled in the turbulent lives of another.

SS

SS

One could say it's about overcoming your identity and conditioning, stepping out of your comfort zones and into other roles, seeking, finding and letting your unconscious guide you. Well that’s what Dr. Wong said anyway. It’s like that when you travel or embark in a new intimate relationship. All life is an exploration, right from the start after all. Some folks even believe this beginning occurs when a sperm and an egg cell embrace. Others think it's when we

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SS

SS

On David’s fridge he reads “Always be truthful to your self.”

A principle, from Polonius in Hamlet, of the outmost necessity for us (its application is what gets the guy killed by Hamlet like a rat with a butt plug).

XX David remembered two very painful experiences in his adult life.

They were huge chasms or abysses, consuming black holes that he would never forget, and he blamed their agony on the hairies. The first was just how painful it was when he came back form his shift one day to find the house completely cleared out. Fucking cleaned to the bone. Even garden features had gone, and appliances ripped from an expensive designer fitted kitchen. It was the aftermath of rape and murder the way it had been poorly dismantled. It was so disturbing that even he thought, glimpsed a thought of calling the cops. How self referential is that? Fuck it he was up for it, he ran through his house to the dildo

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

cupboard, the Latina teen was next door, just through the fucking wall… “Hi!”

he took exercise and called swank lines calling southern belles by his wife’s name “Trisha.”

SS

SS

He had eaten breakfast one day; yes it was a Denny’s day. He left home after changing his baby’s nappy; He had kissed his wife goodbye as she lay in bed and thinking that this was all the good life, Apart from her lack of attention and dedication to housework and cleaning. He had even called home around lunchtime whilst packing a meatball sub and she asked him what he fancied for dinner that night. She was a liar.

The bizarre falling of helplessness and emptiness of a front door opening to a void, an abyss, not even a bed to sleep on, the telephone key turning a home into a jail, a foreign land, an inhospitable place where a foreigner would be allowed to die of thirst. That which was furnished with everyday objects, and how he could hardly move from room to room without trampling and wrecking some toy, was now and outer space, an entire world of shells. Now even two of the new carpets were gone.

Not even a single, distant resounding “hi honey.” Yeah, stated with conviction. No negotiation, no kiss goodbye, just dumped. He ate takeaway food and drank and toyed with demise and dissolution. Then he was on pills, and eventually

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David. If I instantly granted your request you would have learned nothing and besides if you do not put forth the effort to mend your broken heart, you will not be prepared for the lessons that are yet to come when your desires bear fruit and your real lover (not me) returns.

A total removal mans’ job within the duration of one police shift, one average non-eventful shift. Shit. Cleaned out.

What a shift in the legacy of his routines, what a discontinuity in his ambitions to be Joe Q Public. He began to feel like a rape n’ murder pundit. It concerned him and he went back on pills straight away. It killed his libido. What had he done, expect toe the line, and this is what she left him for. By her own self-admission she liked ‘bad boys’ and he had been that when they first made love at that show she was appearing in once. Once he broke protocol on patrol checking out a disturbance in an audience, some black guy

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

screaming at fat women. Interviewing her in the small room, something flashed, probably her thigh. And the next thing they were like rabbits of tomorrow on the floor.

So then, we must resist any temptation to yield to any other criteria or opinion, apart from ours. Never compromise or accept someone else's advice or way of being. Not even mythological characters, they invariably lie or set you off on a mission somewhere for something. Don’t get lost in relativism or indecision, astronauts can’t. David never addressed the issue of the old saying: "time cures all wounds."

But she had taken to going out with her friends and kid sister, when he was working. Leaving little kid, hardly older than a tiny baby, to fend for his self, the neighbours dropped hints, then an argument between her and her sister over their mother’s death brought it all to the surface. As did when one the guys was in a bar and saw her smooching with several men. His bizarre felling of falling through dark space in to the awaiting and comforting arms of mother South China Sea. XXI David didn’t dare tell anyone not even his parents for 7 months that she’d left and when he did tell his brother he collapsed. If he had confessed he would have chopped off his American manhood. He got into his sleeping bag from the loft that night and lay on the floor and pissed himself.

The neighbours knew though. They said nothing, they had seen nothing, but they saw it all and he, with his detective’s intuitions, knew that he knew that they knew that he knew – but he gave up thinking about them. He wanted to focus inward in to the real David. He was strong.

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These are the affirmations that are embroiled in his brain.

With all these men she was smooching with, they had one over on him. They had no sympathy for a sexual abuse survivor, none whatsoever. They were real men and he was a sex-tourist. They could score dates like this, and he could never. Even the fat disgusting girl knocked him back at his Sub place, she said she already had a boyfriend. He heard through the grapevine she didn’t but didn’t want to go with him because she thought his appearance was a little freaky, she bragged to everyone about it. She had one up on him that tub of lard fuckhead, he just wanted flesh to screw and he was ridiculed for it even at the precinct, although the boys, out of kindness, depontentialised the thereat by saying they felt sorry for her. She was kidding herself. His own selfdeprecation was vindicated.

SS

SS

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

The second great void in his life came in the aftermath of that sex-tour, what a fucken mistake. Something nonchemical to lift the depression to help peek over himself Dr, Wong advised, nonsense it just got him deeper and deeper, is this good or bad? The obsessive-compulsive memories of Sri Mom echoed profusely in his mind forever, bouncing from hall to anti-room and back again in the crumbling jaggy French style pavilion. He would never leave that thin veil, the way he performed for them, gave them a quintessentially American sex education, how he was a Burlesque performer, for an audience of rice moochers. He was Asian beaver rug muncher extraordinary. And he had paid homage there for over 2 years afterwards in his masturbation fantasies, his vacuum cleaner, and his ‘wife’, flexible and adaptive with all its attachments and including buttplugs. He stole the idea when he was called to a death in an apartment, late 20s, male, marital aid heart attack. “What the fuck is that on his dick?”

Somewhere, four sound mechanisms exist if you want to avoid time's healing effects and transform the past into a present source of suffering. None of them were on David’s fridge door.

But he had contaminated her real lived world, her reality, with his presence, his way of being. He pervaded and penetrated her shack. They would never forget this debauched foreign crazyman, his ting-tong way and how uncivilised and ignorant he was with his money.

SS

SS

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XXII In the exaltation of the past we find those that only remember the good things about their youth and not the years of insecurity and anxiety. For David that was cowboy guns. In so doing, they have a consistent reserve of sadness about their miserable present... Not so with David. He hated himself in the mirror because he had travelled to a foreign country with impure thoughts, self-gratifying thoughts of pleasuring himself and using tight young female bodies, desecrating tight young female bodies in a vain attempt to feel whole. To feel macho. He hated black, Asian and Latino pimps with fervour, but his pet hate were anything at all reminiscent of hippy styles, his fantasies beyond those of sex crept into violence now, induced by the prospect of pigbolting the lot of them. Then he would go for those like himself, the average Joes gone badly and not declaring or testifying properly. As no one is receiving.

Fidelity to the past impairs our ability to enjoy the present and fully dedicate our efforts to the endeavours of the moment. This is the essence of a Gotlieb like David. Live in the now, then one can witness misdemeanours in action.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Another mechanism of pain is to consistently dwell with the guilt complex that past errors and mirrors create, finding excuses or scapegoats (our parents, God, chromosomes, teachers etc.) while doing nothing to avoid committing the same mistakes again.

which side he would have preferred, but the wining side is always good, the losing side is always bad. He was out to win. This was the affirmative action Officer Gotlieb preferred. He was doing no harm to anyone, but he owed some payback for indulging in his lusts in an unabated way.

David had difficulty living like this in assimilating Thailand into his ever forming reality tunnel. He wanted like most farang to secure and stabilise some untamed space. That meant development and aid, philanthropy and obsession with the past and future at the expense of present, the here and now. Sri Mom was here and now, she knew little else.

How difficult was it to live in the now, when so much of the past was dragged through to cope with and take advantage of all that was now on offer?

Yep, he’s done many Short times with hse in that trip; what’s worse is that he loved to visit their shacks. He liked to put on a show, preferably with their families, sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers sons and daughters observing, and for extra dollar. He was like a Chinese patriarch dishing out Chinese New Year packet of money to the audience to his debased acts. He saw this as superseding, language barrier, some ability to coach and applaud his virility in action. He knew he was debauched and should be punished for engaging in these self-penned econosexual behaviours. The Thais saw him as fucking crazy, living visual proof in Technicolor and THX sound those foreigners were devils who were morally bankrupt. But in these encounters he believed it was his movie 100%m that like a child he had something to show off, that he was empowered. That Thailand and its ordinary people and even their gods were party. A part of his ever inflating libido and sexuality was so terribly different to now.

David had successfully coupled his own partial abuse and a few civilised mechanisms the hands of counterculture hairies – from Weathermen to Black Panthers – heroes to some - to his predilection for Asian women and a need to copulate with them in their hovels. They had no idea of what good Vietnam was doing, they were puppets of an open and overly liberal media searching and searching for sensation, intrigue, conspiracy and deceit. It still is. Hairies were just looking for some other war, an internal battle of experience, self-referential as it always is in civil conflicts, particularly civil war. He knew that civil war was a defining point in the split between North America and Europe. He was unsure

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XXIII

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

He fantasy now was to see himself as pathetic and weak not worthy of a real life girlfriend, and that he had a little stub that he could only pull when given permissions from a phone sex dominatrix who charged him $20 a minute plus to degrade him. The strange games people play with themselves he thought.

with his thrusting. Total annihilation of the self and at least, ones’ manners.

SS

SS

But the mythology that is intriguing today is that of imagined alternatives. Our own self-penned myths of ourselves, are usually constructed to validate some previous decision-making. This is being lauded. Was he not engaging in something natural, primordial? Somehow, choice and contingency have always landed you where you are, as the person that you are, and the whole process seems so precarious that you look back at those climatic moments when things might have gone differently, when life might have spun off in some other direction, and wonder at this apparently arbitrary outcome.

There is David Gotlieb vaguely shrouded by a raggedy curtain in single concrete bunker room. In the soaring heat with only one fan aimed at him strategically by a caring family thinking of its own social security, doing their family member with a monstrous manhood, and indicating he craved an asshole, light another josstick and stick it in, families making porno sounds in rhythm and synchronous

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SS

SS

Back in his youth a hippy tent a tepee actually, and an huge, massive fat fecund earth mother, crotchet ‘earth’ hats, helmets of climatic fun, all fully resolved, resolute, in South East Asia up a young girl’s anus, objecting wholeheartedly to her ‘front’, to pretend the celebration of her spouse, siblings, offspring and parents. They clapped and coached and feigned delight all for his orgasm. They learned to, mother, they showed love and acceptance. The girls faked pleasures; she felt terror, humiliation, embarrassment and naked rage.

After, they couldn’t hold their heads up in the street. Instead of providing for their families, they provided for themselves luxury consumer items from MBK centre. This was promoted by a veritable army, well legions of subsequent and less demanding farangs.

XXIV. The theory of alone

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Like a sword of Damocles was perpetually suspended over the head like a Pan above an abyss David knew he was now alone and even had been in South East Asia.

try to fix it with social or physical solutions. It may be that you will find that you won't get anywhere fast and it is hard work!

He knew his abysses so intimately and so well, they were device now in his psychic armoury – if only he knew… Outpicturing is the process of taking your inner thoughts and feelings and making them real. He’d worked out, played out, and implemented a lifetime’s sorted eidetic images of sex, bound to his experiences. A million zillion porno images fuelled his predications, and innocuous MTV sexuality of gansta rappers, why should they get all the action? He read the website blurb:

Dr. Wong suggests that you work on some inner landscape instead. Take a look inside... the wild side… the interesting side, the horrific side, see your fears, acknowledge PAN.

Reality really reaches out to you and grabs you by the throat if you are avoiding someone and hoping with all your heart that you do not run into that person, guess what?

Know what? Chances are that you will see that person. Feel that person. Why? I can tell you. It is because it is an expression of the film, the scripts, roles and images that you have been playing over and over in your conscious mind.

So say you have a recurring problem on the social or physical plane, I would recommend that you do not

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On his fridge the poetry word magnets spelt out ‘if you can’t be happy in your own company; you will never make anybody else a happy’. David figured this was a rather flat affirmation; he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office. He was invested in himself, investing in his disposition, reinventing himself and his future. Comfortable in how he is, and where he is at: “before you know you are an entire history.” Wong indiscriminately uttered amid a compelling story of how David saw Sri Mom in that shack room, and he really knew what he felt. The form of the Gotlieb story -

myth, legend, fable, tale, novella, epic, history, tragedy, drama, comedy, mime - permeates every aspect of his cultural life. A work of literature such as a journal or fictional and factional account of travelling somewhere different can often reveal deep psychological truths, even though the author may receive satisfaction from the writing without fully understanding its psychological implications.

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A photograph is said to have two people looking, the photographer and the person observing. What will it mean what kind of affect will it foster in the reader? What lesson did David engender in those hovels in South East Asia, beyond the impression that all foreigners drink too much and are utterly debauched and animal-like, and unlike animals have way too much dollars. Most of the ‘normal’ Thai population see things this way. They don’t see that these visits at intense, grabbed slices pure action in an otherwise drab procession of work and home life. The only emotion, the option is open loneliness, and a scream in the dark – then exposed to light as you arrive and touch down safely.

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

It’s a regular occurrence, ‘laws were made to broken’ so they say and they are, incessantly. Write laws, laws that protect egos, laws that protect nation states, laws that protect private property, laws that protect gamblers and the social glue.

It happens that they are broken, yes, transgressions are all the time as if they all were on a maddening film loop, of felony followed by recurrence, followed by revision to legislature, followed by offence, and so on ad infinitum. No matter what the authorities do, they can only reduce murder-rape, but they can’t stop it. This is deep. We can stem the tide but not stop its flow. It’s close, the guy that wants to kill you is staring at someone else.

Pause here in this book and think about it.

SS

SS

History, politics, memories, even subjectivity, our sense of identity, is all representations in narrative form, signifiers chained together in temporal, spatial, and causal sequences.

So is cash. And so may I open with a scenario of a police officer that had just pulled over a car for a routine traffic stop. It happens.

XXIV. What the hell - ‘laws were made to broken’

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You can do anything you want but you can’t do ‘anything’.

You must be specific. Yin or yang, good or no good. David knew he was being deviant but he did so in privacy. He wasn’t breaking any laws, and when he begged that day for his queen to stuff his mouth with little girl’s panties, he was almost too stoned and excited to lift the phone. He never dared go there again after that. But statistically he was one of tens of thousands, millions, of men wasting themselves very regularly while consuming and ogling electronic signals, reconstituted images and second hand recast fantasies, and apparent powers and self annihilation.

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SS

SS

But this was just that aspect of David where sex resided. He had other fantasies that helped him at work. Keep him ostensibly balanced, ‘good’ and sane.

XXV. Cars get stopped for various reasons and sometimes no reason at all.

As mentioned, cars get stopped for various reasons and sometimes no reason at all. It’s routine in many places globally. In this case it was the proverbial red light and the officer exited the police vehicle and strode magnificently reminiscent of John Wayne and towards the offending car.

Hands on his hips, adjusting his utility belt, the bravado swagger exaggerated, it gave off the non-verbals to the inhabitants that this man was fully in control of the situation and meant business. As he had always been. Arriving by the driver’s side window, he slapped the roof almost playfully, gently to announce presence, if it had not already registered.

He aimed to ready or unsteady them for the demands to come. “licence, what’s in the trunk?” Wrong fucking move David…

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SS

SS

David Gotlieb always did it this way. He had done so, more or less, for the last 22 years. We’ll come back to this later...

David figured this was a rather flat affirmation; he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office.

XXVI. David grew up against a backdrop of rape n’ murder, Massimo Vignelli's 1972 version of the New York subway system which became covered in Graff Topping the FBI's index of most dangerous cities, New York City in the 1970s witnessed an escalating murder rate, gangs, graffiti, our beloved rape-murder, homicide. Almost tribal, anarchy. People would rather venture into the Heart of Darkness, Congo than go to Harlem. Hoes at the corner with burger joints, hold-ups, large cars, graffiti. Pimps.

Born in the district of Queens, an ambitious, patient, determined, 18 year old David Gotlieb had only just become a police dispatcher in this environment. Proud David was prouder of himself than his parents, especially his father, who was already ill at the time. He viewed his vocation and his pride as crazy.

Father objected as most good parents do, but Harry Gotlieb already knew his son was an underachiever. He was never

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

pushed in to anything, ever, he had never been smacked as a kid, they ran about naked and it was a good life for them.

They were brought up with good people; they lived on alternative communities which were advanced in their thinking about alternative lifestyles. They were non-secular, no cults, drugs, yes, but no cults. No bad trips and everyone were open and loving of each other. Kids were brought up under the auspices of the adage:

it upside down. He was waiting for approximate contextual orientations, of where they had to go. When they were nearly there, further utterances would guide to the micro level. The map is not the territory. A remark by Alfred Korzybski, encapsulating his view that an abstraction derived from something, or a reaction to it, is not the thing itself. Bit like sex really.6 Indeed, a map can never guarantee that one will find the way out, because the accumulation of events can change the way one looks at reality.

“...our children come through you but they are not of you.�

They learned to respect each other regardless of skin colour.

They were prototypical of a democracy idea that was intelligent. And not to judge a person by his clothes or haircut, but them as children of the universe, as whole people, growing, developing their total and bountiful potentials, all are stars and made of stardust from whence they came (arrivals) and to where they will return to be born again (departures). All the kids were given a Steiner based education, with an emphasis on creative visualisation of lights and auras and prisms and vibes and ethnic drums. A drum is worth integral calculus any day.

David was lost in Phnom Penh. He showed the tourist guide book, free as it is an advertising medium. Inside was a map, listed were the street number, the motorbike taxi driver held

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SS

SS

Harry Gotlieb considered that there were many fine people with fine, fine principles around them once. Many of them dolphin lovers, and now many seasoned the growth of the egalitarian Internet, typified by the likes of the Electronic Freedom Frontier. Once they loved altered states. A mass of these guys went on to make millions with software, and its 6

Today abstraction is no longer that of the map, the double, the mirror, or the concept. Simulation is no longer that of a territory, a referential being or substance. It is the generation by models of a real without origin or reality: A hyperreal. The territory no longer precedes the map, nor does it survive it. It is nevertheless the map that precedes the territory - precession of simulacra - that engenders the territory.

Baudrillard, J. 1994. Simulacra & Simulation, translated by S.F.Glaser. Ann Arbor, Michigan: University of Michigan Press. p.1.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

safe to say the World Wide Web wouldn’t be the shape and thing that it is if they were never the pope they were.

Russians weren’t going to deliver it to windsailing power, were they? Microsoft comes from the west coast USA. Jazz came from here, as did pumpkin pie, and pretzels and pizza.

So did Chop Suey, our American Chinese forefathers invented it in ‘Frisco.

same. He was the ever strategizing cabalist, balancing Bianh with Hokmah, Yesod, ego, with Tipereth true self, whatever that is ever seen to be. He had learned balance, compromise, relativity. Disambiguation. Some of these came from the projects, many blacks, David’s father‘s ‘good Samaritan’ clients as he called them. He screwed some of them. He defended them for the public good, suits against harsh Jewish landlords, petty crime, against the borough, and pitted department with department.

It was going to be one side of the law or the other for David, an open and shut case, a black and white matter, or nothing.

It doesn’t suffer the vicissitudes of pluralism, that is getting tied up in knots whether it is good or bad, or time to press the eject button or not on his spacecraft. He was read Buckminster Fuller’s Operating guide for Planet Earth before he went to sleep in his Tepee and he made up geodesic maps of the world through the day, while spinning wool, and eating macrobiotic brown rice and tamari snacks. He once ate some weed but it is ‘onlyherb’. It was reputed that an acid head gave him the heavy trip, but it has yet to be proven. David had no idea what flashbacks were, or how to cope with them like false memory syndrome, a term that Dr. Winslow Wong refuted in his tamarind clinical experience.

So David, was not like his father who straddled both sides of the divide of right and wrong evidenced through his heterogeneous roster of clients. Kids are often alternative to the people that reared them, and then they become the

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And then there were those who were petty members of the mob, bread-earners. He defended them and their property and business dealings for hard cash, sometimes big hard money. He represented some real nasty, nasty landlords, some heavy handed pimps, and some gregarious gangsters.

He had more financial success with the mob than ever defending the poor even though in terms of thought, time, dedication and energy he put more into defending the poor.

It needed not only for money but as a plus, an affirmation that he had control, that he was central, lost in a community of lost souls 0 the unfolding future of humankind and distributed wealth and the impressions of choice – ‘1’ or ‘0’ never ‘both’ or ‘neither’. That was enough to keep him politicised, even though it would be unlikely if he ever would raise a placard again. He was democrat and very, very liberal, at least ostensibly. This is deep. We can stem the tide

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

but not stop its flow. Its close, so when it’s right, the guy that wants to kill you is staring at a toy in a shop window.

XXVII. Ram Dass He knew there was little he could do to prevent David from following his heart or change his mind or rationale. This was his flow, and he would undermine the forces of pluralism and departure if he were to do so. It would be like god deciding to award free will then also creating and offering little choice trough which Adam could exercise it a bland unbranded differentiated ‘1’ or ‘0’. A seekers market and a monopoly of existence. David was right-wing in his politics.

Young David the lion had a will of Iron and a grip of steel, and his father, a University of Wisconsin and Columbia educated lawyer of simultaneous international repute and disrepute, so educated, melted with his son’s sense of conviction. He actually loved him, although he was his greatest critic, and at least his heart was in the right place.

Maybe that is what both men thought of each other. Doer and thinker. Words and actions.

SS

SS

Actions rather than words, David had been the fastest white kid on track in New York State. He married Miss Queens, a budding Miss New York, well at least he thought of her that way as a teenager. He could do no wrong.

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Age had mellowed Gotlieb senior a lot, he who had been active in the counter culture of 60s and 70s America. He had the honour of tripping once with Tim Leary, Harry Gotlieb knew Ram Dass, and had met his wife Renne after some ‘love in’ at Ken Kesey’s house, he had been to Woodstock, he avoided Vietnam, he was there in Washington during the protests, he had travelled, family in two + others in a painted VW van, and been beaten up by rednecks. He was central then peripheral counterculture. History would not note him, but if only they knew…

Of all the ’happenings’ he had seen and felt it was in the years 1966 through 1970, that the most profound things had taken place for him. One was his starring role as an extra in ‘Behind the Green Door’ – the path breaking blue movie by the Brothers Mitchell which heralded a new age in the depiction of eroticism. It was his first and only ‘staring’ role.

The other was at the University of Wisconsin had already been shaken by a series of student protests. And the authorities had used unprecedented violence in response.

The first major demonstrations protested the presence on campus of recruiters for the Dow Chemical Company, which supplied the napalm used in the Vietnam War. He had left a

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

footprint in that conflict. He was in many pictures which now did not exist, nor ever existed, nor even if they did exist then nobody could say they did or didn’t or whatever.

XXVIII. Pop

SS

SS

On August 24, 1970, near 3:40 AM, a van filled with ammonium nitrate and fuel oil mixture was detonated next to Sterling Hall. Despite the late hour, the explosion killed physics researcher Robert Fassnacht. Ironically, the physics department was hit worse than the intended target, the AMRC. Those responsible were Karlton Armstrong, Dwight Armstrong, David Fine, and Leo Burt.

Burt has never been found and often people who met David’s father always thought that ‘he was him’, the missing man involved in one of the first major acts of modern domestic terrorism. He denied it completely, even to himself. He had studied in the Physics department before shifting to law. He loved relativity. David figured this was a rather flat affirmation; could be perked up a bit, explained more, he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office.

The guy that wants to kill you, maybe worked with you the month before when you had EUREKA!

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Regardless of the confluences, David’s father’s law career had been unremarkable. The consequence of this was that David had a home life, compared with the madness, openness and vivid sociability of his early years. It was insular and close, real close, like that closeness that can only come with those on the run, or on the witness protection program. Nobody can know what that closeness is like.

Claustrophobic and smothering.

He had often preyed as a kid that pop was still working undercover, but as time went on the allusion to pop’s ‘sleeper role’ wore off and became more non-credible. David began to feel sad for his old man. He began to see it more likely that he had been forced, on fear of incarceration, to betray his comrades. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing his family and so followed what he considered the coward’s path.

His father’s house was adorned with pictures of sit-ins and angry, bitter protest. There were pictures of David and his brother and sister dwarfed by tall, angry, hairy people, his mother holding him and his sister (his brother was not yet born) close to her, but shouting, screaming and shielding

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

them from government and officials and really very hairy and angry as well. His father was noticeably missing in these and any other pictures from the era. This was to protect his privacy. The government was not into Gender Mainstreaming at the time. He claimed. He grew up in and with these pictures, absent fathers, and others like John and Yoko style stuff. Pictures, not of protesters, or long hairdo radicals, but abusers, violators of his body and mind. He grew up as his parents turned from advent garde radicals to relative neo-conservatives. Pretend or actual Weathermen to Black Panthers. There was nothing in the edicts and radical alternative views of the Panthers that said they couldn’t do the tight asses of middle class honkie children, to do so could be classed as acceptable couched in terms of terrorism and then there was retribution for all the rape of black slave children in Georgetown. Through the feminist step-ins and let them loose in the merchant bank or the halls of power…

Gotlieb senior, ‘Leo’, had no papers, and David was brought up bereft of anything reminiscent of orthodox extended family, he wasn’t really close to the others in his gene pool.

A, said most of it was spent with the ‘hairy people’ on farms and small holdings, as David thought and regarded them, and if not them then marches and sit-ins. An infinite extended family, who were remembered as often naked, and some of them, some evenings, men and women had tried to initiate love sessions with him, typically when they drugged.

Dad had his haircut to suit his bald patch. Mum went not only with the times but also with her own generation’s times. Hair long hair cut she looked like any Mom of that age.

His parents would always be under his scrutiny, he was their witness.

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SS

SS

Indeed, as hinted already, he was taught to horrifically felate two men at once in Indian tepees at 10 years old wearing croquette hats, they even then, called it tantric initiation or some pitiful excuse for pedestry, young David called it by its real name, reprehensible, knitted by a bulbous naked earth mother who laughed and giggled and recited rubbish from the ‘Book of the Dead’ and who was friendly even when the most unspeakable acts were being performed in front of her red rash nose. What a disaster. After when all adults were satisfied she made a warming vegetable broth which we eat before going to sleep and suffering nightmares of green Chinese lanterns, painted faces, vicious sodomy committed by father on a victorious Mediterranean beach, and Partisan Persian rugs.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

remembered how he objected to coping with their demands for deep throat:

SS

SS

This was his formative experience of ‘free love’, and he loathed it then and despised it to the point of psychosis now.

He came eventually to understanding the freedom in pay for play (P4P).

He wanted to confide once with the Precinct’s own therapist, counsellor, but couldn’t. He couldn’t for fear that he would be exposed, as he had been when wanting to date the fat sub girl, or even thrown off the force. Surely he would if they knew how hippy killing consumed his woken daydreams. He once witnessed three men trying to mount his mother unsuccessfully, and so they turned their attention to the kids. All was done as if it were normal, ‘free love’, natural. Not now. It was all catch-22.

And so now he severely objected to this but he refused to accept the root cause of his marriage breakdown after only two years. He didn’t and doesn’t buy into psychobabble, although he derived some benefits from speaking to Winslow Wong when he went out east. The force had a program which he attended and found out that he could benefit from counselling. In hypnotic regression he

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But that a very sadistic hairy demanded it and like a nasty shove in a game of twister manoeuvred his slender body so he could screw his mouth and throat. How can you write about these things without it sounded like base porn?

He gagged automatically and he thought he would die. Years later he remembered having a panic attack when he visited the ‘Kangaroo club in Bangkok. It’s a skull fucking bar. Now all this is clearly illegal. It is viewed to have ‘effects’. He had an interest in doing the same to Sri Mom in front of her parents.

Some hairy men had tried to mount him several times at a rock concert in a private tent, two were Hell’s Angels. He was getting a reputations for ‘being a slack kid’. He had never been penetrated till then, but out of consideration, the spirit of free love and ‘gentleness’ they had failed to penetrate him, but used small marital aids while they masturbated over his buttocks. His brother was less fortunate, his cheery had popped and hairies were regular acting as ‘turd-burglars’ on his ass. When he become too slack they jettisoned him as a target or mark. His brother

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

had never shitted right for years, he had left the family home ages ago and never came back even for thanksgiving.

He also had some relationships problems he was working through. In what is now termed ‘gang-banged, he was forced to make love to several adult men and women in some heavy drug-infused all night sessions where they could barely understand what they were speaking about. They were liberally given psychedelic drugs, and were often unable to articulate their experiences of anything.

XXIX. David served with New York City Police Department’s 103rd Precinct.

SS

SS

Nobody thought that this was paedophilia at this time, not even his parents. Nobody spoke, there were even hints that his father had in fact been working for the CIA or at least the FBI and had infiltrated the student bodies and others.

That he had played a part in the subsequent arrests and incarcerations of many counterculture figures, including Leary. Due to protecting his cover he was not required to report this abuse. He could not protect the state and family at the same time. He was always divided for love’s sake for the slim chance of union. There was no love here, juts politics or what passes for it in everyday life.

En route to becoming a detective, his destination and aspiration, from modest dispatcher, he had applied to become a patrolman and placed high enough on a list of 45 applicants to qualify for police academy.

He took his polygraph test, passed his psychological examination, and his medical check. After 10 fascinating but tough weeks of training graduates, and after 10 weeks of fantastic street training, David was finally a certified cop. He was ecstatic. He had really feared being a dispatcher all his life, possibly more than his parents did.

He feared registering crimes at a distance, remotely. He feared listening to the calls of back-up and arrest like a paralytic and wished to be on the receiving end of calls rather than the transmission. He feared that life and death would only ever register as electronic signals, a simulacrum of real life, in lower resolution then TV. He feared doing a job that was largely invisible, incorporeal, necessary, but unseen, stuff ‘under the bonnet’. He never imagined he would be on court duty for years.

Logic suggested Gotlieb – police dispatcher that he was actually in control of these cops, controlling them, but it

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

could’ve been an auditory hallucination, for all he knew, a permanent test of his aptitudes and the street. He wanted to smell the street on his freshly laundered and pressed uniform. Shit on the street. He wanted to see this shit. So he treated it as given, as real and did what he was supposed to do. He was in a special anaesthetic room where he was cushioned from all the dirt and grime. But he dreamed an attainable dream - the need to make on the spot decisions to use your weapon or not. Executive decision-making powers.

and started to take an interest in wider issues, instead of just gun club on a Tuesday evening, and Teak Won Do on a Thursday. Weights five gruelling nights a week. David constantly had CNN on at home, it was on at the gym, he read widely on American foreign policy under the Reagan administration, and he was staunchly Republican. His father wondered and worried about where all this was going.

To aim to kill or merely to maim.

To read someone their rights.

Some of the guys figured this was a rather flat affirmation; he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office.

SS

SS

David the grandaunt was an objectification of his dreamed role and identity in the world. He would carry a weapon, and he would use it if necessary. And so it was then that he learned to swagger like John Wayne, fuck, give me a break he had earned it.

And he also matured that day, like a cellared wine, settled a little now that he was on coarse to where he wanted to be,

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The older Gotlieb Henry, or Colin, or Leo whatever his name, was the product of a mind that now valued context and the art of subtle and implicit, rather than substance and the obvious, but he was happy his son seemed to going somewhere, somewhere safe and with direction. He was going to go.

That was their difference and always had been since he was a little boy. He appreciated things might have worked out different if he had being suburbanite from the start, if maybe he had not witnessed them in drug-infused orgies as if they were French freedom fighters on the night before a suicidal mission. But there was no harm done, the kids were expected to grow as kids, and the adults kept them free from harm. In the middle of a field or in a farm there is not much can happen, sure they were naked but they were bought up there to feel no shame, to accept human bodies as a given, without how they allude to marks of status and distinction.

Gotlieb himself, who was only in his 20s, remembered being

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

intrigued by the older bodies, the couple in their 60s for instance. He remarked on how interesting they were, natural and several times he had slept with the man’s partner, her breath smelled of death, but her soft skin and folds suffused him with delight. It smelt of apples in New England’s autumn. David watched him one afternoon. It alarmed him.

young ballerinas after all. If they refused his advances he asked them if they wanted to write a final letter to their family, and for the family to write a final letter to each other… When David read of this in a magazine article, he couldn’t help reflect upon the hypocrisies of ‘pinky’ hippies and their hypocrisy. It would’ve been expected of the reds that they abused power, power abuses, but at least it was girls. Boys shouldn’t be raped. They were told, instructed one day how there is no difference, but he knew there fucking well was… He hated the men’s cocks and covered up and hid his gaze in locker room showers to this day. The very sight of a man’s hairy back or worse, his pubic hair made him gag and become asthmatic. He would never be able to spit-roast because of this.

If they hadn’t seen their parents naked so much. Maybe it would have been different. He really knew practically nothing about his boys being buggered and attempted buggery as he was often in a post-coitus and hash pipe slumber. It didn’t just happen with their kids. Truth was Gotlieb senior Henry, or Colin, or Leo or whatever his name had engaged in a lot of this stuff as well. It helped his cover.

He sacrificed a few young tight assholes with great suction and tactility in the name of democratic freedom.

The disparity in the size of he young lads’ 12 year old anus’ and the full grown hairies was too much. This was David’s thought on the matter. This disparity could be dangerous to health let alone scar emotionally. Gotlieb senior knew it was ok to get stoned, ‘others’ were taking care of the kids and keeping them educated and amused. Little did he know?

Like viruses and Trojans in a computer, the hairy people were infiltrated like any other echelon of society. In Russia the 53 year old head of the KGB, had a penchant for very

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Not living life by default like he had done. His father wondered if all David had done was simply followed ersatz fashion, tastes in lifestyles and behaviours, rather than being part of a radical movement which projected change into today’s policy? “I suppose it’s a perennial question” he pondered. His mother felt largely the same, except she felt embarrassment about her lack of conviction regarding David’s father – when she met Henry, or Colin or whatever his name was, David’s dad, or Leo, she had been sleeping with dozens of men, indeed on that day they met in an orgy while on LSD amongst other names of drugs, drug titles.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

This was also never spoken of today, but she held the burden of this. Maybe being so ‘sure’ he would avoid some of the internal conflicts that Gotlieb senior had experienced all his days. Gotlieb senior, Henry, or Colin, or Leo had never possessed, ever long term goals. It didn’t care if David was his blood son or not, he was a product of that time, the revolution that was more important than possessiveness.

They would have battered their kids then for a massage or two free range chickens and donkey.

Everything just ‘happened’ and was ‘coped with’ as it emerged. He never had many heroes. He wondered why he and his son were so different. He tried to pull the gun away from David as a child, but he couldn’t, his son protected it.

Gotlieb senior Henry, or Colin, or Leo would never have used physical force, even with a red-faced and very angry 7 year old David post-abuse.

He hoped that this was the first sign of ‘protest’, but it was a toy cowboy gun, not an issue, they was being owned and protected. Was his son turning into the enemy between two ideological opposed camps in this desperate majical war of attrition? What a legacy! They were pitted against each other King and Prince psychically. This played like musique or lift muzak to Otto Gershang.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

SS

SS

Young, David nourished the cowboy gun like it was his suckling baby and he were a mother, he hid the gun and when Larry next door came crying with his mom to get it back, David wouldn’t produce. David’s mum would come into his room and catch him pawing it even when he was 16.

Her cries of ‘it’ being a hateful object only distanced her further from her son, who saw it as a symbol of power like a primeval tribesmen would, or a gansta in South Central, L.A.. And so did mother’s efforts to make him understand how to approach women in his life. That made him shut right up. David figured this was a rather flat affirmation; he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office.

David never came home with girlfriends, not like his brother Heinrich who seemed to have someone new every time he came back from university. They had no idea what his sexuality was or where its interests lay. But they knew one thing, if he came home and had a girl pregnant out of wedlock that would be ‘cool’, ‘OK’, ‘no problem’. If she wanted to get rid of it and it done privately then they would help. David only had to say.

Also both parents were adamant, almost from the time he was born that if he were gay, and then they would be

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

accepting as if he were with a nice girl. You can imagine how

He saw no harm in projecting U.S. interests, laws and values overseas. His view was that they had never lost a war. They had not lost in Vietnam. In fact why the fucks have we not done it already? What is the point in being the biggest bull in the field and not laying down our laws? American ways are for bettering mankind. What else could supplant them?

Oh the fucking small print, “go get a fucking life, France,” was David’s reply. Although he didn’t go to church, there is nothing wrong with Christian ethics. What else is there to replace them? He had no time for philosophy, Shivas and such like, everything was self-evident. He wished he could give up masturbation and his phone-sex obsessions, would he do so by going to church, was he doing any harm, fuelling a drug-addiction, or spending his earned dollar by putting his life on the line in a good way, or at least on something that gave him mortal pleasure?

David took to this folk wisdom…

So then there was Miss Queens, they never knew how they met, or even why this girl was taken with their introverted son. They knew it would not last. One night David had ‘inflicted’ forced anal. This act was only once or twice over months. She had long suspected he was a gay, she found a soiled dildo in his toolbox in the basement, and a weird woolly hat, the drop down moustache gave it away, and he was a fucking faggot. She packed her bags next day and left him. She was back in a week. No problem, he’d find another.

He had a career; he had to focus on that anyway. Her shopping was boring him. He liked cleaning the house anyways, he didn’t need a women round all the time. He knew she was leaving him because of the ‘job’ – it always got the better of relationships.

Now he knew in his soul of souls that he would always be on the job of law enforcement whether in the streets, in the department or in his private life.

SS

SS

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SS

SS

The Republicans had after all won the right for slaves to be free. Look at it now. Black rape n’ murder crews hitting on innocent citizens going about their daily routines. Some hits on a crack pipes then gang-banging. Fucking human embryos, children, kids providing respite of old sultana skinned piss bags to life-extend. Gays kissing in their marriages.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

This all hinted at ‘detective’. The amalgam of civilian and law enforcement. These fuckers were freed for this? The MTV was full of it. Black niggers, flaunting gold and hse, good looking hse, ones I want to marry and clean my fucking house, who loved nothing but a ‘thug’. Hard, rich and sexy were what are lauded again and again on my TV. A whole musical genre dedicated to glorifying violence, murder n’ rape, and money. It made David want to kill himself, slowly like a South East Asian war torture, but only after a personalised murder spree – target ‘them’. Integrated, melded, at one with the cesspool beyond his door. It would always be fact-finding, investigating wrong. His whole life would become evidence against why this should be.

XXX. Plain clothes Well, plain clothes suited him better, and the classic theme tunes of 70s cop and detective shows played in his head every time he entered his house, especially if he was casually carrying a brown grocery bag. The bag had nothing to eat only XXX VHS hard action a gun and a bottle of Jacky D, he’s ace of Diamon’ He’s away to alter the look of his house.

He’ll do this from altering constructions within.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

On TV he saw 1970s re-runs showing how other people deal with loneliness by becoming too quickly and deeply involved with people and activities without evaluating the consequences of their involvement. They weren’t like him.

This was 2006, the future for them, he had a balanced perspective of living, well at least until the ‘accident’. He ate right, didn’t smoke, and sculpted himself in the gym. He was critical of the fat losers that obviously didn’t really care what their wives thought of them.

He saw fat as distinctive grounds for a divorce and a cause of domestic violence more generally. And he really felt they, the fat parents, were poor examples for their kids. But it didn’t voice this obviously, but he hoped, wished that some cosmic retribution was going to fall on them. In this he included obese seniors taking advantage of their special Sunday brunch menus at Denny’s.

They were not good examples for their kids, shit, and well for any kids, really. Here you have officers, sitting in cars, piling on weight, commanding respect from citizens. When they get out of the vehicle, kids equate the job with unfit,

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

unkempt men. Television didn’t help the image. There wasn’t nearly enough ‘Miami Vice’ stuff on now. You know ‘good men’ rugged and handsome, active and doing their job properly. Oh fuck, there always the exceptions to the rule.

Cannon, Frank Cannon. A tough, expensive, overweight PI who charged high fees to his well-to-do clients so he could work for poorer clients at little or no charge. He also used it to indulge his high-priced lifestyle, which included a penthouse on the Sunset Strip and of course maintenance on his Lincoln Continental, which was frequently wrecked. A former cop, didn’t he quit the force after the tragic death of his wife and infant son in an automobile accident, nor did he suffer the humiliation of being discharged by the police for being overweight.

Columbo's signature technique was to exit the scene of an interview, invariably stopping in the doorway to ask "just one more thing" of a suspect. Columbo's first name is never explicitly revealed in the series. Columbo was born and raised in New York City in a neighbourhood near Chinatown. The Columbo household included the future policeman's grandfather, parents, five brothers and a sister.

His brother-in-law is a lawyer.

No, it’s OK he was a private eye, but he had a good heart.

Cannon had no wife, instead a taste for, where his passion is gourmet cuisine prepared by himself. Lieutenant Columbo, a homicide detective with the Los Angeles Police Department.

Falk's Columbo (inspired by the Crime and Punishment character, Porfiry Petrovich) was a shabby, apparently slowwitted police detective, although, as the criminals eventually learned, appearances can be deceiving. Columbo solved his cases by close attention to tiny inconsistencies in a suspect's story and by hounding the suspect until they confessed.

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He prefers to drive his trademark, dirty 1959 Peugeot 403 convertible rather than an official NYPD car while on duty.

When he did so David Gotlieb imagined battered trademarks in a sunny parking lot: either Frank Cannon’s spotless Lincoln Continental, which would get beat up and replaced or repaired, or it was Frank Columbo’s dirty 1959 Peugeot 403 convertible.

SS

SS

Shit that was always beat up and never washed. David owned both cars. He even groomed himself, 70s and 80s retro, an almost butch handlebar moustache, and thick sideboards, swept side parting, out of style. He took advantage of this lifestyle coming back in style. He imagined

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

he was divorced, which isn’t too difficult when you are – and repeated cop clichés to himself:

time to time, especially every Thursday night at bowling when he had had a few beers:

“...too much time on the job” As to why his own marriage broke up. Shrinks would say it was my over-masturbation, or maybe my repeated rape – of himself.. My wife actually didn’t give a fuck about either…

Is that against the law?

So it was better refigured as the ‘old lady’ couldn’t take the job anymore, and this was also a favourite adage and reinvention of fate for breakdown and a bottle. It was never making a busty blonde secretary to a bent private eye wear a crotchet hat in bed whilst trying to stretch her vocal chords with extreme ass to mouth A2M action. That was BS. David figured this was a rather flat affirmation; so he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office and he, stood outside his client centred view and told him so. David didn’t believe he cared that he was raped either, the essence of a sociopath in the making, but with a large psychic stopcock.

SS

SS

David’s look made him a little conservative in the eyes of his fellows, a little eccentric, but that was better than trying to be up-to-date. Also was amusement of him self-consciously reflecting upon his banal, almost childish cop values from

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“I know it sounds so immature but one thing I look forward to be carrying a gun at all times. You know how when you were younger, you used to carry a water pistol or one of those that shot sparks, you know when you pulled the trigger, under your shirt, under your pillow, pretending you weren't armed and someone is holding you up. You pretend to go for your wallet in your back pocket but instead draw your weapon on him and just kill him.

No warning, Yeah, just like that, then you give him the peace sign, that’s what I wanna do.”

The guys were endeared to David, but nights spent with the boys after work for the time that they could afford away from their loved ones. He never made outwardly racist remarks although others did. But he knew they were joking or expressing something they would never follow through on. He kept his hippy fixation real private between him and his partner, who didn’t drink and was not social. His partner didn’t care and they were always on court duty anyway, no hippy knew he would do this. He was no threat. In return he loved them, his friends, always boasting to third parties stuff like:

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

“That’s the type of department I work for. If you where to see any of these guys out, especially when they are boozing, you would never take them to be coppers.”

But there was a cruel reality that even he figured out. That this is before they returned to wives and girlfriends where they become lovers or the beloved, or the cared-for. Only the hardcore praetorian guard were left, the Macedonians and the Spartans, drunks, the ones with problems at home, the divorcees, the widowers and naturally, the older or disenfranchised dudes like him.

“I'm just sitting here sipping on some Tanqueray and orange juice, and I've come to the conclusion that marriage is actually outdated and not realistic, at least here in America, I believe the stats show more than half of all marriages in America end in divorce, but fuck the stats, I've seen enough proof of this in my personal life, everyone I've grown up with either comes from a broken home, or their parents got divorced somewhere along the line. Ok mines aren’t but they were part of an abuse ring.

It just seems that marriage is set up to fail from the beginning, especially if you marry at a young age, like say 19 or 20, people start to change in their mid

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20s, and I'm seeing this now, I got married when I was 19 and I'm 34 now, my wife started to change as a person, to the point where we wanted different things in life, least to say I'll probably be getting a divorce, but nevertheless I've seen few marriages that actually work where both parties are happy, want to be there, and are not just hanging in there for the kids or because its "cheaper to keep her", what are your guys thoughts on this? Even if you’re happily married yourself, look at the people around you and count how many are in the same boat.”

They were ‘male’ but that wasn’t really him. It was bad, a poor reflection something from beyond seemed to glow, tinkle really like a constellation of stars suggest in meaning, like when he would star gaze and never really be able to pick out Orion’s Belt. But he sure as hell said to the fatherly hippy he could. He was the only one that spent time trying to identify with the kids instead of trying to screw them one way or another. He had to say he saw it. But the existential bugbear hit him - what was he really seeing in civilian life?

He didn’t know where to go on a big night out really. Where to aim himself looking at the good heavens. There was no god up there, only aliens, maybe, he was even agnostic about that. They were no shivas, no foreseeable technology, only these random dots were out there and some sex maniac hairies were obsessed with charting them. As they gazed

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

David toyed with the idea of closing his nightstick over the napes of the hairy necks, doing them like he was Khmer Rouge in full pelt, agnostic ethically.

He knew there was a big, big world out there but how to access rape n’ murder was a mystery, sure. What he could share in a meaningful sense with its inhabitants was a mystery. Who was the witness to his life, his achievements and horrors, his angst? “Dr. Wong do you have any free sessions this week?”

SS

SS

Even in the cop bar he was looking for clues, manhandling his consciousness squeezing awareness out of it in case some cop hater was lurking in the backroom. That’s how they got caught out on 9/11 wasn’t it, and the reasons he should be a detective? Lack of attention to detail, he was vigilant. One guy passed him an ad in a local newspaper for male tours to Asia.

He was to unsuspectingly become a sex tourist, a category to later be bundled with the term, child sex-tourist.

XXX+I. David wasn’t really cut out for it

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Superiors had noted David’s immaturity and lack of community awareness. It became the big thing after Rodney King nation-wide and global. His genuine heart-felt hatred of ethics came though subtly, in ways that experienced analysts could see. Winslow Wong had been drafted in by the NYPD to supervise analyst and training sessions. What was termed “Goal-Oriented Neighbourhood Policing” was a re-examination of how the police interact in the various communities.

Soaring crime rates and the behaviour of officers on the streets became the direct responsibility of the precinct commander. The NYPD adopted a new policy – it was termed Courtesy, Professionalism, and Respect (CPR). This aimed at fostering respect for the public, and discipline, integrity, and professionalism among police officers. David many others welcomed this advance; at least they said they did. Who was really going to say they didn’t? Does anybody ever say boo to political correctness, or is it just accepted as a blanket statement of a more rational and humane way of looking at things. But they ain’t going to kid him.

The crunch came when Internal Affairs Bureau (IAB) and Quality Assurance Division (QAD) officers were sent out incognito to test beat cops on their interpersonal skills with the communities they served. This included bias testing, for

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

which they set up undercover stings with employed Hispanic and other ethnic accents to see if the response to their complaints was comparable to the treatment received by non-ethnics. These undercover dudes asked patrol officers for assistance and made calls to the precincts to test if the respondents acted correctly. This was the social science that got David Gotlieb.

gangrenous, they had never seen the like and there were simply no resources for treating ‘weird shit’.

The whole remit of CPR testing was aimed at helping to identify problem officers and pockets of questionable behaviour. Officer Gotlieb had told one long hairdo Hispanic to “fuck off” when he politely asked for directions one day.

When the guy probed a little deeper Gotlieb made a big mistake, he put his night-stick over the guy’s head after checking no-one was watching. His partner on the beat knew this was more to do with coiffure prejudice than skin tone and accent. But they were watching.

He was suspended immediately for the first time without pay. They considered him fit for dismissal, but his record had been uneventful to this time. He spent those days on his foreign policy research, attending community policing training and anger management. The focus was on black and Hispanic communities. They couldn’t get their head around some guy with a prejudice against long hairdo individuals.

He was treated for toothache when his big toe was

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“Give him black/Hispanic, maybe a little ‘women’ and it will go away.”

No way. David figured this was a rather flat affirmative action; he really only hated hippies, but he dutifully attended his sessions at Dr. Wong’s office, and to further emphasise the brand new Officer Gotlieb, they had him team up with a new American-Vietnamese partner - Officer Peter Quang Dao.

SS

SS

This was tough for David as at first as this man clearly lacked ambition, perhaps his Asian way? His previous partner Pepe, was never like that.

David wai’d to him on meeting and the man screwed his face up quizzically. But David relegated that thought out of his mind the way he had been trained. “Vietnam is near Thailand yeah?” Puzzlement. Mutual confusion, they drink coffee and David introduces Peter to his favourite meatball sub shack.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Now, after 10 years with the force he had been almost exclusively assigned to the NYPD Queens Court Section.

Maybe it was this, but he never made detective in NYC. Not even near. And, oh sweet lord, how this weighed on officer Gotlieb.

point of the camels back was when he and his AmericanVietnamese partner let a suspect loose by accident. Oh No!!!!

Truth be known, he was not, never, on a career path anyway, and lack of progress was affecting his dream, affected his sleep eventually, and his bowels.

Indeed, it drove him to refigure his dream as an ambition relocate to the ‘real’ America, the working environs of his heroes, the West Coast. No more winters. Sunny parking lots and a proper apartment instead of house. What the hell, he was 28, he had no ties. His parents were too close in Queens.

His only brother lives in Milwaukee, his sister is Sausilito.

Kamar Yusef, a British Muslim of Iranian decent, was in a holding cell at Queens Central Booking at about 10 a.m. on Jan. 30, 2001 waiting for arraignment on criminal trespass charges. When a police officer called out for the prisoner, Yusef slipped out instead and the judge released him when attorneys failed to prosecute.

He was long gone before court personnel realised their mistake. Yusef was picked up a few hours later by full fledged detectives at the 103rd Squad who spotted him at the corner of 165th Street and Jamaica Avenue. Phew. But the local paper named and shamed them: “Sgt. David Gotlieb and Police Officer Quang Dao, both assigned to the NYPD Queens Court Section, were suspended on Oct. 1 or their failure to secure Yusef.”

They got away.

XXX +II. The trial of David Gotlieb Police Officer And what was he, then, in his private life? Sure as fuck he was no ‘private eye’, but he felt like he was in training. An extension of the physical work in the gym, he as training his whole being to look for patterns, oddities, things that didn’t quite fit in. ‘To what’ - he never got that far. The breaking

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The straw was breaking or had already broken. He missed that pattern, oddity, thing that didn’t quite fit in, he must move on. He was a divorcée, a guy who can’t score a date with a fat fuck, who is a habitual masturbator, and who was also a racist on record and now negligent on duty. It was all falling apart. He needed Dr. Wong, but he was spending his

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phone sex money on therapy sessions where he couldn’t explore the phone sex sessions, too embarrassed too, risks the CIA or FBI may be looking and throw out his applications – one more catch-22 – Wong may be CIA or NSA.

SS

SS

It was an existential shock, his negligence, a wake-up call to get his house in order so to speak, my brothers treatment of Shiva something he must right. He must build good karma.

David figured this was a rather flat affirmation; he ran like fuck to his session at Wong’s office.

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

So here we have a land of immigrants, the melting pot, is the U.S. not a depiction of the world at large, a reflection, a pavilion of shattering mirrors, its shards cutting feet everywhere? As America developed a sense of self, an ego, a personality, as it separated from Mother Europe, and Mother Africa, Father Asia it felt it had built its own niche and now had something to give back. It is a depository of moral justice so it is, that’s the real riches. In case of moral turpitude please break emergency glass and we will come tell you right from wrong when you’ve forgotten. If the picture of America drawn by the European intellectual elite is accurate, then those immigrants from all parts of the world were deluded fools.

Why choose the American capitalist jungle with all its evils, rather than the lands of peace, plenty, and liberty they came from? Haahah, yeah man we know the fuck why…

XXX+ III. Diaspora redux Over the last couple of hundred years tens of millions of immigrants have streamed into the United States. It is the Diaspora. They teamed in and flowed into all the nooks and crannies of space and land, and eventually road and river.

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Why didn't they write their families and friends basking in the paradises of Ukraine, Calabria, and Greece warning them of the perils of poverty, precariousness, and oppression in America? Currently there are about 198,203 Laotians, 186,310 Hmong, 273,841 Cambodians, 1,223,736 Vietnamese, there are only 150,283 Thais even though they had been travelling to America since 1830, the Vietnamese

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

only since the 70s. Of those, 447,032 (39.8%) live in California and 134,961 (12.0%) in Texas.

to world outcry, allowing people to leave Vietnam legally for family reunions and for humanitarian reasons.

The largest concentration of Vietnamese found outside of Vietnam is found in Orange County, California - totalling 135,548. A poll taken in 1975 showed only 36 percent of Americans were in favour of Vietnamese immigration. They wanted to wash their hands of the whole stinking affair perhaps. President Gerald Ford and other officials strongly supported Vietnamese immigration to the U.S. and passed the Indochina Migration and Refugee Act in 1975, which allowed Vietnamese refugees to enter the United States under a special status.

XXX+IV The Vietnamese American population

In order to prevent the refugees from forming ethnic enclaves and to minimise their impact on local communities, they were scattered like ARClight bombs all over the country. Within a few years, however, many resettled in California and Texas. They coalesced and they concentrated.

They became Vietnamese in communities again, fucking ghettos and tongs.

Congress passed the Refugee Act of 1980, reducing restrictions on entry, while the Vietnamese government established the Orderly Departure Program (ODP) under the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees in response

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“Saigon at that time was one of the wickedest cities in the world: prostitutes, gambling, drugs, every kind of vicious circumstance’ You couldn’t walk down the street without smelling opium…. They had two main brothels. One of them for soldiers and poor men, covered a whole city block. The other was called ”The hall of Mirrors’- reputedly managed from aboard by Emperor Bao Dai from aboard. It had a thousand women: every colour, race every language.”7 The Vietnamese American population fits in with the stereotype of the poorly assimilated immigrant population still culturally and emotionally connected to the homeland and the relatively assimilated second-generation to whom the old country is a mere abstraction.

7

Ann Miller, ‘Land of the Open Fly’ in (Al Santoli, Author) To Bear Any Burden: The Vietnam War and Its Aftermath in the Words of Americans and Southeast Asians New York Ballantine Books pp.25-28

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

As with native-born descendants of other minority immigrant groups, the younger generations of Americanraised and educated Vietnamese Americans are increasingly speaking English rather than the mother tongue of Vietnamese. The girls can be brats and will assert their rights.

Another example is when Vietnamese American gangs commit violent home invasion robberies. They like to target their own, no doubt armed with good intelligence, regarding how much, where and when. Wealthy Vietnamese American families.

Additionally, the younger generations have become much more acculturated to the Western culture than their traditional Vietnamese culture. The Confucianist paternal hierarchy found in some Asian cultures has gradually broken down as Vietnamese American females increasingly attend college and/or take on careers as entrepreneurs, wage earners, or salaried professionals. They become united, valuable taxpaying members of civil society.

However, gang activities have become a concern among the Vietnamese American population and law enforcement. For example, in 1992 in Sacramento, a major robbery and shootout occurred at an electronic retailer between Vietnamese American gangs and the local cops - the media sensationalised this incident.

Tongs loose, left, right and centre. One up the ass for the niggers and spics.

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Some cafes in Little Saigon of Orange County have been rumoured to be fronts for gang activity. In the movie Better Luck Tomorrow, a Vietnamese American youth was portrayed as a gun-toting gang member. This is deep. We can stem the tide but not stop its flow. Its close, the guy that wants to kill you is staring at this lover, a lover who hates him, well at least his violence. She will massage you for $50 including executive hand relief.

XXX +V David Gotlieb and Quang Dao “As you mentioned, I think people have a negative view of what they call them because they have had a negative experience involving the police. That’s because they are up to something, if not in practice, then in their minds. Where I work, it’s the pieces of crap that always complain about police harassment.

But it’s also the same people that are always getting into trouble, committing crimes, and being called about in reverence to one or the two.”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

He was back to his own moralising self when they hit the court the next day. Quang Dao was pleased to back on the receiving end of his friend’s superior knowledge of the world. Truth is known he looked at Gotlieb officer as a ‘elder brother’.

Quang Dao cared little for ‘street wise’ he remembered how chaotic it had been living in fear and bombing in his youth in Saigon. He remembered the madness as his father and his brothers collected television and refrigerators for distribution round the neighbourhood in Saigon 14 at mark down prices. There was often violence when people didn’t pay. The Koreans saw to that, they’d been on the American game for a long, long time now back from the front line. If R&R was shaped by US forces presence in Bangkok and Saigon, then the model had come from recuperation provision in Korea. No doubt about it. Raw capitalism got made, and how traditional values changed day to day, after that monk had burned himself. He liked peace and security.

He was republican. David figured this was a rather flat affirmation; he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office.

SS

SS

For centuries, Vietnamese society was knitted together by Confucian principles based upon five key relationships; the subordination of subject to ruler, son to father, wife to husband, and younger brother to elder brother, and the mutual respect between friends. Children were expected to be polite to their parents and older persons, to look after their elder’s welfare, and show elders respect through proper manners and form of address. Without being a stickler for conventions, Quang Dao’s feelings for elder brother Gotlieb were more American than Vietnamese.

He was amazed by his ability to pack two massive meatball subs in during lunch.

After all he was largely raised in the U.S. He wanted to give elder brother space to boast, to brag, to show his superior knowledge of what the fuck was goin’ down.

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SS

SS

“It’s sad when we arrest a person and I already know their personal information.” Quang Dao had done that. A young Veit honcho had a bad reputation as pimp, receiving stolen goods, drug dealing the usual. He was a distant relative of Lien, Quang Dao’s lovely wife. Him and David had to pick him up after a chase one night when we were called to do beat duty. Quang Dao spoke Vietnamese to him, but he didn’t understand a word. It was amazing. He found himself going on overdrive again, searching out, looking for

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

inflections that might give recognition away of one Vietnamese to another, but nothing.

detective work entails calling people back in reference to burglaries, missing children (who are habitual runaways to begin with), and following up on lost property reports. They catch those running away from court appearances.

As the guy spat and cussed, Peter Quang Dao, dealt by the book, and I mean it big time! Considerations came in, cultural niceties if you want, things we had been taught.

Note to Police Officers: Vietnamese, as a general rule, do not like to be touched.

While it is perhaps, less common then in the past, to pat a child on the head, in Vietnamese culture this is a particular taboo. It is believed the spirit of the person resides in the head. Touching the head is therefore, considered highly inappropriate.

Vietnamese criminals may be resistant to handcuffing for similar reasons. David took careful notes in his police book.

SS

SS

At the department that David worked for, and was eventually suspended from, he decided he didn’t really want to become a detective after all. Even being a cop was losing meaning. The investigating that they have to do isn't all too glorious. It’s not Sherlock Holmes, not at all. It’s not like the TV or movies or even in a much larger department. Their

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Community policing is much richer. Difficulties exist in obtaining information from affected communities whose ethnic populations tolerate and tout gambling, accept extortion fatalistically and distrust governmental authority.

Most law enforcement agencies in the United States have found it difficult to cope with Asian criminals because they are ignorant of oriental languages, culture and customs.

SS

SS

His foreign policy research really interested David, the attending community policing training and anger management trainer passed him a copy of "Orientalism," Edward Said's commanding study of Western attitudes toward the East. The training was a contemporary update on the same phenomenon: how Westerners project their hopes and fears onto whatever Asian culture they examine. He actually couldn’t make head nor tail of it, none of it really.

David Gotlieb lacked focus, he always had. Well apart from then, in Bangkok, that mistaken trip.

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XXX + VI. Vietnamese hoe encounter: The fact is that during the final 15 years of the twentieth century, crime diminished dramatically in the United States.

David sees this as the republican influence. Why not, in New York City, Mayor Rudolph Giuliani cut crime by half in five years.

The prostitutes that come to the U.S. are from all over Asia.

Before 1980, the majority were Korean, and they continue to arrive from there. People don’t realise that while Vietnam was ranging Korea was still in full flow since the 1950s.

There were thousands of US troops stationed there enjoying there whorehouses and the like while ‘nam was ranging.

Brides of U.S. soldiers serving in South Korea come to the United States as legal citizens, and while most of the marriages are legitimate, some GIs knowingly marry prostitutes and are paid $5,000 to $10,000 by members of an international Asian crime syndicate.

Other GIs find out that their wives are prostitutes only after they arrive home.

Surprise, surprise mother!

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The first American-based “Tong” - the literal translation means “meeting hall,” is an extension of the merchant associations that were first organised in 1847 in San Francisco as a means of preserving cultural identity and providing a social outlet. Not every member of a Tong is criminally inclined, and not every Tong generally have been of interest to federal and local law enforcement. But there are those who have such as the On Leong in Chicago.

Another example is the Flying Dragons in New York City, a Chinese street gang that has a Vietnamese contingent, also known as the Viet-Ching, which was headed by Mink Chee Phu.

SS

SS

The group's primary criminal activities include extortion, armed robbery, prostitution, auto theft, arson and gambling.

The Vietnamese are the most vicious and ruthless of the Asian criminal groups. The gangs are highly mobile and travel across the nation to commit crime. They often move from one Vietnamese community to another, using safe houses shared by members of other gangs. Most gang members are engaged in armed home invasion robberies, auto theft and extortion of Chinese-owned businesses. They are more violent than the Chinese gangs. Like those gangs,

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

however, the Vietnamese cause property damage and threaten merchants who refuse to pay.

About a month and a half ago, a house of Vietnamese prostitutes was busted in Virginia, and the detectives say it looks gang-related in an impressionistic way, but this has not yet been proven. The diaspora and trafficking of amorphous hse. Usually they are difficult to bust because they are so careful in whom they allow into the house.

“Ice,” the crystalline, smokeable form of methamphetamine, has turned up on the West Coast in recent years. Ice originated in Japan reportedly around 1919, but is being produced in Hong Kong, Korea, Japan, Thailand (Yaba or "crazy medicine"), and the Philippines for distribution in the U.S. So far, the drug is mostly confined to West Coast communities, but the situation is likely to change as the Asian street gangs and tong groups shift their base of operation to the hinterland. It is the drug of choice across South East Asia. Many hookers love it ‘too muh’.

An investigator in the Houston Police Department discovered recently that Vietnamese pimps are running brothels that employ Korean women. Some officials suspect that these pimps are members of these Vietnamese gangs that move around the country like nomads, the ones that use the more violent methods of extortion than the other Asian gangs and are the most difficult to identify and track. Police and FBI investigators speculate the Vietnamese gangs tightly control houses of Vietnamese prostitutes as well, but they have been unable to prove it.

David remembered so well the spiel: "Normally, in a prostitution case, we would make a date with a girl and get the solicitation of sex for money. . . . With the Asian ring, you would need an Asian who is already at the house as an informant which is not an easy thing to find - who would be willing to introduce an undercover police officer as a client to the operator of the house."

Putting undercover agents in place is tricky, say officials, because Asian communities tend to be small and tightly knit.

If one person joins the police force, everyone in the community knows it - and knows what he or she looks like.

Sometimes a police department will bring an Asian detective in from a different jurisdiction for an undercover operation.

Maybe Quang Dao could do that? Moreover, the Vietnamese tend to distrust law enforcement officials.

Vietnamese prostitutes seem to be as mobile as the gangsters.

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SS

SS

Traditionally, Vietnamese families handle their own problems; except in a major offence, they don't go to the police because it would be considered a sign of weakness.

And because police corruption in Vietnam is extensive, they have an innate distrust of law enforcement. The INS and other federal agencies say they often get their information from people who have their own agendas - sometimes from a rival gang that is jealous of the other's success or from a vengeful husband who discovers his wife has been secretly working in a massage parlour as a prostitute. Disclosure. One way out or deeper into the pavilion of mirrors…

SS

SS

Ultimately Gotlieb’s choice in law enforcement would be having a government position.

“I have looked into the secret service as well as the DEA and even ATF. I have never really thought about the FBI. I guess I would rather go into something a little more off the beaten path.”

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He craved that power over citizens. He had experienced many things while on the streets, on duty. Nothing pleased him more than: You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. Anything you do or say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without an attorney present you will still have the right to stop answering at any time until you talk to an attorney.

Knowing and understanding your rights as I have explained them to you, are you willing to answer my questions without an attorney present? This was his mantra, his Lord’s Prayer.

SS

SS

He was saying to himself that day as he approached the innocuous but curious white Toyota. He had pulled it because it looked suspicious and full of men. Too full.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

XXX +VII. The straw that broke David’s back, his career David was falling, was this it, this was it, it was this, this it was, was it all to be over, accomplished?

But inside the car.

The car that David had stopped on his second day of traffic patrol duties in his new job, other perceptions were running.

The whole thing seemed unreal to the car’s British Muslim driver and passengers. After all it was now post-9-11. They had felt threatened for weeks, and it didn’t help that they were really on a mission.

Simply watching the cop gain on him in the rear-view mirror seemed to the driver theatrical, staged, movie like, unreal, clichéd, daft. He was back in his student pad in the North of England watching a DVD. The mirror was like a small narrow DVD screen, a periscope into another world.

He felt no fear, but more accurately bemusement as first Gotlieb’s vehicle grew in size and perspective, and then Gotlieb himself, until all that was visible was the machismo swaying of hips and the gun pouch being unloosened.

When the cop started to peer into the driver’s window, there was a sudden flurry of movement, recognition, too quick for a shuffle, more like a knee-jerk than an interaction.

Coalescence. Suddenly, the man in the car pulled a gun and fired several shots.

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Seen from a distance of 10 feet or more, but for Peter Quang Dao this fitted a number of ‘action’ clichés perfectly, precisely.

School teachers and college professors and police trainers delight in asking their students to explain what the author “really meant.” But no one can ever know with any certainty what was going on in the author’s mind. Our ability to project on others varies and is, thankfully, limited to what we know of the world. To all coppers people are up to no good. To all crooks all passers-by are coppers. To all whoremongers all women are prostitutes. To all prostitutes all men and many women are customers. And so it ALWAYS is.

SS

SS

So it was that day in the car that David stopped. He was within his rights to, it was his job. Sometimes the interplay between people and their dramatic, forced, bludgeoning views of the world, their fucking pedacrast views, the gentle, soft subtle and passive actions of others denies interpretation. The thin man quietly grunting. Giving and deceiving. Sometimes the interplay is delicate, with the

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

reactions of each person inextricably bound to the behaviour of the other. Sometimes it is extreme and deadly like rapemurder. How much we give of ourselves in these transactions, what is the footprint, how much a and how much I take depends. It depends of how pure is the DNA? In many factors not least emotional intelligence. David figured this was a rather flat affirmation; he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office he raised the issue of rape-murder, Wong replied hat he was wondering why rape was connected to murder in David’s ideas. Did these false memoirs of free love exponents raping him make him fearful for his life? When one listens to adults who consider them selves to have been victims of childhood sexual interactions, it is seldom the actual sex that they feel distress over. Rather it is the guilt, shame, the imposed secrecy, the feelings of coercion and lack of control, and the ambivalence of being mistreated by an adult who they would normally trust and look to for protection. It was clear that they were not repressed homoerotic fantasies, but what were they and where did they come from. Soft porn as a gateway and mystic mandala to hard porn and rape murder? Possibly, the mind is a pavilion of mirrors, it demands, begs for a map. Nobody except Myiad and Wong – working together - craft them.

And even then they are told in fable form. So that is no option for the stupid.

101 - The officer fell to the ground, screaming and crying in a frenzied panic, “I’ve been shot! I’ve been shot! Call an ambulance! I’ve been shot!”

He twisted and vomited and defecated, anything to get the ‘lead’ from out of his system.

They were packing heat, it was still unexpected, he had never shot anyone, he had only once drawn his weapon, and he had only a few times read people their rights and now he was being killed all of a sudden. All those who died doing their duty, it was all over for the greater good that never existed expect as neurone firings, arbitrary pattern somewhere in the universe, the electro-magnetic spectrum, flashes for no known reason at all.

And at the end Lien, Quang Dao’s wife, a mystery bell falling through space over the South China Sea, some English women making a cake?? In a designer kitchen, Graffiti, a Japanese man watching a large screen TV sitting on mat on a floor in concrete bunker, dreaming of water over and above the plot and his relationship to Thailand and a Thai.

SS

SS

Indeed, all this pondering is irrelevant and a fucking real waste of trees. Today it was pronounced, it was crime scene

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

When the paramedics arrived, after five lifetimes of evacuating anything that would or could come out of him, in bodily fluids as well as gesticulation, they discovered that the officer hadn’t even been wounded.

It was because he had engaged in lascivious, fucked-up socially degrading sex in Bangkok.

XXX + VIII Otto Gershang

All the shots had missed. The only observable damage was that this tough but fragile John Wayne had wet and shat his pants, and spewed his ringer, his name was Officer David Gotlieb.

How could anybody, any partner, feel safe with him as backup? He’s a small dick player, who was acting up when he should’ve stuck to curt duty and preserved himself forever like pickled quicksilver. Who would get the insurance money anyway?? He wanted to make his will over to Princess LU, in the absence of Sri Mom. He remembered horrifically, getting his asshole fingered by a long blondehaired man, a Lion’s mane, while he murmured to his father “Baby, You are he politics of the experienced, Leo.” A shield fell out of his pocket in the morning, FBI. The expressions of sympathy from the guys like “hey man, it could’ve been any of us” “these things happen man” were as sincere as they were said, denied the reality. If they were said in consideration of the loss of a buddy to a thief’s bullet, then yeah, OK. But in this circumstance, he knew he was fucked.

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He had come a long way this magus, working for years on 20 or so different projects stretched your backdoor, to the hidden tunnel under his garage into every women’s secret room in infinity. Only one led to the ‘white room’ man, Mr. Honeymoon’s shack, another led to the ‘Japanese suicidal manic obsessive-compulsive man’ another was Mr. and Mrs. Sue Tyler and of course, his piece de la résistance, David Gotlieb, Gotty. Sometimes he would stay as his little cubicle, sitting in his ergonomically designed chair, drinking room service delivered Coke for 2 days at a time without leaving.

David missed on these days for breakfast.

His mission began when he'd lie about going home for a few hours when his co-workers would return to work in the morning, after leaving him in the same spot the night before.

They believed him most of the time, but suspected him of dishonesty when he began to smell from going multiple days without showering.

The bags under his eyes would become quite dense, as well, taking on the look

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of Halloween makeup. ‘It was obvious’ they thought; ‘internet pornography’.

When people began commenting about his blood-shot eyes and the light scent of rank dead skin and sweat build-up coming from his cubicle, he would force himself to leave and return to the crypt that had become his home in a city centre apartment in Vienna.

A combination of units, called words, whose meanings we simply find in the dictionary, produces things called ideas, whose purpose and value differ in degrees of intensity.

People using the technique of Meaningful Word Interaction Exhaustion could map out these degrees of value and purpose. Combining words together creates new meanings out of the words that have a single meaning when in relationship with those items.

Warning: a kaleidoscope of e-commerce categories now follows as an almost meaningless list (please kindly cut out individually - templates available on the website - and attach to refrigerator magnets for reassemblege in new novel combinations – in fact why not mix them with the sexual activities inventory in VOL. 1 and the list of U.S> armaments sold to the Shah’s Iran in VOL. 2!):

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Christian Dating, Dating, Divorce, Love, Penis Enlargement Pills, Personals, Post Cards, Relationship Advice Annuities, Asset Protection, Bankruptcies, Commercial Loan, Credit, Credit Repair, Day Trading, Debt, Debt Consolidation, Debt Management, Debt Relief, Financial Services, Home Finance, Investing, IRS, Loans, Personal Finance, Real Estate, Refinance, Stocks, Taxes Accept Credit Cards, Ecommerce Hosting, Ecommerce Software, Ecommerce Solutions, Merchant Account, Online Payments, Online Trading, Shopping Cart, Telemarketing, Website Design, Website Promotion Air Ticket, Air Travel, Cheap Hotels, Cheap Travel, Cruise Line, Cruise Travel, Cruise Vacations, Discount Travel, European Travel, Hotel Booking, Hotel Reservations, Student Travel, Travel Agency Adipex, Ambien, Xanax, Hydrocodone, Valium, Tramadol, Carisoprodol, Phentermine, Generic Drugs, Codeine, Ativan, Vioxx, Norco, Zoloft, Alprazolam, Celebrex, Cialis, Lortab, Levitra, Vicodin, Viagra

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Ideas are built of an interlocking of meanings. Meanings can be represented by symbols. All of the above symbolises Otto Gershang’s world of consumptions and collections. He spoke authoritatively to the Austrian ‘first-timer’ at his side in the metal tube in the sky: “Let’s be honest here and admit the unconscious mind is far from being “politically correct.”

Even with the best intentions in the world, genuinely felt, real compassion. It still reacted in shocking ways. Ways that had to be kept under control. It is nurture that brings us stigma. For instance the moment of attraction, in fact, mimics a kind of brain damage. The brain's emotionally loaded limbic system sometimes operates independently of the more rational neocortex, such as in the face of danger, when the fight-or-flight response is activated. Does this happen in the Nana Plaza when man looks at a girl on stage?

He sees beauty sex or whatever, what does she see $ or Baht, no they both see acceptance?

Similarly, when the matter is sex-another situation on which survival depends-we also react without even a neural nod to the neocortex. Think of what happened to David when he stopped the British Muslims.

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SS

SS

Research has found that people with damage to the connection between their limbic structures and the higher brain are smart and rational-but unable to decide.8 They bring commitment phobia to a whole new level. This is deep. We can stem the tide but not stop its flow. It’s close, the women that wants to kill you is flirting with someone else. There isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or the word "No".

The flirtational operating system appears to kick in without conscious consent. Waist-hip ratio is likely one of them. It's no secret that men snap to attention and even go dry at the mouth at the sight of a shapely woman. Science has now calculated just how curvy a woman has to be to garner such 8

The found that people with damage to the connection between their limbic structures and the higher brain are smart and rational-but unable to make decisions. They bring commitment phobia to a whole new level.

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appreciation: the waist must measure no more than 60 to 70% of her hip circumference. It is a visual signal that not only figures powerfully in attraction but is a moving force in flirtation. And unless steel-boned corsets stage a comeback, it is an attribute that just can't be put into play unless it is real. If, at the moment they had met, Dick and Sri Dee had stopped to consider all the possible outcomes of a relationship, they both would have been old before they got close enough to speak. All these billions of neurone firings.

All the potential on and offs. Reasons why and why not. To be or not to be etc. Back in the locker room. David looked in the mirror and intricated causal relations across different scales and feedback. He reasoned with himself. “In attraction, we don't stop and think, we react.” That’s it. He remembered his counselling.

“David, you know we operate on a "gut" feeling, with butterflies, giddiness, sweaty palms and flushed faces brought on by the reactivity of the emotional brain. That is why you reacted that way that day. Its natural, its normal its hard-wired, David you understand that now” “yeah, might do, but . . .”

“Remind yourself, David, tell yourself, tell your unconscious mind, that your loneliness will not last

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forever. You were not lonely that day, back-up was there. No-one let you down. You do not have to blame yourself. Beyond a wholesome discipline . . . ” David’s mind wandered he wondered if he should declare to Dr. Winslow Wong, his ‘thing’ with Princess LU. Because he messed with this warped arbitrary Asian fetish image, this chimera, hologram and harpie, he was compromised when he first met Gershang.

“Fuck that, no way, think if the chief got wind of it, the squad, I may never work again if they thought I was a pervert who loved someone on a phone, they wouldn’t understand.”

He thought of only one thing to get home and to get involved with ‘proper’ therapy. Fuck that old fuckwit is working for the Dept., these sessions are boring and they go no where. Just me nodding my head. The guy from the Sopranos gets more out these sessions than I do, and that’s fiction. I need something real. A rolled up newspaper, some soapy water and Princess LU . . .“if only she is online . . .”

We suspend intellect at least long enough to propel us to the next step in the mating game-flirtation. For David what was that to be? Another call to Princess LU? Fuck it was ‘really’ costing the earth to call her. More than if he did have to pay for therapy. As it was the Dept was paying, it cost him not a

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dime. Work related stress. His ‘real’ therapy was coming in at $50.10 a minute in fact. His last call was over 2 hours. He was burning his savings. But she could ‘keep it up’ she was for real. This was no skit after even 10 mins. Shit he could buy a whole stack of discounted DVDs for even one minute.

But they didn’t react, interact. They were static visions of someone else’s second hand fantasy, not his, but contrived for a audience of perverts. He’s not that. Of people who lacked imagination, not like him. He was adventurous, whole. He knew he’d done no wrong when he pissed himself that day. But that was then this is now. OK? Otto figured this was a rather flat affirmation; he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office.

SS

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

performs everything he has to with gusto and lusty efficiency.”9

XXX +IX. Princess Lu takes the strain

After deciding to spend his next holiday in Thailand Otto had set about doing the usual research via the internet.

“My friend and I landed in BKK after months of waiting.” He tried to resist, pretty feebly he would admit, but David Gotlieb was overcome by a superior well trained force, him and the hse.

SS

He remembered picking up the Carlos Casteneda book at his father’s house and reading the haunting description that Don Juan teaching Carlos this lesson about death: " He must fully understand that his choice is his responsibility and once he makes it there is no longer time for regrets or recriminations. He decisions are final, simply because death does not permit him time to cling to anything. . . . what he chooses is always strategically the best; and so he

At the airport he picked up a book that plugs a gap in the popular literature. Apparently written by an ex-pat of some 20 years standing, who came with unique credentials. A trained social scientist and an ex-bar owner, as well as esurient networker, it aimed to address the various 'alternate realities' that are thrown up between men and women in the sub-culture of South East Asian nightlife. It begged the questions: Can you manage these women or do they manage you? Hew grabbed it and an umber of other titles and want to meet, the guy he had been speaking to on the internet. He

9

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[page 184]

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was to pick him up at the airport, but his flight had arrived 25 minutes early.

“Phew it’s hot”. There isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or the word "No".

He read the back cover of the book. Sitting outside. He’d brushed away offers.

“Aimed at an intelligent audience who may be thinking of taking the plunge into relationships with bargirls, it seeks to provide answers to the overarching question: "why am I here?"

Oh a whoremonger with pretensions of intellect. Otto thought to himself. Armed with a degree in Philosophy which he’d earned in England he was not amused by much of the crap that passed for literature. The innocuous publishing house also gave the game away that this book would surely fail to amuse.

As someone once said: "so many farangs seem to check their brain in at Don Muang the moment they arrive..." But that was surely their neo-cortexs’. Could he read something that would help him on his way here?

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Princess Lu was Otto Gershang.

Otto had originally used a voice machine and ritually brought men to orgasm over the phone. It was hobby, an aside from his lacklustre boring but immensely successful land profitable job at Europe’s largest credit control agency.

Then he trained Echelon V 1.0 to mimic his mimicry. This shifted its learning abilities to what Gregory Bateson had termed ‘Learning II’. His next ambition was to create ‘Learning III’.10 This would only happen as if, by, or via the

10

Learning 0 is direct experience: I put my hand in the fire – it gets burned - Learning 0 is like the position of an object Learning I is what we routinely refer to as "learning": generalisation from basic experiences. I have experienced "hand in fire" and "being burned", and I won't do it again. This is straightforward and compatible even with behavioural views, as well as the cycle of experiential learning - Learning I is its speed when it moves Learning II (which he sometimes called "Deutero-Learning") contextualises Learning I experiences. It is about developing strategies for maximising Learning I through the extraction of implicit rules, and also putting specific bits of Learning I in context: I don't generally risk getting burned, but I might do so to save someone else from a fire.

Learning II is acceleration (or deceleration)—a change in speed Learning III contextualises Learning II, and is not understood, but it may be the existential (or spiritual) level: What does it say about me

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

notion that there were things called souls, and that their were gods and demons and so forth. It was a scientific rendering of the old ways of alchemists, magicians and secret societies. It would operate on the world that way with indeterminable results on the human level, ‘results’ if you would call them that, at levels undecipherable, unintelligible by routine thinking regardless of culture and class. It operation would be an article of faith, but it would be built in typical ‘James Bond’ Austin Powers [whichever way you swing] fashion upon a vast global enterprise of internet fraud and identity theft. It automatically brought men to heal.

One of these players and one which attracted the software to flag up a warning was David Gotlieb. Otto was ecstatic he’d been waiting for this moment for Aeons. It came but once in cycle, or so he believed….

Sheela. Sheela was about 35 when he met her, he was 19,

XXX +X. Otto’s ex- oriental mysticism – i.e. shyt Otto had been desperately lonely since his girlfriend Augusta had left him. Maybe this is what attracted David to his virtual life program. He was reminded of the only other relation where he had really been involved. That was with that I would risk getting burned in order to ...? Learning III is a change in the rate of acceleration — a change in the change of the change of position...

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but she was so magnetic, Indian and so exotic. She had power.

Here he was with a much older woman who had been a devotee the Bhagwan and lived at Rashneesh Puram in Oregon. Conventional views had it that Rashneesh had been a scoundrel (as in some ways he certainly was) who had exploited and abused his followers. Sheela had power. She had been the only person who regularly conversed with the Bhagwan, Sheela directed the commune, operating as its spokesperson to the outside world. But none of the Rashneeshis I met seemed to think that they had been exploited or abused. Rancho Rajneesh and prepared it for the arrival of Rajneesh’s followers, known as sannyasins. On the contrary, they looked back on Rashneesh Puram as a positive time in their lives. In fact she had been more than that, much more than that. In Sept, 1982, Sheela instigated a salmonella outbreak in The Dalles by infecting the salad bars in 10 of the city’s restaurants, poisoning 751 people.

Furthermore, the sect, in standard fasion, began stockpiling weapons and protecting the commune with armed guards.

She had been accused of arson, wiretapping, attempted murder, and mass poisonings. She was arrested in West Germany on October 28, 1985, and extradited to Oregon and sentenced to ten years in a federal prison in Pleasanton,

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

California. The Bagawan was arrested on charges of immigration fraud, and was brought back to Oregon for trial. He was convicted, fined $400,000, and deported from the United States. This is deep. We can stem the tide but not stop its flow. It’s so very close, the guy that wants to kill you believes that he is releasing you like a Phoenix bird.

that wants to kill you is actually in the hotel room above you.

She was released on December 13, 1988 after just two and a half years and immediately left for Switzerland, where according to the Oregonian, she runs two private nursing homes near Basel under the name Sheela Birnstiel. Otto had spent time visiting her while she was in Jail.

Otto, apart from his work at the Credit agency he also did some consultancy for the local police department and for a humour website "love and money", a site designed to showcase the odd people on the World Wide Web. They can seem charming and kind to those who think they know them. They have friends they socialise with regularly; highprofile, high-responsibility jobs; pets they adore; spouses and children. But underneath the "normal" exterior – often a well-crafted facade – lie unfathomable mechanisms very unlike that of so-called "normal" human beings. This is deep.

We can stem the tide but not stop its flow. It’s close, the guy

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XXXXI. Identity analysed “People in this world look at things mistakenly, and think that what they do not understand must be the void. This is not the true void. It is bewilderment.”

11

Identity is an umbrella term used throughout the social sciences for an individual's comprehension of him or herself as a discrete, separate entity. It is what we think distinguishes us from others. David it means papers, drivers ID, passport etc.

But it also has a crafted outer manifestation such as in

corporate identity. This is the "persona" of a corporation which is designed to accord with and facilitate attaining business objectives, and is usually visibly manifested by way of branding and the use of trademarks. NYPD had done that.

Golden Arches is not just the preferred dining place of David

11

A BOOK OF FIVE RINGS "Go Rin No Sho" by Miyamoto Musashi trans, Thomas Cleary(2000) Shambhala

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Gotlieb when in Thailand, but it needs no words to those in the know. What defines ‘Microsoft’ from ‘Apple’.

If it run on purely programming terms it is a tool, a work of engineering. If it can understand, the observed behaviours and linguistic outcomes and rules of groups, then it can reach learning III in a way which will open communication of its outcomes and routines at the individual level.

If we look at Otto Gershang and David Gotlieb, two western Caucasian men, when they take breakfast at the Rising sun, then what distinguishes one from the other?

At first, little beyond the obvious, height, weight, mannerisms, tone of voice etc. But the more one knows of a person, their behaviour, habits, likes, dislikes then the harder it is to mix them up with another. This is also the route to intimacy and familiarity and relationship. And there is nothing more final or distinguishing as the differences between someone alive and a corpse. Mortality itself has come to be viewed as a problem, for it appears to render human life both meaningless and absurd.

As children we learn from this story that it is acceptable to punish or be punished for the sins of others (original sin) and that death is a suitable punishment for disobedience. Adam and Eve's sons must have slept with their own mother or their sisters, so do we consider this as an immoral story that we shouldn't suffer upon children? Well not until they are old enough to understand it as a religious myth, not to be taken literally? Running beneath these various arguments laid three certainties – which we are born, we reproduce sexually, and we die. This is important as an operating concept for Echelon. It must be rendered to doing the same.

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Character development is important in a novel. If it is not done well then the reader is at a loss remembering which character is which, and why this distinction is important and necessary. This is why this way of thinking is crucial to Echelon, and no better way for it to learn than someone coming to terms with their own preconceptions of a foreign place, and coming to terms with themselves. Otto wasn’t sure which culprit would be best for this, after all he is only human even if he is a magus with the power of Jesus or Beelzebub, so he had four targets, Le Roy, Sue Tyler, her Hubby Derek Tyler, and David Gotlieb. It was the last actor he thought would fit the bill, and things eventually were shaping that way.

We always start with any clue to difference than build a complex from there. The same is true in real life. Great precedence is placed on first impressions, are they correct, do they stick? In cognitive psychology, that branch of psychology which focuses upon problem solving, memory,

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

and language, "identity" refers to the capacity for selfreflection and the awareness of self. It becomes related to self image, namely a person's view or mental model of him or herself. This is increasingly more complex as essentially we are alpha and omega of the worlds inside our heads. And also outside as well. Truly a pavilion of mirrors, even all on our lonesome. The Pavilion of Mirrors would train Echelon.

this, that he may integrate as some others appeared to have.

He did not want to join he we-group.

It would be easy to spin off right now into the infinite regress of the loop of what is subjective – or what we think or assume is there - and objective - what is really there. But what is the point. It is that if there anything really ‘out there’ [in the physical and social world] it is all ‘in here’ [in my mind]. I can manipulate it in my minds eye, but not in my senses. So I can imagine an elephant shrinking to the size that it fits in a matchbox, but I will never witness such an event. But looks can be deceiving…

No, thought Otto, I will be pensive as the character ‘Chef’ was in the movie Apocalypse Now, when he and Willis reached the end of the line and were poised to enter the camp of Colonel Kurtz, I “Ain't coming in there.” He didn’t want to enter Kurtz’s lair based on what he was seeing, decapitation, hangings etc. tons of murdered flesh. They is also the metaphor that he didn’t want to become one with

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Suffice to say that cognitive science in its interest in the scientific method has a disdain for introspection, that is, contemplation on one's self or self-reflection as a method of discovery of objective truths. But on a personal level we use it to learn more about our fundamental nature, purpose and essence. “I think therefore I am x, y, z…. and so on.”

The famous psychologist Erik Erikson saw the identity as "a subjective sense as well as an observable quality of personal sameness and continuity, paired with some belief in the sameness and continuity of some shared world image.” This is true for most of us functioning individuals.

Everyday we see some sameness and yet there is some difference, this is the burr.

If we could note, and moreover, enjoy the minutiae of difference when we walk to work by the same route everyday then we might be happy. Otherwise we have to smash the everyday by going on a sex tour like David did so many years ago. We are so often lost in thought, in selfobsession of what we have and more importantly what we

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

are lacking. When we have a tasty girlfriend or good wife, are we not thinking of other shores, greener pastures, that girl walking on the other side of the road, what she might be like naked and within our grasp? This is the hunter-gatherer the rape n’ murder herbsman inside.

passed the numbers for him to tune, in and drop out upon.

He passed the numbers. So one, David was primed by his own free will experiences in Thailand being duped for a mail order bride into engaging in a bizarre depraved sex tour which left him felling dispassionate about the women but deeply alone within himself. Then he had been impacted upon by the corpse in the apartment with vacuum cleaner martial aids attachments and the phone in his hand. Next it was ‘other David’ his ‘neighbour’ who was actually a GOrinNOsho (Otto’s firm) operative, there to groom David to go the last few yards and talk to Otto having bitch fits on the phone in his Bangkok ‘temple’.

Oh bad thought, bad thoughts, surely the stuff of rapists turned murders covering their paths to their crimes. Men and their filth. Its forever, until through medical conditions or death it is over. Accomplished.

This is clearly the case with David. For him, the addiction to sleaze isn’t unconscious. David isn’t that bad. He can wear the mask of respectability. But he gets off on seeing the world as unspeakably depraved. It took a female perspective to identify the inaccuracies in Western views of Asia, namely because "so many of our misperceptions in the West are based on what Western men have written about Asia for centuries."

David related to Otto one day when he was having a break from American Foreign Policy and Iraq, that once had a neighbour also called David. This David, whom we shall call ‘other David’ never, got a taste of being cuckold. It was he that got ‘our David’ into his phonesex phoenix addition, he

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Nor did ‘our David’ ever realise that he would ever be cuckhold when he stepped of the plane at Don Muang. In fact he never even knew what the word meant, the label said, or what kind of an attitude or state of mind it represented. Any analysts would diagnose his psychology as sadistic, not masochistic. But different media channels different effects.

Over a bottle, ‘other David’ explained to his namesake that Cuckhold was merely a label that was also a badge, but was it good for him? WOULD IT, COULD IT FIT? It was a kind

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

of ‘Magic Theatre’ and not for anybody, everybody… only the chosen.

contextualised, within appeasing wrappings, other iconic accoutrements suggestive of the meal post-hoc (recommended serving suggestion) and point of sale displays.

It was over his head, so to speak, beyond his ken. ‘Other David’ was a successful software dude in his early 30s, chic interiors, chocolate browns, nice lights, lattes, orange, Mochino, a few friends from work, mellow glow, no girlfriend right now, narrow social life, tendency to overintellectualise even on drink and drug. A lot of larking about and clever, clever shit. The right authors, naturally.

And, of course, appealing discounted offers.

Defining these terms is best found in examples, practices.

One is pay-for-play Internet/phone sex services.

Cuckholdis a word, is a state of mind and being closely

This is where ‘Other David’ should know best, man, he’d been using them for fucking ages.

linked with other emergent and made-up titles, another, closely related term, is ‘money pig’ and being.

But was he in love? What with, phone or his hand?

But ‘other David’ should know above all others that these are peculiarly western ideas of man-woman relationships, no doubt to be found and practiced in the east and other places round the world, but peculiar really, to advanced industrial societies. Put simply it is advanced sexuality.

On the other hand, it is best regarded as retarded if you are into ‘issues’ and/or ‘free love’ and personal growth. It is as peculiar or familiar depending on your leanings as the notion of shrink wrapped irradiated foods chains where even the animal, the source or raw material, is processed as a technology long before its situated and assembled in pieces

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Was addressing a state of being a thread of commitment, tenderness, and passion common to all human existence.

Looked like it. Thrapling his penis like there were no more nice tomorrows, facially looking silly with his grimace and most non-professional, but legal in a succession of highimpact masturbation sessions, facilitated by a dearth of jpegs of sweet-assed Asian, Latina, black and other exotic lovelies.

Oh my… what a cache, what a legacy of unadulterated jacking!!!! And he had his phone; he clutched it with his ‘free’ hand, making for the true multimedia session that ‘old’ could never muster. His carefully selected software allowed

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

him to flick through his cache in ways that old media never permitted, highlighting his selects and ‘secrets’ at a speed and rate concordant with his face and Solonge pulling and drastic climatic orgasms.

So when we say training we just don’t mean arm and wrist muscles on a single side of his bod – i.e. his jacking arm becoming much more developed muscularly then than the other creating a perception of asymmetry.

Is this virtual? I mean it’s a sick ol’ world if you imagine having a wife or nice ‘user friendly’ girlfriend who would flick through the pages of your favourite wank mag while you frothed at the mouth and gasped for air and meaning while pulling your tadger. now ain’t it? I mean it takes the realms of ‘no consideration for her pleasure’ to new heights.

Neither do I mean getting into a little Pavlovian thing (you know, the saliva, bell and dog experiment shit) with twodimensional flat images on a flat screen, or lo-fi voices only heard in one ear.

‘Other David’, like so many modern men would never do that, after all he’s hard core in his intellectual mind, but ostensibly he’s ‘right on’. Except for ‘a laugh’ he’d never do this shyt with a girlfriend, even though it wasn’t he who would prefer being blown while he is gazing intensely into the pics and maybe on the phone – all simultaneously collapsing into his ‘coming’. Don’t worry ‘Our David!’ The pics are merely an oracle of what lies for ye in SEA, stare into them, believe and there . . . it’s ‘up to you’.

In other words ‘ourDavid’ was in training. ‘Other David’ was not inhibited about that. Before he sold his place to move out west, he passed over gigs and gigs of pictures and videos and two phone numbers.

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More than physical or mental shit, he knew the days would come when two-dimensions would become a real virtual reality, job packed in, house sold, laptop packed, deleted Asians, black and latinas, tickets out of here were ordered on the hotline . . . wanted out, crazy macho. It was to be pics etc, incarnate! It’s crazy what you can buy . . .

Until then he had his favourites creating his multimedia world, his sosomo, creating and supporting fantasies of how things should and will be (queue: Iggy Pop’s “I think life should be, Swedish Magazines . . . I think life should be . . . anything, I’m only 5’ 2”).

In the while though he’d become addicted to one particular pic on a site offering adult chat services. Under the category

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

adult: Asian, there was princess LU oriental goddess wanting to ‘train’ money pigs. ‘Other’ David moved out from his apartment one day shortly after this initiation, never to be seen again, Over the hills and through the dales…

scoured sites and ripped off experiences and embellished them. He made black men’s sexual mumblings lucid and Asian. But he could only handle so much lying. He got bored easy and he would hit the preamble on the web site outlining Princess LU’s credentials stated that she expected worship.

XXXXII Opposed to some women who charged modestly for the call (say $1.30 a minute) this little lady with a bootiful rounded backside in a evening dress (she ain’t Chinese, or bow-legged Jap. Burmese, WOOF! this is how she was depicted) . . . she charged $20.

HAHA there was no frigging way that David was paying that for a wank. He’d been out to South East Asia and taken hookers in provinces for $1. Indeed, he was totally aware that he could’ve packed mags and got these young, nice ‘real’ girlfriends to flick through pages while he frothed. He’d never done this though; he always stuck to etiquette and did things straight in brothels.

He like many dudes were in awe of them, and always scared, if not of AIDS etc., but of losing money or even getting his throat cut. That kept him straight. But this was his fantasy, his alter ego. He had 2657 posts on a board claming to address issues of P4P in South East Asia. He had never been there. It was all part of his fantasy world. He loved it. He

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She expected worship for the money that a ugly smelly masturbating money pig would pay. David thought bad, bad thoughts. Part of the infant David enjoys the attention and stimulation resulting from his helplessness, while part of the infant David wants nothing but the ability to put an end to its helplessness and start taking command of his own life. In fact, making the transition from total helplessness as a mere object to total responsibility in subjective being defines the psychological task of all child development. And he is still a lad . . . What a legacy the ‘other David’ had left him. Thanks!

XXXXIII Now David was a man’s man, when he wasn’t all LU’s.

Pretty handsome, he suffered from a lack of confidence that had chipped away when his last long term girlfriend had left. What single friends he had left he considered superficial as shit when it came to dating. He wanted hard action and the days when it was on a plate occasionally were in his mind over. In many aspects he was ordinary. In fact his face

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

reflected a sort of ‘tabla rosa’ people could project what they anted on to him.

being fucked, a turning point was happening in the alchemy of David Gotlieb’s sexuality, maybe even his life. He then graduated, over the months, years, on this process of continuous self-improvement to the tightest flashlight, which almost wrecked his penis. He was remembering that illicit trip to Thailand. His vision was a dystopia of a 100 million US dollar genius masturbators, one half of their faces buried in a phone trying to converse between grunts with Princess Lu, and the others hand attempting to wrench their penises from their couplings, or even buried ever deeper in a fleshlight torch. He also saw a feature documentary on ‘living dolls’, he wanted a young ‘un. Asian. Would they ever install hi-fi telephone call facilities in her?

This is what his mother had done, his friends and girlfriends and this wasn’t helped by his poorly aspected moon in cancer.

He found this attitude at best amusing, at worst a slight on the whole of mankind. It mad him smug, as any flak he got, he reflected with his moon face right back. Infuriating, it was maybe the key reason why his last chick had become the disenchanted. This is deep. We can stem the tide but not stop its flow. Its close, the guy that wants to kill you is staring at you in the street; this was an American site, as this is an American tail, David’s ‘singles bar’ phone service. And he imagined the glut of American weirdoes that enter into this kind of scene. His killer moved right into his face.

After all we’re speaking of the country of excess, mixed messages if not mixed race. Certainly invariably advanced with its capitalism and contorted with its politics, TV and its religions. He disliked the image of men with torchlight masturbationary aids which boasted promotional idioms such as “tight like prom night”. But he still bought one. It was a panacea to him fucking himself with a dildo, one of t6he wreckers of his marriage. With the wooly hat fetish destroyed and now him fucking a martial aid instead of

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However distasteful he felt drawn to find out what it would be like to speak to a purported Asian beauty for that amount of money – he remembered how tight that young thing from the infamous Thermae was last time he was in the Kingdom, and how it delighted him, purely from the sense of kinaesthesia. But this was in his bullshit world, the world of lies, the Prince of lies his avatar MYIAD. He gingerly phoned and found himself speaking to someone who knew what she/he was about.

Well just about what any man was about and someone who was supremely confident. He wondered if this was theatrics and that the ‘real’ person was some old lady whose knitting

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

session had been interrupted and who could ‘do’ good Asian girly voices replete with accent. Did it matter? The combination of the pics she sent through be e-mail (free to slaves) coupled to her demands for rimming and commands to orgasm only when she told him so, left David wondering what he was turning into. He’d get hard at work thinking about rushing home, smokin’ a joint and booting up, and sticking a plug up his rear. As his bill soured into the 10s of $1000s David sought refuse, that mistress, this was breaking him, he even tried to tell her and she fucking laughed him off the phone, he had to return to SEA! David figured this was rather a flat affirmation; he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office.

he couldn’t hide’ to paraphrase a topical lunatic. True, maybe, as he checked out Malaysian Airlines female crew.

Hey some of them have fine ass, and so close . . . shit be there soon . . .

“I masturbated over the face of a petite Vietnamese girl whilst picturing in my mind’s eye the large framed athletic build of WWF wrestling cheerleader types. I chant my mantra: “Elizabeth!” Elizabeth!” And ejaculate.”

Wong takes note.

SS

SS

His very last call to Princess Lu saw him being denigrated for being such a class fool and how dare he even think he would find an ass like hers to worship overseas. He ‘could run but

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XXXXIV A double entendre is a figure of speech similar to the pun, in which a spoken phrase can be understood in either of two ways. The first, literal meaning is an innocent one, while the second meaning is often ironic or risqué and requires the hearer to have some additional knowledge. Although an expression made of French words, it is not correct modern French; the French say double sens ("double sense [or meaning]") for such phrases. That’s what he thought as the hostesses brought drinks.

The risqué, often sexual, element is central to most people's understanding of what a double entendre is; indeed the Oxford English Dictionary defines it as 'A double meaning; a word or phrase having a double sense, especially as used to convey an indelicate meaning'. An example is: "A woman walked into a bar and asked for a double entendre, so the barman gave her one." From the story of Eve in the Garden of Eden to the Sirens of Ancient Greece described in Homer's Odyssey, to stories of Krishna and Pan (Pan whipping off Diana, these stories of seduction involve

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

themes of temptation leading to the departure from the prevalent societal norms or of the forbidden sexual desire.

According to Erik Erikson's ‘stages’ of human development, the onset of the identity crisis is in the teenage years, and only individuals who succeed in resolving the crisis will be ready to face future challenges in life. What a battle between what is ‘natural’, what ‘is’ and what ‘ought’ to be. Will you win? Did you win Otto? What about you Sebastian? You David? Philip? Rachid? Jean Paul? The mjikal battle is raging hard. The killer moves again.

Erik Fromm liked the allegory of the tree of life. He used the story of Adam and Eve in an explanation of human biological evolution and existential angst, asserting that when Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge, they became aware of themselves as being separate from nature while still being a part of it. This is why they felt "naked" and "ashamed": They had evolved into human beings, conscious of themselves, their own mortality, and their powerlessness before the forces of nature and society, and no longer united with the universe as they were in their instinctive, pre-human existence as animals. Hippy = animal.

Indeed, according to Fromm, the awareness of a disunited human existence is the source of all guilt and shame, and the solution to this existential dichotomy is found in developing one's uniquely human powers of love and reason. However, he distinguished so much his concept of love from popular notions of love that his reference to this concept was almost paradoxical. None of these elements applied to what the hippies did with David, but Fromm also asserted that few people in modern society had respect for the autonomy of their fellow human beings, much less the objective knowledge of what other people wanted and needed.

SS

SS

The identity crisis may well be recurring, as the changing world demands us to constantly redefine ourselves. From the constraints, the rigmarole, the routine and environmental pressure of the office, to the chaos of Phnom Penh the world changes all right. Erikson suggested that people experience an identity crisis when they lose "a sense of personal sameness and historical continuity". How could you see the changes when you’re sat at home planning your trip and you wonder what naughty things you’re going to get up to?

XXXXV “No one hardly ever stops and considers the emotional roller coaster your getting on.”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Good words of wisdom from David, as he looked into Otto’s piercing eyes. He liked them, they should infinite compassion. Otto laughed, “David you are romantic.”

Fromm, the experience of "falling in love" is evidence of one's failure to understand the true nature of love, which he believed always, had the common elements of care, responsibility, respect, and knowledge.

SS

SS

Many people acknowledge that feelings of lust do not always imply feelings of love, and they make a strong distinction between the terms lust and love. So did David. Love in its pure form is said to be concerned with the well-being of the other, whereas lust in the average person is often more a product of their own libidinal urge than it is a product of a desire for the well-being of the objects of lust, although the two can co-exist. Others consider lust ultimately incompatible with, or unrelated to, love. Some people believe lust is the selfish form or selfish perversion of love, and that love is selfless. With no consideration for her pleasure David set about his duty to break as much South East Asian hse as humanly possible. He was in lust.

Love, for him, is an interpersonal creative capacity rather than an emotion, and he distinguished this creative capacity from what he considered to be various forms of narcissistic neuroses and sado-masochistic tendencies that are commonly held out as proof of "true love." Indeed, for

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“I mean, David, did you ever consider the difference between doing short-circuiting the traditional western approaches to paring with women? Did you, for instance ever think that it is difficult for us, hard-wired into us, subtle and subconsciously programmed that we cannot distinguish immediate gratification from long-term goals when we get together with a women?” Have you learnt to balance between jumping at opportunities for a short time, as soon as they are presented to you? Or are you still thinking that you are part of the overall modernist program of advanced capitalism, which is of a steady even advance sorting out the wheat from the chaff before you settle down, working rationally, steadily and patiently towards your longterm goal? I want to know about your time perspective.”

This questioning David didn’t like. It irked him. He liked subjects that he was sure about, had opinion, when it came to hard action he was at a loss with words, he just liked actions. He felt uncomfortable speaking about his sex self,

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

his inner workings, he had never spoken to anyone except his therapist about things like this. But then again it was OK they were miles from home. This was a permissive place, overly permissive in fact, and Otto had been a friend, and they were unlikely to ever set foot in ma and pa kettle’s main street together back home in the real world.

But after a while, so many strange and personal questions, more than Dr. Wong ever asked. David felt anal probed?

“Do you feel like you are the same man when you do your STs as opposed to when you see a LT or GFE prospect?”

“Do you believe that you will be successful in what you choose to do - whether your role is at the work front or home front, do you have anticipation of achievement?”

“Sexual Identity – Have you tried it with Katoeys yet? Do you feel comfortable being a male or a female, and dealing with others as such? Leadership polarisation - Are you able to become both a leader and a follower, whichever is called for in a given situation? Do hse manage you, or do you manage them?”

“What was he talking about”, thought a bemused David. He liked the European though. He was quirky.

SS

SS

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Over the next few months Otto made other type of inquiries, such as trying to pick out David’s ideological convictions: Had he found a set of basic social, philosophical, or religious values that his outlook on life can be based upon?

Truth was his truth, his life, had been based on a sham. He now came to see that everybody’s was. He was in fact not alone. He should have remained as Police dispatcher, the dispatcher with the dream of becoming an officer-in-charge, become more and more dispassionate and detached about what was happening on the street. Like an air traffic controller’s view of metal tubes in he sky brining in another load of matured erections, or an ecommerce operative fulfilling just another world order from a demographic based upon their food likes and dislikes or astrological sign. One order was for an extravagant and exquisite Purple turtle and Chilean mountain onion pate, two tubs, a sumptuous Arbois two bottles. And, of course, to follow Domaine de la Mordorée two bottles. All to be sent to a Scorpio English woman in Phnom Penh whose favourite movies are Thelma and Louise and The Royal Tenenbaums. She is aged 28.

This was her first order, no case history, and not a lot to go on, until the attached notes were read:

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To whom it may concern, I am trying finding words, and finding that, they arise from silence.

I am trying this service once, and once only. In other words, forgive us for being curt in this introductory message, but we make clear our position from the onset. One struggles to maintain personal standards and all you have is but one chance, and one only, to get it right for us.

Ok, now we have covered what you people commonly refer to as ‘ground rules’ or ‘ground work’ [whichever is appropriate], I further wish to spell out, very directly, very clearly, that we do not, in anyway, whatsoever, view online purchase of goods and services as synonymous with video gambling or any other form of game play, including reprehensible pornography (reprehensible in any form electronic or paper).

Surely this, even an American or some other speaker of English as a second language will understand.

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You may think this is an overly aggressive stance and tone for a first order. We would inform you that we have been let down badly in the past by self-professed ‘gourmand’ specialist companies such as you purport. Having received from them broken bottles and/or poorly chilled goods in quite preposterous packaging we have taken to being quite upfront with our expectations. The other company were French.

Moreover, on several other occasions the vintage or even the entire order was incorrect. Unacceptable.

The result? We poured one bottle of wine down the sink in its entirety; we fed what was billed as top quality foie de grais to our fucking dashhounds.

This is an outrage, an atrocity exhibition, we were so pissed off.

Please note that I work, what is more, serve in a hot tropical country. There are many bothersome obstacles working in such a far-flung place, and little in the way of real rewards and treats. Can we expect you to appreciate this? I sincerely hope so.

Such goods comprise my personal reward to myself for several months’ hard slog in an inhospitable

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

place where we help people whose lives and lifestyles you could barely imagine. Refugees and dispossessed by their national governments, and preyed upon by legions of despicable western opportunists and sexual predators.

suing, accountant and credit card company. I will be looking for a full refund with a little something extra for inconvenience and time spent writing this letter.

I expect when you view the geographic channel whilst eating your surplus delicacies, what I think you lot call a ‘TV dinner’, no doubt then you have purview our theatres of operation and that to you they may look exotic and even, ‘cool’. I assure you, they are not, and they are intense places and unbearably hot and populated with thieves and beggars. We will assume that you support those like us. Forgive us our treat, and give up something to perk us up in the midst of depravation. We love surprises. In closing, I think it only right to warn closing that we are very familiar, mark my words, very familiar, with the items ordered and in any event they are delivered in any way deviating from how you describe you package goods on your website, [that is, individually packaged according to the requirements and conventions of the items, strictly concordant with the distances involved and transport of the goods from a temperate to a tropical climate] then I shall take the matter up with your up line mangers, my bank, lawyer with a view to

Yours

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Susan Tyler MSc. Director Unityview Sangat Beng Keng Khang Phnom Pehn

Sue knew she was borderline but she had trodden there before, she an international women of intrigue after all!

Hard-hitting non-compromising straight talk from the hip strong language.

“Stuck up limey bitch,” mutters Wisconsin man, an old school ‘Nam-vet’ hippy who hates his job with a vengeance, especially when he reads such crap, but then it does pay for his beer and weed, and he then looks around for some way to contaminate the foodstuffs. Who was Sue speaking to. She had a peculiar way when she wrote. Even online.

The order fulfiller really wants to spit or piss in them and then get his Doberman to do the same. Meanwhile, less

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

passionately, the air traffic controller guides Sue’s plane down. She’s been attending another regional conference on anti-trafficking women kids. When she lands she replies to several emails, including that of David Gotlieb.

Fuck me, his soft stub demanded he push and punish hse for being so filthy, he shifted weight from one massive hip to the other, the hse thought he was coming and intensified their manualising while nodding to each other, a practised symbol, but he farted loudly, and chuckled, he’d got one over on the hse, they would have to snort smells through their flailing nostrils as they blew him now. The trios’ eyes went towards a different kind of signalling. He laughed and flicked again his ash on Ae’s head. “Fuck me these women are useless cunts, ” he spoke to anyone, anyone who was listening, he’d rather they were in nurses uniforms sucking the rancid turds from his bloated body, his whale-like self, beached in New England.

XXXXVI It as this last category that fascinated David most. Coming form a non-secular society he felt cheated somehow that he didn’t have the certainty and conviction of a George W. or a Skull fucking bargirl that he’d once barfined and talked to.

Their religion seems to drive them, guide them, promise them, lends them the certainty of an obsessive-compulsive suicide bomber – or so they report… There is a massive disparity sometimes between words an actions, assumed meanings and observed behaviours.

The reality seemed so piecemeal. Seemed so anecdotal and SoundBitish. So fragmented into a million little ditties. She was happy getting ash dropped on her hair as part of trio blowing a massive 330lb man off, his stub cock like his Corona butt end, his malt whiskey staggering in the other hand, and his desire to burn the hse presenting their tits to his mouth. He was playfully making like he would, she had been burned before. So had he, he had $1574 ripped from his safe in the Nana hotel room. And then we witness him tapping for them to change configuration.

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He’d had it once, twice and trice before in the good old days, before too many tourists came and bludgeoned these animals with Baht. But these sows were still there, performing service. David figured this was a rather flat affirmation; he was horrified by this bar and searched out cheap international calling. He phoned Dr. Wong’s at his San Francisco office. He was out and the next day he would arrive in Bangkok for some Embassy work in Cambodia.

In Ae’s mind was the thought that she would have 10000 baht saved by the end of this night. That some of that would send her shopping and most of it would be sent to family building merit. She would not have to have a bellyful of sperm by the end of the night in the next life; she would

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have enough merit to be reincarnate as a high-ranking Thai male, maybe even aristocracy. Wonderful thoughts, deeply motivating, but not in a way that David could ever know.

Again David loved the pathos and seediness aspect. He would horrify people at home with its story. The lessons he would export: •

•

•

People, think of yourself as a total person. Don't neglect other needs just because your companionship or friendship needs are not being met. In 2005, results from the U.S. Framingham Heart Study demonstrated that lonely men had raised levels of IL-6, a blood chemical linked to heart disease. South East Asia get yo ass out there!

Make sure you follow habits of good nutrition, regular exercise, and adequate sleep. Don't let academic interests, hobbies, and sports slide. Stands to reason that a fit man will require more and more sex.

Use your alone time to get to know yourself. Think of it as an opportunity to develop independence and to learn to take care of your own emotional needs.

You can grow in important ways during time alone.

I learned in the cold, dark long years living in the waste that South East Asia is man’s paradise.

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•

Use your alone time to enjoy yourself rather than just existing until you will be with others. Avoid merely vegetating - deal with your situation actively. Recognize that there are many creative and enjoyable ways to use your alone time with a fleshlight and several good URLs.

•

Whenever possible, use what you have enjoyed in the past to help you decide how to enjoy your alone time now. Well I don’t masturbate at all in South East Asia, why should I? I don’t need it, I don’t want it? I ritually burned my fleshlight at the advice of Otto when I got here. I wanted to sell it, but there were no takers. I couldn’t sell a $3000 buck ‘living dolls’ in the States so how could I sell a flesh light in the classified ads in the Cambodian Daily?

•

Keep things in your environment (such as books, puzzles or music) that you can use to enjoy in your alone time. No need for soft porn, nor it acting as a gateway to hard porn, in fact no need for any of that shyt here.

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•

Explore the possibility of doing things alone that you usually do with other people (like going to the movies).

•

Don't decide ahead of time how you're going to feel about an activity. Keep an open mind.

“In summary David”, said Otto, “…don't define yourself as a lonely person. No matter how bad you feel, loneliness will diminish or even disappear when you focus attention and energy on needs you can currently meet and when you learn to develop new ways to meet your other needs. Don't wait for your feelings to get you going - get going and good feelings will eventually catch up with you.”

David was left wondering if his killer was Otto or Dr. Wong, or maybe even Sri Mom’s true husband from the backwoods of former Khmer Rouge country, were they the same person?

XXXXVII. Identity theft

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Can you believe as much as 80% of the expense of a typical call centre operation attributable to its pesky human element? Why can’t we take them out of the fucking loop?

Finding ways to trim costs has led to a call centre industry that is often maligned for its treatment of collies and plantation workers. They are practically imperial slaves.

Teaching Indians to ape regional American and British dialects in all their kaleidoscopic variety, in all their minute granular glory, why can’t we just train the populations to speak American in a homogenised way? That way costs can be cut. New customers with more likened tastes will emerge and this is good for business. It is good for inflexible systems, more flexible and adaptive humans for hard systems.

GOrinNOsho can adapt and improvise; it can learn and understand the vicissitudes of human relationships and sexuality. By being ‘sexy’ on the phone, it can seduce results.

But it can be controversial as well. It operates psychology and emotional defence and attack parameters. Its ultimate aim is to open people up, to train them to speak and think like an Austrian or an American, and not a ‘bad’ one, a ‘successful’ one.

Today’s larger banks have call centres with hundreds, even thousands of seats and, vital though these are to the business, there is unremitting pressure to minimise costs. Retail

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

financial services providers have always had to balance customer service on one hand with cost control on the other. The west is invariably becoming more and more reliant on the virtual, the virtual consumer and the virtual economy and the virtual policing. . Developing nations often have limited data protection legislation, political instability, telecommunications that are relatively unreliable and inadequate transport services. All this means profit for Otto, and why he resides in Cambodia.

to the business, there is unremitting pressure to minimise their cost, just like the French colons of old, they had to obey and satisfy the need for profits – money out of nowhere – for Parisian stock holders. Cheap labour in the imperial or globalised Third world translates like lead into gold, for western investors. They make it possible for old men and women to live and consume flesh in the former colonies, as their forebrains did during imperialism.

As agriculture becomes more mechanised, technologised genetically and through new kinds of processing, as manufacturing ceases and is farmed out to China and India, as service is farmed out to China and India, the developed west becomes more and more virtual. This is a process begun when paper money ceased to be indexed to gold reserves.

When it took on life of its own. God created man in his own image and indeterminacy, man creates technology and systematic ways of creating determinacy, making thing happen in concordance with will, collective, political and individual.

Indeed, in many parts of the world, identity theft is the fastest growing offence, psychological attack mechanism.

ATM machines. Treated with suspicion upon their introduction as a tool to cut costs at the expense of customer service, few of us today would be without the convenience of these time-saving machines spread throughout the urban landscape. For the institutions that run them, the savings compared with human tellers are counted in the millions.

Now online credit control and banking take their place as the next money-spinner in a succession of cost-saving mechanisms. The savings are so large that slight system anomalies are ignored. Such an anomaly is Otto Gershang and his software online non de Plume – GOrinNOsho. In this guise this software is aimed at auto-resolution.

Identity theft is a major issue in the world just now.

Technology. Today’s larger banks have call centres with hundreds, even thousands of seats and, vital though these are

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Your identity and personal information can be stolen by criminals and sex majitions who may use them to open bank

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accounts and get credit cards, loans, state benefits and documents such as passports and driving licenses in your name. Every name, in Coptic Greek or Hebrew has a number or Gematria, which can, with correct processing and manipulation, interpolation and most importantly reassimilation will mutate lead nightmares into gold dreams.

It can keep the Old Testament intact, as the Old Testament, and provide inklings in to the definition and pronunciation of the unpronounceable name of GOD. Post 9/11 this is serious, Otto as aware of these risks. The massive ‘white’, if what we mean by saving the many over the few, would be Traditionally the project of the ‘black’ but he was in every way typically ‘white’. But like all risk he was aware of its opportunities – “where there is one or two in the midst, there are risks and there is dollar therein.”

It is estimated that more than 100,000 people are affected by identity theft in the UK each year. The latest estimate is that identity fraud costs the UK economy £1.7 billion. The most recent US research firm Javelin data also showed that 9.3 million individuals (or 4.25% of all adults) are victims of identity fraud on an annual basis.12 Why should David or Le Roy be scared of that? Dialogues are carefully scripted and presented on display screens to keep calls quick and effective, just like a call from your ‘loved’ one in Pattyhaha.

12

Javelin Strategy & Research, Identity Fraud Safety Quiz

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Otto worked in Europe’s largest consolidated credit agency Topofax. Topfax was intended, designed as an enterprise firm and system, to integrally sit behind much of the credit activity which happens in Europe. All national credit agencies had a deal with Topofax who were literally the Interpol of credit agencies. There market share was larger than Amex and they were rising fast, very fast.

Technology has been introduced to make call centres as efficient as possible. Auto-diallers ensure that the maximum possible time is spent talking to customers; dialogues are carefully scripted and presented on display screens to keep calls quick and effective. What such things cannot address however is the greatest cost of all – staff. With as much as 80% of the expense of a typical call centre operation attributable to its human element, finding ways to trim this has led to a call centre industry that is often maligned for its treatment of workers. All this flak was welcomed wholeheartedly by Otto and his Russian and Indian colleagues.

They were aware that instances of identity theft have increased as the willingness of lenders like issuers of credit cards to extend credit without physical human contact, the

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

ability to transact sales and other business at a distance (online and via telephone), and the availability of personal information, and its volume held by third parties, has increased. Consumer interest in more transparent methods of paying for things meant they lived in a world of immediacy which was radicalising consumption, like microwaves did for food, telephone did for distances, and hse did for getting your rocks off with another.

saw they can be put together. The fact that birth certificates are the fundamental means of identification, and are a requirement to obtain further identification means that no such controls could ever be put in place. Online and offline.

The irony, the rub of the new digital world is that those who know most about the systems are those who are equally knowledgeable in how they may abuse them. Like an antisex NGO becomes an expert on the best places and nights to go, and anti-porn police get their pick of the videos, narks get their share of the best stashes.

They are aware of the in and outs of weakness. Online and offline there were gaps. Fucking gaping gaps. Mind the gap.

In the space of one billion transactions, 0.0002 seconds, Otto scammed millions of $.

Of particular concern are the comprehensive personal financial information and other related data held by credit reference agencies. The value of information gained though evesdropping is compartmentalised, but like pieces in a jig-

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Like spies of yore, you can pinch documents from your neighbour’s rubbish – dumpster diving - or more likely you can make contact with someone preferably a non-digital savvy and older person) pretending to be from a legitimate organisation. You can run a plethora of micro-scam search one building a whole virtual you form an entire world of fragments, an entire Pavilion of Mirrors whose sum total of reflections is more than you.

So we must invigilate our identities and hold on steadfast to them. Not let them kaleidoscope away, OK? Anonymity may reduce the accountability one perceives to have for his actions, and removes the impact these actions might otherwise have on his reputation.

“David, do you feel consistent in your self-image and the image you present to others? Are you certain to yourself?”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Little did officer Gotlieb realise that Gershang, psychonaut, was interrogating him and recording his answers on his hand held.

but he reacted with the full force of his whole biography.

The bubble bust, he had no resources through which to fight.

“Going to SEA lends to you the prospect of experimenting with an entirely new you. Have you tried different roles in search of the one that feels right to you?”

Illusions of who we think we are - and claim to be - can evaporate in a puff of smoke, a single gun shot, given the right stimulus. And if we haven’t learned how to live from place to place in the form of a true tipereth identity, we will pay the price in trauma until we do learn how to live. So this is perhaps the explanation that you often hear in South East Asia. That someone who gets fucked up there and loses the plot, was fucked up before they jumped out of the metal tube. They failed to hang their ‘this’ and ‘that’.

This can have dramatic effects, both useful and harmful.

Slashdot forum encourages this tendency by attributing posts like this to "Anonymous Coward," implying that the poster lacks the courage to stand by his or her statement.

Before you know you are an entire history. Or biography.

Each factoid reflecting something of you, a little splinter or a large shard, nothing total, but enough to call an identity.

Here shows how identity works.

In one flash, one instance, a split-moment all of the officer’s self-assured control left him, and he was reduced to the helplessness of little baby, little David, newly named and rolling about waiting to be powdered. With scant control of his limbs and no fixed intention of what to do with them either. The shots had missed David back there in the street,

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David learned of all of this one night in Shanghai bar, Phnom Penh.

I feel that here, I have got over the ordeal of theft and that hideous sexual obsession. I am sitting having a quiet beer. I gently flirt and imagine, wholesome thoughts, am I becoming whole?

XXXXVIII Case

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Someone cries out in the street in Victory Hill in Sihanoukville, a beach town in the south of Cambodia. It is Lien, she lived near David’s guest house in Boengkak lake district Phnom Penh. It is David’s first real case. She is with Alf her Australian boyfriend. Lien had a relationship with a Khmer for 17 years and one kid by them. Her young looks are described by another Vietnamese girl as deriving from the fact that her life is easy, and carefree, and to ‘play with young boys’. Following the demise of her 5 year relationship with yet another David a young Englishman, who ended up on smack because of her improprieties. She hooked up with Ra a Cambodian guy 10 years younger than her. He was handsome but didn’t work, she hooked to pay the rent and feed them.

the American deflowers her that night. The next night he is in the pub wondering if he can take back other girls for lesbian action.

She also did other things. A young woman arrives from Vietnam and she inquires regarding her status, yes she is here to sell her virginity, and Lien wants a piece of that. Her and older Viet women will search out a Korean, Japanese, Chinese who will ritually screw her over seven days in a hotel. She will not leave the room. He will eat the hymen on ice cream. But he will not deflower her ass. It’s worth $100.

She visits a Viet woman who has a barang boyfriend and one of his friends is visiting from America. As a kind of joke, the American indicates that he would love to take her, and how much would it be? The money is to be used for the mother to have an operation. A price is eventually agreed upon and

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Lien is angry. She goes to the girl’s sister house demanding some payment. No money is left so five ducks are offered and taken. She knows that this American is leaving soon.

She can still make money from her. The American leaves, but before leaving, he makes an arrangement with a trusted Viet girl to look after her, He will be back in six months.

The trusted Viet overseer can’t watch this girl night and day and so it is not long at all before Lien and the old women are enticing her to leave the custody of the trusted women.

They indicate to her the wealth they can reap. They will break communication between the trusted women and her lover and get money sent direct. They indicate that the trusted overseer is not to be trusted, that she will steal the money her lover will send. It’s in her best interest to leave, and that of her sister and mothers.

On leaving she is quickly sold on to a barang who is looking for a good girl to shack up with. She goes to live with him, whilst Lien, now in possession of the contact details of her American lover goes to work on getting him to channel monthly stipend payments to her name. She also decries the overseer as a thief. The American is angry that he put his

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

trust into her. he compensates for her hardship by sending a little extra [$500] that month. Lien is delighted. She made $350 from the ‘sale’ of the girl to the barang, and now has a revenue stream form the U.S. to feed her and her toyboy.

When she leaves the next day, David’s partner tells Alf everything. He is devastated but tries to reason it out. He wants to finish with her but two days later he is in Phnom Penh trying to find out if this is true. She admits to Ra, but claims she has wanted to leave him for some time. Alf takes her to the bus station and buys two tickets, he gives her 15 minutes to get her clothes and come back. He leaves alone.

Later she phones claiming that Ra has her captive.

Lien continues to work herself and meets ‘Alf’. He falls for her, having had his share of younger chicks that were just in the take he has found one who is older but still is reasonable nick. This is better than chasing young birds that probably have a hubby or boyfriend lurking in the back. Lien has a kid and is over 30 so too old for the scene. Or so he projects.

So on the road that day in Sinhoukville, Alf indicates he is in the process of arranging a papers and passport for Lien. He is taking her to Australia to see if she likes it. At a meal that night Alf speaks to me about his passion for the girl, she speaks to David’s Viet dinner partner about her anger at the overseer, and how she managed to fleece some of that early cash. Alf indicates that Lien must leave the next day to have some ‘quality time’ with her child. David’s partner indicates that Ra phoned her while we were at dinner and basically if she doesn’t go back to Phnom Penh the next day he is coming down to shoot the barang and kick her head in. In many ways she liked this; it proved Ra was serious about her.

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There is litany of phonecalls and txts as Alf goes through the whole gamut of denial and emotional turmoil. He speaks of her ‘cute’ girl that stays in her house, fresh from Vietnam. It is Heing the girl spoken of earlier. Now she was about to play some role in mind games that Alf wishes to unleash upon Lien. Lien was just about to ‘sell her’ to a bar. He tries short times but their therapeutic aspect doesn’t work. The net result that after several days of pow wows, and offers of money, she is joining Alf and he will proceed.

A copy of txt messages over 7 days: Day 1: In the hotel in Phnom Penh when Alf challenges her and learns from her own mouth of her infidelities.

Lien is out for over 3 hrs now it’s obvious she is with her boyfriend, well at least I know now, regards alf.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Day 2: He finishes with her and returns to Sinhoukville. He cites her body’s condition and her age as the reason over her infidelities

Day 5: Just when you think he has broken out of this hall in the pavilion he is back again in the central chamber. I live across the other side of Phnom Penh, it is actually quite difficult for me to check on this girl, both physically (I have to go to her house across town??) and politically (even though I lived near her house I have never actually visited her there, this is on the back of my girlfriend disclosing everything to this guy about how he was scammed, interfering with a hse stipend is grounds for killing out here). He wants me to go check to see if she is being held captive as she has told him.

No I’ve decided I don’t want her as a girlfriend any more, maybe just pay her for good time only but don’t think her body any good to many scares now Day 3: He decides that he wants to play games to ‘punish’ her for her infidelities. One idea is to target her flatmate. She has recently started working in a hostess bar. He can barfine her and bed her. I strongly advised against even beginning paying mind games and psyche wars with these girls. It is there turf and he will wind himself ever deeper into the pavilion of mirrors until he is alone and only Valium and liquid coshes can help there.

One of Lien house mates is very cute and she would be really pissed off if I started taking her out, why not?

Day4: So he goes down another path, decides to ‘move on’ and do another LT. Common sense would dictate this is the best thing for him. He is not stupid or is he...?

Just hired a Thai girl $30 for 2 days very cute and young, mans paradise eh?

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When you get time tomorrow can you go check lien place to see if she is held captive by rar which I doubt, if not ask why she has not got on a bus yet to me? Dying to know next set of lies hehe, send me a text when known , thanks, new girl had tight pussy life is much better now, best Alf Day 6: regardless of the tight cheap young Thai this man still holds on to a dream that he will win out his love. The fact is she is already in love, takes care, of her Khmer boyfriend. is it curiosity or after such a long time priming himself to coming here and commandeering his ‘love’, the momentum just won’t stop, he can’t stop. Its not at all about tight pussies, it’s about ring fencing a pussy. The European canon of courtly love is here...

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I am 95% sure that lien is bullshit still would love to know, regards Alf Day 7: I check in the vicinity where she lives and am told that rather than being held captive she is actually just being followed by her live-in lover who is shitting himself that his social security and his girlfriend may be leaving. Alf in the meanwhile can’t be help conjuring up derogatory negative images of this guy. He has to be a pipe smokin’ lazy mother fucker of a wife beater who forces her on the streets for his fix. Larvae. Alf engages in creating derogatory adjectives in a bizarre similar manner as feminists do for the whole male species. in this fantasy Rar is beating her, and he cannot understand why her family [Alf knows enough about Asian critters as to wager a guess that family can exert some pressure on the girl] is not coming to her aid. Ra didn’t have a ‘place’ His place was her place, they cohabitated for 2 years leading up to this, and were largely very happy and content together.

So you believe what she told me was true/ Was it neighbours next door heard this or saw her coping it from him, if it is true he’s bound to have taken her around to his place where he’d feel more in control, why don’t her family protect her very strange eh?

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Day 8: While this is going on I am waiting for her to make her move. The truth is that she knows that she will have to engage in some pretty series social upheaval to keep this thing going with Alf. Rar will have to be supported and this will take negotiating. Alf goes kind of eastern-mysticism like citing ‘karma’ acting its benevolent/malevolent way on her indiscretions and scams.

No calls form her today, may have stopped her doing would be a logical thing to do, karma was swift, I personally there low life and keep out their crazy scams, but I bet she contracts me again and be interesting to see why Day 9: Alf moves back into ‘moving on’ mode.

Thys got a few lady friends she thinks I should meet but have to go to Phnom Penh and for obviously best to stay away from just now what area are you staying in?

Day 10: But next day he is back deep into the game, the pavilion and one of its ante-rooms. Consider the level of second and third person interest and care in this request – Tony asks Alf to ask Yen if she hears anything regarding her well-being!!!

Also Tony, Lien Spanish friend has asked me to ask Yen if she hears or sees anything regarding liens wellbeing etc.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

could you pass it on to me or for Lien to call Tony or myself, he seems concerned about her safety, I myself am sure she’s fine by now and back on the streets doing what she only knows, ok about to have swim, all OK here , bit overcast, best Alf

would be this way, I am thinking of heading up now I know all OK Day 13: It took some days for the reality to sink in, that Lien has no economic choice but to go with Stipend Alf. But it is not over. Alf suddenly flips again and now is awarding second chances.

Day 11: Back to having faith in the family.

Tony thinking of going to Phnom Penh today to see if lien OK, he also got gear stored there to, I said not to get too concerned as likely not exactly as it seems and let family sort it out Day 12: This guy ‘Tony’ speaks no English, only Spanish so god knows how he can phone guest houses and get sense out of them. Lien never looked for customers round the lakeside preferring instead to hit a few off track bars round town. Alf has her as a base street hooker a la US, or Sydney or London King’s Cross style. Not in a month of Sundays would the guest house owner be reporting that she was OK and back on the streets. Total conjecture and misinterpretation.

Tony phone Phnom Penh guest house on the main street at lakeside whop know Lien well she has seen her lately and she is fine and looking for customers as usual, I knew this

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Lien has put her gear at parents, her parents and her told Rar its over, given up lease on lakeside shack, and wants to me to give her a chance again. What do you think? I said OK but no promises and 1st slip up put on a bus to PP with no money, she not as stupid as I thought she was, big question is can I take the street out of the girl”?

Day 14 She is coming back to Alf, it was obvious that she would but no doubt painful for her and her Khmer boyfriend.

She half way here, bloody amazing was sure she wouldn’t be allowed to leave, have to get ready for another roller coaster ride, I move tomorrow morning as I am sure Rar will be in hot pursuit within days what u think?

Day 15: Alf lays down concessions and embargoes like he ere Geroge W and Condellisa. He will not allow her to be un-

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

ring fenced again. He is still playing mind games – with himself – outsmarting himself.

i was very surprised that rar was so easy to get rid of and for so little, then again $150 is 3 months work for some

Will only have my phone on between 1 and 2 pm everyday as I am sure there will be a lots of punters calling soon, soon as lien arrives I will tell her she can have her phone on fro a predetermined time of 1 hour each day, time to outsmart these baboons, 90% cannot txt of course I will be checking sms messages constantly, yours Alf

Day 18: Now for other forms of testing. this bit starts making alf sound like an anal probe alien!!!!

Day 16: Alf is happy with the fact that they redistributed his wealth amongst themselves to allow her to go [without too much of a contest]

good morning, well she seems very good to me, I think she may have swapped over, she said she gave rar $150, gone to parents place, sold motorbike has a new phone, gold necklace, ring and get this a shaved pussy, say a day old, so all this money most likely moto sale, where else? She is sick with sore throat and nose cold , so I can a effort was made to get here, time will tell, keep you informed mate, Alf, what you think Day 17; He got his queen cheap

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if she behaves and I can leave with her to Australia, i doubt if she want to continue her previous life style in Cambodia at doctors I organising HIV test for her 1st step, then in PP chest x-rays, let you know results in a few hours $5 don’t think she had one before here’s hoping for a[baby boy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! – author’s addition]

Day 20 – She is lucky to have Alf

Had her HIV, hep a, b, c tests yesterday came up all clear, lucky girl been good so far, might make it, still on coast want to keep her from PP as long as possible, she did say one thing that contradicts what neighbours said that rar never hit her and wouldn’t dare to, doesn’t seemed worried in the least about him that is a little suspicious I think, still wants to go for a look at Australia, so more time will tell I’m sure, her phone isn’t ringing much too...

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

The txt was cut short, it finishes prematurely. Some taxi-girl hoe stole Alf’s phone from his hotel room when he was snoring. It was the last I heard of the avatar, the subroutine the übersexual “Alf”, it ended. Like a deletion of a full stop on a word processed page. Or the light which disappears to a dot on the TV screen.

threatening somehow; it was all out with his control. It was a SMS message from deep within, from his true inner self.

He had failed. Like the prisoner in solitary, he could now contemplate biography. But on the other hand with this meeting with Alf, and the successful capture of his SMS messages by GOrinNOsho Corp. and their successful encoding into Echelon language, David was performing very nicely according to Otto. He should get a medal one emblazoned with a Chaos symbol.

This is the nature of the beast, the odyssey the existential journey through the process of life. We don’t really know whether to go or stay, but one thing for sure, we’re gonna go. David was enthralled by the story of Alf, and Lien and Ra. He heard it during the New Year’s celebrations. He was beginning to see that there was more meeting the eye with these relationships out in this place. They were sort of hypnotic, more than sex, more than love, more than foreign.

The next day Alf was getting set up with introductions with other women. He wondered if he could be Alf.

SS

SS

David had screwed up twice now on the job. The first through incompetence, the second was darker, more

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XXXXIX. Womanising Womanising, sexual conquest, seduction is an admirable form of power. And David had long bought into the idea that male power was somehow ‘not good’. It led to domestics and lots of stickers boasting ‘zero tolerance’ were found posted around the Precinct in the restrooms and the like. He noticed them and poster dotted around the city as well.

He frowned upon womanisers. It sickened him to his stomach. He loved monogamy; sex after marriage, old fashioned convention is the only way to salvation. This is perhaps why he was so cut up about his behaviour in 1980s Thailand. He went for a wife and found perversion.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

‘Alternative lifestyles’ weren’t for him, no way, look at his parents, and look at their conduct. He wanted to kill them sometimes because of their ignorance, line them up with Ram Dass, The Velvet Underground, Hell Angels, Charlie Manson, Tim Leary them all, all the hairies that had taken him, broken him in and his brother and sister, not on a tour of Venus but of Mars and Pluto, abuse planets, but there were legions of those ‘Merry Pranksters’ for his pig bolt and flesh masher. He wanted to dispatch them like Khmer Rouge would dispatch medical doctors and artists.

social conditions? On the most obvious level, to an epidemic of venereal transmitted diseases? Or feminist sexual colonisation. That is on sexual activity in society being charged with an unacceptable and inescapable value.

Modern homosexuality partly a learnt system of response.

Pornography now well integrated into mainstream society, not long ago it was strongly associated with shame and inadequacy.

It horrified him that even today some of those figures that had abused him were loud voices in the liberal community, speaking out on issues of governmental interventions and in defence of minorities and the victims. Some forms of promiscuity, however, sacrifice much the power element for the sex element. Some women demand a sacrifice before they give of their favours; they demand a genuine respect for their opinions and their point of view. Black was also good, Bill Cosby Black that is, well healed men, not those college boys passing as Ganstas, that was pure pretentious bullshit.

Men who yield to this are what men call shallow, as distinct from what women call shallow. This insistence on respect for each other’s point of view is what is so atomising, it is a kind of moral inhibition. Gnostic celibacy. Might certain forms of celibacy be a fitting and suitable response to certain

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Every life has its portion of loneliness, that is how we come to know our humanity, but even in our aloneness, perhaps especially there, we belong much more than we know.

Looking at naked women of colour in National Geographic constitutes the first pornographic experience for many American boys. I stay in a booth and lie down, looking up and over at a glassed-off private room that’s dark except for a television on the wall showing a National Geographic program on chimpanzees. Grooming each other, I suppose like long hairdo pedos do kids, yeah, in a metaphorical sense.

They get into ‘I’ll rub your back and you rub mine’ type thing [?] It is also a cliché that we can feel lonely - even lonely - in a crowd.

SS

SS

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

The cop was lucky since this all happened in a busy urban space in New York. Where there were those to help an officer. What if it had happened to David in those great expanses in Arizona? How long would he have twisted and rolled, deeply troubled, as the British Muslims drove off into infinity like Road Runner. How long would he have fooled himself he was dying, psychically, medically dying? Where could he have drawn strength from? A subject is an observer and an object is a thing observed. But what if the object is you? How much is the unconscious mind in control is it as much as the therapist alludes to? Reading of pain, hearing of pain, and feeling pain are two different things. So is remembering pain and anticipating pain. All this somehow meshes into ideas of what is right and wrong in those times that matter.

duress of his wife, if he had them. Scraping the pool clean, putting up new wallpaper, pre-packaged furniture, do-ityourself weekends and week days. But as a single, he did not reciprocate BBQs. He procrastinated ‘fixing’ for another day.

But today, he was trying to, but couldn’t understand why he should ‘obey’ . . . I mean there was ‘really’ only him in the room.

L. The mirror of the mind – introspection infinite Yeah. Back in his apartment before he left for his second epic South East Asian adventure, the battle for David Gotlieb had been raging incessantly, and on and on. The conflict, the legacy. David looked in the mirror of his mind and intricate causal relations across different scales and feedback. His counselling and time off work had given him lots of time to think, lots to think about. Boredom, serious boredom, had set in. He thought that not having a wife and kids meant that life was humdrum. He would be fixing things, under

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But the compulsion to hit the phone, and open a chasm, was the same impulse that drove him to want another cigarette, sleep, another drink, food, and a shower, to resist going to the gym. All were linear, knock on, impact, cause and effect.

“Working out” has become an important dimension of his life and indeed is a symptom of contemporary life in Western industrialised societies, but this “required” (in a cultural, not necessarily in a physical or biomedical sense) exercise is part of the coding. It tired David out and gave him that necessary buzz afterwards that everything was OK. And he loved to eat when he got back home.

The messages coded are that the people who "work out" (almost necessarily middle or upper class or the ones aspiring to these classes) are somehow “in charge”: “I work out” (jog, do weights, etc.) means “I am in control of my body” and, by extension, “I can control my sexuality.” Everything is organised, systematised, put under control. “ABCD” and “1 –

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

2 – 3 - -4” Not just gardens, homes, streets, cities, states and countries, muscularity has had various cultural meanings (until recently largely reserved for male bodies) which have prevented the well-developed body from playing too great a role in middle-class conceptions of attractiveness. This is deep. We can stem the tide but not its flow. Its close and when it’s right, the guy that wants to kill you is staring at your house. Will David have enough energy to stop him after his work-out?

women. They, in turn, search out women only sessions or entire clubs to avoid the male gaze of David Gotlieb, scoping and saving visions of ass for later use.

Greek and roman statues including that of ‘David’ lodge in the collective consciousness of most people regarding the ideal male form, like Christian morals and our beloved binary ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. Of course, muscles have symbolised masculine power. But at the same time, they have been associated with manual labour and chain gangs (and thus with lower-class and even criminal status), and they are suffused with racial meaning (via numerous film representations of sweating, glistening bodies belonging to black slaves performing ‘the rites of Venus’ with young virgin galley wenches and prize-fighters).

Given the racial and class biases of western culture, they were associated with the body as material, unconscious, or animalistic. Today, however, the well-muscled body has become a cultural icon; “working out” is a glamorised and sexualised yuppie activity. Managers go to the gym to hit on

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LI So no longer signifying lower-class status (except when developed to extremes, at which point the old associations of muscles with brute, unconscious felonious materiality surfaces once more), the firm, developed body of David Gotlieb has become a symbol of correct attitude; it means that one “cares” about oneself and how one appears to others, suggesting willpower, energy, control over infantile impulse, the ability to “make something” of oneself. This was his substitute for his conscience, or his lack of will?

He laughed when he thought it could be the devil. But here he was, in any way of thinking, fascinated, captivated. The words that he had read were coursing through his mind to his belly, and back again. He was so titillated.

“I'm an 18 year Dominant Mistress that loves to make my slaves mind. SUBMITT TO THIS YOUNG ASIAN MISTRESS I SHALL PUT YOU INTO A DEEP EXOTIC TRANCE I crave LOTS of your Money! After the call leave some!”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Fuck man! Its bullshiiiiit! Screamed David to no-one in particular, in an empty house, barely furnished since his wife left 7 years before.

are hitting Soi Cowboy to hit on the hse that were once the terrain of the middle aged, disposed and old. They get quoted inflated prices, when they leave and pay stipends they pay for the hookers to fuck objects of their own desire for free or ‘funny’.

How could a young girl command such authority, such confidence? Unless she was beautiful, had learned the selfcontrol of being sought after, being rare, being able to choose every time, being locked in the male ‘gaze’ 24/7/365, who could translate this allure onto the phone?

Could it translate modalities? Make sound into feeling?

David had heard the name ‘Suzie Wong’ years, before seeking out and finding the 1960 movie The World of Suzie Wong. This is a movie where a lithesome Nancy Kwan, replete with body-hugging cheongsam seduced men which obviously were suffering from a dedication to Asian Princesses. She played a hoe, and David also scanned his memory of the Vietnam War movies brought Vietnamese hookers into the consciousness of another generation.

More recently club dancers had been prancing to Luke Campbell and 2 Live Crew brought his “Me so Horny” which Heralds a new era in Bangkok of well off Thai teens hunting out farangs for action, and less good looking young travellers

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He read about it on a College website: “Well, what about the party that DTD threw?

"Mekong Delta?" what about that? Did anyone think that was a racist party? The guys dressed up as GI's and the girls dressed up as Vietnamese hookers.

Is that racist or ignorant? Or what about the delta sigma phi and beta theta pi party at auburn where members dressed up in blackface and KKK garb and made fun of the Ques? or is it all in innocent, good fun?”

David considered that this was a good question. One he couldn’t answer, and rather cryptic verging on an attitude he didn’t like – stoned hippy philosophy. At his local video, store in the Art House section was the documentary - Hearts and Minds - an Academy Award-winning documentary released in 1974 (1hr 52min) that is openly critical of the U.S. invasion of Vietnam. There is a famous scene in the movie which showed two US soldiers taking advantage of two Vietnamese call girls, twisting their nipples and trying

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

to convince them to cooperate; one soldier is quoted as saying “If my chick at home could see this now, man, she’d flip.” The next scene is a soldier lighting a straw roof on fire and escorting the men away, with helicopters firing on huts in rice paddies. The hooker must have been Vietcong, fuck I’d better watch out there man, better get a very secure case to put my goods in.

similar gig, but doing it American style, big fridge’s, nice watches, quality white goods.

People burning inside. The contrast U.S. taxpayers treating Vietnamese women as nothing more then toys, then we have the destruction of Vietnamese homes and lives, also by U.S. taxpayers. U.S. taxpayers were also throwing resources to incarcerate then dispose of a man held captive in a white room. U.S. taxpayers also airlifted Miss Lana Nygeyn of Rue de Caradert, in the Saigon District 15, to have a better life elsewhere. She was the fiancé of ‘Tony’ Q – alias Tun Quang Dao - a high ranking Vietnamese Intelligence officer who sat silent in the plane looking with horror as a silent man was cajoled and then all of a sudden, dispatched, kicked out, al over the South China Sea one moonless night. The Indians and Hog Kongese were also shifting packets of money with the MPC, the military check scams. The Koreans were making loot coming in the form of fridges, TVs, and other consumer items flooding in from the states under the auspices of ‘Hearts and minds’ campaign. ‘Hearts and minds’ worked for the British when they had to quell the Communist Chinese in Malaysia, the U.S. wanted to throw a

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He was in there with black men and Vietnamese low life ranting about Iran and the Shah, the hookers would beaucoup dinky do and boom-boom him long time (LT) if he get rid of his wife. They were drunk and rootless, and would be continually, increasingly, for the coming next few years.

He was scared he and the prostitutes were next to be dispatched. They sure as fuck weren’t part of their contingent and they seemed merciless. The hookers sat and drank Bud and twirled their tongues at him provocatively, and then they drew their hands across their throats and pointed at his kids.

That fear and everything he had seen upcountry and never ever spoke to his wife about, even though she continually asked, made everything seem so uncertain. The implication here is that he regarded life in Vietnam as it became as subhuman.

Later in the movie Hearts and Minds one Lieutenant George Coker, a former Prisoner of War in Vietnam, is speaking to a group of American schoolchildren, and is asked what Vietnam looked like. He replies: “What did Vietnam look like. Well, if it wasn’t for the people, it was very pretty. Uh, the people over

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

there are very backward and very primitive. And they just make a mess out of everything.”

Years later when Tun Quang Dao watched this documentary with ‘Bill’, he figured this was a rather flat affirmation; after his viewing of Hearts and Minds he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office where Bill had was also been a patient once. It was paid for by the care agency, but Bill couldn’t ‘care’ about anything psychological, it was like ghosts and alien landings to Bill.

“I celebrate your defiance, your tenacity in the face of onslaught, women would be all right if men did not seek incessantly unprotected sex.”

There is somebody for somebody, key to lock, lock to key.

The reason for the white room man, for all incarceration.

XXXI. David’s appetites and diet While David ate healthily, he did have healthy microwave dinners, convenience dinners bought from the local supermarket.

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Whenever he was out doing chores off-duty, he noted how hungry he had became, for a mate, a partner, someone he could settle down with, someone to take care of him, a mother, sister, daughter. Eyes now like a hawk that were once tuned to search for felonies now burned with what we understand as lust.

Checking ass after ass, flicking through ass images memories and anticipations, placing them on a mental map now the size of Jupiter, classifying them in terms of desire.

Once in the photo shop two women came in. Presumably a sister and sister. One was pushing the pram; the other was everything David could ever dream of. Long legs, topped by a bubble ass, slim long, decent tits, lovely blonde hair, all packaged in a modest and tasteful outfit of jeans and a casual suede jacket. Even now in Cambodia, he remembers her so very well. Very tasteful. He would impregnate her in a moment.

He would enjoy doing so and he would insist she train after the birth to get her wonderful figure back. He scrutinised the sister for hints that this was possible (he would have preferred the mother) It was! She looked like a minor aristocrat in a court ball at the Imperial house of Hapsburg; he was now a prince from a principality well thought of by her father. Not in her dress was it suggested she was

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

obtainable, but under what conditions, would she, could she be. How romantic David Gotlieb is, how could one work out if she was taken, and where she hung out at nights. This last thought, her inaccessibility, hung in his mind like the death row and depressed him. He was an easy target after all, especially now he was not really an officer but an unemployed mall pervert.

witnesses, the right dark alley or even within the security of her own home.

He was like a robot the way he unconsciously jumped and flitted around trying to lodge her in his mind, not drinking, but greedily guzzling her form as a forbidden fruit, he skipped like a beau between aisles for another eyeful, and fuck man he wanted to run his hands over her. How fucking obtuse was he, this absurd compulsive-obsessive off-duty officer?

He went almost too far, when an old lady caught sight of him, but he then thought positively, that another human had seen his true thoughts.

He felt exonerated from loneliness and nothing but desire, but only for the moment. He had to check out and leave his love forever. He could hardy be another. Surely this is the stuff of rape n’ murder, its very substance and essence, that he, David, the assailant, would stalk due to how he felt right now looking at her legs and ass, and how he would lurch when it was just right, and the conditions, the right lack of

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Ultradarkness came upon him when he began to take pleasure in thinking of her husband or lover, an ignorant man, letting her shop alone like that, comes back to see his prize possession taken, sodomised and mutilated beyond recognition. She would never again temp a man with her look and piety. He would wreck her appearance and with it her identity of being a very sexy lady indeed, very desirable and sought after. David understood then the madness which if not abated most likely the very same stuff that drives men to rape n’ murder. He wanted to be a Vietnamese gang member invading homes, or a young soldier interrogating Viet women and children, and get a taste of military rape and red army forced anal invasion.

SS

SS

But this was all all right; it was in his daydream, one daydream, once, it wasn’t pleasant, no its wasn’t ‘nice’, it wasn’t productive moral or hateful, it was the reality underneath the thin veneer, it was just his meandering which he could passively observe, what he wanted, but not yet what he needed, not what he would act upon. Only his non-threatening male meandering, flows, prospects of action

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which if not abated will most likely drive men to froth at the mouth and act out rape n’ murder meandering, but he was a police officer, no further explanation necessary. He is there to ensure, force and uphold law and order, whatever that may be wherever that may be. He disliked domestics and had tried to avoid getting in that tangle. Thus another reason to do court duty.

So Dr. Wong had said.

XXXIII And so the daily pathos continued for David Gotlieb. He had nightmares of this, his love a lifetime away, a million miles, and hardly anything but rape n’ murder ideas to play with at home in his spare time. Don’t let her see him looking like this in a mirror. A vacuum cleaner marital aid attachment working his muscular body, she would hardly understand in her mother’s grass hut. The only power they have is a car battery, not enough foe his arsenal of penetrative machines.

The disparity between his outer coolness and his inner passion and the former French colonies, was almost feminine and he didn’t like this. He was dispassionately shopping like Khmer Rouge dispassionately dispatched people. Was it evaporating them?

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SS

SS

When she caught his eye, the women he imagined he would rape then murder to achieve some victory, was she reading him like a book and chastising and hating him, mad, angry that he dare cram her image into his brain, stupid men. He never knew that her name was Susan Tyler and that night, she would be addressing a book club bash in that very store and speak about the plight of girls and women in Cambodia.

Truth was that he was thinking he was rape n’ murder and one look at his moustache had Ms. Tyler accepting this and reaching for her tazer. Neither of them had to say a word…

He hated her, she loathed him. They were a partnership made in hell. Wong helped him work through this irrationality.

XXXII. Yeah, Quang Daos’ wife “Beings which reproduce themselves are distinct from one another, and those reproduced are likewise distinct from each other, just as they are distinct from their parents. Each being is distinct from all others. His birth, his death, the events of

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his life may have an interest for others, but he alone is directly concerned in them. He is born alone. He dies alone. Between one being and another, there is a gulf, a discontinuity.”13

How could she think like that on the phone? She was floating above it all, dispassionate and cool, above the myre, David’s deep dark abyss, the petty wants and needs of all men, everywhere all the time [?] I mean here was David’s condition, looking sneakily at women in the supermarket in the street, and slyly, in secret, in their magazines.

He craved any kind of women provided her body was in good shape. “Anyone out there any night of the week.” But Asian had become a particular fascination since that ill-fated trip to Thailand. And not just any Asian, he now wanted, Vietnamese, not any Vietnamese. Another factor determining him leaving was that he became fixated upon Quang Daos’ wife, Lien. Yeah, to the point of rape n’ murder. He had himself jumping illicitly into windows in the dark, etc. etc. Strapping up hubby with a similar hood to

13

Bataille, Georges. Erotism: Death and Sensuality. Trans. Mary Dalwood. San Francisco: City Lights, 1986. p.12

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what he would be wearing, a gag, and taken what he wanted, how he wanted it. Fuck why does he have to be so extreme? Well because he feels rape n’ murder like most of us do, do we, even the most civilised Professor can become Hannibal Lector, well if he was given free reign or if Freud’s civilisation broke down [which it might yet] and he lost his status and role and major script in life. And David’s reality was becoming flimsy to say the least. Not many bananas out there for our poor boy. Just many people no doubt reading this and if not shocked, then annoyed by the intrusion or emphasis of so much warped sexuality and existential thoughts. The man is alive! Remember him not for his fantasies but his command of the Plaza that night in his return and welcome back!

SS

SS

Yes the reaction of his old partner’s wife to their loss of face when they were suspended really excited David in a cruel way he had learned when he bartered for his soul and salary cheque for, and with, an audience with Princess Lu. How she cared for nothing but him in his dream. But Gotlieb didn’t want her, Lien, like that, Oh no. Gotlieb like so many other westerners wanted her in an evening gown.

Yeah, one with the ass cut out revealing ample back

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

portions. Gotlieb wanted to lick her feet, one minute he was Asian foot fetish next an Asian ass enthusiast, and get her screaming nasty shit on him, telling him how much of an asshole he was, and how she was going to fuck some worthy sometime soon, fuck him, rape him, choke him to death with a stocking, almost with a huge black mother-fucker’s strap-on, but only if he were ‘good’ and deliver lotsa $.

office, and in this session he was told it was OK to think these thoughts, they shouldn’t be repressed…all the time, every time, but they should certainly not be aired in public to strangers.

These fucking thoughts, obsessions had come in from nowhere like a Vietnam War B-52 Stratofortress bombers arc light strike. You don’t hear the aircraft only its payloads percussions, he was "blowing holes out of the jungle." Each call and each session, costing a small fortune, punched holes in David’s rape n’ murder nonsense, and like a Yin (in Vietnamese am) to a Yang (Duong), it kept him sane, balanced and free of incarceration. It’s not good for a cop to get banged up inside.

These calls to these alleged Asian women on the phone had emerged into the gameplay of his life. Paranoid that they were coming, too soon, these women had developed remarkable powers of parlance and dialogue. The psychology of the telephone. It was so easy growing up when you have threat of superpowers. They stressed vitality and control, where it was all limp and lacking. Like the silence of his orgasm and his insatiable and incontrovertible lust after his phone and masturbation session. David figured this was all a rather flat affirmation; he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s

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His house was a cold lonely place then. Rationale returned after an earful, making him feel like a dupe and stupid. Who was David removed of the power of penis? What was he beyond the power of his jacking and his scary out of control rape n’ murder ideas? We have learned a little of the puppet so far, but what of the puppeteer? In a truly Bakhtinian sense, release is sought through various pleasures pertaining to sexual transgression. A gym session usefully helped. Make a human image of clay and thus you will succeed in frustrating the evil intentions of the enemies of Israel. He was a golem running like a man on the treadmill. The laws which are fearfully compromised in David’s life are the fundamental laws which govern human behaviour. They are the innate laws within the individual which prevent acts of severe and grievous moral decay.

XXXIII After a period of waiting and deliberation that only the chronic unemployed or the aristocrats of old could afford, he

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

called her anyway, not Lien, Quang Dao’s lovely wife, that would have to wait in his warped mind. He had found a suitable alternative.

He did so expediently in the Marquis’ own fantasies and musings, that of him being one of his own creations, his nom de plume Le Duc de Blangis.

Soundbite.com offered astrological and professional ‘advice’

"I wish for a chocolate cake so dense, that it is black, like the devil's ass is blackened by smoke."

by phone. An ‘adults only’ section provided ‘advice’ of a sexual nature, including calling you all the stupid looking motherfucking money pigs in the universe.

Princess LU was there in her evening dress; her face was so like Sri Mom, or Lien or Linda Tran his fav. Soft porn girl.

He never knew if the ass was cut out as it was full frontal non-nudity. She would surely frown on nudity, or be embarrassed by it. Dragon lady or modest con he would cut the ass out of the dress and rip whatever undergarments there were and go down on her ass, lick that ass - full scale unabashed seriously seeking modesty rimmin, he would hammer himself again with the longing of ‘Bill’ the paraplegic in his bizarre and perverted lust for his carers, he would make Quang Dao’s wife perform on his asshole while he did it, he ‘performed’ as they call it, he didn’t realise it, but is this too far into the soul of David, was he simply obeying the canons of the Marquis de Sade, or rock star chic, a new puppeteer.

David could perhaps take something from the fact that libertinage is surely as much a part of Nature as asceticism.

He could pass it off as Tantra, if he weren’t so obsessed with not having anything to do with pop eastern religions lest they be construed as ‘hippy’ and co.

His helpless deliberation to phone her or not, offered him total freedom of expression, complete awareness of attendant risks and possible rewards.

It was not as if he had much choice. During the early stages of the conversation, he had problems discerning what was going to go on throughout the dialogue, he let her in, she was close, deep, and he let her pave the way for Otto Gershang and his stage mechanisms, what he really had to do. It was, it seemed false, how had he to play it out . . . so to speak?

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

XXXIV. This imperious act

And so it was in his meagre social life. One Sunday, Joe, his immediate neighbour asked him to join them in a BBQ. Joe had spoken to David a few times, he knew he was a law officer on sick leave, and he was aware that rumours had been flying concerning this lone man in the community. He wanted to de-bunk these rumours by showcasing David, and more than that, inviting some guys he knew were fighting pedos overseas on America’s behalf. Joe was a good guy. Joe and the rest of the neighbours knew that there had been some incident in David’s past, but nothing to do with Paedophilia. He had maybe shot a black man for suspect reasons, for instance, but he could atone, he was acting only in the line of duty... that sort of thing. They could only guess as it would’ve been too rude to ask. They sympathised especially as rumour had it that it concerned Muslims (who had never been found).

This imperious act itself, of deciding to make a phone call and to spend money on sex, was a reflection of his whole life to this point. Not his roles in life – that is David Gotlieb Police Officer – no his life, his raison d’ etre, the driving force within, the epistemological roots. This was his stance.

Rather than forming his own opinions, he would often seek out hearsay, picked up ideas in casual relations elsewhere, by casual inference, say on a fishing trip or from TV. His whole alter-ego in his professional life he began to realise had been based on his exposure to 1970s and 1980s TV cop and detective shows while he grew up. They were the mental map, the schema, which provided the rod in his backbone. His poise towards culprits and suspects. These men were certain, unlike the erosion of the cop in 1980s onwards, where they’re striving to get real to show them as mere human. One of the masses, only with a badge and authority to beat people and minorities up.

He preferred it when the focus was on the plot, not on the characters.

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They did not know the details exactly, as they were too polite to ask, bar that David was recuperating after the ordeal. This is deep. We can stem the tide but not stop its flow. Its close again, on the tip of the tongue, too close… again, the guy that wants to kill you is staring over the garden wall, from behind the children’s play apparatus. They didn’t know jack shit about his marital position. But some of them, male and female, wanted to, some were divorcées.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Mary, Joe’s wife, hovered around, always interested in rather handsome mystery man next door, with his East coast drawl and strong features. There was always an extra sausage or piece of meat put on the plate in a flirty manner. Al this was good for healing David’s image.

Whilst he had no sympathy for sexual offenders, he did truly understand their motives. He felt at one with them but nobody would learn that, not even Dr. Wong. He would even consider turning a blind eye to them if he came upon one on duty. But then again this was unlikely if you are on court duty, the closest you get to killers is hearing their story and leading them away.

Some of the other women eyed him as well. Everybody, well most, were married, domesticated. There was talk, rumours really, that some ‘swinged’ and that he, David, was in fact a repressed homo, tough recent divorce etc. That they needed in on their action, a woman’s touch in his home, on his body wink wink… but that would never enter the conservation that day. It remained as hidden as David’s unsavoury rape n’ murder mental routines.

He understands the reprobate like this. He is like him. They are not intersubjective. – They have no self-understanding of each other's desire. How would a rape n’ murder black realise the person leading them away thinks only 6 degrees differently.

But anyway, David couldn’t stop his ‘supermarket’ analysis he applied it at the get together. Like many men, married or otherwise, presidents and shoeshine, he was perpetually scoping for ass, he was studying to find the perfect one. He averted his eyes like a modest Asian women if he was caught on camera, someone, male or female, scoped him scoping etc. He hoped he would never see it, his perfect ass, but he saw enough close misses to create real deep pain. He, his mystery craved them, and he exalted them in his mystery.

But it was all under will.

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He reads his motivations, his wants and needs, without even trying. It is a psychic link. Is he saying that it is trans-neocortex?? That both officer and culprit are hardwired deep into each other’s neural pathways, deep into their soul if you want to get spiritual? "Four elements," he said, "are required for creating the golem or homunculus, namely, earth, water, fire and air." David didn’t know but he was waiting in his unfolding unconscious mind for Otto Gershang to control him, to be a puppet with a puppeteer. Derek Tyler in Unityview’s aircon Phnom Penh computer den, running GOrinNOsho’s Echelon V.1 could see the puppet clearly but

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

where was the IP address for the fucking puppeteer? He already knew something was going on, something very strange, bigger than him, bigger than he’d ever seen before.

It was close.

even the most frightening of thoughts. He was normal, or words to that affect according to Wong.

XXXVI. David would like to extend his diet The younger women at the BBQ gathering next door were no more than kids really, in the place, in their place, some way, way too young for these thoughts offended him deeply.

Somehow though, in a perverse reverse psychological way, his mind started raging that maybe he really was a repressed pedo. That actually., the kids in their fresh unfettered outlook on life had seen through his veneer to expose him for what he was. This raged through Gotlieb as he scoped and his mouth watered on that ass. He would revenge screw them while consuming them as positive targets, a double reason to go for them. These were aggressive horrific realities being paraded for David in his mind. Jesus in the dessert.

He couldn’t but check them out, in his usual scope n’ store manner, knowing safely that he would neither follow through with actions no matter how deeply they affected and impacted him. Rape n’ murder frames of mind taught him one important law above all others; he had control over

Normal, their tight curved bottoms, firm no doubt and suggestive outfits with missing mid-drifts, and flat or pleasantly rounded stomachs, were, what a fucking outrage!

What is wrong, going on with their parents dressing them like that? They must be ‘free love’ exponents, fucking debauched swingers, near hippies were his thoughts.

Disdegenerate parents, who probably love adultery, booze and porn, even show it to their kids. Fuck them all here; behind their ostensive smiling faces he could smell a big fucking soi rat. These kids were well too sexy for a community BBQ. Ah, fuck some were playing in a pool in mini bikinis, they were tantamount to running around in their knickers. There parents were shameless, and so was the TV and movie icons that promoted this as desirable. He looked at the kids by the pool and imagined muscular black men adorned and dripping with gold cavorting with them.

Them being sexy for the black man, and the black man having so much fucking choice. So offensive. So much vice down there just now. Sweat poured off his face.

“Hot, David, said one of the mother’s?”

“Want another ice cold beer, honey?”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

rights to freedom, those that interfere with male children, while claiming that they are all knowing.

Lost in his thoughts, he pondered on whether he should jump across the wall ‘to make call’ - get right on the blower to Princess LU for needy advice on how to handle these little minxs. But he knew her reply, “getting a quirky thrill out of feeling like a "sex offender?"

I mean even broaching the subject, the whiff of ‘young’, would this be permissible, or is she recording conversations on behalf of the FBI or the NSA? He could get 7 years for even breathing what he saw. Privately, through official channels, they may be warning certain precincts of any dubious communications and behaviours of law enforcers.

This is what you buy into as an officer.

This was a useful line of thinking. It neutralised the threat of any desires superseding rationale again and working out some way to slip over the fence at night to peer into windows. How he praised being an American, what other lawless shithole had such elaborate and delicate mechanisms for provisioning and promoting the peace? Nowhere, was indirect control of thinking more rigorously cleansed than here, in the land of plenty. He loved it dearly; he embraced its civic values, he would die for his country, but he remained defiant about protecting those who abuse the

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Suddenly, in the place of LU, and upon that thought his memories shot to Quang Dao’s wife, Lien. Tight like them.

Woof! Imagine delivering her anal, uurghhh tight, tight. His internet porn breaks at the weekend flashed up thousands of images of live Asian nudes. He loved the discourse of the whole Asian fixation, alt.asian.binaries.

“Mister I vietnamee, you love long time or short time mister, I fuck you long time, you big handsome man… my boyfriend only have small dick, fuck me hard…”

He was getting real turned on, he need a hot line now. He needed LU, but she was not online, he could leave a message.

What good is that??

But these young ladies had attitudes. They were kids. No modesty. All this cultural policing is good for the soul and educational, too, as David had no sisters when he was young.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Back over the wall, after his ‘phone call’, he looked at them bounce on that trampoline, positions. Vitality.

is limited, and after the edge of your knowledge you fall off the end. A non-complex could see a complex as boring, if it were too prevalent, if it left it out of the picture too long.

Two non-complex people bored, sitting on a riverside wall staring into space. This is deep. We can stem the tide but not stop its flow. It’s close, the guy that wants to kill you is sitting across the table from you, he’s your ‘best friend’. .

Almost all of these models were made for the women that wear size 12. And almost no grown up woman can wear size 12. Shit half the adults there were at least a size 24. This produced an interesting ambivalence about the genderedness of the body imagery – young women who look more like boys, an androgynous imagery of sexless sex objects. Like models. He craved tight, but he was deeply offended by it as well, it should be outlawed. Round and round the mulberry bush. David while doing nothing was becoming exhausted.

Many fears are born of tiredness and loneliness.

VIII. Co-existence, co-shaping, co-evolution – people and things A complex person (v) and a non-complex person (David) could surely form a unity - the non-complex finding fascination in the more complex, and the complex finding solace to their concerns in a non-complex? Opposites attract.

Surely there is nothing worse than brining complex to bear when things are bad, when strands may be seen as appalling.

Surely there is nothing worse than being bored when you are non-complex, when all that you can possibly think about

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Or two complex people dancing under the strobing and flashing lights, the pounding booming expansive bass, their complexity removed relieved by alcohol, only to live again rampant the next day in regret. But for now locked in an interplay that mimics authentically they are in the orient in an exotic place, they have a right to let go, and perform, experience an exotic dance. Dances of Eastern nations are essentially gesture dances, dances of grace.

As writing and pictorials rose to prominence in world cultures, the human body became an instrument of gesture and symbolism, speaking for the spirit in the worship of a god. Contrastingly, the ancient Greeks with their idealised man, made the human body a crucible of energy. David’s gym sessions. Thus, the dance in the West became an expression of action, whereas Eastern dance focuses mainly on contemplation. This can apply to the classical temple dances as well as the peasant or farmer dances since each originates with the purpose of pleasing a god, whether in

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

pure worship or to encourage agricultural benefits. Western dance has become synonymous with entertainment, either in the social or theatrical arena, and is designed to show the causes of man's inner conflicts towards the world, but mainly as they reflect his being, therefore his dances are descriptive because they are dramatic.

state, ruled by violence and criminality, couldn't possibly have a mature culture. From an Euro-centric perspective, American literature and cinema is said to be an arid desert, devoid of original talent or great creators.

Think here of the Bangkok go-go. Eastern dances are descriptive because they are reflective, therefore they deal rationally with earthly conflicts and offer a stylised depiction of eternal and universal actions. Think here of the Aspara dancers. Viviane Lievre in Dances du Maghreb d’une rive a l’autre describes belly dancers using terms such as “synonymous with prostitutes,” “pagan rites,” “sacred prostitution,” phallic cult,” and more. Belly dance expert Serena Wilson wrote: “These are dancers who, standing in one place, perform highly sexual movements for the purpose of instructing the uninitiated in sexual matters.”

The entire career of Henry Kissinger and his deeply immoral “realism”, is one example of complex dance. His American foreign policy echoes the U.S. record in Iran since 1953.

What is this complex dance the revolutionaries picked up on and put in the media right after the revolution? Many Europeans sneer that America, a society still in a primitive

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A plastic Asian girlfriend that looks better than a real girlfriend could ever do. David is now looking at livingdoll.com, he shoots another page, checks his Internet bank balance. And yet another page is ebookers checking out flights to Phnom Pehn, Cambodia. Another page gives him maps. His friend next door shows him goggle Earth. He finds an online forum which deals with matters of sex tourism. He considers that it is saving the earth or buying a living doll. A well manicured garden, a designer kitchen in which to relocate your love and dedication to. She is not lying when she says “yes,” its just you must take the lead until she objects. Will pedos ever be able to come out, like homosexuals did, get married, be accepted, become the rage on TV? Are there more pedos than homos in America?

David Gotlieb has an epiphany at a BBQ. He decides then upon a moral crusade. He will pretend he is a paedophile sex-tourist, he is hunting for sex-tourist to turn them in. He is used as a puppet.

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Otto will pretend he is a sex-tourist as a blind for being a hyper sex magician. He is used, in one magical movement, by his predecessors and processors.

Dan will pretend he is a sex tourist but he is making money from porno, he is vehicle of western media imperialism, the never ending search for reality.

Liam is a pretend sexless young puritan but he is just another humdrum sex tourist, paedophile + into ladyboys, he is gathering a nest egg whilst developing penchants and spreading rumours and lies dressed up as social research.

Sebastian pretends he is a sex tourist but he is looking to marry. He is lonely, lonelier than David to his pig farm in Donegal Ireland.

Geoff pretends he is a sex-tourist but he is writing an article for a UK tabloid. He identifies completely with paedophiles, he is one.

XXXVII Still at the BBQ as it was the final straw that sent him on his mission, respite to these dangerous and straying thoughts came in the form of a bunch of ordinary guys, neighbours and their friends and families, who were drinking like fish in

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the corner of the garden away from the others. They were an in-group of primates, preening themselves.

Joe was with them, and when Joe looked up and waved him over, he welcomed the change of channel. He introduced Sebastian a cousin from Austria; he was one of a bunch of guys on R&R from the frontline in the battle of child protection in Cambodia.

They had a horrific tale to tell.

It was a Worldvision story of 10 year old boys, gathering, forming cliques where upon they would gratify themselves upon a diet of imported hardcore rape n’ murder VCDs. After this exposure they were practising what they had seen and raping young girls. They had cash lots of cash to develop ways to prevent this.

They were running poster campaigns, the are a psychic link, did they know what he had just been thinking – no. David was interested, mortified again, but showed no outward sign of mortification, because he thought, oh yeah, this was really seedy, delicious it would be great for the boys back home to hear. They boasted about their involvement in a network TV program, about some brothel area with Vietnamese kids. The statistical evidence alone was stupefying, kids sodomised by westerners and AIDS, lots and lots of AIDS.

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“Sebastain I would like you to meet our Neighbour David, David Gotlieb” “Very please to make your acquaintance” In a chirpy neighbourly fashion.

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

knew instinctively this was trouble. The laughing hippies were all that he had grown to hate.

“This is the Lucky Ro hotel, known as a ‘quiet’ hotel, and these are the kind of targets we are after” “And these are the little ladies we are freeing”

“David is a law enforcement officer who’s on leave just now after an incident with a terrorist cell” “Really, were you hurt?”

“No not really, but we have special contingencies in place when encounters of this nature arise…”

“Sebastian is with the Intentional Justice Mission, David, they are kind of our eyes, our American eyes, in other countries”

The sickening pictures showed girls trying to strike adult poses. The pictures themselves were innocuous; they could’ve been anybody’s daughters, some posing at landmarks, some in a room. David shot a glance at the paddling pool. “yes David, girls just like those are getting abused everyday by thousands of tourists, and the sick porno material manufactured here in California is petering through to the same kids in the countryside there…”

“Really” David was fascinated. In fact more than that, listening to the depraved nature of the average sex tourist abroad made him angry. Some pictures were shown on the Sony handset.

Nam-vet hippies leaving some shit hotel into a busy Asian street. David looked at a Cambodian Cyclo driver’s head and

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Enraged and engaged in conversation David had no time to engage in doublethink. His thoughts came down heavily in favour of the received view, the social conventional view.

He didn’t speak but hatched a plan – he was going to do something about this – alone…

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

But he need not do it alone. Sebastian informed him that good people were needed out there all the time. Was he a practising Christian? David replied in the affirmative, even though he was really of Jewish Hassidic stock.

SS

SS

He remembered hearing that some time back, in Los Angeles, a pimp tried about as novel a way to practise his trade. He established a church. Church of the Goddess, I think it was called. The main tenet was that by paying the church a tithe, an adherent could have sex with the Goddess - one of the prostitutes. Nice try.

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Part two IIII – Quang Dao and David Gotlieb

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Yanks, come home!

That’s what they are crying in the States, They’re right, there is no reason for you to be away from home Yanks, go home!

That’s what they’re shouting all over South Vietnam.

They’re right, there’s no reason for you to be here where nobody except a few crooks who betray their own people want you.

Yanks, come home!

Yanks, go home!

In the States or in South Vietnam the people calling to you only want to make sure that no more American soldiers die here? That’s what they want isn’t that what you want?

No matter what you’re told you’re not fighting for the American people or the Vietnamese, why should you get killed in Johnson and McNamara war? You won’t get rich from procurement orders for war materials. And your families and friends are missing you all time.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

South Vietnamese front for Liberation

themselves as Americans in the fullest sense. That means that can be found to be sharing basic ideals, hands on heart looking at flag and listening to music across racial and ethnic barriers. In France, the characteristic attitude of newcomers from North Africa, Turkey, and sub-Saharan Africa is predominantly one of alienation, confrontation, rejection, and hatred. It’s similar in the UK. It’s not like that in America or other countries like Australia and Canada, countries founded on migrants, is it?

HANG ON TO YOUR HEAD GI’s in Vietnam now number over 400,000 GI’s killed, maimed or missing – more than 131,000 Lot’s of Soldiers Lots of money Lots of hardware Lots of coffins !

THE 64 BILLION DOLLAR QUESTION IS… Boeing Aircraft, Lockheed Aircraft, General Electric, General Motors, Dupont, are hauling it in while GI’s are being hauled out.

WHY DIE FOR THEIR PIE? Better make it out – before you’re pushing up daisies too.

GO HOME – ALIVE! I. South Vietnam N.F.L. – 2.1967

The success and originality of the great American integration stems precisely from the fact that immigrants' descendants can perpetuate their ancestral cultures while thinking of

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The melting pot. David liked the cut of Asians – they were not ‘harries’ in the slightest term. They were groomed as a generalisation or stereotype – this was ‘right’ or positive.

David and Quang Dao suffered together as Americans. And as American officers that should have been in charge after their mishap at the court, and the misfortune had brought the men together. He was concerned with the second incident and asked David to pop in whenever he wanted at their house for ice coffee. David put it off but one day after sucking out all his juices and spending much of that months pay packet on a 2 hour call he needed a friend. A little break from himself, the separation of a Siamese twin. Truth be known that David liked to stay well clear of Asian women, lest his demon comes out to play, and he knew there were some women at Quang Dao’s house, young uns’ too, he was scared of himself.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

UUUU

various trips they had been on in America. It was modest but comfortable.

Queens (pop. 2,241,600 (2005 US census estimate) is geographically the largest borough in NY and, according to the US census, the most ethnically diverse county in the United States with many immigrant enclaves.

Sunset Park spans the approximate area between 25th street and 50th street, and 3rd avenue and 9th avenue in Brooklyn.

The neighbourhood is home to the largest Vietnamese population in Brooklyn. After visiting the area, one can soon discover that the Vietnamese are only one facet of a rich multi-faceted neighbourhood, which is home to a significant Chinese, Korean, Puerto Rican, and Polish population.

The main concentration of Vietnamese residents in Sunset Park centres on 8th avenue between 38th and 50th street.

That is where Peter Quang Dao lives, on 45th and he was a nice man. He had a lovely family, a wife that took real good care of him. He had two daughters, one at University the other has two businesses - a deli/grocery which also carried products used in Asian cooking, and a dry cleaners. Both were located near to the family home. But to David’s relief were not at home.

Peter Quang Dao’s home was a palace adorned with ornaments and little artefacts from Vietnam and from

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The living room was dominated by a large painting of his wife, Lien. It held pride of place on the living room wall.

The painter was skilled, but he must have surely exaggerated. She stood majestic in a long flowing gown like garment, with slits at the side and pantaloon trousers.

This uniform showed off her figure magnificently, but modestly at the same time, it showed nothing of flesh. What a handsome outfit, what a handsome women, no bare bosoms but it sat on the figure like it was painted flesh.

David as usual was trying to accept it for what it was, like when one acknowledges beauty without the need to somehow consume and appropriate it. But it was hard. He was a confirmed Asian fetishist who had once been on a very hardcore American sex tour of Bangkok.

David could hardly stop himself glancing up, again and again. She looked like an Asiatic Pamela Anderson set in an exotic background of emeralds and deep royal blues, lotuses, pale moonlight. “Fuck.” He looked forward to his gym session, it would relieve some of these agonising feelings of desire combine to loneliness and self-loathing.

When I am gone.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

remember, and all long hairdo felons were innocent.

When gone…

I

am

Quang Dao picked up on David’s intense scoping of the picture. It wasn’t hard really.

“You like the picture I had painted of my wife, David?”

“Yes Dao, she looks magnificent in it. You painted it?”

“It was done in a small shop in Saigon when we went there three years ago to visit family, cost only $50.”

“Did you not consider getting one of both of you Dao?” David diffused the discussion. Hid mind was good and trained in the art of deflection, he was police

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“No, I don’t take good picture David, you know what I mean?”

David laughed nervously as if caught out.

“Yeah I suppose so Dao”.

David had no real idea what he really meant.

UUUU They had never spoke much about Dao’s background and family, although I knew that he’d been born in Vietnam before the escalation of the war. His father had been of senior rank in the South Vietnamese Military, intelligence, and was flown out from the Embassy as the communists stormed the city. His father and mother had since looked after an invalid Vietnam Vet in Utah, as live-in carers. They had done this for the last 30 years.

“My father feels OK, he was converted to Catholicism long before the war, but has since returned to Buddhism.”

“Why is that?”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

“He feels that he has built merit in the United States” “Merit” Merit. David was jerked back in time when he heard that word. Back to the heady skull fucking bar in Bangkok and the light suction that Sri Mom had put on the tip of his penis, the first lips that had ever brushed his knob. His wife, the beauty Queen, hated felatio, but he could still feel the pain of her confessions that she sucked off three construction workers in a bar one night when she was off her face. Bitch.

UUUU He remembered ‘the pathetic girl’ in the skull fucking bar, When he asked her why she could work at something as degrading as this, she replied “I build merit.” He liked this view of sex and sexuality. By the end of the month’s sex tour, he was leveraging this idea to screw girls in the full view of their families and neighbours. He’d bludgeon the lot with Thai baht to make anything permissive. His fantasy was to hire a girl for his morning ablutions, to use her as a toilet.

This idea never came from no-where or even the internet. It came from a 200 lb man he met who seemed to carry a backpack everywhere even the bar. In it was a sphincterum.

A toilet seat on short screw on legs which he sat on over a girl’s face so she could get her tongue deeper in his asshole.

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He borrowed from the gay community who are innovators in ass sex. One day the legs broke, it was a D.I.Y. project and not passed by government health and safety standards, he cracked the girl’s skull and paid 100,000s of BAHT compensation to police and family. She was left ga-ga.

These endless debauched tales of South East Asia needed life breathed in to them. They excited and horrified simultaneously causing big style cognitive dissonance. He couldn’t tell by the end of that tour if they were ‘good; or ‘bad’, innocuous pieces of ‘fun’ or ‘exploration’ or just old plain depraved and reprehensible.

He was sick fed up of them, these stories of ‘hard action’ and guys playing out every conceivable fantasies and fear they had ever heard or come across. Sick fed up of looking at them and reading of them in books picked up and thrown down throughout the day.

UUUU While David mused on his distant faraway love, Quang Dao knew that the merit he referred to was his father’s coping mechanisms in looking after ‘Bill’. David figured this was a rather flat affirmation; he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office.

We must sidestep to get a grip on another VietnameseAmerican encounter from another set of perspectives.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

II Bill and the Military Payment Certificates

these ‘it’s a lovely war’ type guys. The black marketplace always seemed to have what he wanted and since he was contributing, he got back as well. It was obvious that the people who disbursed the rations had performed magic with the steaks, they disappeared or didn’t turn up or whatever.

No matter how the civilians got them, those in the know knew where to go to buy steaks when they wanted them.

It was mid-morning in Saigon, 27th June 1968, Bill, the man who would later be cared for by Peter Quang Dao’s parents, and Ravah, a financial entrepreneur from Bombay were the first customers of the day, and they were greeted quickly by a group of "tea girls," who were eager to get their day's income started. Choice cuts of beef packed in USDA boxes were always available in this joint and Bill was mighty hungry. Soldiers in units like the 9th were served beef on very few occasions. Chicken, turkey and lamb were the standard fare for combat units.

Bill had an interesting past. Born in Scotland, he had worked on the Tay Road Bridge which spanned the estuary of the River Tay between Dundee and Newport on Tay. 2250 metres in length, it was opened to traffic on 18th August 1966. During his time on this project he craved the idea of immigrating to the States. He had an Aunt and Uncle there who would sponsor him but couldn’t guarantee that he would have right to remain. On arrival he was given the prospect of a deal, sign up to the U>S. armed forces and accelerate your claim of citizenship. Bill signed the dotted line,. He spent the next 7 years in Vietnam, and never saw the U.S. Bill craved steaks and had plenty of them from his Viet pals.

He was good for them and them good for him. He was one of

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And this was discussed that day in the tea house.

"Tea girls" were Vietnamese women who would sit and listen to a GI tell war stories or reminisce about home or anything he wanted to talk about, as long as he bought her tea to drink, at highly inflated prices. These were not bordellos. But the chickas were masters at separating a soldier from his pay check and many a novice awakened the next day wondering how he could have been fleeced so easily.

On this day Bill and Ravah, the Indian money changer were not interested, and when they spurned their advances, they sat across the bar with arms crossed, glaring at them with pursed lips as they pouted at their failures to cash in on their obvious charms. For Bill, the thrill of being outside, away from the regimentation of the military, in fact, AWOL, in a war zone, produced a high beyond anything the alcohol that

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

was drunk could do. By the time Bill and his Indian money changer friend left the bar they were feeling very mellow and unconcerned. They were to be in the money…

Catholic family and he had seven brothers and three sisters, most of them married all of them now dead, except for one sister whom they cannot trace in Vietnam. He had been the youngest. After a French schooling he had studied Economics in Saigon before joining the ARVN and proceeded up the ranks quick due to primarily the usual ingredients, nepotism and money. But in fact he could’ve done it by his own merit. He was a good soldier, husband and personable. Those who served under and with him loved him.

UUUU Peter Quang Dao’s father, Tun, had been grateful to get out of Vietnam while he could. His gratitude made him servile in some way to his new home, his new life, looking after old men on war pensions, disabled vets, some of who were going to be alive and in pain for a very long time. He had seen so much madness over his life, culminating in that final copter’ ride, and that man getting kicked out in to moonless night, that he never wanted to fly or fight again. He thought the blackman (Le Roy) would throw him pout next, leaving only the prostitutes on board. He wanted to return to Vietnam but could not fly there, and had no idea how to get there by boat or land.

But now, as he aged himself, Quang Dao’s father no longer felt that gratitude, he felt that night when they let him live.

He regularly felt intense murderous anger. He controlled it partly due to the fact his son Peter, was a serving New York Police Officer. He did not want to shame him. But he himself felt nothing but shame.

Tun Quang Dao had been a full bird colonel in the South Vietnamese Army, the ARVN, and his own family had much land in the Mekong Delta. His was from a well connected

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People listened to his opinions, including the American high command, and he was sure that things were going poorly quite early on. He had masses of Vietcong contacts, exschoolmates and family connections, and they would have lengthy dinners in Cholon. He would feed intelligence to the Americans, about the South’s motivations and intentions. It was an elaborate game of chess, he would embellish and make up stories, and all that he said made him money. He had terrific power and could even order air strikes on select villages, almost on cue. He made some terrible things happen to strangers, but it was remote, he only heard or viewed Ariel photographs in the aftermath. But he imagined the pain and mess and damp. He felt like a demi-god, and both Vietcong, nationalist and ARVN were on the take left, right and centre. If someone screwed them then their entire vicinity could get frazzled – when they were definitely

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

there. Not like when Americans went search and destroy, they often had tip-offs weeks before. There was no morals employed, no political ideologies got in the way of business, just abacus rules, permanently. Firecrakers - Humans are incorrigible patters makers, where none exist they will surely manufacture realties to suit. The same tactics abound tin Indochina today with aid organisations and their ‘research partners who publish just about anything and any figures they want that win them funds and friends and partners… and publics just like any other public limited company or person.

Now, Tun no longer had much power beyond listening, Now his days were numbered and recorded, waiting for Bill’s call, it always came with a loud crashing and angry thump on the bedroom wall when handicapped war-wounded Bill needed anything, and by Christ, that was often. Bill kept a record book of waiting times and Bill held a stopwatch. He even timed how long it took him to come. He awarded points that could be traded for $, all according to his time and motion performances. He was only pulling in half of what he could be, according to Bill. He kept a tight ship in his invalid home.

He had been scared for a long time. Assassinations and counter assassination were rife at his level. Friendly coverts were killing friendly coverts, and dog eat dog eat cat, and nobody knew what to say or do properly come the end when it all came down like a house of cards. Vietnamese are complex and love it this way. Truth was he knew the executed man in the helicopter, the man from the white room, he had taught at the university when he was there.

His family knew his family well, they were mandarins. He would say nothing. He was a legend for both nationalists and communists both claimed him symbolically as their martyr, they had thought he’d perished back in 1969, shortly after man set foot on the moon. Night terrors are as inexplicable as the hidden afflicted side of the moon.

UUUU

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UUUU Bill never forgot his leg lost in Indochina. Especially his foot.

“I loved that foot, Charlie,” he’d say to Tun as he tided up his dinner dishes.

Day and night. Bill could suffer tremendous ‘phantom limb’ pain and assorted state dependent learned trauma. They sometimes had to call a paramedic to calm him down and sedate him. These were times of peace for Tun and he was grateful to Buddha for them, Christ would only ladle on more punishment for him surviving that dark night of the soul over the South China Sea at the fall of Saigon.

Bill had been a no-bullshit senior NCO during the conflict and had the leg was blown off by Charley’s mine early in the troop escalation. He experienced everything that was bad

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

from that war. He also enjoyed its good stuff. A lot of corruption and prime rib money exchanges gave him a nice nest egg to augment his pensions. But he knew he’d rather have a leg than money or another steak, even now, in his 60s. He was certain he still be fucking those damn gooks in their shit bordellos, but he wouldn’t go there. Not because he was scared of flying, he didn’t want them to see him frail and weak.

had smoked a mass of pipes, days were lost and rolled in to one in the intensity, and now he was denied the lot. Many years later David Gotlieb would have sex in front of a girl’s family in that same space, and after that a Japanese man moved in. If the walls had the ears I am giving them.

As a young Marine he had enjoyed copious amounts of alcohol, pipes and oral with Vietnamese and Thai girls on R&R, both in Bangkok and in Saigon in the Hall of Mirrors, and he made this very clear to Quang Dao’s father when he first went to care of him. “Best I ever had was my Lao pipe girl…” In fact he obsessed about it to this day. In the closing stages of the war, he set up home in Bangkok, 1973. The bar curfew was midnight. The girls in Bangkok coalesced in one of two places right after closing to look for their 100 baht lover for the night - Grace Hotel coffee shop or the Thermae. The exchange rate was 20 baht -$1 US - so about 5 bucks. But it got all too much. Once, when he got in tow with a Thai girl who worked the scene, she ended up ripping him off and leaving him stranded without his leg, and locked inside the concrete bunker home. He felt real vulnerable, unbefitting. He’d taken to slapping her about; the neighbours rescued him in the end. He learned to bang very hard on the wall when he needed things. What a legacy, he

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In the beginning of the relationship between carer and amputee, ’73, ’74, ’75, ’76 to almost the Jimmy Carter administration, it was lots of Jack D, and a feeling of camaraderie between the men. Games of chess and sympathy, laced with gratitude and camaraderie.

Over the long bitter years this eroded, and by the era of Reagan, this fine camaraderie gave way to something more corrupt, psychotic almost, disturbing, reprehensible, and morally bankrupt. It was the offset behaviour of miniature closed societies, like when cults go wrong at the turning.

The burly un-couth, un-educated un-cultured NCO, and the educated, aristocratic, refined and sensitive Viet Colonel, their relationship intensified and they become socially cutoff from reality. Buddies passed away over time, and Bill no longer wanted to take part in Nam’ vet gatherings. Before he’d take Quang Dao, first as a friend and later as his ‘man’.

Later still he was an object of amusement for Bill and his

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

buddies and then Qaung Dao refused to go and Bill felt exposed.

In 1967 legless Bill had returned to Vietnam where he was assigned as Battalion Advisor to a Vietnamese Ranger Battalion (Army Rangers are kind of like Commandos). He viewed them as small dick homos, they offended him simply by being, the thought of their useless micro manhoods made him sick to his stomach.

Only TV kept them open to the world of ideas and neither man approved of the changes, but in their own way. Both detested MTV realties because they couldn’t make sense of them.

It was worse when Quang Dao’s family grew up and flew the nest. Bill, in the ‘good’ days, had built an extension for them at the rear of the house. And to some extent there was a partition between Tun and Bill, and the rest of the Quang Dao family. The family lived very modestly and ate rice, whereas at least once a week, Tun had to cook steaks, barbequed, Spring, Autumn, Winter or summer for Bill. Bill insisted that the whole family had to eat with him at thanksgiving, and at Christmas. That was until three years before when Jacky D got the better of Bill and his service revolver was pulled. He slept with it every night. Tun had a secret weapon as well, for security. He, as Bill did in another room, often toyed with the idea of using it on his self. Killing bill, and then killing himself and maybe his family. Maybe even some neighbours and their normality, their status quo.

Bill fantasised of raping the whole family, letting Quang Dao witness this, and then Bill would top himself while inserted in his eldest son. Bill detested these homoerotic thoughts, he heated homosexuality with a vengeance.

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Bill and his commanding officer were the only Americans in this unit. They spoke a lot about things had changed. His officer got killed during the operation where Bill had lost his leg. He didn’t like working things out for himself. This new officer was also shot, while he was off base in local village, and it was about six weeks before a replacement was sent. It was tense. He was far away from his largely desk bound Saigon days, his short times at lunch break, and his crazy drunken nights in the house of 500 women, the Hall of Mirrors an old dilapidated French building, like a hotel, that served very strange cocktails in long flute glasses. There were so many faces and bodies to explore. He knew which ones were a good fit. He had built his repertoire; the only thing he was jealous of was the fucking French.

Yes, now Bill’s social and economic life, even his love life was in turmoil, in this far-flung outpost were porno mags, coke and homo male Viet faces, well one Viet face that featured a lot. Tun Quang Dao. Yes, Bill never saw another American the entire time, although he did talk to them on the radio. There was frequent contact with the enemy and it

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

was a very stressful year. Bill didn’t know that one of these men would care for him in his later years; in fact he didn’t even recognise Tun when he was assigned the job all these years ago. But because Bill had been the only American out there in this post, Tun knew Bill. But he never said. All the Vietnamese men studied Bill as he went around his duties.

They knew he had a disparaging view of Vietnamese men, of Vietnamese life in general. But they felt compassion for him.

hardship as ‘an American with 10 assholes’ in the post-war hatred of Ameriasians.

They recognised that Bill was lonely. He thought he had been quite close to the South Viet troops, and they brought him had a Viet girlfriend, a simple confuciusian farm girl with a nice tight ass and good sucking skills, and he made a baby with her on the nights off from choking felatio. He was, well once, domesticated and relatively happy (that is not to say the girl was). But one day, he was never to see her again, the Huey Helicopter dropped in that day with orders for him to pack his shit, immediately and report to command at Da Nang.

This devastated him. He tried to work out some deal with the Viets to look after her and pass her a letter with contact details, but they just laughed. He didn’t like that, they had given and they were part responsible… He had to this time, lived off base in a small rented apartment, and could even speak a little Vietnamese, but it was largely bar talk, silly little things. Bill was brutish but he had some feelings. That baby went on to experience a life of neglect, privation, and

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The north took the town, and he could only guess to this day what happened to that sweet girl, and a bull necked baby.

Today in this world Unityview cares.

He was never in the front line again. He got another cushy desk job for a while, performing various accounting, payroll, and finance disbursement activities. The outpost he’d been stationed at was taken by the north. Communications ended within two days. Like the military receiver giving out static three days after a massacre. No one was receiving.

But this was much to his economic advantage.

He made numerous money runs to Bangkok to pick up Thai Baht to pay Thai workers, and American Dollars to pay Americans - military and "others". This was a superb scam and whitewashed out the steaks number by zillions.

Yeah, Bill made a stack from the exchange of Military Payment Certificates, or MPCs - military coupons that could be exchanged at favourable rates with local money. We next staggered into a supper club type of place, where we ordered steaks I am sure were intended for consumption by military personnel, but were diverted to the black market. After

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

finishing our meal, a couple of the men took a greater interest in the "tea girls" and spent most of the evening on the dance floor paying for dances while they dreamed they were with their girl friends back home. Maryanne!

at all U.S. facilities. The only use for which certificates were not negotiable was conversion into U.S. green dollars, which were withdrawn from the economy. Soldiers and U.S. civilian employees who received pay in Vietnam were paid in military certificates. Military were not allowed to have US currency in their possession. Each denomination was indicated by a different colour, which coupled with its size made it appear more like play or Monopoly money than legal tender. It was worthless outside Vietnam and each man could only convert $200.00 to greenbacks when leaving the country. Not enough to get fat on‌

A 22:00 curfew was in effect for all military personnel and when the time came we were invited to a hotel next to the club, by the "tea girls" that danced with the men. This open solicitation was eagerly accepted by the guys whose hormones were racing from the night's activities. Ravah and I, primarily because we had no other place to stay the night, reluctantly agreed to go along. Neither was interested in staying with a woman. He was going home the next day and I was just back from R & R with my wife. We sat down at the head of the stairs as the others paired off and went into rooms.

III Bill had multiple Chinese and Indian contacts; Ravah was his real partner in crime.

Until 1 September 1965, U.S. dollars were used as an authorised medium of exchange in Vietnam. After that date, U.S. troops were paid only in Military Payment Certificates MPC, and generally all U.S. civilian firms dealt only in certificates or piasters. The certificates were scrip money, printed by the United States and freely negotiable as money

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The purchase of "big ticket" items at the time was limited by the use of personal ration cards that had to be shown on purchase. So when purchasing a camera, recorder, whiskey and so forth, the card was punched and that was it, for that item. The black market was the only source of supply for additional items. Jewellery, watches and cameras were in high demand and the street market always had an unlimited supply.

The result of these controls was that most men sent the lions' share of their monthly pay home as allotments to wives or parents or to a savings account. While certificates could not be negotiated for dollars in Vietnam, they could be used to purchase money orders or to write checks that could

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

be sent outside of Vietnam and then cashed in dollars or other currency.

gave GI's around 120 piasters per dollar, which if traded to the Vietnamese, even at the official rate, netted a 33% profit.

However, shrewd haggling normally resulted in exchanges of 50 piasters per dollar, which was a whopping 140% profit and to some soldiers worth the minimal risk of being caught.

When the times were good Bill would wax lyrical on Jack D: “Do you remember Quang Dao, what a fucking racket that was? Woof! Locals wanted greenbacks (real U.S. currency) to deposit in their bank accounts, as MPC was not negotiable in local banks. The real boost came when, to help the local economy the piaster and MPC exchange rate was set as almost equal in value. The going legal rate was about 125 Piaster for $1.00 MPC. However, Ravah that Indian rope trick man would give me as much as three times the value of Piaster to get his hands on military MPC. He would then take that MPC, useless to him, and give you twice as much MPC for any greenback dollar. G.I.s get greenbacks sent from home. So a G.I. could take $300 in greenback, trade it to a local for $600 MPC, then take that $600 in MPC and get a money order for greenbacks and send it back home. Lovely, that is what paid for this house and the food on our table you slant eyed monkey!�

There was never an Indian money changer such as Ravah and Bill, who didn't have an ample supply of U.S. bills. The US Government in an effort to bolster the local economy

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While MPC supposedly could only be used by authorised U.S. personnel, those same Indian money changers would readily exchange almost any other form of currency for it. Bill often took Thai Baht especially if he was sent on business or pleasure there. He made several land purchases, lost of course when the North invaded. This is deep. We can stem the tide but not stop its flow. Its close, the guy that wants to kill your business is staring at the cafe you are sipping beer in.

In order to discourage this activity, the MPC was changed from time to time. This was where Bill really coined in. the change was done deliberately on very short notice and you had a very limited time to convert any you had to the new series (it was about 24 hours). Bill ensured that the Indian money changers knew about the impending changes before even the finance people on the base did and they rarely got caught holding worthless MPC.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Bill was in command of this intelligence and passed it on at cost and to his favour.

No one was allowed to leave their installation until he or she had turned in his certificates, and certificates were accepted only from individuals who held the required identification authorising possession of certificates. A record was kept of the amount turned in by each individual, and an equal amount of money printed in the new certificate series was returned to each individual. Once the conversion was complete, certificates from the old series were not accepted for conversion, nor were old certificates any longer negotiable as cash. It all about authorisation, permissions again.

In order to counter such activities, the U.S. command in 1966 put controls on the use of U.S. postal money orders. No individual was allowed to purchase a money order for any amount in excess of the pay drawn by him that month (pay vouchers had to be shown); the names and addresses of purchasers and payees were recorded, and purchases which were considered to be excessive were reported to the U.S. Internal Revenue Service for investigation. In 1967 there were 64 courts-martial for currency and commodity violations on the black market, while in 1968 there were 232 commodity violators (including 12 civilians) and 239 currency violators (of whom 105 were civilians). Because of the growing number of currency violations, a change of Military Payment Certificates, called a conversion, was called for.

On conversion day, which was predetermined and held a close secret (28 October 1968), all individuals authorised to possess certificates were required to turn over all certificates in their possession to specially appointed finance agents stationed at each military installation. Bill forewarned the changers of this. This was his and Ravah’s mission at the Tea house that day. It set Bill up for life. If only he could buy a leg.

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The old series of Military Payment Certificates became worthless, and anyone holding such notes suffered loss directly proportional to the value of the notes he held. On this first conversion date, $276,931,802.50 in certificates was converted. The amount of $6,228,597.50 in old certificates was not accounted for, and presumed to be in the hands of unauthorised persons.

Drugs, particularly marijuana and some sort of opium derivative, were also readily available and in high demand.

Pot was sold by the carton in regular cigarette packages and looked as if it had been packed by an American tobacco company. Regulars, kings and filter tips were available in any brand packaging for around ten dollars a carton. The Vietnamese would carefully open the packages in a carton of cigarettes, remove the tobacco from the cigarettes and

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

replace it with marijuana. They were so skilful that it was impossible to tell with the naked eye that the package had been opened.

Quang Dao and family - to that of some patronising American nurse, or worse some daft nigger that would rip him off when he took too much meds or had too much conversation with Jacky D or Johnny W. There was some continuity. Bill grew his hair very long in protest, piled on weight. He insisted that the whole family watch ‘Born of the 4th of July’ again and again in his room each thanksgiving while he got stoned.

Even if the military had been concerned, which it did not seem to be, it would have been very difficult to distinguish between the clever fakes and real cigarettes. Bill loved a joint then some clever manipulative felatio or jacking.

After Bill would paint opiate on his joints for an apparent knock out charge. One cigarette painted with the stuff was sufficient to send six or seven people into space for a couple of hours. Bill wafted it down. However, the landing must have been rough, as it was for many B-52 bombardiers who were also pipe smokers. After watching the result in others, not too many tried it and those who did, rarely more than once. Those who did go back for seconds or thirds were unable to quit on their own and they became progressively more dependent on the stupefying effects until they were caught and "shipped out." But not bombardiers, they were in short supply. This is deep. We can stem the tide but not stop its flow. Its close, the guy that wants to kill you kills someone else instead. Was it a mistake?

The message and affect of the movie was horrific to all. By the 4th view the family were ill and bill wanted them to construe and attempt lewd acts or he would kill them. You cannot stem the flow, he had been in this condition and it was state dependent learning. He had killed while stoned like this and he had taken what he wanted from the small brown bodies.

As said in the beginning its a sort of fun, repatriated and civilian Bill preferred having the company of Viets – Tun

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

IIII

decided then that Tun Quang Dao deal directly with Bill. A buffer would be made between his family and Bill. His wife would cook and clean the rest of the house, while Tun would care for Bill’s more immediate and private needs. The Quang Dao family only entered the room on occasions. Bill resented this, as he liked to openly play with his stub while the ethnic’s wife was cleansing his room and body. His diabetes meds made it difficult for him to get fully erect.

The sounds of bedroom activity emitting from behind the closed doors were a vast source of humour to Ravah and Bill, as they sat at the top of the bordello stairs, laughing and nipping from the bottle of whiskey they brought with them.

The guttural sounds and marching beds soon subsided and they were left alone in silence to continue nursing their whiskey bottle and reminiscing on how much they had banked…

Some years later bearded nearly bedridden Bill made it extremely clear indeed, vivid to Tun Quang Dao’s wife what his predilections were during the war. She complained politely to her husband that Bill was getting too graphic in his description of Saigon prostitutes and going-ons.

Tun then remembered the loud jeering of the prostitutes in that hellish Helicopter ride to the boat when they left Vietnam. The black man’s anger. They shook all over.

At that time they were contracted to Bill via a care agency, and they had to get involved to quell and mediate affairs. Bill objected to this intervention but his training mad him see some sense. It was the ‘man’s’ (gook’s that is) wife after all. It confirmed to him that he had a yellow traitor in his house, He would punish him with the best thing he’s gotta give.

This was about ’78 or ’79 pre Reagan administration. It was

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So now Bill turned his amorous attentions to Colonel Tun Qunag Dao himself. He was really the only human being he ever saw in the flesh, part from welfare visitors’ and doctors.

He was ‘yellow’. He propositioned straight out and sober that he take care of his “private, private needs if you know what I am meaning.” It took some time, and threats to throw them out, or bring round a few of his black friends (whom Tun was mortified about more than anything) before Tun agreed, for an extra stipend, he would manualise Bill once or twice a week. These were protracted and tiresome sessions, full of frustration as neither man were gay and could find nothing in this act sensual. Also these pesky, interfering meds affected the invalid’s libido. But dogged to the end Bill never stopped trying. Neither did Tun Quang Dao. On his meds Bill enjoyed delusions that he would master this small dicked Asian ‘gook’ and his wife, his fucking

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

servants, and now he would openly masturbate while Quang Dao’s father was around, desperately trying to get hard. He played porn loud. He tortured Tun with sorties of rape n’ murder missions in Viet villages, where they didn’t care if they raped old or very young, male or female, these Americans and Koreans would even fuck their dogs and even their cattle to show that they meant business, and then, and only fucken then, they’d shoot them at the pique of their misery. They shot viets from either side, they just shot Viets.

mistook as communist guerrillas, in order to have total surprise. No problem.

Tun Quang Dao would laugh this off but nervously, falsely, he knew that they weren’t joking. What was worse was that his son Peter, often listened in through the wall. Full capacity Bill had been on such missions, if not with Americans then with the Korean – mean motherfuckers the “Capital” or "Tigers" Division who were deployed in Binh Dinh, and part of Quang Ngai provinces in the Central Vietnam coastal area, where Bill had been based. Quang Dao had been chief liaison officer and had a small staff that was meant to track and report on their operations. It was always about building bridges for Bill, it had always been.

Once a Popular Force (PF, village militia, on the American’s side) squad moved about 50 yards into the Korean side of the railway tracks assigned as a boundary between the two areas of responsibility. The Korean troops opened fire without challenging and killed all the Vietnamese squad, whom they

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The bottom line was that they just killed Vietnamese indiscriminately. The Koreans logic dictated that this was commonplace in the Korean War, both sides indulged in rape n’ murder on civilians from either or both sides, and both militias were the same during the Korean War. They cared even less in Vietnam, while Quang Dao’s father had seen much killing and death in his time, being with the Korean’s offered an infinite nihilistically bleak look into the black blackheart of man.

It left Tun Quang Dao with a powerful, visceral, disturbing view of humanity that looks out into world from the darkest corners of the human psyche and never flinches from what it uncovers. He was infinitely nihilistic, he had entered Pan’s little abyss. And he knew how the prostitutes were with the black men in the helicopter. He knew the Japanese man’s wife, whose life was foreshadowed by the western powers, western national swinging Dick Nixon, and the way they objected to her snacking so much, as she would pile on weight later on and loose her good looks and shapely ass.

The jeering and shouting as the prisoner was dispatched the last one they killed in an orgy of hate. So much so that performing homosexual acts of compassion were not in any

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way beyond them, he knew all Americans were bestial, oxen-like, backward people dressed up as calcified and civil.

Each one was not a star at all, but a world of shells, broken incomplete worlds, where their unquiet suffering was an open gangrenous wound for everybody to bear. That was why so many of them indulged in Christianity and had creation myths. He needed something else.

UUUU He wore a mask though and those meeting him would only see a kindly elderly oriental gentleman. They would never guess he had to work the futile, flaccid penis of and gnarled old medicated marine sergeant in his mouth in the place of his wife. He smelt his wife’s choice of soap powder and fabric conditioner on the sheets and listened to Bill’s asthmatic croaking as he struggled to find erection in a pavilion of mirrors. In many ways the Koreans, Bill and Tun Quang Dao were victims, they were the answer to Coppola’s Colonel Kurtz ambitions in the film Apocalypse Now, when he says in the script: “I remember when I was with Special Forces...Seems a thousand centuries ago...We went into a camp to inoculate the children. We left the camp after we had inoculated the children for Polio, and this old man came running after us and he was crying. He couldn't see. We went back there and they had come and hacked off every inoculated arm.

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There they were in a pile...A pile of little arms. And I remember...I...I...I cried...I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out. I didn't know what I wanted to do. And I want to remember it. I never want to forget it. I never want to forget. And then I realized...like I was shot...Like I was shot with a diamond...a diamond bullet right through my forehead...And I thought: My God...the genius of that. The genius. The will to do that.

Perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure. And then I realized they were stronger than we. Because they could stand that these were not monsters...These were men...trained cadres...these men who fought with their hearts, who had families, who had children, who were filled with love...but they had the strength...the strength...to do that. If I had ten divisions of those men our troubles here would be over very quickly. You have to have men who are moral...and at the same time who are able to utilize their primordial instincts to kill without feeling...without passion... without judgement...without judgement. Because it's judgement that defeats us. " It was so long ago in February 1966 at a place called Go Dai in Binh Khe district, Binh Dinh province and it was searchand-destroy. 380 were killed. The atrocities over that six or

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

so weeks of that particular orgy of rape n’ murder had for so long made short the offensive and lewd suggestions of Bill.

Now he was beginning to forgive himself, and fight back against his missing leg, his lost family, and Bill was irritating him. He wanted to kill this aberration that was jealous of him and his family. Little did Tun Quang Dao realise, little, so little did he know how much his wife knew, and how easy, how much she wanted to kill him and every other American animal, and had done so over the years, and because of the years.

Mortar and loose bullets marked out the passing time of day and tomorrow - durations. I did not even have my eyes and ears that could go out and gather more information for me and deliver the necessary warnings. But real spies have a cover identity, even if that cover was in place many years before they began their secret life. Embarrassed Police Officer Peter Quang Dao’s wife, Lien, came in with iced coffee. “caffe da, moup hai lee” Quang Dao joked, his wife smiled at him as he gazed lovingly at her, such tenderness, intimacy closeness primed David Gotlieb.

UUUU Reuters as well as other foreign news agencies weren't permitted to visit the area of Bill’s boudoir for more information. He desperately needed the/a Buddha; instead he got a Kali and a Shiva as ever more replacements.

The U.S. bases in Laos and Cambodia were never acknowledged to exist by Bill’s government, but they were there like ghosts contributing significantly to keeping the number of names on the Wall to only 58,000. They were as secret as this new turn in affairs between Sergeant Bill McElvoy and his carer.

UUUU

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“You know David,” Said Peter. “wars are complexes of political, media, and militaristic efforts – all are aimed at policing the unpolicable. You may hearken back to rockthrowing days in Vietnam, and lament hatred and rage. But you do not see that those days are quaint by comparison given our current geopolitical situation.”

Johnson and Nixon, whatever else their faults may have been, were internationalists who understood the need for connection to the wider world. The war in Vietnam, barbaric as it was at times, taught humanity a lesson. It did not inspire tens of thousands of Vietnamese to join martyr's brigades. He knows the kind of community relations that need to be enabled to mobilise such an army. The kind of obstinacy, obduracy, a kind of tenacity. This was an American speaking, not a Vietnamese, but it should the

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

insights of the Vietnamese, the tenacity it took for his father to shield his mother, the sacrifice in face, that he took in blowing this paraplegic off to keep a roof over his families head, in the wake of not knowing what else to do in America. Would they open a deli, a takeaway restaurant, how could his wife, from high stock do that? He thought about killing himself and his family recurrently, incessantly but knew that this was no answer. Meanwhile some ‘lost face’ Thai murders a farang for challenging his push in the market place. Maybe the Thai are the two-faced spoiled brats of South East Asia. Or so Vietnamese –American Peter Quang Dao thought when he heard news from that country, they had played a very close game with governments, very shrewd in avoiding colonisation, good with the Japanese then the Americans. It seemed the Thais had it all and lost nothing. That’s why they couldn’t lose face the arrogant assholes; the North Vietnamese regulars should never have stopped in Cambodia. They had beaten back the Chinese red army, taken out he Khmer Rouge, Thailand would have been an economic adventure. Re-education camps would have broadened their minds. He had heard his father get commanded to felate Bill one night, and he cried silently for weeks. It made him hate America. But he loved his job.

Being a beat cop at heart, not a lazy detective, David had his ears to the ground. Due to the nature of his crisis, he’d been asked to attend some other classes, this time, where professional ethnics – someone who gains much money and fame by lecturing ol’ whitey on their wicked racist ways – had taught us how to communicate and cope with other races. “That also gives me a leg up in my ambitions to go forth in the world and do ‘good’.” He’d been in classes where professional women had done similar. Except their beef were solely men and their attitudes throughout time immemorial.

In their private lives they harboured different thoughts, less abstract, more immediate and addressing the voids in their human condition. This would help David get back onto the job, a bit quicker than the usual 6 months leave granted for such maladies.

SS

SS

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It got complex though, when the woman trainer, IndianMuslim, spoke about how her family was expelled from Uganda by the psychotic black cannibal Idi Amin. She explained that she isn't that much of a Muslim any more; indeed ‘commentary’ on Muslim affairs is her professional shtick. He was jotting this down in the same notebook he used for the last set of classes.

But she did speak authoritatively how White racism and "Islamophobia" hold the US's teeming Muslim population back, but because she's also subscribes to the equally

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

complex field of feminist ideology, she couldn’t resist beating up Muslim men in the same sentence. That is strength of will, David thought, very admirable, very smart.

She says things about coloured men that no White journalist would ever dare say. But at the end of the course most men on the course including David were more perplexed than ever, certainly with respect on how to deal properly with these communities. This is deep. We can stem the tide but not stop its flow. Its close and the women that want to kill you believe this is right. You were abusive over the years and now you must die. Only by killing you can she free herself, surely others will support and sympathise with her plight. The victim murders her aggressor while he sleeps one night, at the time and place of her choosing. It was clear that something very big was coming together in the world, coalescing. It was about truth and reality, happiness even, women like the murdress and the trainer may have come from quite different backgrounds, from hippy liberalism, or social depravity, social security and drugs, but now they were speaking David’s langue - calling a spade a spade.

Someone at last, the women’s abuse was like his own. What were they uses though?

America knows. America knows divisions. North and south, east and west coasts, black and white, Native and… But fuck that, look around you, it is the melting pot, a country and a complex of beliefs that the tower of Babel will be revered ethnically, and division on colour, creed, age, and money will dissolve not into the IRS. But division it could be argued is the hallmark of a developed society where the rightful one comes out on top, precipitates, comes to its natural noncontrived level.

SS

SS

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So the antislave Yankies beat those human exploiters in the south, and again the south was brought to bear for its endemic racism. Woman kills a man, he beat her up every night he was drunk as a ritual. He had no reason. She had to kill him; he wouldn’t let her walk away. She had to kill him; she didn’t want to forgive him anymore. It was entirely up to him and her when its murder. America was divided again during Vietnam. Working class youth were conscripted to fight, while the privileged, middle class intellectual elite demonstrated against the war. Such a tough division, and this time it was not resolved, and perhaps still has not been resolved. Nobody won at home, or in South East Asia.

Fascinating David thought, I would fight in ‘nam.

SS

SS

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They – the Vietnamese won - now they are used as a target for western reprobates. Isn’t there a cruel irony in there? He remembered something of the speech of Martin Luther King: “We were taking the black young men who had been crippled by our society and sending them eight thousand miles away to guarantee liberties in Southeast Asia which they had not found in southwest Georgia and East Harlem. So we have been repeatedly faced with the cruel irony of watching Negro and white boys on TV screens as they kill and die together for a nation that has been unable to seat them together in the same schools.”14 Here we are trying to police the world in a just and humane way and some liberals are going out to have sex with natives?

This is clearly not acceptable.

14 "Beyond Vietnam," Address delivered to the Clergy and Laymen Concerned about Vietnam, at Riverside Church

4 April 1967 New York City: http://www.africanamericans.com/MLKjrBeyondVietnam.htm

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We have come a long way here. We a multi-cultural, we are a society based on diversity we should have the role of mediating debates and arguments about what is right and wrong in the world. Young and old Christian morals serve as an acceptable basis upon which to base these laws. They are violated by minority group of liberals who no doubt that think it their God-given right to abuse people in foreign lands. It goes with the territory, typically long hair, maybe even a beard. David had voted democrat and didn’t go to church, but at times like this he felt through and through republican. It wanted to always shoot straight from the hip.

He meant that figuratively and analogously, to be sincere he would need tips from Sue Tyler.

David had demons in his head and he was going to exorcise them by doing something positive. Going to shithole skint country, and sorting out their pedo problem for them. I mean, once we had the audacity to go there and kill them, now I will go there and help them. To begin his slef-training he watched a selection of videos from the mall store including ‘Hearts and Minds’ and ‘Killing Fields’ – his conviction for his mission grew ever stronger. He needed to do more research. He found neglect. It appeared that in real aid terms, the Norwegians are 40 times more generous per person than the Americans, and 4 times more generous than the average Briton. But then it could be economies of scale, more Americans paying less. Would this link to how much

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

they paid for their whores? He was becoming a virtual Michel Moore with the subject.

was, in fact, no such thing as trans-sexual aliens devoted to Kabballah, the vitriol and acidic responses were wild. There would be post after post of "no yuo!!!" This fact, hidden among all the jabs and funny stories, was the most frightening thing of all. It made David glad he would never have children in a world like this.

Meanwhile in another part of cyberspace in another part of the world in a different time zone the themes were ‘Scat Play for She-Males Forum', 'Vegans Against Democracy Forum', 'Other kin: Dragons Only Forum', 'Goths for Jesus Forum'. He once even found a site where the forum members (presumably teenage boys) discussed the possibility that races other than White People are actually robots.

“Fucking second year computer science undergrads . . .” But he wanted their views on men seeking out whores in Asia from a wide bandwidth of people.

He stayed well away from anything suggestive of paedophile forums and the forums where 40-year-old men tried to imagine what it was like to be a girl approaching puberty.

No reason to have himself flagged by the FBI or CSIS or MI5 while at work training. David was not sure whether or not the people on these forums actually believed any of the things they wrote. It was hard to tell, since so much of it was purposely outrageous, not to be taken seriously. But it was obvious that many people did take it seriously. They had to, because as soon as someone countered the fact that there

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VIII. If only David had ownership of some of these stories.

If only he had such stories and ideas!

Over the weeks of long hard research he really tuned in to some concepts and ideas more than others. One was the idea of teaching ethnics how think like democratic global citizens. I mean gender differences are obviously wrong.

David learned that in his CPR training from that Indian woman. Could he mimic her approach? Shit, he even had problems with the new fangled English words dreaming up such approaches but he stuck at it.

Conscientization: Conscientization is the process of becoming aware that gender roles and unequal relations are not part of a natural order, nor determined by biology. Gender roles are typically conveyed through everyday messages in

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government policies, law, the mass media, school textbooks, and religious and traditional practices.

They often reflect systematic discrimination against a social group that limits choices or roles (for example, men should not look after children, women should not participate in elections).

Empowerment entails the recognition by men and women that the subordination of women is imposed by a system of discrimination which is socially constructed, and can be altered.15 This was all beginning to make so much sense. David barely had a day on the Internet when he didn’t have a Eureka. All kinds of messages started coalescing into a meaningful hole.

It was all discrimination. Local cultures had evolved systematic ways of being unfair over centuries; a woman encounters social, economic and political barriers, as well as the hurdle of self-perception. Of course, complex social phenomena—such as law, language, and money—were especially the unintended consequences of individual interactions. For example, no committee or central authority decided to invent human speech, let alone to design a language as complicated as from other people. Thus, speech was the result of human action but not of human design, and 15

A practical guide for empowerment – UNHCR good practices on gender quality mainstreaming Geneva - June 2002

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it naturally evolved into language. This is why Lien acts subservient the way she does to Quang Dao, that mother fucker is a totally patriarchal ethnic passing as an American.

He subliminally controls Lien, I can see the signs. If she were ‘free’ she’d go for someone open minded and fair, with a better body, someone who works out and takes care of themselves, and not bow to unconscious drives passing as culture, but really formed out of malformed social conventions and conditioning. Yes this is right; the way we chose our partners follows emotional schemas formed by the limbic brain back in childhood, so it’s extraordinarily difficult to overcome poor patterns of choice. Therefore Lien is not free to care for and love David. If only he good arrange an audience with that Indian women…

Of course neither David, nor Peter Quang Dao, nor his wife or his father, Tun Quang Dao, nor the women and male colleagues who form the views, policies and perspectives of the UNHDR understood that Quang Dao’s mother was in fact, formally, Miss Lana Nygeyn of Rue de Caradert, in the Saigon District 15 and other various name tags and guises for murderess. But she, like her sisters with Ph.Ds in Development Studies and Sociology - she did not commit rape. But, unfortunately a stripper with street smarts is apparently a Hollywood myth. Women who go out to bars in the city ask for rape. Strippers who work bachelor parties ask for rape. College students who get plastered ask for rape.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

None of these is Lien Quang Dao, she is held under the thumb and disempowered, she is and will never be open to rape (but she was once, by two G.I.s from the 9th). She got over it, but secretly in her American heart of hearts would like to locate and sue the ass off them now, all out of earshot of her husband and kids.

The neocortex working in close conjunction with the limbic brain.

This last point really hit the mark with David. These women and kids were being duped at a really deep level. So when they were at home, thinking about themselves, they didn’t realise that powerful men were duping them. Wow, this deep. They were running a kind of reality tunnel, kidding themselves like David had when he wanted to become a detective when the beat was more his scene. Not only were they depressed and suppressed politically and by their local customs and culture, they were imprisoned within their own fucking minds!!! This is criminal. It would never happen in the United States – the land of the free. Here women can call a spade a spade, and an educated Pakistani women can criticise Muslim Men openly, and even write across billboards and public transport systems plastering a city – ‘MAN DOES NOT HAVE THE RIGHT’ – ZERO TOLERANCE CAMPAIGN - everybody has a voice on the media, and everybody is fairly represented in the countries foreign policy. Michael Moore can also criticise in movies, and he makes loads of money doing so. David wanted on this bandwagon. Saving the world and making money doing it.

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Even his Dad would approve (as if David cared). Pop always made it clear that the French revolution gave rise to two basic new ideas: that political change is normal and acceptable (even desirable), and that sovereignty resides in "the people" not in a monarch or state.

In the face of the first idea three ideologies arose, conservatism (which sought to retard change as much as possible), liberalism (which sought to manage it 'rationally' and work inexorably to a perfect system through gradual improvement), and socialism (which wanted to do something similar to liberalism, but much faster and more abruptly).

To make women wear veils is just plain wrong, thought David, why is it tolerated? Everybody should be equal, have equal money, make choices on which men and women they sleep with, live ecologically friendly lives, and care for each other. IF women choose to wear veils then that’s up to them, not some mullah or turban headed dude, but if they choose to wear a veil that is because they have been indoctrinated with edicts which are male orientated and unreasonable.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

They need liberated at the neurological level. Maybe there is a pill for it, but for the time being it needs consultants who are experts in helping women find their own voices. Even in homosexual, cross-faith and trans-cultural marriages, it was obvious and clear. David had experienced conscientization in comfort of his own home, now he will keep an eye out for it in his streets. He wanted to shout it out in the street, but he knew his neighbours were still in the dark ages, nice as those next door were and nasty as those others across the street, they wouldn’t understand. He stopped going to Denny’s they may be like McDonalds and don’t they promote inequality? Don’t they pay their managers more than the desk jockeys?

for $3). I mean cutting out women from the Starbucks queue could bring the company down. Women shouldn’t stay at home cleaning and cooking and waiting to get screwed. What an old fashioned Neanderthal perspective.

They should be on the phone commanding. David’s mother was never like that. The eye level photos in his home attested to that. She was hairy and angry just like David’s pop, there was an neutral sexuality to them. It was comforting to read that in these countries women groups were being formed to discuss and identify gender inequalities and therefore point out thoughts and behaviours for eradication. The resistance of men to this is deplorable.

David starting feeling guilty for not being born a woman, but David came round to thinking he was the next best thing, he was an American – in that he could take pride not one of those ethnic honchos putting women down night and day. If it's not reported, it didn't happen, and you never have to deal with the issues. He couldn’t wait for the next class.

Women should have access to goods and services on an equal footing with men. Like how he used to buy marital aids for his phone masturbation sessions. It was always a pleasure, a real pleasure that is, to see butt plugs marketed in the usual Amazon.com layout – down to the "customers who bought this item also bought" feature. The top seller was the 99¢ Metallic Gold Slim Line Lady Finger Mini Massager, i.e., a shiny gold vibrator that fits in your purse and is a sure fashion match your to $1500 dollar custom ‘Paris Hilton’ gold-painted NIKE sneakers (author’s note: made in the bordello liberating Cambodian and Vietnamese sweat shops

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He was thinking about those guys at the BBQ who uncovered the abuse of porn in the Cambodian countryside.

Heroes!

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His life seemed mundane suddenly in the shadow of his researches. Where the fuck is Cambodia anyway? He went online, scythed his way through the pop-ups and searched for the place. “Ah, beside that other den of inequity Thailand, and oh!, and sandwiched on the other side by that other potent symbol of America, Vietnam.” The only way the public can learn of the facts is through such 'arguable rumours'.

How strange, one side a decadent brothel of place and the other side a Spartan communist country whose economy was on the up, but would be renowned for ever as the little country that beat America. What about Cambodia. He searched and made it his homework. His project. He digested facts from the CIA worldbook. He read reports by adventurous reporters. He soon had an identikit picture of the place, a pastiche of what was important about it. It’s going to be hot; it is a crazy, wild place with paedophiles running about chased by non governmental organisations working with local police and Embassy officials.

He wanted to find out about organisations and activities in which he could help the fight against perverts. He looked locally at first, clubs, churches, part time jobs, and volunteer work like the VSO. He generated lists. Maybe he should go there in a kind of clandestine mission to suss it out, get the lay of the land so to speak.

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Ask for ideas from someone who has been around longer than you have.

It was clear that the place was like Thailand but worse. Not only decedent, there was lots of illegal activities going on there. These stereotypes about men not only normalise and trivialise prostitution but are also good business strategy, relieving johns and tricks of any doubts regarding the social acceptability of their sexual predication while at the same time inviting them to spend their money. In some countries, profits from the sex sector are included in estimates of its economic activity. For example, in the Netherlands, the sex industry constitutes 5% of the GDP.16 Maybe this is a place where John Wayne David Gotlieb can help out? David figured this was a rather flat affirmation; he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office. He bought his tickets. Bangkok, then Phnom Penh, then Ho Chi Minh. As David became politicised, he started to clean up his act. He threw out his best luxury vibrator set: Babeland's Le Tigre (cost him $249 – he posed as desperate housewife when he ordered it), Hmmmm, Le Tigre isn't just a hot electro-grrrl 16

Daley, S. (2001, August 12). New rights for Dutch prostitutes, but no gain. New York Times. Retrieved August 25, 2001, from www.nytimes.com/2001/08/12/international/12DUTC.html

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

band from New York anymore. It's also a vibrator with a set of screw-on tips – in metallic hot pink – that comes in its own shiny silver lunchbox-size briefcase with a lock.

abbreviated in espionage lingo as NOC (pronounced like the word "knock"). What a wonderful panacea for those who are used to kidding themselves!

Yes, at $249 it was a little pricey, but it was payday and if you demand something that reminds you of Kathleen Hanna every time you orgasm, these are the toys for you. It would get him in touch with his feminine side, Lu would appreciate that. With gender mainstreaming ethnic men and women of all persuasions and hues will own one, and dance like Beyoncé and Britney, have access to custom designer kitchens, and enjoy garden centre visits with the supportive partners of their choice.

VIX. Non-official cover (NOC) Non-official cover (NOC) is a term used in espionage (particularly by the CIA) for an agent or operative who assumes a covert role in an organisation without ties to the government he or she is working for. It's typically

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An agent sent to spy on a foreign country might for instance pose as a journalist, a businessperson, a worker for a nonprofit organisation (such as a humanitarian group), or an academic. Nonofficial cover is contrasted with official cover, where an agent assumes a position at a seemingly benign department of their government, such as the diplomatic service. If caught, agents under nonofficial cover are usually trained to deny any connection with their government, and do not have many of the protections offered to (for example) accredited diplomats who are caught spying. Some countries have regulations regarding the use of nonofficial cover—the CIA, for example, has at times been prohibited from disguising agents as members of certain aid organisations, or as members of the clergy.

The degree of sophistication put into nonofficial cover stories can vary considerably. Sometimes, an agent will simply be appointed to a position in a well-established company that can provide the appropriate opportunities.

Other times, entire front companies can be established in order to provide false identities for agents. Examples include Air America, used by the CIA during the Vietnam War, and made famous by the eponymous film. Another is Brewster

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Jennings & Associates, used by the CIA in WMD investigations, and made famous by the Plame Affair.

fucks off to Cambodia; "Initiation" deals with the hero's various adventures along the way, doing his groundwork finding out how extensive the rot is; and "Return" deals with the hero's return home with knowledge and powers acquired on the journey. Applied to the internet, it meant exploring and browsing and storing and cataloguing his atrocity exhibition. For instance he found this one:

David, given a second chance at life would have loved to become a NOC. But this was this life, in its totality, and even though he had lived pretty much unexceptionally, he could leave a nice footprint working under his own initiatives and using his own resources. These countries required little in the ways of money to stay there. And he would pretend he is a common sex tourist. The Lonely Planet he picked up in Borders suggested he could live for less than $10 a day.

IX DAVID’s lonely hearts column The meaningful exhaustion of the interaction of words, worlds and symbols. Hookers, trafficking, rape, murder and abduction, arch-backed forced anal, Dickensian lifestyles.

Ideas are built of an interlocking of meanings. Pedo, Mature Caucasian men, sex-tourist, porn and AIDS. Meanings can be represented by symbols and Myths, Avatars, websites, plane tickets, Departures (sometimes called Separations), Initiations and Returns. "Departure" deals with the hero venturing forth on the quest, David

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I am an intelligent Japanese girl I do have slight Asian accent sooooo sorry but that does not mean I can't make you hard *wink* PLEASE NOTE: I am not 350 pound fat, bald man with voice changing machine, who has bitch fits~!!!I am the real deal!!!! call me and I promise you the best time *wink*.

For us, these symbols have become words. He has to pick out what is ‘real’ from what is not ‘real’. One simply can’t do it online. It may bring out the fantasies as it makes the quiet, lonely and disentranced heard. As it lends them a voice. Will they ask for food or a better life, or will they ask for more clients.

X

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

At the beginning of the last century families were typically larger, and very few people lived alone. Not too many Davids.

life – Mandy. She gave him ‘phone’ that is spoke dirty to him while he jacked, and she also met with him in their shared little fuck pad in Second Life – your online virtual world and life.

Today however, the trend has reversed direction: over a quarter of the entire U.S. population lived alone in 1998. In 1995, 24 million Americans lived in single-person households; by 2010, it is estimated that number will have increased to around 31 million.

It's not just a problem of more people living alone. Familial connections are much more tenuous than they used to be.

Nowadays, it is not at all unusual for family members to be separated by hundreds or even thousands of miles. It is the collaboration and cooperation of individuals in elaborate interdependent networks of relationships that allows new capabilities and talents to emerge. Individual fitness leads to greater societal and communal fitness and the connections and relationships strengthen and reinforce the fabric of society. This is mobilities, flow and flux.

“She is just so sexy and so nice to her fans - and if you talk to her, you'll become a fan and a friend.

She's sweet, hot, sexy, and even if it's not the July 4 Holiday weekend, you'll probably share fireworks even in Winter. Or the rain. She's what's best in American woman - beauty, sexuality, affection, warmth. And a great hot bod! I love you, Mandy! A true pet Pussycat! :)“ No it’s not working, not tonight Josephine. He dreams of his trip, his means to changing his life forever. He regrets his ventures online and hopes that no agency has recorded his transactions and interactions lest they believe that this is his true self or Tipereth.

After a hard gym sessions, pumped David gets home and he is not attracted to Mandy Lynn. She is the classic American blonde centrefold, carrying the torch from Marilyn Monroe.

The ‘other David’ David Gotlieb’s former next door neighbour that tried, and succeeded in turning our David into a cybersex or Sex 2.0 dude, spoke about his love of his

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Yet as individuals weave this social fabric, spun through our browsing and parlance online from the solitary comfort of our sentimentally controlled pods.

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A paradox is first created and then realised - the individual must surrender autonomy to achieve community. This paradoxical tension can lead to even greater awareness and understanding of the role of the individual in society, or it may contain the seed of our eventual self-destruction.

Maybe David needed an ebony queen instead of an Asian dragon: “Hey Yall Wusup.. This Your Girl Tah~Tah Licious!

Feel like Chating.. The choice is Yours.. We can Talk about music.. We can just laugh and Bug out we can Talk about relationships.. I got mad Love For My Fans.. Just Holla at me? Need a list Of A&R's I can hit you off with that just get at me.. I got you!!

Need Help writing a hook or song Get at me.. Im All yours.. But anyway.. As yall know I wont Always Be available but I will do my best to get at Yall when I can.. Thanks for showing ya love! TAH~~”

Lonely David often reported feeling depressed, angry, afraid, and misunderstood as he spoke on the phone to Princess LU. All roads and colours and hues of ethnics led back to her.

David feels hated and despised by women. Profoundly excluded. Women dress and bare themselves to attract - but not him. He feels they are indifferent to him. How he feels on a beach. Sexual desire is all one way. There are those he hates and those he despises. …

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She ‘enjoyed’ him being alone. She spoke the truth. He was too highly critical of himself, overly sensitive or self-pitying; he was becoming critical of others, blaming others for his situation. This made her laugh cruelly. These fucking Muslims. He was such a good lookin’ man. His mother used to say so, girls he had dated had said so. He thought so. So why was he alone? Alone meant ‘loser’ didn’t it? What other interpretations were there? David figured this was a rather flat affirmation; he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office.

27. Classic sextourism Things were there to be looked up to.

As David hit Bangkok for the first time since he left, his mind was awash with memories of how he almost went off the rails in to sex addiction. This drove him to drink and to scream at signs like raging egomaniac. It was a tremendous release that he was sure that even Dr. Winslow Wong would approve of. But he broke with that last appointment and never did tell him about the trip.

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But my how his views had changed, after the first two nights. All he could see was loud, obnoxious, overpaid, disrespectful, overvalued fools, with soccer jerseys replete with no concept of family obligation or spirit reverence that sometimes behave in a fashion that suggests they have jai dee but more frequently just screw women and sisters, make completely inappropriate and unrealistic demands, embarrassingly assert their ‘individual rights’, and throw around more money in a day then most civil servants make in a month. [Could be worse though, they could be western consultants for Aid and Development organisations who make more in hour than most citizens whose country they are helping make in a year].

He was there in 1989. The tallest thing in his city was the temple tops. It now looked like something from the future, Tokyo or something. Sure old Bangkok was there hidden and superimposed by concrete overpasses, but so many skyscrapers, so many malls. Officer Gotlieb stood in front of all of them and then remembered his debauchery from before. He felt shamed. Of all of them all, He admired the ingenuity of the Thai. Then hew remembered his debauchery. Nana plaza at about 8 PM …. He just could not take it all in that’s why he got drunk, lights, and bikes, cars, girls, food stalls all going somewhere very quickly, overkill.

A lone face stared him out. He was unsure if it was male or

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female or in-between, both yin and yang. Later, she said ‘no problem’ and called the mamasan over and paid her own bar fine. He was waiting for her to hit for the money she didn’t.

A bar girl that apparently didn’t mind putting her hand in her pocket. This is choice. David knew he wouldn’t see this in Cambodia. She said “why always worry about money, I no wan your money I have enough, I just wan see you and have fun” once you take away the money from the equation it feels far more normal now getting it all gratis it was hard not to fall for them, the defences were truly lowered and we let them in! Her defences lowered, David’s on the attack, She berated me for my naiveté? 10 days of reconditioning, reprogramming and debriefing. happy, sex hungry women all thinking I was a handsome man, and opened my eyes to the fact that I was in a town populated by many uneducated, poor and exploited girls, wanting my money and nothing more expect the man without qualities. He needed a hotel with a gym.

Faith breakdown, self-hurt, self-pity, withering, highs and lows of a 20 year marriage in the space of 10 days.

The perils. Back then a classic sextourist would be a fat, balding man, Nam vet, with a money pouch up front, with

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

hairy hands and poor personal hygiene. Shit maybe he could be an ex-NYPD or LAPD detective. The men (except for the younger military servicemen) are invariably described as paunchy, middle-aged, balding or greying - real losers is the obvious impression we get - and usually fall for the mystique, perhaps knowingly but not caring. That’s right ain’t it? It’s not fucken rocket science. It’s not social science.

I bench pressed 280 lbs. thinking this. Whhoosh!

forgotten love – Sri Mom. He lifted the weight and took the burden again and again and again…

The people on the plane. Some proportion of them would be his target.

They may later find themselves in unsatisfying relationships or over-committed to work and extracurricular activities.

That’s when they think of teens. He had read how many of our adult sexual fantasies depict an experience of being totally and unconditionally accepted, as when we were helpless infants. These sorts of fantasies reveal a deep yearning to gain access to the “unknown” and to transcend a profound existential lack, a “hunger” for the ecstasy of closeness to others and to the divine that is sadly missing in our limited, bodily reality. He liked that it reeked of how he felt about Princess LU. She was a real woman. No teen. But handsome. Oriental, no prostitute. She had choices, she could make choices for him and that was erotic. She could give him choices. Or she could take them away in a moment.

Whoosh another bench press this time thinking of his

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The fantasies of LU intoxicated him on the plane journey west, with a euphoric and expansive imagery. He saw those sting with Thai wives, no doubt ex-prostitutes taking their ATM machines for whatever they can get – long time.

Whooash – another bench press this time failing half way up, his muscles failing after only 6 reps, he thought of his painful debauchery and was scared he’d sinkin to it again… again… again…

They promised fulfilment of the physical senses over the years, but not harmony and fidelity. This was a “hunger” of the ears, and as with the “hunger of the eyes” it was lust.

The internet provided eyes and ears for David. His favourite porn sites, his favourite pictures ‘borrowed’ from these sisters, his cache in other words, his favourite sex phone girls. A rightful and legal one, safe as well remembers people, based on the permissions granted by two consenting adults . . . on a telephone. Whoosh. “Three.”

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Sometimes the fantasies became so vivid and euphoric that they seemed to be “spiritual.”

Nevertheless, by distracting David from his true limitations, primarily that of being alone, the fantasies really caused him to miss the whole point about spiritual responsibility - On arrival he took a cab in to town; he had a booking at a classic haunt hang-out – The Nana Hotel.

Some of the bars at the Nana Plaza are stupendous. Some of the bars at the Nana Plaza are dismal. And so it is with life.

The Thai Bar Girl will accept this as she has been trained to take care of the family. She thinks in the immediacy, but thinks of family. It has been said 'You don't just marry the Thai Girl, you marry her family too'." Then you provide for one more…one more…one more… one more… always one more, if it is not her compassion, it is her mothers and so on…

Ok, Ok shut it, into the swing of it all, he motor mouthed to the girl at the bar, moved forward on her expectations and scripts, he was to remain one step ahead, one step forward.

Lost deep in his rapture laced being with jet lag and beers he ventured the words to 70s records to a guy he had just become best buddies with, this man was hungover and noone was receiving:

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“And so my name is David everybody!”

Officer Gotlieb, screamed in the street at the Nana Entertainment Plaza sign. Some thirty female Thai skulls simultaneously shot a glance trying to work out if it was ‘he’ – the one they lost, the one they’d rather forge regretted, the one with the ‘too big’ appendage, or the one they had been looking for [but not too deeply], the stupidest fucker of them all…one more etc.

At Soi Cowboy he screamed a variation:

“I live in California. I am 6’ 1” and I work out. I am a Police Officer I LOVE the life here, with all the crazy fun loving people around! I just turned 32, I am not married nay, any more, no kids, no baggage and here I am now, made just for you!”

His hangover friend who was on his 13th unlucky night psychologically and emotionally was cringing at some of the disclosure and truly wondering if he could muster the will power to break company and fuck off back to his hotel. But he bizarrely was self-aware enough to realise he needed some of this ‘first night guy’ energy and abandon, So he smiled as best he could and had one more drink, These alcohols was slowly melting in his body systems like sugars

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

and his angst was glacially dissolving with this reaction. He was beginning to glimpse prospective bed friends. IN a respite from being harangued for lady drinks and buying them for all and sundry David kicked in more intimately:

When he had said that, and looked full into the dark, dark deep South China sea eyes of bargirl in her barworld, The catch titles of various Asian porno movies that he possessed or desired came up in his mind. Titillating titles like: “I luv Asian” “Asian anal attacks” “Asian rugs for sale in Bangkok” “Backdoor Asian visit in poonland” “Lotsa Asian” The last one made him laugh so much it had put him off his stroke.

The picture depicted a wanton seaman licking a female Asian’s ass. She was loving it, even though she depicted confusion modesty by chewing a little on her long manicured Jade coloured fingernails.

“Look buddy, I’ll admit to you that I can't claim that I am too sexually experienced, so please don't expect all that weird sex stuff:-) If you hang with me tonight, and drink with me, I will let you have a deeeeep look into my life without restrictions or taboos!”

There was an almost homoerotic bend to this last statement that made his wasted friend, who had ceased to feel hungover and psychotic, more like mellow and numbed, pay bar for the next immediate average looking girl and leave…

He could picture continuing the night listening to this guy rant and rave. Meanwhile David was drunk to an incomprehensible level unbecoming of an officer of the law.

But he was in Soi Cowboy, and remembered his association to his gun. But he was abstract now, he muttered to the girl one more flanking him mindless abstracted platitudes, something of his ‘this’ and ‘that’ which he had imported: “I would like to meet you if you are Asian . . .”

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“Whoosh! urg, FOUR!!!! Small dick, mother fucker” One more rep in the set, the barbell almost dropped on his head. Ha ha he giggled and gargled gently to himself. I luv Asian . . . good job nobody can get inside the party in my head.

Yes, David’s first night in Bangkok came and went in a drunken stupor. He woke with the room door ajar; vomit, food and piss all over the bed, His wallet intact. He left 100 baht for the cleaner and went for his complementary breakfast.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Outside it was serious again

off, that she jack him, even then he had problems, she knew this was how it ended for many farangs – young and old – they miraculously defeat themselves. She wanted to live, he wanted to kill himself in that Nana hotel room, And while he murmured that he was doing this for Princess LU. He must forget her; she is worse then his varicose veins for sex.

A crazy macho man turned sex pest vigilante, decided that this was OK, it was Bangkok one more…one more…one more… one more…

Outside it was serious again. Sculpting. Making everything good. All was in its place. Was he going to blow his wad today? Whoosh “five”. He was already buying into his own internal states of excitement and propaganda. He decided finally to give in and take a whore back from the afternoon beer garden, he was so fucking clumsy with her, he forgot what it was to have sex in all that time, it was a 3000 baht disaster.

He couldn’t get it up, he was pawing her tits like they were innate, inanimate, some strange objects on his designer kitchen granite worktop. Then he couldn’t come, embarrassed he was actually nude in the presence of someone. And now he must perform. Even the word ‘perform; applied to sex suggests insincerity and some sort of pretence, mask and act. And this was not gung ho rimming like in ‘I luv Asians’ anymore. No it was more like ‘David Gotlieb learns what a grand masturbator he is and how he throttled the life out of his libido with misconstrued ideas of human sexuality’. Not a good movie at all. He also felt inadequate downstairs, he felt like he was fat and paunchy and this contributed to a shrinking small dick. He tried, struggled to put this down to him reflecting those physicalities around him, surely these monstrous fat fucks are not getting it up enough? In the end he demanded, pissed

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It took officer Gotlieb two weeks, 12 girls, $3457.45, 9 hangovers, one box Valium, two Cialis, one v-tab, a box of Trojans, several two-on-one anal sessions at the Eden Club, trips to Lolitas before began to find his long lost libido. This did not include his brief expensive career as a Thai Jewel expert in the making. No this was costs associated only with his rediscovery of self.

But was it. Who was the real David, the American vacuum cleaner attachment or the sex god in he ma pleasured him self making out with schoolgirl type petite 40 kg bodies? But this was only sex. There was all that in-between. But sex preoccupies the mind night and day, day and night, online and offline. Surely it is major in defining you David thought.

He had wandered off the beaten track and wound up with some Thai police major, who had taken him to decent Karaoke, and he glimpsed something more, something

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

beyond. They had no intrinsic value for sex. It was literally part of the smorgasbord of experiences throughout the day.

It was as normal as brushing your teeth, an interest hobby or need. It was only westerners who had made so much of it, made it into something that is pushed and compressed, dirty and sleazy, amplified it out of proportion and made it unobtainable to feel, see and watch even. Here it seemed trans-moral. And David didn’t like this one iota. It was his father’s pluralism creeping in, creeping in like a Rhizome into Asia. He parted company early that night and slept alone. It had damaged slightly his determination and stance.

This would not happen again.

nor concordant with church edicts, he actually fucked and boozed his way to his libido. He now held it high for all to see as his standard. He had to learn how to be a NOC. He had to learn how to act like a genuine sex pest in order to do what he came to do. But David couldn’t ‘see’ his bombastic ‘other self’ the hedonist who bangs hse in front of their communities for his personal pleasure, or how inflicts ‘forced anal’ and then pays for hospital treatments plus tip.

Bangkok was a legal or semi-legal whoring zone. His partners were all 18+. He was concordant with the laws for the United States although he knew that once in Cambodia he would be entering grey areas, blurred boundaries, mutable borders, he would be having and seeking sex with stateless ethnics. Ethnic with no papers no proof of age, no ID, again and again and again. He had never known such an animal. Would they kill him, he never knew. He tried to resist, pretty feebly he would admit, but he was overcome by a superior well trained force.

David’s safe sleazy world coalesced in the barworld and the nightlife after he had taken one more…one more…one more… one more… and went through one more…one more…one more… one more… He loved to fuck the girls, search out the youngest and prettiest and then try and chat to her how she ended up in debauchery. His project was Cambodia; he actually cared little for the plight of any Issan girls. He used Thailand as a training ground.

He was not still on target though, even in the midst of all this non-recommended-by-the lonely planet guide activity,

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As he found and explored his new found and long lost libido, he lost Princess LU forever. She was lost in the abyss of the waste, an artefact of possible and forgotten worlds. He had never been truly lonely, he’d merely lived like man who sacrificed his penis, once, for his country…and that means forever. “I am easy,” certain money, but these numbskulls can't plan anything 24 hours ahead. One more…one more…one more… one more… time, David ended up in the

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Voodoo bar in Nana Plaza, and thought he was safe there.

The girls were up on the stage, and tonight it was no cattle market but a Berlin wall. He did not think they could get to him. Then he realised that they were on display, but he wasn’t going to partake. However, he had been out for some time, and a few beers had been swallowed and Dutch courage had kicked in. There was a particularly sexy girl up on the stage strutting her stuff, and David couldn’t, David wouldn’t take his eyes off her. First mistake, she caught his gaze and looked back. He watched her most of the time he spent there, and then all walked off the stage. OK show finished no problem. Then suddenly someone sat very close to me touching his side. He looked, and guess what? It was his non-verbal lady, now her warm flank touching his side.

David was tongue tied because I couldn’t help fancying but feeling like crying out, “but what do you do with a prostitute?” Easy. One more…one more…one more… one more…

masturbation and Asian ‘phone’ as the waste ‘dictates’ and had taught him was his only [unhealthy] path in life, and only option. He had screamed orgasm in bits and bytes when LU had let him kiss and lick the pussy of her way too young little sister, while she toed his butthole with her high heel. It seemed strange that she chose this scenario, but a fat old balding man is good at knowing what another man needs to know. He was ready for space flight, ready for Cambodia one more…one more…one more… one more… He was packing his bags for somewhere he’d never been. He raped her asshole like he’d been done as a child. The circle of use and abuse, the circle of use and abuse, the circle of use and abuse, the hole monotonous angle of this maddening loop being earthed, grounded in telecommunications relief.

David was now accepting and welcoming with slight hesitation and reluctance prostitution into his life again, and as if it was normal. After some time, one more time, that is, he was literally and figuratively able to ‘make love’ again instead of harbouring abhorrent fantasies which wavered between self-destruction and self-degradation, fantasies reinforced by hard-impact Vacuum cleaner attachment

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And after he came, his false memory was dissolved like any other woken fantasy. He has never had these experiences, they were born of fatigue and loneliness and expectant parents. He fell out of love with LU, although it was not celebrated as such, this was the first day of a short lived freedom for David.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

PART III

I. David and Otto sit at breakfast - Ace Of Diamon’ The hour of the lion. 9.30 am. The twentieth day of the month of Adar, in the year five thousand three hundred and forty after the creation of the world, yes in the fourth hour after another midnight, another – one more day on planet earth, in another way, in another, another session of heavy talk is dragging itself out of bed, in the time aged Socratic tradition . . . again. One more…one more…one more… miles from home.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

David has been in Phnom Penh for a little over 3 months.

He is an old hand, but he has learned little. Little about his mission. He is playing it cool, holed up in a cheap hotel with adequate services and Bloomberg and MTV. The shit type of place detailed in ‘Off the Rails in Phnom Penh’ which served as inspiration for his mission. When he does a long time, he moves temporarily into an aircon room. He believed he was staying at the Majestic. Some people said they were characters in that book and that it was largely fiction posing as sensationalist journalism. The guy who told him had never left the place since that period.

improved that the other man. He was sick of the bars some nights, he craved a deeper relationship. He was sick of how he’d behaved at home. What the fuck had he been wanking like that for? Maybe the jacking had made him shit himself that day in the car, and had muted his career. OK, it doesn’t make you blind but maybe impotent, not just sexually...?

What was worse was the 1000s of $ he’d spent on conversation and not a positive conversation, getting degraded and ordered about sometimes for almost $50 a minute!!!! Conversation with someone he had never met and would never meet. He was miles from home.

Their conjecture, journalists and NGO groups making a name for them selves by highlighting behavioural, attitudinal and sexual deviancy made it hard to unpack reality in Cambodia for David and millions of other compassionate caring people. He found his precocious nature getting warped. Was it drinking too much? He moved in and out of love for the barworld he inhabited with others at night. He liked to move around them, like the child at a fairground of similar rides. If you dwelt a little deeper each was a hall of mirrors, all comprised the pavilion. But he had long lost that god’s eye view, the view of the new arrival, the screaming shouting David that mimicked the lyrics to 70s songs to a disinterred but pretending to be interested bargirl and other drinkers, one of which was the bargirl’s foreign boyfriend. He had given up on thinking he was better, more

He had really worked through the idea if everything that surrounded him was complicit in some sort of nether world of people who trap, purchase, and molest abuse and profit off of women and girl children, who are robbed of all identity and dignity, treated like pure commodity. Familiarity had helped him work off this notion. It no sort of just was. But it linked to the idea that he paedophilia was going on in house 12, apparently so was rimmin’. He became used to that, but no longer was obsessed with it. He knew this when he met three intrepid women film journalists who had gotten funding to visit Phnom Penh for 4 days to produce a movie about the plight of women. Like him they had done research, believed all they read, formed opinions and came out here where they were met by Sue Tyler of Unityview,

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

reputedly one of the more innovative and inventive outfits address the trafficking issue.

branding him as a child abuser and he felt a little exposed having no group, no agency, not even the US government to back him. He was NOK and couldn’t blow his cover, but that made him weak. Yes he was being brave, and the states are the home of the brave and the land of the free but if only he had been the director of South East Asia Research or something. It would lend him credence. He went quickly to the freelance bars and took a healing short time. He loved these women man, those western bitches…

They were mortified by what they saw and heard. Sue had brought them ‘stock’ victims whom they filmed verbatim.

The stories of rape, or rape n’ murder of very small girls made them all vomit and hit the Heart with vengeance each and ‘E’ very night. Then there were ‘gentler’ stories of ‘nice’ girls who have to hang out with very fat old men, that too is a shame, but hardly newsworthy. Hung-over, but wined and dined well by Sue and Pam, they continued shooting. The movie naturally showed Unityview in a very positive light.

It had nothing to do with the Canon De Chevreuil Au Pain D'epice Sauce Grand Veneur Declinaison De Celeri, a dish cast in a much richer version than they were used to back home. The dishes had nothing to do either with their nausea, bullshit as usual for entrée, played a more key role.

SS

SS

David listened dispassionately to their reports and was beginning to think they had a paranoid and estranged view of Cambodia. They were condemning this view to celluloid.

He tried to debate it with them and they accused him of taking the ‘male gaze’ take upon their work. This deeply offended David, but what could he do, they were basically

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SS

SS

But then he felt that harder in Pattyhaha. PP was intense and relaxed at the same time. Compression and expansion simultaneously how is that possible psychologically? He felt that ‘off the rails’ was still being played out even though he’d checked out and found Svay Pak no longer operating, and many of the Bordellos around town had been closed down.

The girly bars were pitiful compared to the madness of Bangkok, Pattyhaha, and Patong, and hardly anyone was smoking weed. It was mainly brand new Lexus SUVs and long, long supermarket queues for imported luxuries items including fine cheeses and other French delicatessen products and American packaged goods. Surely pedo ring money must be paying all these pimp families to live in the cusp of luxury?

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SS

SS

Every man he saw was a potential client or pimp, bar the few ex-pats he had met who seemed OK – how do you categorise the overexposed? Otto was one; an eccentric Austrian who David presumed worked in one of the local universities teaching computer science. Every girl or woman he saw was a prospective victim of trafficking and prostitution. How else can they afford such clothing and gold in a country who the CIA dictate in their tome, The World Fact Book, as having an average annual income of some $270 a year!!! It must be prostitution. It’s rife here.

He wanted to monger them, they looked so fresh and clean, but he desisted, instead favouring sessions at local top class hotel where for a little extra he was fixed after he was rubbed down. But there were so many Lexis SUVs kicking around, so many, and Lucky Supermarkets were filled to the gills with hungry happy shoppers. A kid nonchalantly threw down a $20 bill to pay some $6 for luxury Ice Cream, a brand from back home, a local big brand, not a global brand. He was miles from home. Fuck I thought this place was broke and the economy nearly totally dependent on aid?

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While such a view of Cambodia could be understood as distorted, in many ways it wasn't at all. Not every man was decent like Otto or himself. Not everyman negotiated fondling when he was in a bar with lady boys, most serial killers are psychopaths, not marked by stunning good looks but a personality characterised by irrational antisocial behaviour, shallow emotions, impulsiveness, irresponsibility, egocentricity, the tendency to manipulate, and an alarming lack of guilt, fear, or empathy. All men are like that there for newly arrived David. So many girls and women in Cambodia are susceptible to barongs jetting in on metal tubes of paranoia and neurosis, or managed broken dreams and hideously marred by terrible screaming loneliness and a need for a susceptible partner to dump their shit upon. They end up with Ms. Pierced and tattooed. Danger, and so many men complicit. There are at least 60,000 sex workers in Cambodia according to estimates, but this number is probably conservative, let’s call it zillions. David’s aim was true still; he was there to help women adopt a stance he had invented: ‘We Will Not Take This Lying Down’.

“So I'm up and out. I cross the street and I hit the boardwalk. I promenade down the Riverfront. It is another beautiful day and I'm feeling so so fine. o'clock between Soi 8 and Soi Pattayaland 2 the freelancers also hit the boardwalk. My fucking short times are already touting business.”

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SS

SS

Bright sparkling day, blue skies, shakes through the boulevard trees, incessant Honda City motorbikes, slow moving Lexus SUVs glacially manoeuvring like whales round corners, cops under trees obscuring road signs issuing 2000 Riel fines, $5 for barongs. Motodups waving from across the street, hoping for that fare prematurely to you finishing your meal. She looks good and her motor is running. There is not going to be a barfine, nor a condom today, nor shower, nor the word "No" to appetising butt action. He tried to resist, pretty feebly he would admit, but he was overcome by the superior well trained force.

“Fuck I’ve only sat down and already they are already vying for my custom to take me home and to get down on their assholes . . . “ The lack of anything like a reciprocal logic hurt David, as it hurt other caring sympathetic westerners, other happy campers. He wanted to give them his fare, it complied with his views on self-determination and honest men making an honest buck for themselves and their families, but really, he was just about to take breakfast and speak to his fucking

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friend, OK? He’d been up and down all his life and during that morning with his exercises and a super high-impact short time, with a girl sorted out for him by a motodup as she promenaded the Riverside. He started using the Riverside as he would cruise for freelancers down Walking Street Pattyhaha. Expect the women he was pulling, with the help of friendly motodups, were men’s wives, non-virgin sisters, fritterers off duty, and even a female cop off duty.

He wanted to do this in a leisurely fashion without think of the end, the finale, too much. He didn’t really want to think of finishing one more…one more…one more… one more… everything is cyclic in Asia, time, boom-boom, food, hse, even rote learning is favoured “1,2,3,4” “1,2,3,4!!!!!!

SS

SS

Would they like it if he sat in on their discussions, grabbing attention reminding them of finality? It was a responsibility he did not care for. Guys with way, way too much time on their hands here like to make sure they are still alive by sitting eating and speaking about US foreign policy over breakfast. It sounds polished almost, good, maybe even educated, but in reality it’s just more and extramarital CNN.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Some of us had been up way too early, spruced and gymed, bushy tailed, perky, endorphin and caffeine ready:

they behaved. Otto is being the hen-pecked stupid wife. The efforts of the hen-pecking husband to educate this thick home attended lost in vain, with sighs and shrugs. They were an odd couple. There isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or the word "No". They never hit hostess bars together. They never joked that they would ‘spit-roast’ some Vietnamese girl from Martinis.

“Too many of you Europeans look at the US record in Vietnam or Chile and assume repulsive motives behind US actions. Even if there were with respect to these places it hardly means that every case of American intervention is without legitimacy.”

Unbelievably, thus spoke David Gotlieb – speaking anchor man style, without anything of himself in the analysis, concisely, to an apparently attentive Otto Gershang whilst taking an American breakfast with pancakes and syrup in a Phnom Penh bar. The only give away was David’s new beard, not typical of studio reporters, but maybe more reminiscent of ‘field’ reporters. David wore it as hookers hated it. David spoke loud, boom-boomingly announcing, so that other diners on the tables heard him denounce. It was more like declaim. Not reserved for morning use, he was the same sitting in Martinis at night.

They, the other diners, had heard him like this for months, and so were used to him as the opinionated American, a selfconfessed Cambodian expert.

This marked out Otto and David who was a well known pair to the other regulars. They might as well be married the way

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They were not too far from the riverfront and a mere stone’s throw away from Otto’s trusty yaba pipe. David didn’t know that his hen-pecked wife toked a mean pipe.

David’s accoutrements were his world travellers’ alarm clock and his illegal Chinese gun, and some clandestine copies of modern American political works and satire. They were not too far from their private rooms, and all the other Al fresco diners littering Sisowat non-coalesced. At 10 am that very morning he had a meeting with Sue Tyler, who headed up operations for Unityview an anti-trafficking NGO outfit registered in Geneva, drawing most of its funding from the US State Department and a handful of private donors, it had operated in their luxury rooms in the Congo, Papua New Guinea and Cambodia. David knew her as a kind of personality, he saw her in New York before he came out to Cambodia, it was part of his continuing research in to the issues that he was aiming to face.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

SS

SS

Unityview was re-christened ‘Flux’ for the purposes of David’s acquaintances and socialising. He claimed it was a charity aimed at getting street kids computer literate. This was because he knew the contentious nature of Unityview’s predecessor alter ego - ‘Freedom for the women and the child’ (FWC). In the eyes of the local ex-pat community, including other NGOs tackling similar issues. Their methods were to say the least unconventional, if not downright controversial, hit and miss; in all honesty they had been utterly ruthless, reckless and incompetent.

II. Unityview is described as ‘flux’ "Development" was the goal of the proper management of society. Kaizen is the Japanese word for continuous improvement, this is not development. Continuous development, through what, to what.

It is the object and project of conservatives, liberals, and socialists alike. They take different paths to achieving it.

They create and enact different policies aimed at moving in the correct direction. And so the engineering begins. Most affluent countries with what they consider well formed and stable autocracies and institutions take it upon themselves to

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

develop ‘less fortunate’ nations. Typically these are excolonial. But for the very reason they were colonies before they usually have some strategic or other kind of purpose or good. The plantations of the French colons have been supplanted by the factory. Although it is unlikely that NIKE will support the virtual slavery demanded by the Paris stockbroker, it enjoys, as many others do, cheap labour.

Also, making these economies a little more buoyant creates potentials for vast consumer markets.

But the problem is that they may be satisfied by Chinese goods and services rather than western ones. But anyway that is to come; there are still many unfortunate people in South East Asia. It is considered that the governments of these countries cannot alone deal with the deficit of care alone. They need the intervention of western nongovernmental organisations to ensure development. Also their law enforcement and judicial systems may be weak in the realm of asserting and protecting the well-being and rights of women and children. They need help here too.

III Even though David witnessed affluence as he wandered, he noted old people who had obviously suffered. They survived Khmer Rouge, probably by being one, and now this is their comeuppance pay-back, karma. There was also a

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

proliferation of street urchins selling books and flowers who were clearly targets for paedophiles. What will they do if not chew on western aged meat?

imaginings if this interview were conducted in private, in the comfort of his aircon hotel room…

IV

He got his Driver to interview them. He offered a little cash like his beloved TV PI’s like Frank Cannon would do; they provided riches, they indicated that they were propositioned by monsters and beasts every day, on a daily basis no less!!

Life was very hard for them, and they simply had to go with men, but they really didn’t want to, they wanted to sell books and flowers in order to eat one more. David ‘knew’ they needed schooling and a loving home.

SS

SS

Although he was questioning his own abuse now, the delusions and fantasies which seemed so real provided him with the ability to empathise with the small boys. He couldn’t have built an entire history, an entire architecture of irreality – to support what? He had a harder time with the girls and he was checking out their pretty raggedy dresses and lithesome tiny figures. They were so fucking beautiful.

He started to empathise with the paedophiles. He objected to these torturous thoughts, but they punished him more with

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He is a police officer, acting as an independent NOK. ‘They’ are only thoughts, images like the hippy nightmares which arise through exposure to new exotic locations and too much alcohol. These ‘thoughts’ or cognitive dissonance gave them even more money for the interview, he got what he needed, a peak underneath the veneer… underneath the dress???

SS

SS

Of course, when he met with the women film journalists, he didn’t inform them of what he had learned about the structure of what was going on. All his observations, his befriending of ‘Paul’ his trusted motodop informer, no he didn’t tell of the pimps, the drivers of the SUVs mysteriously hiding behind smoked mirrors, counting their cash from the sale and of minors. No these dimwits would never understand the insipid nature of the goings on, the subtle and covert nature of the relationships, the reality of their

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

social construction. It was well over their heads and something you could only get to grips with over time, and moving in close to the action. In the bars, cheap guest houses and local communities. ‘Paul’ was his passport for this privileged and authentic view. He also indicated whispered almost to David in a threatening trance like way, that in Cambodia they silently ‘kill’ paedophiles in the purple deep dark of Phnom Penh night.

not ‘tight’ for his pleasures after five babies. He hoped that the barang would find some more, they were all sex crazy, and often they didn’t like the very young girls as they couldn’t get their large katois into them. It meant that mamasan let Mr ‘Paul’ could come round later and makes love to them for free.

David loved this notion; it brought him right back to his reason for being there; pure ethnics, moral natives murdering justly with dignity, so congruent with what he had originally expected. His route to begin the long arduous way to atone for his latest transgressions, not those of before but these fresh incursions. What was truly remarkable and wonderful, and able to provide competitive advantage was that the hatred of abuser was universal, global obviously from the penitentiary to Street 154 in Phnom Penh, it proved his allegiance to his cause, that this Khmer, this goodly Khmer and him were at one in his mission. Pedo had replaced ‘homo’ as the despised, the stoned, and the leper.

“Paul’ had actually referred to one instance in his village where a >18 year old virgin had here maidenhood taken the night before her wedding. The groom to be killed the boy who had committed the rape. “Paul’ had screwed many Vietnamese ‘young ladies’ in his time. He never fully grasped why the police had closed the brothels down. His wife was

Humans are incorrigible pattern makers. As David created his own under the bonnet imaginings and understanding regarding the structure and operation of this desist in Cambodia, this travesty of justice and poor provision of care

by NGOs, yes, as he began to act ownership of the ‘truth’ or ‘reality’ he began o build his own pavilion of mirrors. He was unsuspectingly becoming not a seller obviously of kids, but certainly part of their manufacture. He was perpetrating their myths, and that of Unityview. He began to subscribe to their liberal use of statistics. He saw, sex tourists, paedophiles (same thing) and AIDS everywhere. He saw middle men pimps – motodups- working for the ‘big operators – the Lexus SUVs.

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V

SS

SS

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

But it wasn’t ‘them’ really. FWC’s new corporate ID Unityview had new staff and a new director, a new logo and website, and really innovative new directions. Yes, there had been an outfit called ‘For the women and the child’ (FWC), which had been housed in the same offices under the same lease, and ran by the same umbrella organisations in Geneva, but this was an entirely new entity, and woe betide anybody how said differently. It was not some fly by night operation, there is no question regarding whether FWC’s ‘heart’ was in the right place, but their methods certainly needed honing.

You could see homeless people in raggedy “FWC’ t-shirts begging on the riverfront. A sure sign of deep compassion.

They had come of the back of salaryless ‘cute interns’ that didn’t want hem as souvenirs of them being ripped off by a fat pompous Englishwomen.

was the Cambodia Director for the VSO and his guests from Japan, Half the Vietnamese Tiger’s Rugby Team with some of their wives and girlfriends, five guys from the French Embassy, and three newswire reporters who were ironically there to draft another story about how debauched Cambodia is, and how rife it is with paedophile activity and that our government’s should intervene decisively. Sue Tyler was adamant that “there isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or the word "No". Caligula, Jack the Ripper, Charles Manson, Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer dine al fresco on the riverside.”

Ok, yes, FWC was the infamous outfit which reputedly had ‘hired’ the street kids who normally service the Riverside cafes and eateries with rose selling tactics or act as agents for rolling invalids. They paid them a piece rate on pointing out paedophiles dining alfresco in the Riverfront tourist restaurants and bars. Up and down they roamed in their SUVs, the kids getting $20 for every paedophile they pointed out, and there was understandably many ‘borongs’ arrested that night. Among them were Ma and Pa Kettle who were strategically following the footsteps of Jackie Onasis when she visited Angkor Wat in the 1960s were among them, as

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FWC also had involvement in the infamous massage parlour raids, again under the auspices that this was a front for hard young underage action. Working in concert with Cambodian Police they removed women who were working there, and locked them up, for their own safety, in a women’s shelter. Later their families and friends banded together got some hired guns and raided the joint and freed the women. Not good, the Cambodian government reprimanded them severely for these actions. It served no PR purpose or opportunity whatsoever for FWC, so they became Unityview and got a new director – Sue Tyler. He tried to resist, pretty feebly he would admit, but he was overcome by a superior well trained force. Sue and her tiredness, her large framer and upper middle class toffee nosed English accent, sand dedication was everyman’s wet

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

dream, even Marshal McLuhan’s after he developed the brain tumour that killed him.

Unityview held the spotlight. It took him some software engineering skills and quite a few dollars to get there, vying with the stiff competition but they achieved, at least, this goal. David was the empirical proof that all communication was hypnosis.

VI While many people sympathised with FWC, and indeed the journalist reporters, one soundman and a editor that were arrested that night on the Riverside were in fact men who had long frequented the brothels of the infamous KM11, they were that night entertaining their Khmer guides and some mid-ranking police with booze after spending the last few days sampling the goods. They called it, in depth, incognito reportage. Other agencies unfortunately had them on video, but in a backroom deal, tendered in order to catch the ‘big fish’ they had been, and only after a case of $ was paid for inconveniences and ‘false’ alarms.

SS

SS

David heard or knew nothing of these shenanigans. His encounter with the kids and his strange unwanted empathies for pedos scared him to the point that he realised that he needed support – emotional, and organisational. Out of the existing organisations dealing with this issue, he chooses Unityview at random. It was the first site he opened doing a Google search. Sue’s husband Derek had seen to it that

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VII David arrived to find that Sue was caught up in an important meeting. He was told to wait outside. He waited and waited until he became uncomfortable. He could hear that they were speaking French cut with English: “Sue you shouldn’t…..ECPAT (End Child Prostitution, Child Pornography and Trafficking of Children for Sexual Purposes) was formerly one of the worst offenders with exaggerated numbers…

Pam you never! Noisettes D'agneau Bardees au Lard

Fume et Son Jus, Potiron a La Mimolette (Medallions of Lamb with Smoked Bacon Served with Pumkin Gratin). Rhnee I can’t just can’t believe….”

It didn’t sound too intense and after a while two tall women, one a huge white and one a huge black emerged from the office. The black women ravenously looked David up and down, pausing at his pouch and smiling, in stark

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contrast to the other women who stared blankly right through him. She wore half-moon glasses, the type that hang round your neck on a cord, David thought this peculiar because of her age. They worked, she cast a sense of foreboding and schoolmamish authority right from this first impression. The secretary announced “Mr. David you can go in now.” “It’s ‘Mr. Gotlieb’ not ‘Mr. David’.” Was David’s defence to this intimidating formality?

Inside the room the women was now wearing her half-moon schoolmamish spectacles and seemed to be studying papers, one seemed to be a menu written on good quality heavy bonded paper. She seemed 15 years older than she looked in that time in the Manhattan bookstore.

“Please sit down; I’ll be right with you” The office was awash with memos and files. It looked right.

This was a centre a place of action for locating and finding pedos. David was tense all that waiting and now this office made him feel inadequate.

“I understand you want to help us in our work here?”

“Yes.”

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David hesitantly coughed, and tried to think what else that observation/question was trying to evoke.

“Yes… I met some people that work with World Change and they informed me of the incredible problems you face out here with the influx of westerner perverts, as Police officer, one which has some time on his hands, I thought I could maybe do something… I also was present at your talk at the Manhattan book club?”

Sue ignored the last statement and moved on –

“I take it you have specialist training in these matters, you did say Police and not FBI didn’t you?”

“No I have no specialist training but an officers general credentials is all that is needed here… I asked some question at the end of your talk, do you remember? ”

“Oh I’m sorry part of my job takes me all over delivering talks, so many questions, I really can’t remember you.”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

She lied alarm bells went: “Fuck it’s an American nutter come to kill me…”

“Now, officer’s general enough, are they really?”

credentials

are

She sounded really, well, totally unconvinced, “Fuck’ she thought that’s not how I wanted that to come out, “clam down Sue and get less aggressive with this madman…,” but Sue never knew compromise with middle aged muscle men who were American and quite obviously paedophiles with monster man hoods, thinking that they could get in with an NGO and get access to the vulnerable that way” My god this women was hard work. She didn’t bat an eye whilst staring at David; she was looking right through him.

Scary.

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

“You, what do you American’s call it, ‘flunked’ high school I presume?”

“Well actually laywe…”

my

father

is

a

“Quite…quite” Fuck David thought” she knows about me on that sex tour all that time ago. She knows I am a monger, she knows that I have been screwing hse round the bars. Fuck I have just forfeited my only chance of getting back in the force, she’ll know the guys at the Embassy, fuck ,fuick!

At that the door opened, Derek came in. “sue…”

“Ok shall we properly begin why you are really here…are you here to fuck the birds and somehow get paid for it?”

“My love, I would like you to meet Officer Gotlieb, he wants to come and work with us on a voluntary basis…”

“Oh great, we can always do with a helping hand, have any IT skills?’

“I beg your pardon?”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

“Not really, but I can do web based research” “So… Officer Gotlieb you have not answered my question, not in the slightest, are you here for cheap sex within the context of other people’s misery?”

David, regardless of his Bangkok parade would not be thrown.

“Not at all Mam, I am here to help nail perverts from my own country and indeed, perverts from anywhere, your England as well, I do believe you have them… I am a police officer…” “well why then?”

aren’t

you

policing

David Gotlieb was gritting his teeth, he was getting nowhere with he wanted to scream at this stuck-up toffee nosed bitch whom he fucken could smell over her Channel No.5 was doing sweet fuck all for kids or anybody. She needed:

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Look you fucken stuck up bitch, I am David Gotlieb and I was gangbanged at something like Woodstock, now can you, will you, do you understand me now!” “very admirable, you are to be lauded… here and there police offend as well, police can be perverts now, Mr. Gotlieb, we know that in Cambodia, and why don’t you just stay where you were. Are you on social security, have you some mental or emotional malady Mr. Gotlieb? Don’t reply, I ask you to ask yourselves of your motivations to help us Mr. Gotlieb, and we do need help, from the right people…”

As if on cue the cute young intern enters the room and Sue smiles at him, and glances to his bum cheeks as he leaves the room.

“Well I’m afraid at that I have a lunch appointment, perhaps Derek, you could fill David in with what we may need… you must understand that if we do work together you will have to develop your own agendas and I can’t offer you desk space… Oh and I will need a CV with references… And do bear in mind we need help but we here are not desperate, unlike others we are not a sanctuary for misfits who are trying to answer some ‘calling’ which is actually trying to

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

bury their heads in the sand because they’ve messed things up at home. Do I make myself clear Mr. Gotlieb?”

consultants are the worst. She would prefer all female, just like the English Schools. They make fabulous wages which they then use to pamper some of their favourites in the hostess bars Like Shanghai. They bludgeon them with dollars and make them their wives and live-in lovers, much to the dismay of the English teacher ex-pats. Woes betide them if they fall in with these girls. It all just ends in tears and a $100 bill when it is given as a tip for a short time. The country director for VSO for instance is a homosexual man interested in lady boys. He lavishes them with money until all they can see in their eyes is love.”

“I can provide those…”

“What?”

“References” Sue said nothing more, but rose and kissed Derek on the cheek, “See you later Darling, back in the Pavilion of Mirrors.” Pavilion of Mirrors was her pet name for their mansion, lots and lots of mirrors in thick ethnic rustic frames, carefully chosen one and all, and all at eye level, in every angle at every turn. It was based on Sue’s predilection for collecting ornate mirrors, they adorned the walls at home, between the obligatory mounted photos of Sue in action with Blacks and yellows and huts, and batiks and African statuettes and ritual masks. An affirmation of her self embedded in her career of caring.

David left the office with Derek. They dined at a Khmer restaurant in town. Many Lexus SUVs outside. So many…

“Don’t worry about Sue, she seems a bit hard uptight and anal, but she has seen so many men posing as aid simply using the post as a base for their whoremongering, the

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“Sounds fucking depraved” “Its life out here my friend, the embassy staff are in these bars as well, homeland security, and so on..”

“Sue is your wife?”

“Well more like a sister you may say. Don’t broadcast that old chap but we haven’t had it off in over two years, I can’t think of her sexually at all. She’s pressing 18 stone. I do short times wit the local hookers after I take them for a medical of course, but usually only at daytimes. Sue is a bit more like Rugby hooker. Occasionally I slip out at night, when she feels tired, which is getting more often nowadays.”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

“David was absorbing the raw edge of what was really going down out there it wasn’t really a bunch of do-gooders, which he, as a ‘street cop’ [read court cop] couldn’t relate to, but they were more, what might you say, ‘real’, ‘grounded’ in their outlook in the society”

though it will be the case that we phone you and you do not phone us. OK?’

“To be quite honest, Sue’s more interest in food than sex, and more interested in sex than saving the world, ha-ha, and no problem with that nobody’s getting hurt, eh?”

“Was this limey shooting from the hip of what? Fuck this was no John Wayne movie, no black and white here, it was like everything else he had experienced so far in Cambodia, it was grey at best, uncertain, and this made him feel really unsettled. These people were just like any others he met in the bar. Morally corrupted.

“Look tell me straight my friend, are you working for homeland security or what?”

“No I am an independent American citizen, travelling miles under my own steam out here to contribute some good to this godforsaken place” “Ok Ok, you are working for the embassy but that’s OK really. We know Johnny Wangener, very very well indeed; I know he’s sent you here and that is… cool. You do realise

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Derek got up and paid his bill with a Unityview credit card.

“Can I give you a lift; fancy a gin and tonic or a beer at the Foreign Correspondents Club?”

“No thanks I just walk for a bit” VIII David’s allusions were somewhat shattered. His thoughts rocketed back in his hotel room. He cleaned his gun again and again. He wanted to shoot Otto. Why? That night Sue and Derek spoke regarding their new ‘intern’.

“That fucking prick, muppet, and golem was sent here to spy on us” muttered Sue. “So what if he was Sue, you can’t do anything about it, I tell him fuck all, you tell him fuck all, we’ll invent some mission for the guy to go on, Something that will be too much for Homeland security to handle ethically…then his cover will be broken and that will be one up for us, eh?” He cuddled Sue who was clearly furious by this intrusion.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

“Let’s pair him up with the Harris Black project”

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

SS

SS

“No it’s too sensitive.”

“Let the guy run with it, we can pull him out if he gets too intrusive” “Ahah OK.” Sue hated nothing more in the universe than mature opinionated fucking American men. She viewed Australian and British men as stupid arseholes, who get more thick as they get older, but there is nothing worse than an opinionated American so adequately captured in the movie ‘The Killing Fields’. South East Asia was rife with them. And here was one more, all be I working for the US embassy for one of her pals. One cute young Brit intern (which means working for Unityview for no cash) was Tom. Tom was an idealistic beautiful young man, so pure in essence, which like this Gotlieb character, hated prostitution and the misery it wrought with vengeance. He had a sweet young Italian girlfriend and she worked in one of crèches of embassy staff.

Tom would trawl the barworld at night searching out perverts. And one night he hit the jackpot. He met Harris Black.

- 428 -

Black was an infamous con man that had a history of cons going back to his home town in Canada. He infamously hit Pattyahaha and went on a spree of ‘playing hookers at their own game’. He would take working women out for the night and through one routine or another avoid paying them. Of course this tactic had a limited shelf life. And he moved on to Cambodia where he hatched a plan to create a harem where he indulges his obsession for free sex. He linked up with Stan, a 50-something egotist from California, and who was a member of an infamous online forum dealing in all matters to do with sex in South East Asia.

Tom is a self-made man who made some money selling his unique pottery aimed at the high-end market. He has a Japanese wife who is a corporate lawyer, and a couple of sons from a previous marriage; he doesn’t have a lot to do with the sons. His present marriage is tarnished by the claim that he has a wife who is simply not interested in sex. But he craves hard action with Asians and has been coming to SEA for some years for the sole purpose of sex tourism. Beyond sex he likes to go native and experience something of village life, he reinforces his interest in playing the benevolent westerner. He lavishes his conquests as he calls them with copious amounts of cash.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

SS

SS

Tom is quite the Orientalist, for a long while he kept three mistresses, one in Isaan, Thailand, One in Laos, and one in Cambodia. He thought he had, to all ostensive purposes, ring fenced these women. Online he would venture into debates about the morality of it all. He believed that each likely view him as a prospective husband, and were preserving themselves for him. He mistook the reaction to his generosity for love, a common category mistake of the western whale. When paying top dollar all he could see was doe eyes. He never saw the social apparatus and reality creating the stage. He loved self-delusion common to narcissistic mature American males. He even created and perpetrated his own myths online, the very fat other men were debating his issue meant that he was in control. He ‘knew’ that none of these other motherfuckers were authentic orientalists like him. He failed to recognise that one night spent in a fan cooled room does not qualify you as an anthropologist, although he prided himself on being someone who was inside the cultures in a way that most two or three day sex tourists would never understand. Most of the time though =, while going native, he was staying in a luxury hotel room.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

He visited his ‘kept;’ women, prospective wives in succession on his trips. He does many short times as well. He would hit Martinis and take four women “just because I could.” He eventually fell for a nondescript prostitute who had been working in the walkabout for some years. She had a husband back in her province, a couple of babies and a pipe habit. He built a myth round her that the little time that she did work in the bar, she had taken $50 for each short time and only went with young men. This is how she fell in ‘love’ with Tom.

SS

SS

On each of his returns to America he became more and more disenfranchised with it. The halcyon days when he would hire and end up screwing young students aspiring to become potters were long over. One girl had already had his ass for sexual harassment and more were to follow. His wife was considering suing for divorce because of these indiscretions, he faced losing it all. He had to jack himself most mornings, looking at Asian porn and dreaming of which wife he would finally choose.

He considers his mistresses as ‘projects’. It is difficult to work out if is merely a philanthropist that expects sexual favours for his goodly work and donations or if he has any

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

sincere emotions for these women. He loves and craves hard action.

do with his own grown up sons]. His view of SEA men was even more disparaging, that they “are a lazy bunch of motherfuckers, lying in a hammock all day while their womenfolk go sucking cocks or otherwise cleaning the house and feeding the babies; between going for beer for them on the barang’s dollar”

As of late he is restless and wishes to spend more and more time in SEA. He hatched a plan.

He decided to go to Cambodia. He wanted to buy land there and create an NGO. Ostensibly it would be doing what he had done in the States. But he would be regressing, back to the good old days when he deliberately and by design employed young female apprentices whom he could fuck on the side. It was all consensual, nothing illegal he stresses. He never hired young men. And so it would be with this project.

SS

SS

He had met a buddy off the board. A professor at the local University in Phnom Penh, who had a terrific success, rate in securing funding for projects. Tom hired his services quickly. The first thing he indicated. Was that it be written using language which aimed at ‘empowering’ women.

This was no problem for bigoted Tom, he had always held a disparaging view of young men generally [he had nothing to

- 432 -

He would aim the training at women, giving them the prospect of an independent source of finance, separating them, if need be, from their communities and men folk, and he would build in checks and balances to make sure they could not come under pressure from spouses for beer, pipe, card and hammock money. The pottery works could also double as a women’s shelter.

His disdain of Asian men, his disparaging views of their manhood’s physically and socially, was then coming surprisingly in line with broader UN style policies on gender mainstreaming and equal opportunities, positive discrimination and the empowering of women. This delighted his advisor and he reckoned that he was on the right track. Suddenly this hardcore whoremonger, a man who boasted of his vast illegal cache of weapons, his arrogance in the light of defending his right to employ women for the sole purposes of fucking was singing from the same hymnbook as many NGOs and their funding organisations.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

He had no idea how to string as proposal together, so again, he enrolled the help of another resident who subscribed to a sex in Asia board [where he often reported on his predilection for hard fast anal sex] and who wins 99% of all proposals he puts into the Asia foundation. He also spoke to several lawyers versed in Khmer law, and to the countries relation officer at the U.S. Embassy. Between them a proposal was knocked up and he aims to get a stipend of some $5000 a month to run his project. “$5000 a month and all the pussy I can handle,” was his boast. He believed though in his hearts of hearts that he was benefiting these women. He as god’s gift to them all the way from America.

He is so self-obsessed and egotistically that he cannot see any damage arising form this as they will become his many wives in the same way he balled his young apprentices. It will all be consensual. Jim Jones look out!!! He had met with lawyers; he had even weaned himself onto the minor list of invites to Embassy functions. The community relations officer there [ha fucking ha] had even indicated that an audience with the Princess who was in to pre-Angkorian pottery techniques. He was busy impressing his ‘wife’ with the idea she would meet her royal family. He was having her fitted for traditional garments. One look at his wife, her scarred arms with mutilation, some investigation by the Royal families parrots would mean cancellation of this rendezvous before diplomatic relations were sourced.

He will also get commissions from everything sold, a mass of free publicity and PR, and he will continue to sell his wares on eBay in the States.

More than that, he aims to recreate, all be it, on a much larger scale a harem for himself in this country location. He will become the daddy of all these women. He will weaken their familial bonds with contracts for the work, and essentially through him acting as the gatekeeper of the produce they will all, and their young daughters, all have to service him.

- 434 -

He made a mistake at the embassy according to Johnny by announcing that he was married, and that he lived in a shack on land he owned with his wife.

They had her checked out, a simple farm girl turned prostitute she was already married. The family were fleecing him by making claims that they wished to be selfsupporting. He had bought generators which were then commandeered by her husband and his new stand in wife [also part of the dea her younger sister. This fool had went up and couldn’t understand why the ‘brother-in-law’’ had command of the device and made a fuss to get it back under

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

control of the mother. In fact it started a whole barrage of family in-fighting beyond the ken of the stupid benefactor.

His first tastes that playing ‘daddy’ to the ethnics were not going to work.

which could jeopardise their positions. They were certainly in the focus of the US security services.

While the embassy considered him politically innate. He was put down on the list of miscreants. Bugging his room it appeared that the numbskull was now doing short times condoned by the wife. He would take a girl from the freelance bar and return to the luxury hotel where they would take three masseuses to rub them down. He would then bang the pick-up girl while the others massaged him, and while his wife shouted in Khmer “you boom-boom my husband good” he was getting taken for a ride while he thought he was in the driving seat. Unityview had all this on file. It highlighted the ineptitude of the Embassy and the corrupt nature of funding. They would use David Gotlieb to get further into the dealings of the mysterious professor. All that was known was that he owned a hostess bar and that his girlfriend ran it and completely ran the life of the professor.

He had a self-proclaimed penchant for sodomy, something totally unbefitting his position in dealing with the secular elements of anti-trafficking of women and children. Much of his work was of a sensitive nature. Tom had indicated to the professor that it was time they receded into the background a little. The board could be seen as incriminating evidence

In the embassy Johnny opened the file marked Harris Black the notes read;

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IX

“The ludicrous aspect of this whole story is that Unityview, a Phnom Penh based NGO, whose remit is anti-trafficking of women and children, is backing the whole project and even acting as an intermediary with all those concerned. The way the proposal is worded – in gender mainstreaming politically correct rhetoric – serves as the perfect vehicle whereupon this man is set to create his own personal harem of local men’s wives and daughters, and get paid!”

The great parody of spies and spying, they were looking at Sue as Sue was looking at them, neither knew of the other’s charades and vices. Both were task focussed so much they couldn’t realise or intuited what the other was doing.

Derek phoned David Gotlieb and told him top come in to the office to the next day.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

The next day he gave David a password and a web address.

He told him to go to an internet café on the Riverfront and to login and get acquainted with the writers. He read most of the posts over the next two weeks. He got a feel for the writers. Then he met with Derek and took further instructions.

felt. It began to make some slight allusions to paedophilia.

That deeply concerned him. It was if the program was reading his inner forbidden thoughts. Totally unacceptable.

“Put this removal drive in the USB, hit has a program on it which will automatically loon and logoff to the forum. It details adventures, sensual adventures and contains pictures we appropriated of some of the whores. You will become famous pretty quick on this forum. But it takes time.”

Some guys came back and said the pictures were unacceptable. Others were offering membership to a secret inner board, some PMs came through stating they wanted to met up. Derek informed him to go ahead meet up with guys, but to be on his guard.

Fuck, after months of preparation and waiting David was now ‘going in’.

III –Corrupt justice systems One thing phased David was that some of the pictures featured nudes that he had fucked himself. He was wondering if all this was a good idea or not. He hadn’t even told Otto about it as he had signed a disclaimer [the one which is illustrated at the start of Volume one] , one where he had sort of lied already [the bit where he says he is not a law enforcement agent].

He read the automatic posts that the program made, and they disturbed him. They were so accurately describing his feelings and attitudes, they so mirrored how he thought and

- 438 -

The new life of David Gotlieb had began. He was a sex golem for western media reports and an innocent victim of a battle ranging between those who would sculpt and carve a state in their own warped and depraved image. Some would scream Satan. His orgasm into that girl’s mouth was real, not a concept, not a nightmare or daydream, but real. He had not enjoyed it but it taught him his predication was not in his mind, and the Journalists acting with impunity in this hall of mirrors condoned it. He wanted to give himself in, but he knew the dire consequences. He wanted to leave but

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

he now had nowhere to run to. Otto was out of the question, what about Derek. He seemed down to earth.

reinvent themselves soon. Get into the next issue, build a new brand presence. It seems only yesterday when they could point a finger and someone would be incarcerated.

KM11 had been an easy pull, aided in part by the increasing availability of eyeballs and cameras. It was a plug-in attachment fro our surveillance computers. It was a machine for us to catch paedophiles. With it no longer exiting we have to go deeper, develop new techniques. There isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or the word "No".

The justice system in third world shitholes is so intrinsically corrupted; it is weak when chased by Embassies and foreign pressure for fair trials for westerners. Convictions become auctions, where the resources of those chasing convictions battle with those who wish to prevent them. Sue knows that she is compromised in how much she can part with, as it will get to a point where unbiased outbids observers could suggest that they were brining police to convict innocent foreigners. They had done sort of OK so far. Many paedophiles had battled by showing the partisan interests of local officials and judges, because of these stupid ethnics and their greed they had escaped their statistics. But the mission was good. Pakistani women reporters who they managed to educate and wine and dine (Pam even managed to bed one – she was an ex- head girl from her grammar school) She had managed to plaster a few tabloid with the ‘perv’s paradise’ gloss. This is the kind of stuff that we deeply appreciate, and are willing to pay a fortune of our donor’s cash for.

We have also done out of “Those we manage to get arrested are buying themselves out ‘legitimately’ and even if they don’t foreign governments are demanding a fair trial and investigation.”

But all this is against a backdrop of improprieties by the UN in the Congo and Liberia. It makes it harder for us to survive. Having said that, FWC, almost got it right when one high profile case involving an ageing Brit rock star, almost came to court. At least they had made some contribution to getting him deported, but the PR opportunity was lost, other larger NGOs had piped them at the post and stolen the limelight.

But abilities to ‘lobby’ for arrests and convictions [read bribe] are harder now than it ever was. The irony, paradox was that the more prostitution was closed down, the less power NGOs had to lobby for cash. They may have to

- 440 -

So Flux was a blind on top of the name change. They had reinvented themselves. Sue Tyler had given up on the direct

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

interaction approach that is mingling and making ‘friends’ with street kids and hookers to work out how to save them.

No they became more ‘information age’ and were now resident almost entirely online, searching out online forums and passing snippets of information to perverts internationally so they could track down pedos. These included freaks still drinking beer from the night before.

David pressed on with his diet like a CNN anchor relaying the endless monologue of international news and expert perspectives:

advice, went to university, studies harder at school. Or was all this line of thought just the male menopause, mid-life crisis, how can we tell? There isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or the word "No".

“ . . . Not only simplistic to the point of caricature; this attitude is actually a betrayal of the people across the world who are trying, desperately, to appeal to the benevolent strands in American society and foreign policy for help. Europeans typically absolve them of their own moral failings and intellectual errors by heaping them onto the monster scapegoat, the United States of America.”

Was he actually being ignored or simply disregarded? Fuck, he thought to himself he really should be on TV, he felt like he was in his intellectual prime. Al that time as a lowly police officer, never getting the breaks to become detective, that had more to do with his own failings of duty, the mishaps that had kept him progressing in his career, even as a uniformed officer. Maybe he should’ve followed Pop’s

- 442 -

He was really beginning to understand, understand for the very first time, how it was all put together. He could make a contribution. He studied Otto’s angular face with its pointed features for even slight of mouth, passive, unconscious signs of acknowledgement. Not a lot. After a polite slightly stilted silence the reply was a craggy; “yes . . . David.” This type of abbreviated answer that was not what was looked for.

Gotlieb wanted, no he needed, a mental work-out akin to the physical one he had just partaken of courtesy of the gym on the top floor of the Phnom Penh Intercontinental, Otto’s permanent home in PP. For men who have never done manual labour – and in these post-industrial times, that must mean most of them – the gym is like a gleaming parody of proletarian work: arms, legs and torsos subjected to the punishing demands of heavy machinery. And in a weird reversal of the factory floor, the labouring serfs often deliberately increase their level of toil – programming their treadmills to ever higher speeds.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

They often travelled in David’s Lexus SUV to the Riverfront for their breakfast ‘talks’ – they never seemed to meet in bars at night. Otto never drove; although he was making his own machine with several local Vietnamese mechanics in a lock up somewhere. He had drawn the plans, bought some parts form the US and Germany but it had lain unfinished for some time now. Until then he had Khmer drivers like Sovann Mee, an off-duty cop himself, at $20 a day, other times he flagged down motodups.

company of Otto, he marvelled at him in the same way that he had marvelled at some of the characters of his own youth, the doyens of the countercultures movement.

David laughed at and admired the mad idiosyncrasies of the man, his insistence upon his own design for things he wore and used and eat and make his own things whenever and wherever he can. He had at the very least to supervise cooking, lest people tough his food uncooked and ‘animal crustations’; enter his system. There isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or the word "No".

He even insists on cooking his own breakfast, invariably ‘scrambled tofu spring onions and soy’ on Sourdough, but has it served by the waitress. He has a small holding just out of the city where his won vegetables are grown, his own pigs are breed, and chickens roam free. David often plays a game of trying to catch him out with this kink. Where are the boundaries, where does it end, where can’t he be innovative and designedly? He’d point nay finding out as a tease. In fact it was because of many of these traits that David enjoyed the

- 444 -

Heated political diatribes had become part of Gotlieb’s palette of a daily dozen. It was his mind gym. But when he returned home he slid into another modus operandi that of a dedicated police officer on sabbatical. A policeman seeking the truth through evidence, but right now though he was acting unwittingly as a minefield or assault course or a game of ‘Pacman’ in the mind of Otto. Otto was mustering all his will on keeping his consciousness steady and zillions of psychosomatic pains at bay. He muttered cabalistic formulas he had himself composed. He did so under his breath, barely audible to David. His yoga training helped. It was best not to focus on what David Gotlieb was saying, rather on what he was doing and the vaguer notion of piggy-backing on the sincerity and surety of his tone. This was a support for Otto, a kind of comfort blanket or totem pole. Whilst abstract, and usually for most people, subtle and classed as non-verbal, it provided Otto with some comfort, to he, this wanderer of the waste, a child of the abyss.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Otto’s mind wandered and squandered. After all, we can only be conscious of one thing at a time. There are many things that we are not conscious of. That’s why assumptions have a shelf life. How do we select the item we want to be conscious of? Choice is a paradox after all. Otto felt like he could only process a fifth of what was being said over the breakfast table. He searched for the logic which determined this. What was that misquote of Albert Einstein, that we only use 10% of our brains? Mind = cognition + consciousness. That meant a fifth of that 10% of our consciousness, so he was lending David 0.5%, the remaining 1% was checking out the curves on the ‘azz’ of the waitress who was bend over speaking to an moneyed oriental in the next table. Yeah . . .all dat azz. Le Roy’s ghost popped up and lent him that idea, he had liked it. 1% was involved with trying to hear what they were saying. Gotlieb picked up on Otto’s wandering and used police countermeasures.

“As for the American "hyperpower" that causes Europeans so many sleepless nights, perhaps you should look to your own history and ask how far you yourselves are responsible for that predominance. For it was you who made the twentieth century the grimmest in history. It was you who brought about two apocalypses, the World Wars, and you who invented the two most absurd

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

and criminal political regimes ever inflicted on the human race.”

His personalisation of the European burden really upped the anti, and seemed to be winning more percentages of Otto’s cognition, like Stalingrad, it was a hard fight, Otto had showed his first non-verbal, he frowned and looked pained with the accusations, but it was largely due to pipe effects.

Gotlieb thrust again: “If Germans [looking at Otto accusingly, suspending the fact that Otto was Austrian] wish to use antiAmericanism to absolve themselves and their parents of the great crimes of World War II, they will do it regardless of what the United States says and does.”

The last statement was risqué and was said almost in an act of bitter desperation. He wasn’t adequately penetrating this man. Not at all. No wake up call today. He had jacked booted up the last bit for effect. But he never knew that Otto’d been up all night playing a pirated video game given to him by two Harvard Law and MBA grads, on his super powerful souped-up PC attached to his Yaba pipe, and all that after performing a ritual to the squaring of Venus by Saturn in the twelfth house. There isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or the word "No".

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Consumer objects have a different meaning in the Third world, an alternative sign exchange value, which means that they indicate something about the owner in the context of a social system. Otto’s laptop brand name was ‘Alien Invasion’ beyond how he felt right now this was a commentary on his feeling generally, not just in PP. Otto had also written a review of the game. Almost his first words of the morning bar the pleasantries when he sat down was to read the print out to David. He did so interjecting the discussion that Gotlieb had been trying to force over the last 45 minutes [which seemed to Otto like eternity and beyond]: “Shellshock manages to remedy one of the major shortcomings of action games since the early '80s: the lack of Vietnamese whores. Yes, that's right people. You can trade in your bloody chits for a pass to the whorehouse situated behind the base. Then just walk up to your choice of prostitute, listen to her torrid come-on, and click the "Do It like Rabbits" icon. I'm not kidding. (Now, I liked DOOM 3, but if it had Martian whores and "Do It like Space Rabbits" icons, it would have been that much better.) The farmer had meanwhile taken

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

some photographs out of an oilskin packet. They were photos of Vietnamese whores and American soldiers making love in various positions. Didn't work out, of course. The operation got busted. The computer crashed, so did the Hueys, and OV-10's again, But still, it's human innovation at work. Like the cartoons you have another life.”

David sat stunned. Lost somewhere between the irreverence towards his ‘serious’ offer of conversation, with its inherent offering of respect to the intelligence of his debating partner, and the content matter of the program, which was almost reprehensible. He had long assumed that Otto would have had more sympathy for trafficking issues that this. He and these nerds who make these games think it is a joke, women held captive in brothels with chains while they devise rape n’ murder scenarios for fun. Beyond the irrreality that this German guy could write better English than he spoke it, it was no surprise to Gotlieb that he had dropped that in from Mars. H consoled himself with the fact that at least he had said something. It took him a while to contemplate what had been said, but largely he got it. It took all of 3 or 4 minutes silence. Gotlieb considered Otto on the edge, but no Paedophile or sex-fiend. Otto didn’t drink most nights as he did. His preferred bar was classed as ‘prostitute free’. He tried to resist, pretty feebly he would admit, but he was overcome by a superior well trained force.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

After the respectful silence that said so much David muttered: “I assume that it will carry a parental warning on its sleeve.”

And Gotlieb was not joking. In general he seemed to Otto to take on the jovial nature of other Americans he met. It was sometimes difficult to get the humour of Americans, to decipher when they were being serious and being sarcastic.

It was difficult enough to understand the evolved humour of the English. But Americans were learning, Satire had became deeply rooted into their sense of humour with the rise of innovative cartoons, like Bevis and Butthead, and The Simpsons, they could parody things now and laugh. But David was more ‘friends’, maybe ‘Mork and Mindy’ than ‘Simpsons’. This suited Otto fine, his Teutonic disposition and his rationality did not accommodate humour easily. This realisation was the que for the bill, with it paid the men rose to leave. “You know something David”, a suddenly lucid Otto looked him straight in the eye:

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

“Schopenhauer, Weininger, Tolstoy, all anti sexual, expressing the Manichaean view that ideally sexual relations should cease. Why is the feeling between the sexes not as satisfactory today as it should be? Is it a cultural breakdown? Is it to do with ideas held in the mind? A corruption brought about by learning and urban living?”

Touché, Otto hit upon David’s weakness, while he was political Otto was philosophical, “fuck it, who cared what a bunch of old crusty Europeans with wigs thought anyway?”

So, so, so, long ago. What is its relevance for today, the issues, Palestine, 9/11, the problems the real stuff, the things that he is working on? “we’ll pick up on that tomorrow, Ok Otto?” David grasped insincerely the arm of Otto, who was still looking questionably at him. It was the grasp of a mental nurse, or a pastor in the Bible belt being asked a difficult question about Beelzebub.“ “Bye, David ‘have a nice day’”

- 451 -

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Otto in his templis oreientalis

departure. And do so today. Not for nothing is Cambodia referred to in the popular and circulated by the tabloid press as ‘perv’s paradise’. Yes, the circle is drawn, the move is complete, correspondences link, and the eclipse happens.

Man, after all, man is an island, no matter how they try, and if they are an open system why makes communication, and behaviour ad hoc, arbitrary and random? Man is an island and Otto Gershang is the ocean and the fish, and all life within it and contained by it. All its secret mountains. Why should thought and behaviour be arbitrary, should it not all culminate in some performance – great work – grand project – intentional illusion? Back in his room or more precisely his temple. On the sacrosanct 23rd floor of the Intercontinental, Otto had designated this space as a sacred one. He had managed to strike a deal with the Hotel management to redecorate and re-make the place according to precise heuristics laid down by him and illustrated on his notebook PC, and in concordance with the arcane sacred geometries of Detarius, the Rasputin like mad monk that accompanied Marco Polo to ensure that oriental magi would not penetrate the Western canon with their diver’s means. While economics and trade and curiosity at times is cited in a thousand years of liner history as the reason for travel, the real reasons were kept hidden. The European canon had to be interpreted. And not by anybody. No. It had to being translated by an interpreter lost with a resolute acceptance of death. No magician, sage glass bead game player, priest or high level martial arts practitioner killed them. They paved the way for trade and travel, import and export, arrival and

- 452 -

It was against this biography of human interaction and copulation that these instructions for Otto’s temple were based, and upon consultation and advice from an exgirlfriend in Switzerland wise on these matters but finished and arranged by Otto himself. It was analogous to giving a musician a list of notes and tempos, but no ordered notation.

He could improvise on what was ‘found’, but he constructed with that which was ‘given’ or ‘received’. He had a tool bag with various implements inside Makita power tools, phials of black man’s [LeRoy as a matter of fact] semen, mandrake root, Pasalode Nail gun, water from Roselyn chapel [the sacred site where the first sheep was cloned], a bottle of decayed Uranium paint originally used in 1915 for marking French watch faces and feet warmers.

Otto considered painstakingly what it was that David had said. That had to factored into a redesign of the south facing wall. He listening to his portable recording device, then popped it into the USB slot on his mega alien invasion workstation, in particular he focused upon the part in the

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

conversation where David introduces the idea of the United States as "hyperpower."

from Jewish Hasidic stock [indeed David’s paternal Grandfather and grand mother were Hasidim]. David was like a crystal ball, a divining instrument, a tool and in this instance as a kind of human Tarot Card. Tarot and the IChing worked through indeterminacy. One shuffles cards or one through Yarrow sticks and coins and makes an interpretation based on whatever patters emerges. In this practice both determinant – the cards or sticks, amounts, shapes, dispersions – were delimited. Many punters, experienced and novice alike ‘read’ hse as if they were tarot cards and misinterpret. Some of those have calamitous affects and others breed entertainment and excitement.

His initial thoughts this may have something to do with a coven, a team a collective of people harnessing psychic energy. You see everything that people say to Otto Gershang is a metaphor for that which lies beyond. Some magicians see it in movements, some hear it in words, and some can even taste or feel it. But they are clues, nothing is arbitrary.

David figured this was a flat affirmation; he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office. Wong replied something which had been in the back of David’s mind for hardly any reason at all. Wong brought it out, to the fore: David “This is deep.

We can stem the tide but not stop its flow. Its close, one more…one more…one more… one more… the guy that wants to kill you is staring at someone else.”

IV. Using Gotlieb regardless of his suffering at the hands and penises of hairies Otto did this often. Regardless if he were in a fragile state or not, but especially if he were so. He read between the lines, looking for hints of that beyond. Truth be known he was using Gotlieb, who he knew without asking that he came

- 454 -

Divining, divers instruments, Tarot cards, I-Ching, teacups reduced the paradox of choice. A set of broken or whole lines, binary opposites dictate the permutations of the IChing hexagrams. Only the permutations were indeterminate to a certain extent. And so it was with Gotlieb’s political discussions. Within this limited field, snippets that Gotlieb had picked up from reading papers at the embassy or watching Satellite TV, he was creating the possibilities of chance operations which could be made for interpretation. More perversely (from the orthodox way of making friends), he was using Gotlieb as a kind of sexual

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Golem. Hey, thanks for asking. "Rhizome," botanically speaking, is simply a creeping, horizontally-growing underground root. It stemmed from Otto’s lair to the guest house where David was cleaning his gun. Otto remembered the year 5273 [1579 common era], Jews all over Europe were suffering from cruel persecutions. They were constantly accused of ritual murder. This is deep. We can stem the tide but not stop its flow. It’s close, the guy that wants to kill you wants to because it will bring him closer to Malkuth. There isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or the word "No".

V. 1st 2nd and 3rd person views of David Gotlieb – a simple step, a magical movement from Kether to Malkuth Sociolotron

Hyperreality is a way of characterising the way that consciousness interacts with "reality". Specifically, when a consciousness loses its ability to distinguish reality from fantasy, and begins to engage with the latter without understanding what it is doing, it has shifted into the world of the hyperreal. Surely this was what was happening when he was deep in the game. Surely this was happening every night in Bangkok when greenbacks come of the plane and suddenly find themselves the apparent centre of the universe. Moving from fantasy in your head, to porno, to video porno chat, to sex-tourism surely was akin to third, second and first person perspective in gaming and literature.

It held real fascination for Otto.

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In movies and video games first-person are often used to describe camera viewpoints – what the designer or director want us to witness. We join with them at their creative moments, in their captured crystallised worldview. Any performer wishes it so. It’s useless if it doesn’t seduce that way. Only where is serious breakdown in the flow of events, a typo on a written page, a loud, unexpected and jolting sound in a piece of music, a scratch on yet another a new Lexus SUV, one more…one more…one more… one more… , a glitch in a video game, a reality rip, heartache, a bug in a program, a satanic hippy ritual abuse, dried-up as a Cherokee Indian wisdom, an irrational behaviour in a Japanese suicidal obsessive-compulsive man’s ‘spouse’ that things jar the mind in its search for pattern and periodicity.

You see humans are at root incorrigible pattern seekers, and where none exist, and then they will surely invent them.

Given enough information and data they will join the dots.

But this perfect information world is rare. That’s the

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

difference between the god’s eye or Google Earth view and the bug’s eye or undeveloped experiential living minute- toand- by minute and day- by- day view. Google Earth is fun standalone but it is only when data and other web 2.0 applications are attached to it. Like having a GPS cellphone tracking the whereabouts of your hoe when you are out of town and sending her stipend.

perspective has always been privileged with the pointillism (or synchronicity) of a physiology that travels with the will in some shape or form, "I act from where I perceive" and "I am on the inside looking out". Presence in the game depends largely upon the computers and the software’s ability to make these controls transparent, to make them ‘at one’ with your command. Voiceover conditioning.

The hoe in this case has the ‘bug’s eye view’. You have the god’s eye view. The god in this case must have some purpose to observe the bug. Only if she is free flowing `free range’ if you will, moving under her desire an free-will, will anything meaningful emerge. Otherwise it could be contrived. She may tactually pass over the phone to another.

It made people reading the New York Times dip in to their websites and into their pockets to pay by PayPal or bank transfer, or by a hotline with AMEX. It made the dispossessed build castles in the sky over patyyhaha and pays incessantly to ringfence their lovers in that country.

The former being a character's own view of the scene, so we see things, characters settings, events through their eyes – we become them. They are our eyes and we are their brains, their cognition. Other characters in the movie or game peer out from the screen to look at us. They speak to us. But this is not free, voiceovers condition this, as does the will and agency of the designer or director. It is as if we are in a paralysed body being moved about by somebody else and with somebody else’s voice communicating with other characters. In a video game we have more control, as we can move at will according with available controls and we can communicate either in text or by voice. The first person

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The third-person perspective is the more familiar "general" camera showing a scene. ‘You; do not exist in the situation and circumstances of what is going on. You discarnate, ghost-like, you have an advantageous perspective to observe everything and everybody which the director or designer sees fit. In shoot em’ up games players now move between first- and third person- to get a better shot on a difficult target. This is the god’s eye view or crystal ball perspective.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

The second-person may also be used. Text-based interactive fiction conventionally has description written in the second person (though exceptions exist), telling the character what she or he is seeing and doing. This is like a command, or in effect psychosis or Schizophrenia. The format that Otto preferred was second-person shooters. Where you shoot yourself (or destroy your ego). In this little experiment however, instead of being a consciousness looking out at the world, you are on the outside looking in, and to my great amusement, it's a complete and total pain in the arse. In this take on the 2nd Person Perspective, you control yourself through the eyes of the bot, but you do not control the bot.

Your eyes have effectively been switched. Naturally this makes action difficult when you aren't within the bot's field of view; thus both you and the bot (or other player) will need to work together, to combat each other. There isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or the word "No".

MMORPG Sociolotron is an sexual role-playing game that allows the virtual performance of many fantasies including rape. But it is second person. You are the rapist but seeing through the eyes of the victim. He developed the game after finishing a book and found himself with a head full of random sex in games trivia? Hyperpower = hypersex.

Here, both you and the bot (or other player) are just a displaced projection of first person agency, outside the first, looking inward at it from the second and third perspectives.

When you start the game you are looking through the eyes of a bot that is trying to find and shoot you. That bot is you.

Otto’s last creation was the perfect expression of where he was with his magikal thinking and his games design. The

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SS

SS

NOTE TO POLICE OFFICER: PATIENCE IS GREATLY ADMIRED AND RESPECTED To rush or be impatient shows you are controlled by the circumstances and lack self-control. This can affect the person's sense of trust and respect. Patience is generally affected by time, something police officers often do not have in abundance. Be aware that your inability to demonstrate patience, will affect your relationships with Vietnamese, and possibly lower their level of confidence in you. The monstrous accusation of ritual murder reaps little result.

Â’ The nature of the hyperreal world is characterised by "enhancement" of reality, which has been the project of Otto which has overlapped in his interests in both Sex Magic and Tantra, and in philosophy and concept design of gaming. His favourite book was The Glass Bead Game by Herman Hesse.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Hesse and Nietzsche had long invaded his thinking about the existential futility of it all. Reading their books as an adolescent and through his developing sexuality had channelled him on his path. At the centre of the inferno of thoughts, at the focal point of it all, in the midst of the crowd Otto advanced masked and pondered: Why can I only feel my own consciousness and not other people's consciousness? Why can't I feel other people's feelings? Why can't anybody else feel my feelings? There isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or the word "No".

He heard David’s ordinary, daily political rant as if at the distance, as if he were a discarnate miniature voice, the squeaking or nibbling of mouse in a corner under the floorboard, a little brass bell welded onto an iron mass on a rusting rock. That thought didn’t please him. But when he thought of David’s stance and his perceivable game together, as a whole, he knew he ‘needed’ people like David, lest he collapse an important final link with the world of man. The world of flesh and care and want and need. Of human laws aimed perversely at controlling the sexual urge, and forming people in the image of those with most lobbying power.

Surely this was the ultimate project of magic beyond power and knowledge, surely it was the ultimate project of gaming and Choas magik. One day we will possess ultimate resolution, complete morphing, and all there will be will be the conditioning of mind to provide structure. That structure can and should be human sexuality, none other. By then it will be understood as synonymous with human will. It will be beyond intentionality, and though coarse, indeterminism.

This is deep. We can stem the tide but not stop its flow. It’s close, the guy that wants to kill is really wanting to orgasm one more…one more…one more… one more…

SS

SS

“You lent the appearance of wishing to encounter me in a small private space of your choosing. You termed this a ‘short time’ room. In truth you object to performing ‘services’ for money. Before, you objected to harvesting rice in the heat, and the pitiful amount a foreigner paid for you to stay off the game. You would love free money and goodly social security payments.”

They dressed this up as ‘most needed’, as democracy. What most perceive as most needed, most basic, socially-

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

acceptable, fundamental and cornerstone to not their existence, but to existence proper.

governments played. Progressive. “Ha, ha, ha” that’s classic.

A world of third persons, observing and then subtly changed and manipulated by policies. Otto knew that his unfettered world bore more political realism, certainly, as most in power were involved in someway. That all conspiracy theories had foundation, because the ultimate reality, the real game was everywhere, at once and all the time. He was deep in the game. Hooks and clues were given, but they could only glimpse when they watched something like the Matrix. They could work with it, under will. It was a passing shadow in the periphery of vision. In his temple he brought these things to centre stage, to full focus.

Note to Police Officer: TIME IS LESS PRECISLEY COMPARTMENTALIZED Vietnamese traditionally, are less committed to the time clock then westerners. Social events for example, may be less punctually attended, and may last longer than expected.

SS

SS

This may affect arrangements for taking statements, or other situations in which a prearranged time for a meeting is required. Recognize that police officers are by nature probably more punctual and concerned with time than other people, and not everyone, and particularly persons of other cultures view time and space in the same manner.

VI. No such thing as motivation, voluntarism or determination, only commission in Gotlieb’s Phnom Pehn

Prima facie Gotlieb’s world was that which most take simply for granted as fixed, commonsensical, immutable, transferable, forever, full of concerns for wars here and there, and the futile glass bead games of politics that

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His subconscious or was it his unconscious rallied to Jean Baudrillard’s famous contentious quote: "All the world without exception dreamt of this event, for no one can avoid dreaming of the destruction of a power that has become hegemonic. . . .It is they who acted, but we who wanted the deed." On November 3, 2001, The French writer and pundit sketched the perpetrators of September 11 as acting out his own dreams and the dreams of others like him. It was grand enough to be a dream. But it was liminal, it was not difficult or really helping them to imagine. The TV footage of the planes careering into the building did help. But everything was still so small, like in a game, with its dancing puppet

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

people, buildings, and planes – Simcity for the next millennium. It must have been all encompassing in real life, like looking down on 5th avenue from a high balcony, in An apartment with a substantial library and Liechtenstein’s on the wall, at yellow cabs – all for the first time. You knew what these things were and where they should be, but they jarred you, dislodged you from the normal flow of consciousness. Partly through too much TV. Unimaginable.

Immense, expansive, the end of the world, apocalypse to all those perceiving it. The mind translates a world of particles and waves into a world of colours, sounds and smells. Fear.

All experiences and all feelings represent things, and that their phenomenal aspects are to be understood by what they represent. Chaos. The mechanism that allows a piece of living matter to remember or learn something (in the sense of being able to perform future actions based on it) + the awareness of remembering or learning something.

Codification. Baudrillard had also committed to an alternative rendering of the first gulf war. Bin Laden, dead or alive, has, 9if you think about it [I prefer not to thanks] above all, disappeared. This lends him some mythical power; he has achieved, palpably, a supernatural quality. There isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or never, ever say the word "No" in almost mythical proportions.

“I watch TV like everybody else. I’m just as dumb, no question about it,” the late activist-intellectual Félix Guattari confessed in an interview about the Gulf War.17 Good enough for the counterculture in the US 60s and 70s this is not good enough, not at all for today’s more discerning and yet desensitised viewer. Thus David Gotlieb.

Guattari’s point was that no matter how dumb you were, no matter how much TV you watched, you would not have seen the war. Why can't I be aware of my entire being?

Love. We only have partial introspection, a partial awareness of everything around me. Will. I am stoned but I don’t want to be. Why? We have no idea of what organs are doing in our body.

“I paraded to you… options, competing realities and futures. Despite an almost insurmountable language barrier, you at first agreed to my demands, my expressed needs. If they were not common sense, they were made clear.

Money on this occasion spoke 17

Gujerati, F. (1996) “Did You See the War?” In Soft Subversions Semiotext(e) Cambridge: MIT Press p.139

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

universally. Dollar. In an instant, in a private space of your very own choosing, you played the card which reads: “I did not understand your explicated needs, sorry mister etc. etc.” When I insisted that you go, you demanded money for your misunderstanding. At worst, it was a mutual misunderstanding, therefore it is a shared risk, such as the performance and provision of unsheathed coitus.

Yeah, all these years later, all that learning and the figures still don’t stack up...”

real by providing a contiguity, authenticity, situatedness – an anchor in the very thing upon which one is reporting.

This recalls Baudrillard’s thesis that had circulated concerning the Gulf War – the passage from the virtual to the real was stalled in the excess of preprogramming, scenario-heaviness, over processing of plans, and the war itself was deferred and its place taken from it (it wasn’t that the war did not take place but that it did not have a place).

This is deep. We can stem the tide but not stop its flow. It’s close, the guys that want to kill you are not really in the business of killing at all, they are media puppets for someone else and some ulterior motive. There isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or ever the word "No".

VII. New military media policy But a new military media policy, a new regime has emerged, thank goodness for some. TV guys not looking, appearing ‘third person’ but ‘first person’ – just like the x-box or playstation. That is, those select few, both American and foreign, covering the combat from the ranks of coalition forces. All the psycho-demographics are covered: MTV is embedded. So is Al-Jazeera. Proximity to the “events” and coalition personnel is thought to ease the passage into the

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SS

SS

That is because for David the world as a whole now is a complex. He had grown finally to be his father’s son. But it had taken all of this to realise it. Many people would say their individual lives are complex, if not this, and then busy.

This is no excuse for moral relativism. This is because some really are and some relatively ain’t. They know in an information and knowledge age that awareness is the most

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

important commodity, and like strong sperm counts when the human race is dying and no longer indulges in nonprocreation sex, you ain’t prepared to waste any. Depends on many strands. Take for instance, the strand of intelligence.

The strand of the sum total of all the many people you’ve ever interacted with, the strand of places you’ve been and seen. What you have smelled and tasted and felt? The strand of reading and watching TV. Of seeing people do things from a distance. From an angle, from the strands and fibres of experience. There isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or the word "No".

computer using the broadband. I've a router between my 2 pcs and the internet, so the IP is just to the router and different IPs between router and pcs.

XII. Echelon The general principle is that everything you do all that you can do on the internet, and all can be observed if you have the programs to do it. Your ‘movements’ are intentional.

Indexed between your neural workings and translated as button pushes and mousse wanderings, and you move through conceptual space like a Rhizome, like Bruce Lee did in Enter the Dragon, like a man whose movements are guided by eye-hand coordination within a pavilion mirrors.

Have you heard about Echelon? What you carry around is your IP which is one of many IPs belonging to one ISP. Some use proxies to hide the IP but rather easy measures can counter that. The biggest risk is that someone enters your

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Remember that you don't really erase anything on a computer by deleting it, you just mark the field with a flag showing that it's free, unerase removes such flags. Long time ago CIA (?) required that deleted info must be overwritten at least 50 times to be sure that it really disappeared.

Back to reality - you show your IPs even as a guest for the admins of a website you visit. All websites you visit are logged by your ISP and the police can that way find out networks of child porno and other illegal activities. He tried to resist, pretty feebly he would admit, but he was overcome by a superior well trained force. The very fact that he viewed, one more…one more… one more… incriminated him and sent him down for a 7 year stretch.

He filled in the time by taking some seminars on transcultural human sexuality conducted by Dr. Winslow Wong in the Medical School at UH, and this led to him taking summer courses at the Institute for the Advanced Study of Human Sexuality in San Francisco.

“Through the classes and the Institute and through becoming a member of The Society of Janus I gradually started getting to know the alternative sex community in San Francisco.”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

But this was not where he wanted to go. He needed something deeper. In one of the classes he met with a wonderful story of forbidden sensuality told Baby faced Vietnamese man:

buck and go faster. I waited for a while. I heard a sigh. Then a little silence. Then I heard her saying, "Good, keep it up. I ADORE DEEP SLOW ANAL” "How is it?" I now silently whispered.

Once my sister and I were riding one horse. I was teaching her how to ride the horse. She would often come into my arms. Our legs often got closer. Her tight full buttocks rubbed my crotches. I had a strong erection. We looked forward to riding that horse every day., I was 14 and she was 11.

"Just the best", she whispered back. I rode on, fuck incest, my hardon.

As we rode she felt it pulse and beat metronomically, arymtmically. She looked back at me and smiled. She perhaps wanted more. I could not give that ‘more’, not now now ever. "Yes." I whispered back.

"Good. Ride hard." she again whispered. It was awesome. “We rode and rode I almost, but didn’t climax. One day though when we were far from our village, she looked round and not seeing anybody, lowered the back of her tatty shorts. I unfastened myself unleashed my wand, and before long the shaft of my cock had accidentally or intentionally [I am not sure] penetrated her ass. It was very tight and she winced under my grip, until fully inserted, then she helped the ride. I commanded the horse to

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"Any thing more?"

"Yes. Make it hard, deep and fast," she answered.

Now both of us were perhaps feeling as some thing was building up. We fell from the horse still bucking. The horse ran off and took two days to locate. It had been eaten as meat. This time, we waited for it. It would be as amazing as it was last night, may be more. I doubled my affects inside her like an emperor thrusting harder and faster. She also arched back as much from the agony as rapture.

So I fucked her harder, deeper and faster, making her to cum several times before I could offload all of my cum in her. When I was cumming, she became violent and wild. "I love you." If I were American I would boast of this to the boys.

"I love you too." I said when she had crossed the

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

door of my room.

Next day, we came back from the Farm.

Who was she? She wasn’t my sister. I had picked her up from the Riverside when she sold flowers.

He tried to resist, pretty feebly he would admit, but he was overcome by a superior well trained force. He was aroused.

When Otto compared other people’s lives and lifestyles, that dependent on marginal occupations such as massage therapy, a financially insecure academic, it was not at all clear to me that mine was preferable. They seemed much happier than he was. He needed software. There isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or the word "No".

If a dollar forms the word ‘YES’ – is it correct that a women with half moon glasses utters the word ‘NO’? I give my dollar to the hoe, she uses her dollars in restaurants and pampering herself in some vain effort to remain civilised, according to her weird perceptions of rules. What does she know of the water stained room, the

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

expression of sex in myriad forms, the fickle nature of pleasure and discomfort. What can she fucking do beyond watching and spreading rumours? She is more vindictive than those community and family watchers of my public sex displays. Coach, I’m doing more of these girls straight missionary than ever before, and it has nothing to do with her reports on ethnics or western single male’s sexuality... Sooner or later I may enter into a steady relationship with an ethnic. I can figure out now that it is not their dreams to be married to a foreigner. Sex is perfunctory, taken off its pedestal, placed in its rightful place maybe?

SS

SS

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Some existentialist philosophy views aloneness as the essence of being human. Each human being comes into the world alone, travels through life as a separate person, and ultimately dies alone. Coping with this, accepting it, and learning how to direct our own lives with some degree of grace and satisfaction is the human condition.

However, other existentialist thinkers argue the opposite.

Human beings might be said to actively "engage" each other and the universe as they communicate and create, and loneliness is merely the feeling of being cut off from this process. Whatever, he wore his Teutonic angst with honour.

Also, Buddhist philosophy, Otto considered himself as a lay practitioner argues that loneliness may be overcome by making authentic connections to other human beings, on an emotional level. Some may comment on my remarks as too sentimental but that how things are. Isn't it because Siddhartha developed some sentiments when he saw the four "normal" things: birth, aging, illness, and death that moved him to begin to question about human lives and ultimately human morality? Nothing to do with David’s glib focus upon the Buddha as a ‘god of fucking’ – that was stupid American sitcom fantasy. Sentiment is the high form of problem recognition. We need it to push us forward in the direction of problem recognition if not solving. Under this

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

viewpoint, loneliness is therefore the opposite of the natural human condition; it then becomes the lack of action against a human system as constant as hunger or thirst. And lust, he did not subscribed to the jibes he had been given at work, That he was on holiday for sex. He was on a voyage of selfdiscovery in a place where he related to the tenets of the religion. Baptists a Christian he found no solace in its teachings, bar he was wrong. His loneliness since Augusta left was because of lack of action, this he had already partially remedied by the recent actions of the last few weeks and his arrival At Don Muang. Loneliness becomes the lack of action. Yeas sure, eroticism for him was reduced to his own touch. It had become a cybernetic experience, machine like masturbation, in the shower or on the couch, it mattered not, nobody was there to check him, or walk in on him.

His self-image of this sexuality was denied in the brochures that had sold him the couch. In these pictures a lovely blonde women relaxed, cosmopolitan and stretched seductively over the soft fabrics and cushioned surfaces.

Elegant. Appropriately dressed, he could not smell her perfumes or reach over her soft, silken thighs as he lay there cock in hand, sweating, his beating only punctuating briefly the long night of boredom and loneliness. Better he gets on

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

the computer again and searches for Asian beauties. This could waste a night. It was a night well wasted. It is widely believed that purely online relationships are no substitute for in-person relationships, an opinion based at least partially on the fact that a person's true identity is difficult to determine on the Internet. But in his sleep, which was often broken, he knew he was spending too much time in front of computers, too much time in human-computer noninteraction. David figured this was a flat affirmation; he went to his session at Dr. Wong’s office. There isn't going to be a barfine, or a condom, or shower, or the word "No" – not ever, ever, Amen.

his think that he must one day get up from his ergonomically designed seat, which he must again interact in the real world? He must have that sensorium, he must become kinaesthetic again and not remain simply digital.

That thought made him realise that he was half-dead and only 35. He read definitions and categories of what he’d like to do:

He was not interacting with anything bar the mouse and his prick. Any ghost in the machine was only some system artefact. The faces that he witnessed on internet dating sites were only mug shots of unreal people with insincere wishes to meet, to communicate, their insincere loneliness. Even in cyberspace it was easier for women. He was using it more like a television or an endless magazine than a tool for life building. He learned some interesting categories though.

What people could do, or did, when they did interact with women. He had never done half of these things and he wasn’t so lost so as to believe that this was not ‘staged’. I mean nothing beat to meat having an orgasm inside your girlfriend, so why do pornos drive home that you withdraw?

That question wrenched him from the moment often. May

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“Ass to mouth is a colloquial term, in sexology and pornography, for the removal of the penis or another object from the passive partner's anus followed by the immediate insertion of the penis or object into the passive partner's or another partner's mouth. It is also known as A2M, ATM, or Arse-toMouth in England. Ass to mouth excludes cleaning the penis or other object after its removal from the anus and before its insertion into the mouth.

A2OGM, for "ass to other girl's mouth", specifically describes the variant of the act where the penis is moved to another female partner's mouth. Ass to mouth became something of a fad around 2003 or 2004 in American pornographic videos. Various explanations have been given for this trend, but one reason predominates in feminist literature. Ass to mouth occurs in videos targeted to heterosexual men in which men dominate women, at least to a

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

certain extent. Thus, ass to mouth is a practice through which a man (or men) degrade a woman (or women) by requiring her to taste her own fecal matter, on a man's penis. This act both gives the man physical pleasure, degrades the woman, and requires her to work to service him; this is not to be confused with rape pornography however, as usually the woman is shown without revulsion towards the act, rather, in most videos, she is even shown as eager.”

Like how the sun is the same ‘sun’ in all parts of the world from Iceland to Thailand, from Arizona to Melbourne, David was reading the same thing at 3 am when he couldn’t sleep.

Both men were appalled. That ‘interactive; people, guys fortunate enough to have a girlfriend would do such things with her. What else could they do after this? In one beat of the long clock they embarked on a voyage that night, them and one other, Derek with his slow, slow connection was in another time zone on the same voyage, this was synchronicity, synchronicity of fetishes. Time became measured in perversion, acquired tastes, Marquis de Sadisms, prospects, possibilities, male loneliness. This is deep. We can stem the tide but not stop its flow. Its close, the guy that wants to kill you is trying desperately to extend the boundaries on acceptable behaviour and possibilities:

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

In summary, it seems clear that US marines on R&R; together with sex tourists cannot be held solely responsible for corrupting Thailand's morals and spreading prostitution in the country - only for making things uglier, more obvious and worse. Nor will cleaning up the tourist sex scene put matters right, though it would help.

Instead, it has to be recognised that the reasons for Thailand's development as a centre of the sex trade older and deeper, lying buried -- it might be argued -- in an easygoing, often commercial attitude toward sex which may have been appropriate to a pre-Aids society, but which now requires urgent rethinking.

Yet, even as these measures begin to bear fruit, thousands of young, uneducated and impoverished females from Burma and South China are streaming across the borders to "man" the brothels of Bangkok and the provinces. The draw of Bangkok's booming economy is powerful magnet, and Thailand, in attending NIC status, has also become a net importer of sexually-exploitable women. Under such circumstances, breaking a prostitution habit that goes back many centuries will undoubtedly prove hard. For many Thais, and especially for many Thai men, openly recognising

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

that such a tradition exists must be a positive albeit painful, first step.

for life!!!!! The three guys fancied her. But they were all different in this fancy.

They splintered. Only David remained on the search for the missing bodies. He read on a Thai chat site:

Sebastian had said this two months previously, “I won't have anything to do with it. Not because I can't get laid here, you know I can,” said the handsome tall, lean man next to him in the office canteen. He who was in the gaze of so many of the office women. Even the humble cleaners loved him. A man who seeped Darwinian theory, who existed simply to prevent the rest of us finding mates in the jungle of office machines, paper and flesh. The propinquity effect is the tendency for people to form friendships or romantic relationships with those whom they encounter often. In other words, relationships tend to be formed between those who have a high propinquity.18 Why him and not me. I am familiar. Even if they expressed ‘they wouldn’t’ their eyes dictated they would. But it didn’t matter, they were looking at him, we lesser males were looking at them and nobody was doing anything, not even in the myth of the Xmas office party when inhibitions were reputed to relax. No it all grounded in Bangkok, which is where Sebastian had left his ego and libido. They were locked in epoxy resin which hung just left of the third pole on the second floor of the nana plaza, in the Bar called ** and just in front of where the

“I’m proud of not having the body of a 12 yr old boy.”

A description of an emancipated Thai woman 100kg and frumpy pageboy haircut none he less. And Like kids everywhere they are getting taller and taller, they say it is the western diet rich in protein. The Japanese theories this is to the import and popularity of burger joints. He tried to express himself. His true self (apart from the mags, the pics and Princess LU). He remembered the voice of the therapist: “David, value all of your friendships and their unique characteristics rather than believing that only a romantic relationship will relieve your loneliness.” Don’t rush things.

She is 5’7” in her stocking soles, the same as his appointed favourite nude soft porn star – half-Chinese half-Vietnamese Linda Tran. What happens when you have a traditional Vietnamese girlfriend (GF) like Linda in the U.S. and then you take a trip to BKK by yourself for the first time? Monger

- 482 -

18

It was discovered by psychologists Leon Festinger, Stanley Schachter and Kurt Back in what came to be called as the Westgate studies conducted at the MIT (1950).

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

man sneezed just now, whilst giving the dancer 100 baht for dripping her pants a bit and rubbing the pole up the crack of her ample and bulbous ass cheeks. He had sneezed on Sebastian ego and libido, in an act typical of the pathos of the Thaigirl conundrum, and the inspiration for so much of the novels and writing to emerge from the place.

schedule, look for ways to get involved with the hse. Eat with them, sit with them, find a study or exercise partner if that is how you want to think about it.

“no, I just can't be bothered with all the bullshit!!”

Looking forward to spending those nine days in BKK perched on a stool in the N.E.P. it all became clear to me everything in the world became clear” He had had his epiphany in a bar? He went on to relate to Otto, how he understands the bar girl. She is like him, he is like her. They are intersubjective defined by F.V. Louvel as "Self-understanding of each other's desire" He reads her motivations, her wants and needs, without even trying. It is a psychic link. Is he saying that it is trans-neo-cortex?? That he and her are hardwired deep into each others neural pathways, deep into their soul if you want to get spiritual? Is this nirvana? If she does prey to $ and that is all she sees in the totem which is me, then she studies it well, her dance her ritual is good, it is appropriate it has richness, it is as if I am human, and not just that, it is as if a am loved and have a 13” cock. Even you can be a big wining dick Otto. In doing the things you ordinarily do in the course of your daily

- 484 -

It is so, so deep. While he sees it as downright sad at times, in the end, that spiritual experience could be found in a bar, and one which parades women for the purposes of lust, maybe this is pseudo -tantric. Sebastian believes in the system. He has his own dance. Cosmologies may be systemic.

The charts of the Old Cabalistic, and theosophists claimed to chart and map the universe and all thought within it. IS this a rightful system? Freud’s theories were modelled on Cabalistic theories, nothing comes from nothing. The enlightenment would not have happened unless there was something to be enlightened about. Could it come through this manner? IS the socio-political realties of this sexuality which is pandered in a free market manner, raw capitalist manner, a gateway for deeper self understanding in the manner of the Esseanes or tantrics? Otto was exploding . . .

Screw the Da Vinci code here was gnosis. 19 Or is it simply that they are providing a service that is needed. Nothing more need be thought about. Pay it no 19 We are not absolutely certain what happened to John the Baptist then but most likely he joined a community called the Esseanes who lived in the desert area above the Dead Sea. "Essene" is an hellenized form of the word "Hasidim" or "Hasin" ("pious ones").

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mind. Plain and simple. They are being rewarded handsomely for their talents. That's it. No moralisation or justifications needed. Leave that for those who make money from being concerned. Leave that for those whose convictions are to challenge this system. Those paternalistic and maternalisltic others who feel it is their god-given right to prevent this happening. That it is unnatural, and that another way of partnering should prevail. One that is not sexy. One which is not fun. One which is overly rationale and fucking depressing, as if we needed more good tidings . . . Launch yourself in new situations where you will meet people. Engage in activities in which you have genuine interest. Don’t kid yourself you are not sexy. In so doing you will be more likely to meet the kind of people you are interested in meeting, people with whom you have something genuinely in common. Intimate friendships usually develop gradually as people learn to share their inner feelings. Avoid rushing into intimate friendships by sharing too quickly or expecting that others will. Let the process develop naturally. There are a number of ways to begin meeting your needs for friendship. Consider the following: Work at developing your social skills. Practice getting to know others and letting them know you. Don't judge new people on the basis of past relationships. Instead, try to see each person you meet from a new perspective.

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Many who believe that our civilisation is flawed feel they can do nothing to change it and decide to try to make the most of what is here. Accepting in advance of our own limitations, making it impossible that we shall ever get anything important done. Essential to the will of David Gotlieb is the psychological backing it receives from external sources, from suggestions implicit in the culture and encoded in Echelon. In an age of slime the great man must isolate himself and create his own world. You can think you are Gengis Khan even if you think otherwise…Or you may think of a raving madman beckoning at a Thai entertainment plaza sign to come and get some.

Echelon v.2.0 A good part of our cognitive activity consists in helping us find our way among the multitude of different worlds that we navigate. We must quickly determine the topography and axiology of the new spaces in which we participate, distinguish systems of values, understand and interpret the ways in which situations develop.

(Lévy, 1997)20

20

- 486 -

Lévy, P. (1997) Collective intelligence: Mankind's emerging world in cyberspace (R. Bononno, Trans.) Cambridge, MA: Perseus Books Group

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They were just like any other common and garden paedophiles, miscreants, deviants perverts and reprobates expect perhaps more hypocritical, married themselves, sworn whoremongers who had their pick of Eastern European teenagers when they hit the dens of East and North London. With some of the hookers they became regular johns and tricks. One had a beautiful young aspiring Pakistani girlfriend who was a media Buyer for CARAT, Europe’s leading media buying firm, another subsidiary of GOrinNOsho. Are you getting the pictures? Non-executive director and former owner of GOrinNOsho, Otto Gershang, is completely his magical movement and the finishing touches to Echelon V.3.0.

They knew already that David was working for them.

Contacts, deep in the US Embassy told them so. They promised not to blow their cover to the online forum, but they were going to take pity on him and give him what he really came for. They needed a dupe for their story and this prick was ripe for it.

“Ex-American today…..”

law

enforcement

officer

was

arrested

Nice headline. Story of an independent do-gooder thinking he was going to save the fucking world. But the guy got

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dragged into the mire which is Cambodia, waylaid from his mission in a corrupting perv’s paradise…

These guys, like all the westerners were only interested in the country as a scapegoat for their own shitty world, ‘back home’. By degrading other places, by producing false images and visions of goings on, Of using and bending facts as they see fit, the fact that they are compromised and poor, it was clear that mongers and punters, patrons of sexual services, the guys joking and laughing with women in the bar were the least of this country’s troubles. From those purporting to help Cambodia, to those who use it as a means to further their careers or to make a shocking story, to those who use the internet to build morale for a trip to encounter whores, it was clear the information society was using it parasitically.

Somewhere in a lived reality, in the exhilaration of the streets, in all that labour, in the markets there was reality, the dark heart of the pavilion of mirrors, the place here all is still.

David was enthralled, yet again, by their ‘truth’. It was a spectacular alternative vision. They laughed their heads off when he told them of his version of the organisation of affairs, the smokescreen SUV guys as ring-leader.

“Fuck off mate get a fucking life will you…that’s all aid money paying for them, all backhanders…these

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

guys are tucked up in bed by 8pm every night with their security watching from outside. Occasionally a robber gets in and cuts them up. They have nothing, nothing whatsoever to do with prostitution beyond little visits to the massage or Karaoke, when their wives cut them loose. Even in their they prefer titillation than full blown shagging, mate”

He was glad that his cover was blown, investigative journalists have their ways and means and spies have their, undercover cops have other ways and Thai bargirls them.

“Who is fucking not pretending or re-presenting anymore, it has been Ctrl-c Ctrl-V since the big bang, stark, strangeness and charm become protons, proton, neutron and electron become atoms, come to molecules, molecules to cells, cells to brains, brains to minds, minds to sex all to repeat the pattern, the routine again, expect this time it evolves, advancing emotionality, advancing evolution at the current rate, then making it mindful of this world again in order to bring its bag back from the higher level, the King returns, the hero with a thousand faces comes back from the Echelon. The fact there are all these myths all this bullshit is that it is, in order for it to work Sue Tyler must hold the keys to lucrative NGOs projects and David Gotlieb must fulfil his mission to kill her, not for that, but because Otto

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

deems it fit for the program, smell the fucking beans, some patters some clocks will beat once every 10,000 years, like some of Kate Adams’ exploratory fantasy star charts, The minute and hour hand is arbitrary, the sun is arbitrary, the accident is more important, the configuration is merely a lock and key arrangement, like hand and eye coordination?”

“The fuckwit who terms re-presentation as paranoia or the parading of it as art” David wanted to scream this at the Nana Plaza Entertainment Centre sign, not because he is paranoid, but became he throws all caution to the wind, because he can and be3casue he screams as he goes into battle like the Arial artist who sees death not only resolutely, but as art itself. He sits patiently and confronts he who is looking to kill him, He does not stare him out but rather looks upon and through him with indifference in the same way he accepts or copes with or tolerates the deco of a Starbucks outlet in any global city. It is not the Russoleam. . He wished he was back in Thailand, paying whores to screw them in front of their parents and siblings. This is weird. All echelon did was suggest aesthetic patterns on its system. There was no meaning, it wasn’t even beautiful to the layperson, just abstract art and numbers.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

These knowing men didn’t care that outfits like Unityview threatened to show their editors’ pictures of hat they had been up to, as their editors had been out there the year before and fucking loved it. If they were turned them into the British authorities then they would profit from the book and film rights, through their agents in Wardour Street, and take legal proceedings against us. It would then turn out to be a battle of the money, just as what takes place when they expose homo Elton or George or Gary or Pee Wee Herman or any other celebrity; they make sure their bank account and royalty payments are not up to the defence. It’s what the British public expect and want. Their readers come first,, after them and the government, of course.

There was indeed no right and wrong, yin and yang were in perfect balance at all times, and the maelstrom becoming a tornado was bound to have an IT perspective and component. With a system operator at the top. Derek was the owner and system admin for the whole site and had been for years. He populated it with misinformation and by means of PM and allegiance building manipulated the community or population with their wit and desire to elucidate convictions. But conviction for whom? Implicated were all of them. They were committing indiscretion left right and centre and only their limbic brains seemed to telling the truth and it was not a civilised truth, it was not an intelligent democracy. It was politic smash and grab. They held the keys to bring the whole deck of cards down in a moment of mutually assured destruction. The fuckers were creating world in their own self-image. They ere all playing god, some upfront like the egotist who was starting an NGO in order to keep a harem while being paid, the NGO who lied and created statistics and PR aimed at self-sustaining themselves, the security services which had aversions to leaving the aircon office and car in case they ate the ice, the Journalists who were looking for stories they themselves manufactured whilst living lives of depraved animals with legal, emotional and moral impunity.

And so now, after such a long battle for his soul in all those lonely hours at home, in the silence after his wife left him and the infinite Spanish inquisition torture of the divorce and years of poverty and shame, it was becoming obvious to David, who interaction to his father’s lax over liberal points of view, his ambiguous position, and his relative reasoning, that this was becoming a relative nightmare, David’s worst nightmare, a maelstrom of kaleidoscopic delusions, assumptions, arbitrary flowing of arbitrary polices, that they were all lost in a pavilion of mirrors, project in whatever they wanted, whatever they were programmed by their allegiances to see and believe.

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David knew one thing. It had to be the people at the top. But which top?

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

It was terrifying. misrepresentation, stemming predominantly from their detractors’ ideologies and a facile conflation of author and protagonist. David wanted to speak to Otto about it. But he was a decent guy. Everybody said that they had never known Otto to take a girl in all the time he had spent there. His claim was that “he would have nothing to talk to them about.” The assumption was that he was gay, but he had brought a girl once, a 40 or 50 years old, fat women, her name was Sheela. They were in the heart doing what any normal NGO couple did. Spoke a little with the hookers ‘to keep in touch with street’ and danced and made their own fun. Sue was there with Pam and when David walked in they were pissed. “Here to pick up a hooker Officer Gotlieb” “No, just to meet a friend,” lied Gotlieb, he was there for a hooker. “Do you like the ladies officer’ said Pam. “come dance wit us” David spent time cavorting with and buying the two fat women drinks. “Fancy a real women for change officer,” “how about two” quipped Sue. As they closed in with their hideous beerguts” “Fuck” thought David he would have to try and screw them for political purposes” He went to the toilet and dropped some 300mg Viagra. When he came out they were gone. He phoned Otto. Otto arranged a suite for David, and came in with cocaine, the coke and Viagra was making Gotlieb mad. Otto had the German band Can piped

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

in to the room, then a bell hop paraded a bevy of top general class Karaoke set of Khmer beauties. “Take your pick David…it’s on the house!” David looked at some of them, they didn’t look 18. he wanted IDs and Otto said he’d produce them in the morning [which he did – they meant nothing, he could print out any official documentation in any format in any printing process in any weight of paper from anywhere in the world in his room – he could create three-d prototypes of any device as well, not operating devices but the right colour and shape and feel].He fucked his way for many hours out of the thoughts of Sue and Pam, lest his memories of the Sub fat whore from back home, miles away, came and robbed him of his enrapture. He was miles from home, but he was happy.

The Journalists would discredit Unityview, and claim a setup par excellence, and claim that Cambodia was a site of corruption by local police working in cahoots with Aid and Development scammers who produced false stats that favoured more intervention by them. In the end they just want a good story, something that will shock and/or pull the heartstrings of bored western consumers when they get up for the grind in the morning, or while they wait for garden centre visit or their kitchen to be installed. Georges Bataille

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

would put it, to achieve internal freedom by violating the taboos imposed by a society dominated by concerns about productivity and order. It highlights exactly the notion that there are people worse of than you, so what the fuck have you got to moan about? Not getting any lately, well these kids are getting too much, so shut the fuck up! And if you want to find out more, then logon, and if you want to do something throw some money at Unityview or any of the independent NGOs addressing the issue, but Unity won’t waste your money on administration and fundraising. This was the txt which clinched the deal, the apparent lack of moral framework. Sue would bend over backwards for this and when the guy said he knew the editor of BBC radio 4’s “today’ news programme [the corner stone of the entire British news media establishment] she just about ‘shat her pants’. He wanted the latest from her and her band of ‘interns’ where the action was.

undisclosed location. In this location was cameras and an entire small porno studio. Told to strip, in popped four very young girls one of which David had interviewed in the street. She looked disturbed when he saw her. Now her dress was removed and he was told he had to get into the action.

He was devastated but horny from the overdose of Viagra necessarily to do two fat western cows, and the orgy he had had with girls not much older. He assumed that they were Vietnamese they had bald pussies and it was absurd that they smoke a full grown 6’2” man with a decent length and girth and fully hairy like a Hasidim should be. He felt monstrous and massive and it was right from the start.

They offered, lured David, and under pain of turning him.

They would use their own voice recordings of his ‘sugar trap’ introductory speech. They also had copies of his posts, where he self-admitted that he was looking and had already sampled young action. H had to prove his allegiance to them by dropping 300 mg of Viagra and coming with them to an

- 496 -

Otto observed the whole thing from his room at the intercontinental. His golem was performing. He was delighted. It led to one magiak movement from a Tiperth to Yesod, false self, or ego. It was evidence that Echelon could create the nemesis of global capital; it could groom and create deviants!!!!! They could manufacture them ondemand for global aid agencies, who could then boast their arrest rates. Anyone who had a run in with someone they didn’t like, well here it was the way out of the quarrel.

Everybody by default loves a sex pest. It gives them more direction, takes up more memory space than an entire Gulf War.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Kissing Virtual David full on the lips he melted into something he had never known. He became unaware of the surroundings, the watchers, those gazing and he went to the innermost depths of his soul. He was 7 years old again and it was real, he had felated those men off in a tepee. Oh the maddening circle of abuse, is there any escape? He had worn the fat women’s ‘woollen helmet of love’ while doing so, what seemed like practice, normal, was in hindsight abnormal, peculiar, freaky a kink. It robbed him of his youth. It lay at the heart of all his broken relationships, and would do so... forever. The peace sign, anti-Vietnam and the Apollo rocket explosion of love in his mouth were real OK. His parents were negligent, and now here he was full circle.

They filmed the lot and drank beer and jeered like the gaggle in the helicopter over the South China Sea. They had pushed another victim from the chopper and David was tumbling in the dark towards dark orgasm. He had lived his life as a naked prisoner in a freezing white room. He had pushed him from the chopper as a black man does because of ‘orders’.

gives the thumbs up in the midst of an orgy of 10 year olds which we had brought in from Kompong Cham province for the shoot. But the cameras of homeland security were ever vigilant and used the latest technology from Sony labs. They were the smallest, the heist resolution. In four years time they would be in every Sony-Erikson camera phone. Thinks of when political commentators in Iraq stand in front of the barrage of media microphones all desperate to sample, sample whatever they can, when and where they can, as they can. The same is true for these high resolution ghostly, phantom web cam presence. They were invented by GOrinNOsho for this specific purpose.

The only options were to negotiate a deal which would have Unityview sprawled across the cover story, as the main nonsecular opponents in the battle against the paedophile. It was worth it. In the brothel Unityview turned the cameras off when the tabloid reporters paid their visits, but we have them stored for prosperity, including the one where ‘Stan’

- 498 -

For weeks they were actively seeking out children for paid sex while still reporting it in a shocking manner, it was bad ju-ju to be too active. Best that one keep one’s head down.

Not do too much, or at least let the ‘too much’ be handled ostensibly by Cambodians, don’t let your western ass be caught up in the negative publicity of a failed raid. Better you siphon off some of next years budget allocation on bribes to make sure you get at least one or two high profile cases incarcerated. But it is harder now.

Ngo women are typically Amazonians with a heart. They are typically over 5.11’’. They fall into two main categories:

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

smug marrieds or boyfreindless harpies. My friend’s fall into those extremes. I believed I was free of these categories, that me and Derek transcended them. We were products of an enlightened mind, neither romantic nor overly realist. One day being married and having the next it is why we, as a culture, all adore antidepressants. Rheena could be described as a smug married, Pam as a boyfreindless harpie. What is one to do in a country where it is a buyer’s market for men?

He tried to resist, pretty feebly he would admit, but he was overcome by a superior well trained force.

pleasing ritual every Friday night, after a good dance at the Heart of Darkness.

I don’t think we hold unconventional views about marriage.

Both I and Derek know its complex. We are not married because we choose not to be, rather than feeling some urge to be. But we are committed to each other and share everything, our most horrible and negative thoughts as well as our ambitions and dreams.

But it is never everything. I am lucky having a Derek, and he in turn is lucky being independently wealthy and able to follow me as I pursue my goodly works in improvised parts of the this good, good earth. In the UK you open yourself to some of the vilest criticism if you say you believe in love and/or marriage. Friends will reproach you. We have commitment and solidarity and he makes love to me in a

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Somehow I feel a chill tonight. I wish Derek were here.

Sue Tyler is prepared. She now wishes at the last moment before her execution that she had had children and how futile it is to be English and middle class, and to be opinionated and be taught at school to express yourself at university and the wider world as if you fucking well own it, which most of the girls did. Sue knew she was borderline but she had trodden there before, she an international women of intrigue after all! Hard-hitting non-compromising straight talk from the hip strong language. Well, to be more honest they owned some significant parts of it, well maybe not ‘owned’ per se, but had pretty good control over it. Many of her pals had ended in PR and media buying. They knew how the mechanisms worked and were not put off by powerful egos. The biggest snobs were the women of Indian or Pakistani decent, she despised them, and wanted to see them with rocks and rubble balanced in baskets on their heads, on building sites like she had seen in India. After her amazing roadshow forever, where she had done a determined and goodly show, defended her points well in school’s strong tradition in debating, and put these American’s in their place, but she as tiring after respective haunts she is ready for her Washington debut. She is an Englishwoman and

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

proud of her place. She arrives at her hotel and is engaged in last minute preparations. She is ready to bowl them over.

The other venues were practice runs but she knows its going to tougher tomorrow. She can’t use her platitudes, their will be unfriendliness in the audience. She must make her case strongly. She was bored, bored and tired. She was fed up of her subject, but she would not show it, not upfront.

offensive and stupid. She was an Englishwomen aboard after all, in a post-colonial world of infinite layers of daftness, which were nothing to do with how things were administered, but moreover, Reason.

The key point is the significant contribution of Derek, his programme which automatically detects pedo activity in message boards.

They already have some preliminary data. They will impress with it tomorrow. The potential is vast. The intelligence agencies will be interested, but it is to homeland security wanting to clean up the act of the country which is its main target.

The telephone goes: “Is that Susan Tyler?” Says the authoritative voice on the phone Yes, it is to whom am I speaking?

Sue always spoke this way, and especially to American government officials she didn’t know and already considered

- 502 -

“Ms Tyler, this is Jeff Stanley, homeland security, I work under Ms. Kate Banaerchack, I was wondering if you could spare us a little time, it follows from today’s meeting, its really quite urgent.”

“Really, Mr. Stanley it’s a little late; I am busy with preparations for tomorrow and I need to catch some sleep, I leave for Asia very early tomorrow, it’s been an exhausting …”

“I think you should come here Ms Tyler. It considers your future.”

“What is it about?” Sue pensively had no time for mind games, especially American mind gamers, well, they were so petty… She had no interests in meeting Banaerchack again, strangely she reminded her of Sally Elder that god damn persistent dyke at her school, she was past having mistresses, well past it and that fuckwit was so rude… Sue was picking at a bit of Kararee bhindi the feather-light vegetarian balls made from Indian summer squash, from her teeth. It was 11.45 p.m.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

“We can discuss about that here… a car is already on the way…”

The first was Pam, entering Senses spa, and then cut to the chase getting analingus performed, and orgasming in spectacular form. “Oh Shyt….” But sue remains composed, she will deny knowledge.

“So I have no fucking choice then..?” She regrets losing her temper in front of them. It will not serve her, why did she do that? She knows something serious is wrong, but what?

What has she missed in the…

Sue agrees, but doesn’t like it, but after all she has no choice.

The car arrives and off she goes. She thinks to herself “it’s obviously political.”

Inside she is met by two staff who takes her to a room.

Three men and two women wait inside. They are stiff and formal, and so, so shall she be. They are introduced then it was; “well we will waste no time here… we’d like you to have a look at this and share your thoughts…”

Sue watches indignantly, the LCD projector projects a scene which fills her with an instant horror, an almost total alarm.

And more once she adjusts to the flicker. The resolution is damning.

“This is a planted video camera in the Lucky Ro hotel in Phnom Penh. Do you recognise these people?”

- 504 -

The next scene depicts another time frame - the two journos from the Daily Bright, jeering and inelegantly ‘spit roasting’ a obviously prepubescent girl with zero tits and very small.

The details are clear, one had beads of sweat on his forehead, Sue could see it as he humped away, muttering “young, tight, I crave tight, young flesh,” The intense focus of their fucking was beyond belief. So it must have been much effort getting into that position, clear, so is their faces, their identities. She can see the birthmark on the face of one. Sue instantly recognises both culprits. What are they doing?

They spent several trips hounding Ray Tinkle the shamed Glam rock star the previous year. Sue and Untiyview paid for their hotel and for their action. It was part of the deal in raising the profile of the NGO. Sue sat silent. Sue had no resolute acceptance of death. Such thoughts were completely foreign, she could not take such a suggestion seriously, and it was well beyond her ken, brutal and uncivilised just like her Journos. She knew what was about to happen…

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

“Perhaps Ms. Tyler you can recognise yourself in this excerpt of video?”

Here was Sue in the reception of the Hotel paying the Vietnamese mamasan for the session. They acted as if they knew each other, and even shared a joke. Sue was smoking a cigarette.

“That is you isn’t it Ms Tyler, do you have anything to say about this Ms. Tyler?”

The corner of this video was stamped. It revealed the source:

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Sue stumbled, “Well I had no idea what the journalists were doing in that room. Yes I acted as a front for them and negotiated access to a young girl under the pretence of procuring underage girls but I was under the impression that they would simply interview the girl, or describe the process, take some photos.

I had no idea of what went on in that room. I had no idea even how long they were in that room.”

“Is this typical tactics that you employ, I mean were you following policy as set by your board of directors?’

received courtesy of the IJM. ‘Yes… Well, I mean we have latitude…”

The horror increased several fold when she heard this was breaking news. The IJM were a competitor in the war against trafficking in Cambodia and she knew them as a ruthless organisation, especially in their efforts to selfpromote, she loathed them, but in fact secretly, in her heartof-hearts she knew that she was trying to orientate and model Unityview on their pervasive activities. She actually loved them. They were over funded but secular, they were a Christian based organisation.

Do you have any explanation for this, Ms Tyler? I mean any at all?

- 506 -

“Latitude?? So you just paid for the service and left them to it. Is that it?”

One of the women agents kicked in there, “How were they to ‘interview’ when they couldn’t speak Vietnamese?”

“They claimed they could …Ok I didn’t give it much thought, I had a dinner appointment and just left them to it, that was all… I’m fucking sorry…what do you want me to say? I had no idea…”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

“OK Ms Tyler, we have it on log that you did this a total of four times during the several months these men were resident in Phnom Penh. Did you ever see a transcript of these... interviews?”

their wish in Vietnam where he fled like the Elephant man, with Jaguars hanging by their claws off his fleeing back.

It was clear that such transcript were not the platitudes that she manufactured for sponsors visits but the sounds that were still coming from the screen “ooohh ahh fuck her hard mate, little bitch needs cock, craves cock fuck her, oohh the little minx – she can come.”

“I have seen enough, I can’t tolerate this any longer, I hope you have arrested these men…they are reprehensible…under your laws as well as our own” No, they had not. But Sue had been happy with their account that was published in a 5 day feature article speaking of Phnom Pehn as a ‘pedo’s paradise’. They had written about the ‘wickedest city in the planet’ and about how Ray Sparkle was fighting tooth and nail to stay in the place. His addiction to preying on children was so strong, he was willing to try and use legal recourse to ensure his stay.

He was ejected when Unityview and several other agencies placed pressure on the Minister in Charge of Women’s affairs to get rid of him. Daily Bright money also helped here to make a story. But they wanted him inside jail. They got

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“This is laughable, Ms Tyler, if it wasn’t so tragic for the girls of course, yes?”

“OK, have a look at this…do you know these men?”

There is Derek outside the Intercontinental; he is carrying his sports bag so he has obviously just left his gym session.

He is with a man who seems to be putting something in his mouth, odd…

“Ms. Tyler do you why they are destroying evidence in this way?”

“What do you mean?”

The video is enlarged and it looks like a piece of paper with Hebrew writing being placed on Derek’s tongue. Like a Catholic sacrament.

“What is on that paper Ms Tyler?”

“How the hell am I meant to know?”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

“We thought your husband might tell you. The man is an Austrian citizen, and he lives well above his means in side the hotel. We have reason to believe he is in the centre of a massive international paedophile ring but we have no proof at all. He, and another, David Gotlieb, a NYPD police officer currently on medical suspension with suspected Schizophrenia, meet on an almost daily basis and for the last 3 months they have been destroying evidence in the same way, we assume it is written on rice paper. We think it is some computer code or another, or a encryption key which is passed between the ring.”

and another unknown man. It had turned into a Tanratino anodyne horror movie.

“I have never seen him before…Derek, Pedo ring, ludicrous…”

“Ok, ok Ms Tyler, sit back enjoy the show…” Said Ms Banaerchack as she entered the room for the finale.

The video flicked on again, and Sue’s deep seated foreboding returned, whatever will be next? And as if the horror, the game if you will, was not over yet, had not been enough, like a nasty shove, the nastiest shove in a game of Twister, from the shower emerges Derek. Two young, very young girls sit on the bed and the Journalist tutors them on how to insert butt-pugs in to his arched arse. He is lying their with a leather mask on crying and grunting while these tiny girls pump him much to the amusement and jibes of the journos

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Sue’s world collapsed. Fuck, not my hubby! It collapsed entirely. She was a fat pompous Englishwoman that wore half-moon glasses to accent her age, and she had been offended when a passing Khmer asked to teach English one day as she looked the fucking part. Now she looked at Derek’s designer Dolce and Gabana spectacles laying on the bedside cabinet, and the datestamp on the video. His New Jerusalem tattoo on his shoulder stood out like a sore thumb as he masturbated into a girl’s open mouth. At orgasm he screamed he wanted to marry her. It was her birthday. Her mind shot to the significance of that, of Adams interpretation, what planets which configuration could have predicated this?

The next video was in the prosecutor’s office of the Phnom Penh Municipal Court. It was the Vietnamese confessing that you procured many girls on many occasions for these acts. She also spoke of ‘mask man’ – Derek – who petrified them more than anything, that he was in and out of the place like a yo-yo, often with as yet unknown men.

“Yes Ms Tyler, they would watch pornography on a laptop and give lurid homosexual shows to the little girls before engaging with them.”

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

They would turn out to be the pedo ring of the dark, dark khmer440. com, a band of western consultants drawing western wages +, while enjoying the most bizarre and decadent entertainments on the planet.

“And yes some homeland security people have been arrested as well even before you begin with your own G2 intelligence Ms Tyler” Next in this litany of horrors were the desktop display of several computers. They had been hacked by the CIA, two were the journalists, one was Derek’s supposedly impregnable ‘tower of babel’ as he called it, and the other belonging to some German guy, Otto Gershang. Some complete unknown, but unbeknown to the lot of them had devised and executed the whole damn plot. And it was for nothing really. It was just housekeeping so to speak. Things had to move on and the Tyler’s were not part of the program. They had failed miserably, through poor will or bad management. Maybe it was because they had not let David do his will in the world, and interfered with the bigger picture the great work itself, Echelon v.3. The calculations reported that two extra people would be condemned to the rubbish bin. A couple of chamber maids, Pity as Otto knew most of them and got on well with them, but business was business. Non-executive or not the entire

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

corporation may suffer, including the whole of Europe’s credit reports if he does not clean up.

We’d like to show all that we have found Ms Tyler but a few items of note should be enough to give you a flavour.

Derek’s hard drive is his metaphorical unconscious and was littered with Mpegs of orgies and women. Many were of legal age or borderline, but many more were of prepubescent girls. Roger Adams was in one shot, lubing his dick before trying to shove it up the ass of a defenceless and complicit little girl. Her thoughts were rabid, “you stupid, stupid cunt Derek.” She would have had no problem with Roger getting nicked, but Derek, Derek was a once a week man. He didn’t even download porn.

I think we have established your involvement in procuring children for journalists Ms Tyler but just how implicated in this was you husband and how complicit were you in his activities?

‘Complicit’ wasn’t a word which hung gracefully in Sue’s mind. It was clear that the digital files which she had seen and heard were literary a house of cards, the human body is

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

a fragile mechanism that, when put under too much stress, will stop functioning normally. Saddam's torture boys were also experts at this - prisoners' families can be brought to prisons to be beaten, raped and sodomized if the inmate still refuses to talk. Some individuals might experience the uncontrollable need to cry, loss of energy, withdrawal, confusion, despair, inability to think clearly, sleep disruption or insomnia, loss of pleasure in everyday activities, feelings of worthlessness and depression, hearing voices, seeing visions, feelings of paranoia, feelings of being pursued, feeling sensations that are not really present, grandiose or delusional behaviour, bizarre public behaviour, feeling of jealousy, and feelings of violence. Sue felt the lot, in waves in undulating waves. Her entire history, biography disintegrated. All there was left was to come clean. She not only realised but felt intensely the hypocrisy that she had lived. She felt hypochondriac to the extreme. She could feel blood out, out her ears but it was only a feeling. She wondered how her old school mistresses would see her, her successful ‘friends’ who edited ‘the world of interiors’. Roger Adams. She knew she was in deep, but her logic was determined.

gateway to raising the profile of their struggle then she was only doing wrong in a relative sense, wasn’t she? Like in any war some individuals, some civilian must be sacrificed for the greater good.

These besuited characters in this plush office and its hightech gear had no inkling of what she and the other’s were up against. They were up against each other for Christ’s sake! If she gave access to a couple of men, miscreants who were the

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This was known by the victorious Veitcong. They used Viet civilians as shields, they trained children to deliver grenades and be assassins, they knew that the moral and mediated westerners could not defend themselves this way, they had inhibitions, rules, ethics, standards that would be their undoing and that would serve as their weakness. They did not know how to be strong, they hardly knew sacrifice. The Vietnamese knew how to sacrifice, how to be bloodyminded, stubborn, stoic and stalwart. If one village decided that their message was not good, and then they destroyed them, then their family paid with their lives. They would sacrifice tens or hundreds or thousands or tens and hundreds of thousands for what they considered progress. This was the collective mind; in it was something really Vietnamese. Sue in her battle emulated this tenacity. She would sacrifice a few lolitas whom she knew had already being screwed more times than a porcupine to satisfy the hunger for sensation of western media and its agents. The journos wanted to ‘get inside’ the mind of a pedo, there was no better way to show them than to show them. Let them touch, feel, live the fear, the anomaly of the denied, the banned, the censored the unforgivable, the reprehensible. Then and only then would

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

they be able to nail hedonists like Ray Sparkle, to understand how they wish to persist the decadence they tasted backstage in the permissive pre-aids 1970s. He tried to resist, pretty feebly he would admit, but he was overcome by a superior well trained force.

means to avoid constant attention he received when he went to the hetero bar scene from Taxi girls. “Sir I am fed up of prostitutes coming on to me in the hostess bars, I am sick of the sycophants in places like Elsewhere and FCC, I can chat and relax in the ‘Pepper’ bar, hope you have some in your pants”

But Derek, who the fuck is he? Sue scanned her memories and thoughts looking for forensic clues as regards his indiscretions. Because of his work using GOrinNOsho, there was still an element of what was unfolding which seemed distant and unreal. Sure the program and its avatars – Tommy and Dicky – couldn’t recreate video, but the whole orientations of the program was aimed at creating synthetic pedo rings. Surely fantasy, creativity and reality had not crossed at some juncture?

She remembered how there was a time some months before when they started to think that he was maybe gay. He hadn’t screwed her for some time, and someone had seen him down at the “popper bar’ – a popular haunt for homos in Phnom Penh several times. When concerned with this he claimed he was with the country director of the VSO who was having a love affair with a Katoey, and how inappropriate and closed minded it was of whoever reported him. “so fuck if I have been in a gay bar, does that make me gay?” He actually went on to exploring it rationally as a

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Is he a sex maniac or homosexual were the options.

Sue was bewildered and confused he couldn’t in the dots anymore. She couldn’t tie it together. She had slipped into the world of no absolutes, the pavilion of mirrors with its shattered reflections of self’s and selves.

Derek was meanwhile piecing something together. A pattern was emerging for the first time as he sat in Unityview’s HQ. The screen flickered in his face and reflected in his designer glasses, the one’s he laid on the bedside cabinet when he was having sex, the fragments were akin to what he was building by tracking the progress and process of GOrinNOsho and Dick and Tommy the free range avatars which were to sugar trap paedophiles. It was clear that not only were they being monitored and tracked by some very unique and powerful programs emanating from the Eastern seaboard US but that he himself and this server had been compromised. By whom, and when was not clear, and what had been seen.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

This concerned him as it was still premature for anybody on the outside to see what he had built. He had gambled immense sly on Sue seducing dispensation by the US Homeland Security for GOrinNOsho to go into the public domain. Now it had been observed in action, and the biggest problem was that Derek had little to no idea what it had generated. His program was Echelon v.2.75 the final build.

But something was not coalescing, like whoremongers selfsorting themselves in the barworld of Bangkok. It was not clear.

A few days before there was a story of a Black American getting killed in Toul Kork, and there were some linkages to SMS and postings created by the program, but who, what where and why were still vague and would take some time to decipher. He used some other hacked versions of Echelon, some that ran on Linux, they might run quicker and have better access.

The problem of this program is that you cannot run it properly in simulation. Dick and Tommy were tutored by the other sub-routine Mary Ann Quang Dao but it need more subtly and granular action and relation such as can only be poorly assimilated by exposure to the real lived world of human experience. How could it then be just? The program cannot venture into the brothel itself but realise

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

upon reports and video of brothel scenes in order to learn. It has no morals no inbuilt ethics, just some banal heuristics.

What was emerging was scary. It appeared that he was implicated in a scenario which had him getting obsessed with kids. The program had evolved a persona. And complimentary online persona called “the Horse’. This ‘Horse’ had an insatiable appetite for kids. Pretty low resolution but convincing video footage had been synthesised showing him in orgies in the lucky Ro hotel – a well-known pedo hang-out. Derek had synthesised these images himself as a test process using his Panasonic MPEG-4 camcorder, they were supposed to be deleted. They had been sampled by two agencies - one most likely to be the CIA, the other from a very large and powerful server somewhere in Phnom Penh itself. It must be homeland security at the Embassy. Every US embassy by default has the latest shit installed; all the Microsoft upgrades and the latest Intel chips to back it before anything or anybody else. They can almost do anything, if they had the smarts. But they don’t. They don’t pay enough for guys like him…

He remembered that Sue was in Washington. But how could he contact her securely to tell her what had happened?

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Sue had txt’d him a couple of hours before, so he assumed she was OK. He was due to catch the flight to Narita, then on to Washington. He sat tight and sweated. He considered his options, there were none? Maybe he could get Rheena to phone Pam to phone Sue and tell her to cancel and get the next flight back! By the time this chain had happened Sue was dining, and the first message left was homeland security that had distracted her from calling Pam back, after all she was seeing her first thing the next day.

Derek sat alone. The picture that was emerging was not good. It appeared that the IJM had got hold of a copy of the video, courtesy of agency X operating in Phnom Penh.

Derek couldn’t stay there. He couldn’t get out either. He took a room in the Intercontinental under an assumed name.

He got room 506.

Meanwhile back in Washington. Sue was still being interviewed. The picture was emerging for the agents that this was a stupid woman and that there were political ramifications in the story. It should not be realised the press.

They would be calling upon Sue’s superiors though and that she should, in the short term, resign her post and have nothing to do with the aid agencies again. What about Min Hogg and all the other old girls? What about Lynne, why

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

couldn’t have she married Roger instead of that Judas Derek?

Yeah he was an asshole, but a safe English bound asshole with a lovely home and scrummy wine cellar. Fuck all like this would ever happen to Lynne… Why me?

How would she explain this to her friends?

She was taken back to her hotel. Several messages were left, mainly from well-wishers who included Mrs Clinton.

Would news of her arrest get through to her, would it affect her chances of being the first female president? Sue broke open the drinks cabinet, and swallowed whiskey and vodka until she vomited and the n some more until she dropped into a coma. Next day, she mustered the strength to rise and book the next flight to the airport.

How was she going to explain to Derek? How would he explain to her, reciprocity is the basis of any universal human rights – Roger Adams filled her mind to the point of suicide?

Sue cared little for ‘explanation’ she only wanted to see and hold Derek. She regretted ever going to Asia, Asia which she had considered her home. She drank most of the plane journey and was sick again. She wanted to die.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

The Cambodian police, in conjunction with the US Embassy arrested her on entry for Debauchery. Representatives of the IJM were there. She could see them gloating. She phoned Rhenna who eventually came and negotiated her temporary release for $10000. She had to surrender her passport. She was the oncological doctor who contracted the disease he treats. She was the bent copper who ends up in jail. She was someone professing to care for others, who now needed care.

She was a guilty as sin – within herself. Unityview’s HQ had been ransacked. Her position either stolen or destroyed. It had taken a little over 24 hours for everything to fall apart.

Derek was nowhere to be seen. Nobody had spoken to him and the police and two Scotland Yard specialists at the British embassy were keen to interview him. She booked into the Intercontinental room 378.

they lay on their bed you could superimpose one on the other to realise that they were brother and sister, and death is a foul thing really, not at all in keeping with English sensibilities. But theirs, quite rightfully some would say, was no plateaux upon which they could relax, where they could rest.

Inside their aircon cells, which were not white, quite spacious and comfortable actually, befitting a gourmand and a very independently wealthy software man, the two lovers ran straight through their biographies.

In a bizarre metaphor to them lying in Prey Sar prison, they analysed and broke down everything they could muster. As

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If they had each other, they would have something of or somebody. But many realities were broken down that day.

How could Sue face her parents and family back in blightly?

How could Derek clear his name when he had invested so much in creating an evidence making machines which was foolproof, designed to nail the real baddies, but she had nailed herself in this stead, and to manufacture evidence that would stick. In making it he was like a child baking a cake, he was covered in mess.

Sue considered how all agencies were like gamblers lurking over the roulette wheel whilst not casting bets. The very troubling and hamfisted raids on massage beauties were the result of much panning and 10s of thousands of taxpayers’ dollars. The result was stupid but not damaging. The backfire was hurtful, but not fatal. Like when UK social services removed an entire child population from a Scottish island under accusation of abuse. The Island abuse was later refuted, but actual abuse happened within the ‘safe’ homes they had been deposited at in the city. The whiff of

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

forbidden sexuality and fruit and sweets can turn the head of any responsible man. Sue knew there were no such things.

Only Saddam’s sons, replicated again and again and again.

She had gambled and committed the cardinal sin of presuming in order to condemn producing. She had trafficked in order to highlight trafficking. It was now obvious that every one of these children was worth the same as any other. even in a place where life is cheap, virginity is considered the only thing they have, once they have lost it then sex is considered a mechanical act, she had used this rationale to allow her to trade her raison d’ etre for publicity, the publicity to be traded for funding, she sincerely believed that she would eventually ‘break even’ and be able to get these little girls hymens sewed up, and the next time they would not be sold to Chinese for ritual defloration, followed by a diet of hardcore spit roasting ‘borongs’. Her heart wasn’t darkness; it was in the right place. It was in some far field which will always be England. But who would, could understands this logic today, expect in concert with confusion. The British Indian women on the BBC gave a commentary on the state of the nation today; she spoke as if the last 20 years was an entire history, an entire linear 1000 years. This is its reality. Ethnic contradiction, Starbucks in Bangalore, those girls at her school who were not the daughters of Marahajas, but fruit shop owners who didn’t speak much English themselves but had amassed in some nine years of living in Britain, half a million pounds sterling

mostly from VAT fraud, but contributed by the fact his shop’s electric was run off the street light electricity. They went on to professional careers as Brits and accepted it as normal to call the third world ‘perv’s paradise’.

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She pondered on how she actually hated Asian women, So did Derek in he other room, he hated their sexualised kids.

The passive little skivvies, those little minxes with their tight, tight pussies and soft silk skin. How they had taken away the dignity of their proper English relationship, their comfortable righteous English upbringing, her stiff upper lip and her Derek. The most horrific item was surely the way he folded his Prada one-off spectacles and placed them neatly on the bedside cabinet just as he always did on Friday night ‘ritual’. He did it with those little minxes, he didn’t ride them missionary but more like Pam getting her asshole rimmed in her ever increasing visits to the Spa. Sue vomited and cried and cried. Her career was over, her marriage too; she would have to face the public back home.

She had furnished men, hated men, and despicable men, with cheap ethnics’ children. Her meal ticket was gone. It would be hideous in Jail, who would feed her?

In the other room Derek lay there weeping as well. He felt like he had multiple sclerosis, that he was the paralytic, he was hysteric.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

weaker inmates with come to the watering hole for sloppy fifths and sevenths.

Upstairs drawing on this energy was Otto Gershang who was the Magus that had tipped the balance, who had shifted the operation from a shy opening of a seam, to a open pure rape n’ murder rip on a silk dress. The energy taken from these two distraught individuals channelled into David Gotlieb, who was revenge fucking a girl who looked like Sri Mom in a Toul Kork brothel with a dust storm blowing up his bony ass. He was celebrating a successful kill operation working as a NOK with the IJM. Bible in his back pocket, he ripped the condom off and gave her backdoor attention, where Le Roy had been with his disease ridden cock two weeks ago, he was one magical movement from Kether to Malkuth. Otto cleared out the reaming funds from Derek’s online bank accounts and that of Unityview. He wanted to avoid the world of shells.

He was speaking to David on the phone. David needed out.

They were running a story on him and he would surely be arrested and deported.

“Have you any idea what they would do to a cop paedophile in our penitentiary system?” Muscled Mary spics and blacks will command his ass, and after with smashed ribs and rape,

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The people who drew you into this mess are in two rooms in the intercontinental David, bring your gun and you will fake their suicides, they also have much to die for. Afterwards come to my apartment where I will ride you, you have used buttplugs so it will pose no problem for you David. Then I will furnish you with new identities and you will begin your new life in my apartment in Moscow. You will do precisely what I say David. You have seen it many times before on TV I showed you it 3 years ago in a version of Columbo.

David perversely remembered this strange show, where the reception was bad, but it was indeed, the plot of an ex-cop who faked the murders of two British people staying in a hotel in a foreign country. The case remained unsolved.

Miles from home, miles away, to find the seashell room of Dr. Winslow Wong, beyond the armour of the sea in old and New England. That is the goal. To find some point from which you can arrive and depart, to leave a guide thread through the pavilion… to get back. To get back what you have lost is human condition, its aim and purpose, when all that there is the centre. And there it must be dark.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

David went in and shot Sue Tyler who was relaxing sedated on the bed, he then went to the other room whose number was significant and shot her husband, it took several tries but he was dead. It was his first kill and he never got to read her rights. He wiped his prints from the weapon in age old style and placed it firmly in the hand of the Derek corpse.

He had shot his wife in a fit of rage and then himself. There was no CSI in Cambodia of note. Their motives were clear enough for Jazz. Two chamber maids, who were alarmed by the noise and saw David, were dispatched by security allegiant to esteemed hotel guest Otto and at the request of the hotel management. They were dispatched Khmer Rouge style, bound and gagged, thrown like dirty linen in the hotel laundry chute and driven to a place outside where they were bludgeoned, not with $ this time, but hard iron bars. Their bodies were fed to few animals, after their fat was removed and put in bottles for Otto’s gourmet ‘Hannibal Lector’ delights. Their guts went to the market place in a province.

People in the market commented on the tasty guts that night, The vendor knew they tasted just like pig’s guts.

Dispassionate neighbours unconcerned about the rich man who lives an Austrian puppet’s silly insignificant life. Such indulgence. The man who stays so so quiet even though he sacrificed his penis and love and life for an abstract. Is it tragedy, after this far we think not. Is it retribution, David’s hated ‘Karma’. Bugger off, believe as ye want and will, it will be observed and noted and categorised because humans are incorrigible pattern and patter makers…”

The eye in the jungle, the lone gazer at you as you sit inside and grope his wife in full purview of their community on their turf you fight turf wars upon. On your arm you flaunt her. A grenade is gently thrown into the tiled room. The explosion of his kidneys tore the Japanese man’s mind apart, and he pixalted like his screen and scream burning out.

Otto had sacrificed his penis to chaos magic and Austria ages ago. He was performing the rite of the number 11, just as the white room Vietnamese prisoner had done all be it, unconsciously. He pretended to make a gourmet meal of it when he rode David and convincingly faked orgasm as he felt David clench up when he probed too deep into the

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When the cop started to peer into the driver’s window, there was a sudden flurry of movement, recognition, too quick for a shuffle, more like a knee-jerk than an interaction.

Suddenly, the man in the car pulled a gun and fired several shots. David was falling, was this it, was it all to be over, accomplished. Back in his movie shot by two drunken investigative journalists looking for sensation forever the movement is accomplished. They fell, with what they thought was but couldn’t be, in love with two very young girls, that he’d broken in that night on Coke and ‘V’. David decided he wanted a second wife, a second chance.

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

South China Sea. It was a moonless night, only the dark side was not visible. All was in order. He had worn the fat women’s ‘woollen helmet of love’ while doing ‘it’, what seemed like practice, normal, was in hindsight abnormal, peculiar, freaky a kink. The bodily sensations robbed him of his youth. They lay at the heart of all his broken relationships as a grown man, and would do so... forever.

The peace sign, anti-Vietnam and the Apollo rocket explosion of love in his mouth were real OK. Not at all.

Amerasian psychotherapist who helped him piece it all together. He had learned to dream in Thailand, and he learned to articulate these thoughts. He understood that biographies are nonsense, as well as anyone who tried to impose rules and codes on something dynamic and fluid, which had so much tragedy involved. Perhaps that is why his newly wed wife cried for months and never fully recovered. The psychic fallout of all this intensity made people believe and disbelieve at the same time, dream and plead for reality, try to draw out for themselves a ontological security that for so many others is so severely denied. A sense of continuity in regard to the events in one's life, the waxing and waning, or one’s hammock, and thirst for beer and need to draw upon a pipe of substances. Of the need for sex and the slim slender chance of union once in a life.

David woke refreshed. He was Mr. Honeymoon in reality.

He now swung in hammock, most of the day drawing upon a pipe and waiting for more beer. These dreams were astounding. His girlfriend was shacked up with a Japanese man who had a lot of TV technology in a concrete bunker house in a Bangkok suburb. She sent money every couple of weeks, and had left her sister to get trained up on sexual antics. David taught her English and taught her how to cope with men. He had once came to Thailand on his honeymoon from Melbourne, and during the course of the honeymoon he had slipped out one night to get a closer look at the cacophony which lay outside the social boundaries of his resort paradise. He never went back and was a registered ‘missing person’. But he was loved. His girlfriend would go with business men and even live with them as girlfriend experiences. But her heart was only for him. He had learned to dream. And he heard fragments, or stories, and he met an

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FaDE TO BLACK

END of Volume Three

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Darling, Yes, Step into the Pavilion of Mirrors

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