Happy new year to observers of the Gregorian calendar. We watched the clock tick over on the banks of the Ping River in Chiang Mai, where an insane amount of fireworks were let off for easily 10 minutes. Only the noise cancellation of my AirPods Pro saved my hearing.
I spent the next morning eating a massive buffet breakfast at the hotel (if I’m being honest, that’s one of my favorite kinds of breakfast setup, something I’ll probably mention again when I get around to making my second Breakfast zine — check out the first one here), where they had both the local signature curry noodle dish, khao soi, and an automated tangerine juicer that makes a fresh glass from at least six whole fruit with the push of a button.
I never get to drink both OJ and coffee in the same morning unless on holiday, but the Thais have got it figured out. When we went out later to the Old Town area to visit a cafe, I tried a coffee recipe that’s apparently all the rage there now: an iced orange juice and Americano mashup which shouldn’t work but does.
When it was finally time for lunch, I had a Japanese-style curry rice at a place called “Dirty Curry” inside of a stylish little hotel called Hotel Noir that we might consider next time. The curry played hard to get, taking its sweet time to arrive but was pretty great. Even my iPhone camera ate, because the photo came out looking incredible without any help.
Returning to reality on Tuesday night, we avoided thinking about work by starting to make plans for our next trip (in February, and before you say anything, this is the closest together I’ve ever had two holidays, and the idea of two holidays a year is already a historical anomaly for me). We had the flights booked awhile back but nothing more, so now we’re really running late with the hotels and other tickets.
Sitting in front of the TV that night, we watched in disbelief as live images of JAL flight 516 almost crash landing at Haneda airport came in. Everyone’s been mentioning how Japan has not had much luck with 2024 so far; as if the New Year’s Day earthquake on the west coast wasn’t enough, the week’s headlines have mentioned a slashing incident on a train in Akihabara and another rail-related attempted murder just yesterday.
I returned to work after two weeks away and was amazed at the diversity of human experience when a colleague mentioned how they had gotten bored of having time to themselves over the Christmas break. It boggles the leisurely creative mind. I had free time for a year and would take a hundred more if possible.
But you know who else has had some time off recently and a lot to show for it? Why, the canceled and almost-forgotten singer-songwriter Ryan Adams who just dropped FIVE albums at once on streaming services! Longtime readers will know that I’ve been a huge fan of his work, for over two decades now if I do the math, and the data will probably show that I subconsciously listened to him a lot less over the last four years after he was accused of sexual misconduct and emotional abuse and retreated from view, occasionally dropping albums of half-hearted new material and experimental covers with little promotion.
I haven’t really sorted out my stance on situations like this. Another blogger, Christopher Bradley, makes a case for reevaluating Adams here. He hasn’t committed any crimes — apparently the FBI looked into allegations of sexting with a minor and cleared him — apart from being a poor partner and maybe an awful human being in some aspects of his life. But who among us hasn’t? I still listen to Michael Jackson anyway, and anybody who says they can keep still when Billie Jean comes on is a damn liar.
Anyway, two of Adams’s new albums are esoteric 80s punk rock-ish joints, one of them is a live version of his Prisoners album, and the last two are more his usual speed. I’ve read that Star Sign is the better one, so if you only check one out, I guess that should be it. I plan to work through all of them in the next few days, but on a first pass, Star Sign is quite alright. Because I don’t think any mature musician ever recaptures the energy and raw brilliance of their first few albums — a fact that’s probably best not to think about as a young artist — we tend to grade most on a curve over the years. Just keep the tunes catchy and the words not utterly trite, and we’ll still show up. Unless they get really shitty, like U2.
sangsara.net 