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THE OFFICIAL VENTING + ANTI VENTING THREAD PART FOUR


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I'm about 

For chilled beach scene fili takes Thailand you know i think frank

All English spoken too, more educated birds

I just banged one decent 18 yr old in the toilets round the back of a 711 on the way to the airport

clean ones too 

see what the capital is saying this week 

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lost my phone

that fili princess I met in Tokyo dissapeared cos I was too busy reverse sneezing n not bending the knee

if I don't get that fucking phone back then I take everything back abut the slum hole of a 'country'

should do tho

woke up on in a restaurant 

/

tell mike I was never given this choice he talks of n swallow his pride n chuck me in the lad group 

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proper

the halfies / mad mix birds are decent

what you see from America aint necessarily a good cross section tho thats the good end

standard province birds look real South American tribe style / bog standard asian

these city birds tho are impressive

russians n japanese n bare expats n mixies here all ignoring the drug death sentence

my birds pops is mayor of one suburb outside manila n she just come off her blob

inshallah my seed will sprout inside this womb today

super strength Steve seed

her family are power, wikipedia pages n that

young Stef will continue the good clan name lord willing

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oh the memoirs are there fella

just lost a big chunk if I don't locate this fucking phone tho 

this week alone has been novelworth

I don't even tell the lads half the shit that occurs cos they will just say gassin

/

pecks just chatted a bit mad

didn't Jon doe just out him as having skinny arms (ironically (double ironically coming from me))

I know the kid has powerful jew kin n he sent me a few pics back in the day of him with AKs n that

he was def living alright in Colombia even if his stories had add ons

was meant to do some actual legit business with him but he fully flopped 

/

let me take this opportunity while I'm hungover n giddy to offer an olive branch jubez

your'e alright

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might swell share my first draft of the little indo trip

doubt ill do fuck all else with it till I die

...

This was the top result on Google when you search for Medan.

 

'Dear Medan. I hate you.

 

I found you the most unpleasant, charmless and thoroughly depressing city I've ever encountered. And I've visited plenty of shitholes in my time.'

 

So have I. I was born in one, moulded by one. I always enjoy luxury but there's something about places with a tangibly grimey edge or surface that I find alluring or maybe familiar. I preferred what I've seen of Naples compared to Rome and Florence for example. In Naples, as soon as you step off the train there's dirty bastards everywhere and it doesn't seem like it would be much of a task to find a hooker and a small shitty bag of coke. I loved it. Naples is still very much a tourist destination however.

 

This charmless shithole, Medan, had only been chosen because it was the cheapest flight I didn't require a pre planned visa for, save from Kuala Lumpur which I'd heard held all sorts of druggy temptations I sought to avoid.

 

After the hour long train journey from the airport through the something fields and then the outer city slums, the busy grit of the city was evident as I was abstractly taxi'd through the city centre by a nervous and young Indian descented man, ten fold on Naples, in a way only Asia can.

 

Indian and Chinese influences merges into one concentrated hot dusty haze of sweat and car horns.

Constant streams of traffic snakes through roads bordered by garishly coloured and crumbling buildings. Street food sellers sold their wares as groups of men stood around /////// working and laughing and lounging. Tuk tuk things / rickshaws

 

I'd arrived.

 

I intended to find the charm in this 'charmless' city. I was confident in my skills to root out the little bit of good in even the most festering of shitholes. I had been friends with Sofia for well over 6 months now after all.

 

 

First I needed to cluck in and clock out of my ever burdening ice habit. My impression of an ice head had began to even start fooling myself. The lines between ice tourism and ice addiction were getting blurrier with every empty bag I cut up in to the bin. I hadn't slept or ate regularly in a good few weeks now, most probably the full 2 months since returning from Tokyo in all honesty (but who really knows), and I was lighter than I'd been in years; weight and colour wise. I'd rarely seen daylight for a while, only really scuttling about for required nourishment during normal people hours, if necessary, before retreating back to a nest of some sort. I was strung out like a violin; generally a fidgety, irritable, scatter brained twat. A proper Draco Malfoy. I can't say it wasn't great fun but it was time to knock it on the head for a bit and rejoin civilisation.

 

Where better than Medan. British colony joke.

 

A few days and nights of sleeping, shitting and eating would get me through phase 1 of my detox. In the past phase 2 was always to hop back on the glass horse and smoke some more shit so I was no expert in what comes after but I know I needed a place to lay my head. My head wasn't in much of any right place before I left Bangkok but I had managed to book a relatively plush resort in Medan with a pool, gym and a restaurant to 'do my cluck'. I'd also managed to spell my email wrong when booking, then close the confirmation page (thus theoretically losing it forever) and then forgot which hotel I'd chose and why. I could have scavenged the hotel name and a nice headache from a strategically long and expensive phone call to Agoda but not today. In my rush to pack and smoke the last of my crystal, I took an educated guess as to which hotel I chose and jotted down the address. The hotel didn't matter for the first few days anyway. I just needed a comfortable womb in which to be reborn.

 

I'd incorrectly guessed the Great Impression hotel; a hotel I struggle to see leaves anyone other than the simplest of Indo tribesman bumpkins with much of an impression. It was the equivalent to a small Travel Lodge but with weaker brand equity and shat on top of a small supermarket in an unwalkable, barely drivable, very brown part of town lined with open sewers inhabited by schools of small jittery poo fish. ICmpletely non-franchisable concep.t But I was sticking with it for now. I checked myself in for a night.

 

For 3-4 pathetic days I slept, woke, transported my pale, shrivelled shell of a meat vehicle downstairs to the breakfast buffet and filled it up with carbs and coffee before stumbling back to the womb for more sleep. I didn't want to see what was under anybody's eyelids but before properly checking out of consciousness each day I kindly informed them I would not be checking out of the room and extended my stay one more night. They were kind enough to disrupt my delirious slumber every few hours in return, ringing the room phone to inform me a payment was required in exchange for my metaphorical womb. A hotel is not a new concept to me and I don't intend on running out on the bill. I'll pay when I wake up. I'm a drug addict for fucks sake. Oh and did you miss the notice that I'm a white man in the middle of obscure Indonesia. I'm not exactly blending in anywhere hauling my life's belongings around in a half broken suitcase to save a few quid and you have all my fucking passport details there so where's my white privilege treatment.

The rest of the city had got the memo. Medan obviously didn't experience much western tourism. The Bangkokians' disinterest was contrasted///// with the Medanese////// reaction.

 

 

This was grating and awkward sometimes, particularly before my head was back on properly. The constant, occasionally needy, 'hello mista's were fine; at least then they was some expected response rather than the blatant and confused stares. The photo requests from business owners were fine - I am a beautiful young man after all – but slightly weirder from toothless gorms in the street.

I remember seeing some fellow white faces on checking in, looking over at me as if I was here to rescue them. I can't save you chaps – I'm here to hibernate.

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lol this nigga

can fuck with that still you're like a dirty bill bryson

despite the obvious or (perhaps because of it) this is good

shout me should you want an editor, eightball (of weed) per chapter

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3 hours ago, local said:

lost my phone

that fili princess I met in Tokyo dissapeared cos I was too busy reverse sneezing n not bending the knee

if I don't get that fucking phone back then I take everything back abut the slum hole of a 'country'

should do tho

woke up on in a restaurant 

/

tell mike I was never given this choice he talks of n swallow his pride n chuck me in the lad group 

Are you still ridin for the pagan grp ?

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