I have started the habit of journaling my days in obsessive detail, this time in a private diary, and it has been wonderful. I remember the exact days where I had a dizzy spell; the one funny thing Hanshen said that made me almost wet my pants laughing; the dishes we ordered at that cafe in BKK that’s bound to come in handy someday.
//
Hi Cel, I find myself missing you a lot recently. In your most recent email you said you think about me often, almost every day. I think about our childhood, the funny things we did or said, how innocent and simple those times were. I think about how much we grew together, the nights we spent talking our self-discoveries, our struggles, our hopes – always ending with a routine round of appreciation that we have each other; this friendship.
We went to BKK last week – Xin, Rei, Beni, Becks and I. You might have been on this trip too, if you were around. It was as fun as you’d imagine it to be. I will write about it to you soon. Xin planned it, and as you would guess, it ended up with us going to many un-explored hipster areas and cafes. I’m so glad we did: it was a side of BKK I haven’t seen before. The local artist scene is so vibrant, so organic, that I’m beyond inspired!
And of course, going with decade long friends who love you but will also easily kill you, is an experience in itself.
Opening the door at midnight to Becky and Xin’s ridiculous poses after their Rod Fai trip. Having amazing toasts for breakfast. Traipsing the vintage section of Chatuchak, the streets of Chinatown. Finding a giant pink squid sculpture to take our group photos – hangry beyond words behind our smiles. Hyping up garlic toasts and dealing with Beck’s cynicism with our hypes. Xin chasing down a cab two blocks because she left her tote in it. Many, many cafes. Many, many OOTDs. Mornings and nights spent laughing with Becky about this and that, while in the next room a meltdown ensues over luggage space. Our last day, heroically saved by Baby Driver.
Q 