My Story of the BLACK Olive
I am the guy who assembles the website Angry Old Man, so I guess you can call me the Angry Old Man, but I’m not angry at all. I am often frustrated.
But I will agree, I am old. There’s no question anymore. But I am thinking, thinking, thinking all the time! of all kinds of stuff that is going on in my life and in the world around me.
And I think about what other people might be thinking. If I see an elderly man with a stare in his eye, I wonder if he’s thinking about things just like I am. What happened during his life which gives him that stare in the eye.
This is my current thought and it lead to the story of the black olive.
I am an American, retired, and when I first came to Thailand, I lived in Bangkok a few blocks from a place where prostitutes hung out waiting for customers. Now I no longer use the word “prostitute”. Now I know the word “prostitute” is a pejorative, a word that is deliberately negative and has become more so over time. It does nothing except satisfy the need for a word for people that would hold distain for certain other people whom they probably don’t know a thing about. There are often religious connotations to this behavior. I have learned that the word “sex worker” is better. The women I met were clearly working and it involves sex, but sex is something that changes over the time.
since I lived in that area, I was kind of interested in the sex workers. I would walk in that area, smile with them and they would smile back. it was clear I wasn’t a very good potential customer for them and eventually I started to ask if they’d like to have lunch with me. We would walk across the street to Charlie’s Restaurant, and if you think you know where it’s at you probably do because it’s still there. The staff inside was very nice. They recognized me and my guest. And we talked. I spoke no Thai at that time and still don’t. The women I met, the sex workers, often spoke at least some English. But they also seem to have smartphones smarter than my phone. They could hit a couple of buttons and we could hand the phone back and forth because it would translate. Pretty cool! I might ask “How are your children?” We would hand the phone back and forth and talk about their life.
In some ways those were friends, when I didn’t have any other friends. Later after reading books written by others and seeing articles in newspapers and on line, I wrote a book. The name of the book is the Lonely Sex Tourist and again that is me. I am that lonely tourist.
I really enjoyed writing a book. I never wrote one before. It wasn’t very big and it wasn’t very sexy. And although I had great pleasure to think of myself as a writer. I wasn’t a seller. I hardly did anything to sell my book. A friend helped me to put it on Amazon.com. As I recall the price was $25 but I never gave that much that much thought.
So, let’s jump ahead 20 years or so.
Now I live Across the street from a beverage store. In front of the beverage store is a big table. And I said, what the heck! I like to feed people!
I live in an interesting community. Out my back door is a fairly large university with maybe 7000 or 8000 students. And all around my house, going up the street, are privately owned dormitories. I don’t know how crowded they are, or who lives there, but I assume it is mostly student housing.
In a way. I was back with my friends the sex workers.
So, what do I do? I make plans to feed them. I like to feed people I feel like I might make friends with people who otherwise would not be my friend. So, I bought some big pans, some packages of spaghetti, some sauce, materials for salad to make a big big salad. and plenty of spaghetti.
I took this over to the table outside the beverage store People. can pay for their own beverage. What did I do next? Should I charge for that spaghetti? No, I gave it away! And I wrote a flyer that says “all you can eat, as long as it lasts.” FREE! Maybe I will charge something later. Who knows?
That food didn’t really look all that generous. Something was missing I bought a big can of black olives. Do you like black olives? I do.
I made-up a little sign and I want to take a picture to put here. The sign said, that when I lived in Albania (yes I lived in Albania) weird, right? So out of my brain came a sign to put by my can of olives. The sign said
“I lived in Albania. where trusted friends explained to me that black olives were known to be important to lifelong sexual health.
So far it seems to be working. Ha Ha
I got that translated into Thai too for everyone to see. It’s mostly a joke, I know. But for me that day and next Friday and next Friday too, I will have the pleasure of feeding some of the students in my neighborhood. And why not?
So here is a black olive and you can think all you like, but for me or me that black olive becomes a symbol of hope! How will my neighborhood change? How will I change?
Since my website Angry Old Man can seems angry at times. Maybe it is time to see if my website will change too?
By the way a few days ago I pulled out my book and took a new look and GOSH! it is good. So many books about sex work often start to smell like a travel guide. Go here, pay this much, behave in a certain. way.
Okay. But The Lonely Sex Tourist is not like that. I found 22 in a bag in my closet, and I will sign one the next day after you pay me $7 (postage included to the USA) and include your full proper address so you are sure to get it. After you donate the $7 via Buy Me a Coffee, which sees like an easy to transfer that kind of money.
