Bangkok

A Thai filmmaker last night invited me to play Buddha in a flick he is putting together involving the major characters from the various major world religions having romantic time together. He wanted me to be Buddha, and to make out with Jesus on a park bench.

"We already have Jesus; he's staying right up there," he said, gesturing to a hippie lounging on a balcony above us. He did have a nice beard.

It's because I'm bald, isn't it? But, no, to answer your question, I did not use this opportunity to launch a career in film. Well, I didn't use it at all. No, I did not make out with Jesus!

I moved to a sort of artists' colony yesterday. My little house opens right onto (as in, 6 feet from) the Chao Phraya River. Waves slap against a three-foot concrete wall, and barges rumble up and down the water.

It's one of the cheapest places in town, and pretty eclectic. A Belgian couple is working on a photography project on ladyboys. A faux-hawked Uruguayan juggles clubs and plays the recorder. Guests are invited and encouraged to paint their rooms any way they like.

Anyway, I am here to report on the demonstrations staged by the Red Shirts, supporters of a guy who was ousted while facing corruption charges. Still need to get a wide-angle lens.

Oh, so these boys were playing on the dock that floats about 50 yards from my little house. The kid doing a backflip was fearless. He would jump off of anything.