Without any point…

 

When the mind plays tricks on itself, things that once seemed monumental inevitably turn trivial. That’s just the nature of time. You run into a crisis. You haven't got the faintest clue how to navigate it, trapped in the tunnel vision of your own thoughts. What do you do then? Nothing. You let someone else deal with it. On this ridiculous stage called life, that’s usually how things sort themselves out. If I don't do it, someone else will eventually.

I’m a DIY type who has to do everything with my own hands to feel satisfied. But getting older, even household chores have become quite a hassle. Fortunately, I have two mae baans (housekeepers) taking care of things for me. Then it suddenly hit me: I'm paying their salaries. They work for money to make a living, and I’m just their ATM. Still, after eight years together, they feel like my own flesh-and-blood daughters. Since I gave up on learning Lao after all of an hour, we communicate through phone translation apps. Even so, we get along swimmingly.

Circumstances have forced me to step in and take over the restaurant my wife used to run. I haven't run a business since the nineties. Sure, I had my share of success running restaurants in my younger days, but my mind lives in an entirely different world now. (Outside, the rain is falling; we are in the dead center of the wet season. This year, it even pours during the day. Usually, it only rained at night, leaving the days sweltering.)

I've started painting like Jackson Pollock. The restaurant's menu banner, blown away in a storm, became my canvas. Right now, painting is driving me up against a wall of chaos and madness. I took painting—and the deep contemplation it demands—far too lightly. Jackson Pollock truly deserves his praise. Right now, I’m waiting for the coats of paint to dry. Sitting beside the wreckage I’ve committed to the canvas, head spinning, I wonder what to do next. Layers of paint built up in droplets. In fragments, it looks beautiful. So I take photos of the details. Who the hell knows where this work will ultimately lead?