Second Avatar

By Request, That Hideous Speech

I been asked to post the speech I gave the other day at the Oxford and Cambridge dinner. As you may know, these speeches are generally the highlight of these dinners, but as the dinner was a disaster, with very little wit and much pedantry and illiteracy displayed, by the time my speech arrived, an hour after it was scheduled, I could have given a reading of the menu and the audience would have died laughing...

THE SPEECH
Your Excellencies and your not-so-excellencies:

Being invited to give the toast at our annual Oxford and Cambridge dinner is a once-in-a-lifetime honour.

Being invited to do so twice, therefore, must either be considered a twice-in-a-lifetime honour, or a catastrophic lapse in judgment by the organizers.

Undoubtedly they have forgotten that my last speech was about farting.

Be that as it may, one cannot cross the same river twice, though it is possible to visit the same toilet many times in one’s life. I shall therefore try to choose a more elevated theme for tonight’s toast to that august institution so eloquently characterized by the Black Adder as “a dump.”

I want to talk about what makes the Oxonian world-view so special, and why Oxford might even be considered to have made a few minor contributions to our world. I am uniquely qualified to pontificate about Oxford because I took up residence at Worcester College at the age of eighteen …. months. Though I was there for three years, I am not bitter that they didn’t give me my D Phil. Nevertheless, it does point out one of the major differences in world view between the two universities. So let me talk, today, about those world views, and about why Oxford might, be some, be considered even more brilliant than its younger sister.

Let’s not stray too far from home, though. Some other night, I would love to talk about how brilliant Oxonians like Tolkien managed to invent entire languages out of thin air, whilst it was all a benighted Cantabrigian like Michael Ventris could do to decipher a few clay tablets in a language that had been around for three thousand years.

I would love to discuss the Oxford Movement, only I’ve promised to stay away from bodily functions tonight.

Instead, I would like to talk about the person who is, in my view, the crème de la crème of the Oxonian sensibility. I am referring of course to my childhood friend, the Lord High Governor of Bangkok.

Sukhumband has spent the last thirty-odd years (some of them very odd indeed) regaling people with his tales about me. But all things comes to those who wait and finally, I have been given this forum to give the Cambridge viewpoint, which, unlike that of Oxford, will be quite untrammeled by such inconveniences as factual accuracy.
M.R. Sukhumband tells a tale of how we were all spending a holiday somewhere in the country. All the young people were outside doing all the things that proper upper-class teenagers do: playing croquet, raping the peasants and so on. He noticed that I was nowhere to be found, and, following the sound of laughter, tracked me down to an armchair where I was deeply ensconced in a big fat book, laughing my head off all by myself. Sukhumband tells us that, wanting desperately to find out what could be causing a brilliant mind such as mine to turn into a solitary hyena, he crept across to the couch and saw that this was actually the full score of Mozart’s Cosi fan tutte.

The truth is far sneakier. I must now reveal that, after thirty-five years, I pulled a fast one. The book was actually a photo book called “101 positions they left out of the kama sutra,” and I had merely ripped the cover off the Mozart score and stuck it on.
Oxonians, as you can see, are quite easy to fool.

But I think the anecdote which Sukhumband has dined out on most often comes from the weekend that he and I, as teenagers, took the train up to Oxford in order to do our interviews. He, of course, passed his interview with flying colors. But when it came time for mine, the tutor said, “So, young man, why do you want to come to Oxford?” Too innocent to answer with anything other than the truth, I said, “Well, actually, I don’t. I’d really rather go to Cambridge.” “All right, then,” said the tutor. “Off you go.”

That story is all very black and white, you see, all very Oxonian. But now, let me tell you what really happened.

On the train to Oxford, Sukhumband and I were enjoying a drink in the dining car when a mysterious mist enveloped us and we found ourselves transported to a hilltop somewhere in Turkey. We were dressed in rough tunics, and some nymphs were piping away in the distance. Before we had time to react, three goddesses were descending from the sky, bearing a golden apple.

“What the hell is going on?” Sukhumband said.

But I knew all about this. “Don’t worry,” I said. “We’re having a vision of the judgment of Paris. We can be out of here in a minute. We just give the golden apple to the fairest, accept their gifts, and we’re home free.”

“It ended pretty badly last time,” Sukhumband said, struggling to remember his Homer.

“Just do what I do,” I said. “It’s a piece of cake.”

Judging their beauty turned out to be a bit hard, for the three goddesses were no spring chickens.

The first goddess looked about eight hundred years old. “I am the Goddess Cantabrigia,” she said. “If you choose me, you shall become a famous artist, known throughout the world, though you won’t have a penny to show for it.”

The second goddess was obviously older, but she must have had a few facelifts, because her smile was permanently welded on.

“I” she said, “am the goddess Oxonia. If you choose me, you will inherit a fabulous palace, become incredibly wealthy, have many servants, cars, and houses, and rule over a mighty megalopolis in a distant land that isn’t part of the British Empire.”

“Sounds good,” we both said at the same time. “I’ll take it.”

The third goddess really seemed to want to say something, but the other two said, “Oh, ignore her. She’s just our maid.”

“Well, then,” I said, “when do we collect our prizes?”

“All in the fullness of time,” said the three goddesses, as they dissolved and merged into the Mediterranean mist.

We found ourselves in a vestibule at Oxford. Inside, our doom awaited us. We were up for our interviews in a few minutes. “There’s got to be a catch,” I said. “We can’t both become governor of Bangkok.”

“You’re right,” he said. “it’s a violation of Einstein’s law of conservation of governorships. I’ll tell you what. If we don’t fix this, there will be a permanent anomaly in the system of causality, and the universe as we know it will instantly self-destruct.”

“Why didn’t the goddesses warn us?” I said.

“They’re goddesses! They can always create another universe.”

“What will we do?” I moaned. We had the entire weight of the human condition on our shoulders. The fate of the universe, as happens so often in movies, but rarely in our mundane world, now rested on the decision of one man.

“It’s very simple. I will sacrifice myself for the good of humanity,” said Sukhumband, setting his jaw into a heroic expression. “When the interviewer asks me, I will say I really wanted to go to Cambridge.”

“Are you sure?” I said.

“Of course! Anything for humanity.”

Never have I been prouder of my friend than on that day. I also have to admit that I was rather looking forward to getting the palace and the governorship.
He came out of the interview looking rather glum. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it,” he said, shaking his head. And he looked at me with those beautiful, trusting eyes. “You’re just going to have to save the universe instead. Besides,” he added, with irrefutable logic, “I am your phi.*”

The rest you know.

Cantabrigians have been saving the universe for almost a millennium, but only Oxonians, you see, really know how to govern the world. You don’t rule it by saving it. You rule it by having the intelligence, the farsightedness, and the charisma to talk other people into saving it for you. This secret knowledge is the peculiar provenance of Oxford, and for this, I salute her and ask that you all raise your glasses in a toast … to our slightly dotty older sister and all the brilliant men and women who have come from her.


*phi: a Thai word meaning older sibling. By custom, one must do everything they tell one to do.

Wild Nights at the Oriental

Well, not that wild, really. The first one, the Oxbridge Dinner, was sort of hideous, though in a sense I saved the day at the eleventh hour, so I received a lot of kudos for appearing there. But I must admit that I'm not as in to Schadenfreude as I should be. I might post my speech at the dinner; it was pretty amusing and some people have asked for copies.

Last night, same hotel, same ballroom, different dinner; the frightfully upscale SeaWRITE Awards had the usual literati and the usual exclusive after party thrown by noted philanthropist Rex Morgan....

The pic above shows me and the Governator of Bangkok with the Therouxes.

Something Weird This Way Comes

Here's a complete (not yet sound-sweetened or edited) recording of the first episode of Avatar Dvadas, a meta-symphony created by me and Bruce....

And here's the blurb from the paper....

t's a meta-symphony being created right in front of your very eyes and ears, music woven out of the very fabric of Bangkok's newest hub of creativity. The piece is designed for Bangkok's Art and Culture Center, using all the spaces, shapes, and angles to be found within it. "Bangkok: Twelve Incarnations" celebrates a city that is constantly reborn.

In their first co-composed composition since 1977's "Hexaphony", Somtow Sucharitkul and Bruce Gaston are putting together a year-long artwork, one movement or "incarnation" every month, timed with the constellations of the zodiac. the work will be collected into a gargantuan video set.

It's a new kind of art which could only have been created in Bangkok. Part improvisation, part environmental music, part kinetic art, the work is designed to be experienced live. Once the twelve "incarnations" have been performed, the work will be collected into a gargantuan video set.

The first "incarnation", inspired by the constellation Virgo, can be experienced on September 20 at the Bangkok Art and Culture Center at 7 pm. Bruce and Somtow will co-conduct members of the Siam Philharmonic and Fong Naam ensembles.

The meta-symphony can be experienced from many vantage points in the BACC, but we recommend the lobby or one of the balconies.

Donations will be accepted for the Bangkok Opera HIV Awareness Project.

Getting All Cosmic

I dreamed that I was in a room learning about the speed of light. It was a beautiful sepia-toned room and we were examining the world through special magnifying glasses. The room ran on clockwork. It was full of cogs and gears. A voice told me that when you pass the speed of light, you may not know it right away. You won't feel any different. Albert Einstein is somewhere in the room. It must be Einstein's voice as it has a sort of German accent.

Then I am in the sea, training to swim faster than light. I swim past huge obstacle course of shark fins, and then, mysteriously, the sharks becoming flying diplodocuses. And I careen into the stars, past the diplodocuses. The universe whirls around me, brilliant sparkling objects, and I think there is a fleeting glimpse of God. When I wake up the whirling universe is still spinning, only slowly subsiding into the darkness of the night.

The day before, I was at the opening of the Indian cultural center. The great scholar Karan Singh recited Sanskrit poetry and then reminded us that we are all insignificant specks of dust perched on an insignificant speck of dust suspended in the infinite void. Boy, talk about a 60s flashback. I could have sworn there were sitars and the voice of George Harrison bleating softly in the background, and a wafting whiff of mary jane.

But no, this was a high society event, and soon the Thai minister of culture spoke, though his eloquence was not quite on the level of Mr Singh's. We soon retired to the murgh malai and samosas being served in the library. It was there that I had another cosmic vision.

There's this huge and splendid collection of Indian poetry and literature there ... everything from Kalidasa to Tagore. Plus ... one copy of Frank Herbert's DUNE.

Why? Did it just somehow fall into the boxes that were being shipped to the cultural center from India? Or is there some more profound meaning that we're not getting? Or is this, as suggested by Star Trek editor John Ordover on my Facebook page, "Because DUNE is in Sand-skrit?"

You see, as Isaac Asimov once told me, all the mysteries of the universe can be reduced to a silly pun.

Moral Ambiguity in Thailand and Sudan

Thai women don’t wear slacks on temple sites,
Not to piss off the pious, or inflame
The appetites of our chaste cenobites,
Or drown our morals-conscious town in shame.
But if a girl forgets, and dares to flaunt
A pair of jeans before our sacred Buddhas,
She’s but to rent a skirt from those who haunt
The doorways, making money as do-gooders.

There’s no such ambiguity in Khartoum,
Where pants in brasseries can be a pain,
The wrong attire can spell a woman’s doom —
The lash for Lubna Ahmed al-Hussein!
If Christ got 39 for freeing man,
What’s one more lash for freedom in Sudan?

read more of Somtow's sonnets at www.sonnetworld.com

Who am I?

I've been reading an interesting discussion on Wikipedia that started when someone edited the page about me and removed the word "American" from the phrase "Thai American." Then this person and that person chimed in on the discussion page (one of them even claimed that I had had to have royal permission to change my name to S.P. Somtow). When I butted into the discussion page myself to explain that I am one of those two-passport people, someone said it wasn't a reliable source. In fact, they went on to say that I should have to declare my nationality on this blog before it could be deemed a reliable source. As someone whose works frequently get printed in Asian American anthologies or appear in Asian American Lit Course reading lists, and whose novels are listed in the Library of Congress catalogue under "fiction, American" ... I think it's rather late for this to suddenly be a matter of controversy.

Western culture always likes to think in polarities. You have to be right wing or left wing ... black or white ... true or false ... a man or a woman. In Asian cultures, people often have no trouble holding simultaneously opposing beliefs, understanding that they are often simply different perspectives on a reality that can never be wholly subjective.

I, and my work, are a living embodiment of the polarity between having to have polarities and not having to have them. Does this make it a meta-polarity, or simply an n-dimensional one? Is it recursive? Or is it subversive?

I would answer your question but I must warn you that I'm not a reliable source.

That Elusive Cup of Coffee

Someone or other has voted and guess what? This blog is in the Top One Hundred of all blogs written by horror novelists. That and a 35 cents will buy you ... oh, no, it won't. Not even in Thailand.

My novel, "Vampire Junction", is also on the Top Forty list of all-time-greatest horror novels, right up there with "Dracula" and "Frankenstein" ... indeed, a French newspaper recently reviewed the movie "Twilight" and said it was a watered-down version of my novel ... That, and 35 cents, will...

Muriel, on Facebook, has just pointed out that if there were a Top Ten list of horror novelists who also compose operas, I'd probably make that one too.

Have I got enough for a cup of coffee yet?

Somtow and Bruce • The Return

In only about 6 weeks, my Thai-language book, "Phasaa mai kaengraeng - volume 1" is going to come out. It's the first volume of a autobiographical trilogy that discusses my coming to terms with being a creature of two cultures.

The first book deals with the period up to 1978, and it therefore contains a lot of material which is incredibly important in the history of music in this country, yet which is no longer remembered or taught ... or rather it has been so subsumed into the collective soul of Thai music that no one realizes that there once a time when the wheel had to be invented.

I constantly am reminded of how much is forgotten. The renewal of the creative partnership between me and Bruce Gaston is, I think, going to awaken those memories. But we also have to get rid of 32 years of accumulated conventional wisdom.

I read in the paper recently a reference to what Bruce and I contributed to music in Thailand in the 70s. The paper, in all innocence, spoke of Bruce's creation of the fusion between Thai and Western music ... and of my passion to bring opera to this country ... as two important elements of that revolution in the 1970s.

The reality is, of course, in some ways its opposite. This is why Bruce and I so often are amazed at how we have ended up as mirror images of each other.

In the 1970s, when I first met Bruce Gaston, he was completely Asian, and I was completely Western. He was a student of Boonyong Ketkhong and in some ways the premier proponent of Thai classical music. I arrived and it was Bruce Gaston, the American, who in fact opened my ears to the sound-world of Thai music, but it was I who began incorporating elements of that music into my very western music, creating the ancestral (and not terribly great) work "Views from the Golden Mountain" in 1975 for a controversial TV broadcast. I went on to start imitating Asian musical techniques on Orff instruments which I found lying around in the Goethe Institute, producing the 1976 composition GONGULA. This then cross-pollinated back to Bruce Gaston and we produced a succession of works in which the styles became ever more fused ... until we ended up with our co-composed HEXAPHONY in 1977.

On the other hand, it was Bruce who first conceived a style of opera that could be comletely done within the resources of Thai music and his opera CHUCHOK was really what set all that in motion. My involvement in opera at that time was a music director of the BOS, an expat amateur opera society.

When the alliance started to fracture in 1979 with my departure for the U.S., I was left with opera, whereas Bruce was left with fusion.... we were in a sort of role reversal.

So yes ... today, Bruce Gaston is known for the Thai-western fusion which his band, FONG NAAM, symbolizes. And I am mostly known in Thailand for opera. But the truth is, we each started what the other continued ....

It's complicated, and it's all coming in my book....

99999

Well, it seems that the first really really public display of the renewed partnership between Bruce Gaston and me will take place in an incredibly high-profile arena ... as witness the above TV spot....

Here's a version in English....

The governor....

Well, there I was at the grand opening of the BACC and here I am with my dear mama, and the governor of Bangkok, who loves to tell the story of how I deliberately flunked out of Oxford by telling the interviewers I'd rather go to Cambridge. On October 7th, however, the "real" story of this will be told when I deliver the toast to Oxford at the annual Oxford and Cambridge dinner....

Immodest Proposals

Today I happened to read, in the paper, the petition signed by 3.5 million people asking H.M. the King to pardon Thaksin Shinawatra.

I'm a bit saddened by the text of this petition because it's not only a request for a pardon but also a political tract disputing the legitimacy of the current government. While I do agree that the coup was a misguided and ultimately self-destructive reaction to Thakin's shenanigans, the current government's hold on power, tenuous though it may be, is entirely constitutional and within the normal operating limits of a democracy. Almost every democracy in the world has had coalition governments such as this where no party possessed the ability to govern alone. "Almost" a majority is not a majority.

Had the petition simply been a heartfelt outpouring from those who love the ex-PM and weren't bothered by the tax evasion, pocket-lining, Muslim-bashing, extrajudicial killing and press muzzling that occurred during that administration, I would applaud the signatories' right to present it. After all, love is blind. It may well be true that such petitions should only legally be presented if the guilty party has served a little time and shows penitence, but in my opinion, anyone can write a letter to anyone else, even a head of state.

But the text of the petition isn't such a heartfelt outpouring. It''s a provocative attack on the legitimacy of a government whose democratic credentials are at least as strong as that of the pre-coup government, perhaps more so in that the last election may not have been quite so blatantly purchased as the one ousted by the coup. Therefore I'm saddened that those who may well have loved the ex-PM may have been manipulating into signing a political manifesto. In the end, this erodes the entire purpose of having an entity beyond politics.

Last year, I protested, and they removed, a Wikipedia entry that said I was an anti-Thaksinite. The reality is, I'm ambivalent. The man is clearly a genius, but genius does not automatically come with goodness. Otherwise the term "evil genius" would not be such a cliché of B movies.

Still, as much as I supported the yellow team's motives until they actually blatantly said that "the poor are too stupid to vote," I supported the right of the reds to petition ... until I saw that petition not only asked for a pardon, but also that that pardon include an implicit royal sanction of one view of the political situation. What was wrong with having it just say "Please pardon you-know-who?"

Well, I'd better shut up, or I'll find myself back to having only one passport ... (and it won't be the Nicaraguan one) I think that Purukanda's rap-style commentary on the Thai political situation says it all far better than I ever could. So look for it on youtube and I'll go back to talking about opera.