What’s up, reader, how’s your day going? My name’s Seven and this is my blog. At the time of posting this post, it’s Sunday the
Year: 2022
Well, it was an unseasonably rainy week in Asia’s City of Angels (the Thai word for “Bangkok” literally translates to “city of angels”). Whoever ordered
Good God, reader. The fucking tourists, am I right? Three years of lockdowns and travel bans gave me near complete amnesia bout the nauseating aggravation
How’s it hangin’ gents, my name’s Seven, and I didn’t get up to much this week, thanks to the cold virus making its way around
Remember, remember, ‘tis Thailand in November. Which means the start of high season, which means more tourists, which means more irritation for local barflies like
‘Twas an All-Hallows’ Eve eve party this weekend in Cowboy, Nana Plaza, and Patpong, and this intrepid poon punter was a barfly on the wall
In December of 2020, during a brief respite from Covid lockdowns, this intrepid gogo fly held an exhibition of artwork called “Patpong Dangerous,” so named
‘Twas another week in the redlight for this worn-down barfly, and aside from a few odd moments, went pretty much the same as previous ones.
For the last coupla weeks I’ve been on what we Americans call “vacation.” Which is a weird thing to be on if you already live
I have a newfound affinity for lying shills who only post BS and propaganda online and call it Bangkok nightlife “journalism.” In the last two