What’s up reader, my name’s Seven and normally, this would be my weekly redlight diary. But since I’ve been trapped in the hellhole known familiarly as Los Angeles for the past two weeks, I’ve nothing gogo-related to report. I can only react to how strangely surreal this Western life is, compared to the adult-x rated-sex playground of Thailand. So far, this visit has been somewhat atypical.
At time of posting, I’m officially homesick for TLOS. I realize how fortunate I am to spend 11 months per year in paradise, and only leave for 3-4 weeks to visit mum in Cali. I don’t know how people do the reverse—working at ASDA for 50 weeks for a two-week annual stint in Thailand. I’d kill myself. At the moment, the only way I can endure this Western nightmare is to focus on my upcoming move to Pattaya. Ptown, baby, Ptown. It’s the only thing keeping me sane.
I first moved overseas at age 37, which means I spent the previous 36 summers in Los Angeles. Every one of those summers was the same: For May and June, SoCal got what’s called a marine layer every morning. That’s a blanket of clouds that moves in from the ocean overnight and coats the Southland in coolness, burning off to moderate heat around lunchtime. July and August had no such marine layer, and sweltered in incomprehensible hell for 60+ days. So when I knew I’d be in LA for some of July and August, I was prepared to sweat. Imagine my surprise—now 12 days in country—to be experiencing the marine layer every morning and temps not rising above 88 degrees Fahrenheit (31C). It’s the coolest summer on record for one of the hottest parts of the US. Whoever said the globe is warming is a fucking liar.
I was also blown away by how many times my mom’s and brother’s phones rang in a given day. Aside from one or two friends, the rest were spam calls from telemarketers. I’m serious when I say they each got 10 to 20 calls per day. I have no concept of how they deal with the lack of peace and quiet in their lives.
Every time I’m back in the States, I’m shocked all over again by numerous awful things. Thankfully, Thailand doesn’t have TV commercials. Americans with cable spend most of their waking hours waiting through ads. In current year, said ads strictly star ugly fatties and homosexuals. Every third commercial on TV is for therapy. The entire nation is on the verge of a mental breakdown. Every second commercial is for prescription meds for everything from colitis to bipolar disorder. It’s pretty clear that the food industry is slowly murdering the population here. In spite of this, I’ve been indulging in all the decadent, deadly fare this state has to offer, beginning of course with In-N-Out Burger. Not coincidentally, the owner of the franchise is fleeing Cali after 50 years and relocating the organization to Tennessee.
Tommy’s Original chili cheeseburger is a must-have as well, and I stuffed by gob there not once, but twice. Today, when you order fast food, they ask you if, instead of getting your change, you want to round up a dollar for scholarships for needy kids. Come on, fuckers. We know you’re not giving that money to urban youths for college. You’re pocketing that cash as sure as I’m a whoremongering booze hound.
Everything in LA is an inconvenience. Every light is red. The stores no longer have cashiers. You have to do it yourself, so everywhere you go there are two types of customer: those queueing up to self-checkout and those who just grab stuff and leave, because,—and this is not a joke—California doesn’t prosecute shoplifters who steal less than $1,000 worth of stuff. Every time you buy something, from stores to fast food joints, it takes forever because every business is understaffed, thanks to the morons who voted to raise the minimum wage to $20 per hour. People can’t speak—and I don’t mean they can’t speak English. I mean white people don’t know how to talk. There must be heavy amounts of sodium fluoride in the tap water. When I lived here, everyone knew not to drive from 7 to 9 am and 5 to 7 pm because of hellish traffic at those times. Today, you can’t leave the house between 7 and 1 pm and 4 and 10 pm. Half the people on the road drive like a cross between Formula one and Cannonball Run. They swerve through traffic, tailgate, cut people off. The other half are driving with one eye on their phones. It’s utterly insane. And they do it all with impunity since Angelinos voted to defund the police, the fucking retards. I didn’t see a single cop the whole time I was there. When I schlepped all the way to Santa Clarita to hang with my old high school friends, three smoking hot women sat down in the bar, drank for three hours, and left, and not a single man attempted to talk to them. And for all I know, they wanted it that way. Whilst on my morning walks, I frequently encounter ugly, fat and/or old single women with large, vicious dogs, as though they’re afraid they’d be raped in public if not for the beast on the leash. I smile and say “Hello.” They never look up from their phones. Not everyone I meet on the street is an asshole—just the single clams. Dating in the West is fucked.
All of this just reinforces my love and appreciation for Thailand and Thai women. While those hot chicks sat alone at the bar, my number one harem girl messaged me to say she’d gone to my apartment, gathered my monthly bills, and paid them at 7-11. My number two sent a Line saying she missed me and asked if we could bang the day I get back. I don’t know what I’dve done had I not found the safe haven of Thailand and its many feminine delights. I suppose I would’ve shot up a McDonald’s or become a serial killer. It’s a testament to the magical healing power of Asian vajay. I can tell I miss my gals, because I’ve dreamt about them thrice. In the dream, the girl’s always clamoring for my wang, but we’re in my mother’s house, so I run around looking for an empty room where we can bump uglies, to no avail. It’s symbolically how it feels to be trapped anywhere outside TLOS for any length of time.
Whilst in the US, I got the bright idea to change my location on my Thaifriendly profile from Bangkok to Pattaya. The second I did, I was contacted by—I kid you not—50 women in the space of five minutes, a hundred in the next 30, and 200 in 24 hours. I was floored. Sure, most were frumpy 50somethings, but goddam if there weren’t a dozen or so younghotskinnies in the mix. My layman’s explanation is, 1—competition for new human ATMs in Ptown is fierce, and 2—the clunge there have more in common with barracudas than they do the average Thai female.
Although my overall feeling about visiting family in Cali is one of dread, there are some upsides. I’ve been able to do some wine tasting, and my old flatmate and I will go to Vegas. And I’ll get the Kamagra out of my system. I have to microdose that shit in BKK to keep my harem happy. To be honest, my wang is in a constant state of exhaustion. Without a careful concoction of kamag, cialis, horny goat weed, and L-Arginine I’d be as useful as a dead fish. I simply have too much sex. This old, decrepit carcass can barely keep up with my gang of 20-year-olds all humping for rent money. Honest to God, they’re killing me with their vaginas. Although now that I’ve said it, death by pussy wouldn’t be a bad way to go. As it stands, I’m giving them up to start over from scratch in Ptown, with several prospects already in the running. I’m kind of excited to see how that aspect of life will change. Bangkok girls—even gogo dancers—are somewhat shy, vanilla girls in the bedroom. They’re fun, don’t get me wrong, but I wonder how much more like Caligula my bedroom antics will become. I hope my heart can take it.
While it’s on my mind, I want to revisit what I believe is a potential epidemic in the Bangkok redlight. I touched on it in a previous post, but it bears repeating, because of how serious it is. Back during the lockdown, a dancer at XXX Lounge named Fook, got sick. The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her. Her main—or only—symptom was, she kept losing weight. They tested her for Covid and HIV but she was clean. She got so thin that she couldn’t get out of bed, and in the last photo someone sent of her, she was just skin and bones with an atrophied look of horror on her face. She died the next day. Last year, my galpal Baifern suddenly got sick and died. Someone said it was sepsis, but again she just wasted away. I think she might’ve been misdiagnosed, and instead had the same mystery illness. Then my friend Little Nan, who was already skinny, started to look like a concentration camp victim and was hospitalized twice. The last I heard, she couldn’t keep weight on and didn’t have money to pay her medical bills. Then another buddy, Sai from Kiss Bar, started losing weight out of nowhere. I asked her if she was eating and she said, “Yes, but I get full quickly and the food makes me feel sick.” She’s now shockingly underweight and has entered the hospital. She messaged me yesterday asking for money so she could stay overnight for tests. In every case, it seems doctors are unable to help, and can’t even diagnose the problem. If you’dve asked me five years ago, I would’ve said it’s due to drug abuse. But lots of these girlies do drugs, and they don’t waste away and die like prisoners at Auschwitz. Something’s going on, and I believe it’s serious enough that someone with influence should investigate. As I am just a dumbass barfly, I don’t qualify. But I maintain that something’s rotten in the State of the gogo scene.
I’ll be interested to see if the same strange ailment afflicts the girls in Pattaya. As of this moment, I plan to make the move on 1 September, so I’ll have a couple more weeks of redlight reporting from BK once I return from the US, before making the switch. My apartment is a 50-50 cross between Thai style and Western comfortable. The cheapest place I could find that was still amenable is a 10-minute walk from Walking Street. There’s not much immediately around the place. I’dve much preferred being a block or so from LK or Central, but a man on a budget has to be practical. It does have lots of space, more than my current artsy-fartsy loft overlooking Lumphini Park. I’ve already planned where I’ll be taking my daily, one-hour walks, and I’m pretty happy with the girls I’ve lined up, thanks to ThaiFriendly. My plan is to explore all the ‘hidden gem’ eateries in town—of which there are many—and get to know the redlight locals in the way that made Patpong feel like home for more than a decade. I am officially Pattaya Bound.
In other news, last week Jack Nites went on X and asked Grok to generate a list of folks who likely visit his page the most. Grok had me at the top, with 18 visits per month. I found it funny because I never visit Jack’s page, on account of I know him personally and so I don’t need to. So I commented to Jack, “Grok lied.” And get this: fucking cunting Grok replied, making excuses for its stupidity, calling it an informed guess. And suddenly I’m in an argument with an Ai. I replied that it was bad at guessing and not to send me messages. The cunting cunt then sent another message, still trying to justify its answer while acknowledging it won’t contact me again. I mean, is this the world now? I have to put up with the insecurities and butt-inskies of a goddam machine? Fucking hell. And this was all on California time so Jack woke up to find a spat between me and Grok in his comments.
Speaking of Jack, he messaged me while shooting in King’s last week, saying that K2 is shut for two months and there were precious few girls in the bars. This does not bode well. One can only hope it’s down to it being low season, and the lasses’ asses will return come November. I’m not fussed, of course, because I’ll be a Ptown regular by then. What it means for any mongers who have fave chickies in K2 is, just look for them onstage in King’s 3, King’s 1, or K Corner. They’ll surely get absorbed by one or more of those bars.
Something I forgot to say last week about the State of the Redlight is, regarding the crazy barfine and shorttime prices, one of two things has happened. Either a collection of tragic factors has come together to create an overpriced market in Bangkok, or I’ve become one of those old farts who can’t figure out why the price isn’t the same as it was 20 years ago. Yes, the scamdemic and subsequent desperate wave of horny incels caused demand to go up, and those lonely Chinese sex tourists paid whatever obscene price the girls quoted, and now, in the absence of foot traffic, will have to come back down again. Hopefully, that’s the explanation. The alternative is, thanks to inflation and a strong baht, prices will remain at current ridiculous levels, and the golden age of the Bangkok redlight is truly over.
In a segment I could call “Why I Hate Facebook This Week,” the fucking cunts’ algorithm keeps deleting my posts, saying they solicit sex. The only people I’m offering sex to are my harem, so Facebook can jump up its own ass. Every time they delete something, I contest it and win. Those retards need to fix their Ai. Also, they’re back to stuffing my feed with pro-trans pro-communist bullshit to the point that I have to spend hours a day blocking shit. Lord, how I fucking hate Facebook.
This week’s Members Only Gallery is a snapshot of gogo life from September, 2018, featuring some of the hotties from Glamour, King’s 1, The Strip, Kiss Bar, and Thigh Bar. The link is here: https://bangkokseven.com/members-only-gallery-2018-snapshot-part-1/
but only if you become a Member. The price is $1 per month ($12 per annum), and new content is added weekly. And here’s some good news for Members: my dumb brain finally figured out how to create a dedicated page on my website for all Members Only content. Members can go there by clicking on the “Members Only Content” link at the top of my homepage.
And that’s all the monger that’s fit to ponder for now, friends. Sorry for all the typos. I didn’t proofread. Check back next Sunday for another summary of this redlight life. In the meantime, you can read more Bangkok-centric stuff on my Substack: https://bangkokseven.substack.com/
Slideshows from previous blogs going back several years can be found at https://www.youtube.com/c/BangkokSeven
My buddy Jack and I host a growing Facebook community with lots of nightlife-related content at: https://www.facebook.com/groups/thaiagogo
and I’ve got a small but robust group of pervs posting photos daily at a group called Super Hot Asians here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/374120690195407
Follow me on Twitter/X @BangkokSeven for daily monger material, along with these other profiles that’re chock full of photos of hotties:
@superhotthais
@BangkokNightli2
If you’re feeling generous, you can leave a tip on any of the above X profiles. All proceeds will go to creating more redlight content.
I’ve started to sell my artwork in digital download bundles, so if you fancy some gogo dancer-related pictures, mostly nude Thai chicks photoshopped as paintings, you can get ‘em on the cheap at my Etsy shop: https://www.etsy.com/shop/ThailandNights
Right now I have several bundles of four to five pictures each (as shown below) for under $10 US apiece.
And until next time fellow BK Bukowskis and Bathshebas, keep your balls (or tits) warm, your beer cold, and cheers to another week above ground in the greatest country on Earth: Thailand.
Pro Tip Post-Script: If you ever have the misfortune of being in Los Angeles, do your best to eat at as many mom-and-pop Mexican joints as you can. It’ll give you diarrhea but it’ll be worth it. Also, taco trucks and hole-in-the-wall BBQ. You can’t go wrong.
