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Please put your hands together for Udom Taephanich!
I just noticed the neon signs.
NOTE SO CUTE
Thank you so much.
If you're happy and you know it Clap your hands
I've really missed being on stage.
We've missed you too.
I'm so delighted.
Can I…
Can I get more spotlights on me, please?
I've been craving this.
I now understand how Srisuwan Janya feels.
First of all, I'd like to apologize
for all the procedures you had to go through to get in here.
We have to follow government measures.
It might be a bit annoying.
The traffic was bad.
There's a protest
against someone we want out.
Well…
I guess we can forgive the protesters, since they're protesting on our behalf
while we are in here putting our feet up.
I promise I will slowly make you feel better.
Well, if we didn't follow the regulations, we'd have to postpone the show again.
You see, my team begged me to leave the temple to do this show.
The whole company was there.
The whole company was sitting there, begging me,
"It's time you disrobe."
"Otherwise, you won't have time to prepare for the show."
If I disrobed, and the show got postponed again,
I think I would probably never leave the monastery ever again.
When I was a monk, I learned so many things.
It was one of the best decisions I've ever made in my life.
So many memorable stories.
But the most memorable one in particular was
the contemplation of death.
The teachers always said,
"We're going to die soon."
When you say it repeatedly every day, you internalize it.
Then I came to a realization.
"My gosh. I'll be dead soon."
I was born. Now I'm getting old.
Sickness.
Now I'm in the sickness stage.
Those in their 50s will relate.
We experience things like
knee pain, leg pain, spinal disc problems,
indigestion, acid reflux.
We get checkups, do things we never thought we had to,
like getting the tetanus vaccine, the shingles vaccine,
getting a colonoscopy, with one tube
going down your mouth, the other up your butthole.
They meet in the middle.
If you ask me, I would never want to do this.
But when the time comes, we just have to.
Recently, it was pretty bad.
I went to get a prostate exam.
You young men, you wouldn't understand.
When I was your age, I had no clue what it was.
But when you reach 50, it's a must.
I always thought a prostate exam
was done with a doctor using, you know, the stethoscope…
to feel your testicles
and see if they're beating
at the right pace, or if there's cancer.
But it isn't like that at all.
What they do is they shove a finger
up your butthole.
When I found out, I was like, "Holy shit."
"No way."
You see?
I had to find a male doctor immediately.
I couldn't have some pretty female doctor…
you know, do this.
I think you women can relate.
When you're getting a pap smear in the stirrups,
you wouldn't want that done by a male doctor.
It's even more embarrassing if they're cute.
They're not even your man. You don't know why the hell you even care.
Same here.
So I searched for a male doctor on the Internet.
I found Dr. Arkanay.
I called, gave my name, and said I'd be there.
He saw the name "Udom Taephanich."
So he said, "Mr. Note,
when you come in, could you please bring along your merch?"
"Like some gift sets?"
"Those blankets, dolls, mugs, please bring them along."
And I was like, "Oh, you're a fan? I'm pleased."
"No, it's the nurse, my assistant."
"She loves you. She's a big fan."
"She's a fangirl, a big one."
"She'll have your books, your CD's from back then for you to sign."
"Bring your merch along."
So I did.
When I arrived, she was there to greet me at the parking lot.
You know when a fan meets their celebrity crush?
She couldn't stay still. She was like, "Note!"
She said "Note" in a high-pitched voice.
So we took photos. I gave her the merch,
my autograph and all.
Everything a fan wants. She was overjoyed.
Then she took me to the exam room.
It wasn't very big.
It looks like a room we would expect.
Then I was asked to take off my pants.
So I took my pants off with my top still on.
I was asked to lie down
with my arms around my knees, you know?
Wow. So much participation in the room.
Let me tell you this.
I want you to sympathize with me here.
Doing the stand-up this time is a whole new experience for me.
Normally, when I do stand-up, I would see the audience laughing
or see their expression, so at least I can tell if they get the jokes.
Put yourself in my shoes.
When I'm looking down from here, it's all doom and gloom.
All I see are eyes.
And all they're doing
is following me from left to right, right to left.
Your eyes won't pop out and let me know if you get the joke.
Making people laugh is already a hard job.
But it's a lot harder when people laugh, and they hide it.
Like, "I won't let you know. Whatever."
Right now, what I see… Like this girl right here.
All I see are the eyes and…
She's like, "Whatever."
Very scary.
So please, when I ask something, please be responsive.
Just a bit.
Like, humor me. Just so I know you get the joke.
That's what I'm talking about.
You're very kind. Thank you so much.
Now, that's better.
So the doctor told me to lie down with my arms around my knees like this.
Imagine me not wearing any pants. Here's my butthole, right here.
I was lying in that pose.
I was nervous about something going into my butthole.
Then I heard the sound of latex gloves.
"Snap, snap."
At that point,
I thought the doctor
had already put some Vaseline on.
Now,
I just realized…
The room was quiet.
But I just realized it wasn't just me and the doctor in that room.
I could sense that
there was some kind of energy,
very strong energy.
This is me, sensing that it's not just the doc there.
Something here was giving off very strong energy.
So I glanced over.
There she was: my fangirl.
My fangirl was standing not far from my butthole.
At arm's length.
I saw her face, and she was fangirling!
Can you imagine?
This shouldn't be happening.
So I covered my butt.
"Doc, hold on."
"What is it?"
I was like, "I don't think this is appropriate."
"What's not?"
"The nurse over there."
He said, "Come, now. She's a fan. Let her watch."
A fan shouldn't see something like this, right?
Like,
if my butthole were an eye,
we were making direct eye contact.
A fan shouldn't be seeing something like this.
I don't know what her impression of me was like before this.
What she remembers me from.
But, like, when a fan has seen your butthole,
your hairy butthole…
Imagine this.
Suppose that you're a fan of Nont Tanont,
Tik Jetsadaporn,
or maybe Nadech.
And you,
you were a nurse,
and Nont Tanont's butthole was right here.
This kind of image, once seen,
it gets imprinted in the cerebrum.
And the next time you go to his concert
or walk past him in a department store,
you won't just see Nont Tanont,
but you'll see Nont Tanont
and his hairy butthole.
His songs will never sound the same again.
I told the doctor, "No, Doc. This can't happen."
"Can you ask her to leave?"
"Then how are we going to do this? Someone has to hold the Vaseline."
I said, "We can do it, the two of us."
"Here. Put your hand in it. Here."
The nurse was giggling
as she walked out.
I don't know if she filmed the whole thing.
After getting some ointment,
Dr. Arkanay
shoved his finger up my butthole.
Oh, my God.
Like, this hole has always been an exit.
It's like a one-way street.
Nothing has gone in the opposite direction.
Oh, my. When he started going in, I was like, "Ow!"
It was so unpleasant.
It wasn't easy, not at all.
When it went in,
he said, "Relax."
"Breathe out gently. The first time is always the hardest."
Then he pushed it in like this, all the way.
Oh, my! Tears were coming out of my eyes.
He pushed it in.
That wasn't all. He then moved his finger around.
A prostate is like
a cashew nut.
There are two of them.
The doctor feels around for bumps.
If there are bumps, cancer is a possibility.
You might need an operation.
The doctor rubbed his finger around. It was uncomfortable and painful.
More importantly, it was sensitive.
Tears flowed, but they were happy tears.
I have to confess, it awakened the gay side of me.
I felt like I wanted him to keep feeling my prostate.
I'm being honest here.
The doctor kept moving his finger
and saying some English words, explaining this and that.
I didn't want it to be over.
This was subconscious.
When he started to pull out, without knowing,
I grabbed his wrist to stop him.
I could hear that song from TikTok.
Okay. We've talked about sickness.
Next is death. It's time.
I've asked myself,
"How long would you have to live to be fully satisfied with your life
before you die?"
I contemplated this. I scribbled on a piece of paper.
Okay, 65 is a good age for me.
I feel like 65 is when
you can die with grace.
You can still walk, still have good memory.
You don't need someone to turn you over, wash you up, feed you.
You don't have tubes and stuff all over you.
For me, I don't really care about how long I live.
Suppose I get a plaque for reaching 130.
At that age, I wouldn't know what to do with it.
I don't care how long I live.
I do care about the quality of life while I'm alive.
I don't want to be that old man
who lives until he's almost 80.
You know? When you go places and can't walk alone,
you have to have people on your left and right.
When you go to the polls,
you can barely walk.
You stumble over things.
Or when you're chairing a meeting,
you suddenly doze off every time you sit down.
When there's a parliamentary debate,
people want your explanation
on your approvals of the budget.
The debating goes on from dusk till dawn.
When it's your turn to provide answers,
someone nudges you. You go…
"That's not true."
And you walk off the stage.
For real?
Is this happening anywhere else in the world?
People were debating to find answers.
And all you have to say is, "That's not true"?
If this is what getting old is like, don't bother.
So I think if I die at 65, I'll be fine with it.
That means I have only 11 years left.
Now I'm 54.
Only 11 years left on Planet Earth.
Out of the 11 years, let's cut one off from the start.
This one year, let's consider it spent…
pointlessly.
I think everyone does it:
spending time on pointless shit.
For example,
the time spent browsing Netflix.
Around 9:00 p.m., before bed, we say to ourselves,
"Let's watch a movie."
"Just one, or we'll be late for work."
First thing we see is "Top Ten."
"I've watched all of these."
"Gangubai, check."
"I've watched this and this." So we keep searching.
Still haven't found one. Okay.
"Popular." What's popular these days? Let's take a look.
That one's not for me.
This one's too exciting. I might not be able to sleep.
No horror movies. I don't like this actress.
So we keep on searching.
Now, the Oscars section.
These are all old movies. Oscar-winning movies across the years.
So we keep looking.
We haven't settled on one yet.
Let's check out the K-dramas.
The lead actors are cute. Okay, "K-dramas."
These look good, but they're too long.
Most of them are series.
If we start watching and get hooked,
we'll be in deep trouble.
We'll probably get to work at noon tomorrow.
Save these for long weekends only.
So we keep looking. We still can't decide.
Then there's our last resort:
"My List."
We check it out. Gosh. I've saved so many.
Let's see what we have.
Should I watch this one?
Still can't decide.
Eventually, we're like, fine.
Let's "Continue Watching,"
picking up where we left off.
Now that we've made up our mind,
we press play and start watching.
No idea what's going on.
We don't know where we left off, exactly. We've watched too many.
We don't remember what happened before this scene.
Fine. Let's start from the beginning.
We go back to the first episode.
Now that we're about to watch…
We fall asleep, remote in hand.
This is time spent pointlessly.
Time spent even more pointlessly is the time you spend
scrolling through your phone, being nosy.
Well, well.
That's a lot of time. That's a lot of time each day.
Forget about TikTok and stuff.
Just the time you spend watching Engfa…
And many others doing this dance.
You can't stop watching.
Especially on Instagram.
On Instagram, you'll see
celebrities popping up
for you to choose whose life you want to pry into today.
Okay, this one. What?
She's pregnant? Who's the father?
Oh, they got engaged here.
Damn, her husband is so rich. Who is he? Let me see.
Oh, this guy.
Okay, let's go back. Where were they engaged?
Wow, they went to this resort for their honeymoon.
Let me save this so I can go there sometime.
They got cake from this place. So chic.
What is she wearing? I'll order this outfit too.
How about the shoes? Amina Muaddi.
Amina Muaddi? What brand is that?
Sounds like, you know,
someone who sells chicken biryani.
Amina Muaddi? Is that a brand?
So you google it, and there it is:
Amina Muaddi.
When you google stuff, you'll get ads too.
It's 1,850 baht on Lazada.
Shopee, 815 baht. That's not bad.
Moving on. You open up Shopee, and there it is.
Amina Muaddi pops up.
But under the shoes you'll see "Related Items."
You waste no time. You check out the suggestions
and see mosquito swatters.
How are these related?
Then you remember
you were looking to buy a mosquito swatter last week.
You were just checking it out.
But now, damn, it's only 199 baht.
And it's a new model that you can just place it on its charging stand,
and the purple light will turn on.
This means while it's charging, it's also attracting mosquitoes.
When fully charged, you pick it up and swing it. Kills everything.
This is a must-have.
So you put it in the cart.
Now you're happy. Then it says, "Buy two, get 15% off."
This can't be ignored.
There's a discount right there.
Okay, let me check it out.
Same shop. Let's see. "Related items." Oh.
Sticky fly traps.
Sticky fly traps
at 100 sheets for 150 baht.
That's just over 1 baht a piece.
Why wait for the 11.11.11 promotion?
I can buy it now and get the discount.
You add it to cart. Now you have two items.
Then it says, "Buy three, get free delivery."
Again, what are we waiting for? You continue shopping.
Now, the next item won't be something that you want.
It'll only serve to fill up that emptiness inside you.
You keep scrolling.
You see a blackhead remover. A blackhead remover.
Are you crazy? It also comes with a charging cable
for 99 baht.
Insane. This would normally cost a thousand. Or at least 500 or 300.
It's 99 baht. Suddenly, you feel blackheads popping up.
You add it to the cart. There, three items. Now you're happy.
This is a woman's life. Now you can sleep peacefully.
Did you get the shoes yet?
The thing about women is when they want something and they don't have it,
it leaves a hole in their heart.
They will feel that there's something missing from their feet.
At work, they feel something's missing, but they don't know what.
Some name pops up. They ask a friend:
"Do you know anything by the name of Amina something? Any clue?"
The friend's like, "Who doesn't?"
"Here, look. This is Mo Amena."
"She's super famous. She got married twice:
first to a guy, then to a butch."
"She says the butch is better." "Better how? Let's dig into this."
And on it goes.
What about the shoes?
This is time spent pointlessly.
The most pointless time-wasting activity, the number one for me,
are pimple-popping videos.
"My Favorites."
Don't ever go down that road. Believe me.
There's no turning back.
For those who don't know, these are clips
framed with pastel roses.
Why roses? Maybe to soften the violence in the content,
to tone down the aggressiveness.
These are clips of people
just blatantly and tactlessly popping pimples.
A close-up shot of pimple popping on the face, the nose, the chin.
You're zoomed in on the pimples.
A three-dimensional view.
And there are all kinds of pimple heads.
Be it blackheads… Not regular blackheads, mind you.
These are really dark.
Imagine the skin of an overripe jackfruit, with black spikes scrunched together.
You go, "This can't be real. No, this is not real."
They use a needle to prick the tips of the pimple heads to make way.
Then they pop them using their hand or a tool.
As they're popping them,
you'll see pimples oozing out like dozens of worms.
There are also big ones.
Not your normal big.
Oh, my.
These are as big as your ankle. They're that huge.
They use a scalpel to cut the skin and squeeze it out.
Then it explodes just like hot spring eggs.
When you see it slowly oozing out, you want to throw up. You know?
My staff watches them, and I call them freaks.
"You freaks. You are all freaks."
As I scolded them, I did some research to find out why people watch it.
How it all began.
I couldn't blindly scold them.
I found that it started with a female doctor
in the US who removes abscesses.
In other countries, these aesthetic procedures
are not covered by their universal health care.
You know?
The homeless or people with low income
don't have resources for these services.
So the doctor offers free service.
In exchange, she'll film it and put it on the Internet.
What does the doctor get?
She gets views.
She mentioned during an interview
that as soon as a clip's posted, it gets over 100,000 views.
After a few days, it reaches a million.
She has around five or six million followers.
I guess that means we're not the only freaks here.
Then I asked myself,
how do I feel when I watch it?
Why am I watching it?
I guess it's the same feeling that I get from eating roasted Babylon snails.
With roasted Babylon snails, we take a toothpick,
put it in the shell,
and we try to take its meat out whole.
The whole thing. The black feces at the tip as well.
Even though you don't eat its feces,
you have to get the whole thing out perfectly.
Just like when they pop a pimple, and the head is only halfway out.
"You've got to do better with the next one."
It just keeps you on the edge of your seat,
and you can't stop.
The next thing you know, it's been an hour.
I went down the rabbit hole and got into the hard stuff,
like removing ingrown toenails.
For those of you who haven't been there, you'd probably go, "Ew."
But trust me. When you get out of here and back to your phone,
you're a goner.
That is time spent pointlessly.
I cut out one year, so now I have 10 years left.
Putting it into days would be…
3,650 days.
Let's say we spend 30% of that time sleeping.
So now we are left with only 2,555 days.
It hit me hard when I realized
I only have this much time left on Earth.
How am I going to spend it?
I started making a list of things I want to do.
That's on one side.
And things I don't want to do and feel are a waste of time.
The things I won't do anymore. What are they?
I won't go to birthday parties anymore.
I'm so sick of them.
It's been 54 years since I was born.
Since I was a kid, I've never hosted my birthday party. Not even once.
As a kid, maybe it was because we were poor.
As I got older, other people would throw a party for me.
I've never really enjoyed it
when they bring out a cake and ask me to make a wish.
Every time, I wish for them to stop with the birthday surprises.
Because nothing surprises me anymore.
How can I be surprised
when every year, as my birthday is approaching,
someone will ask me out for dinner.
The table will be unusually big. More people than usual will come.
And while we're eating, the light goes out.
They bring out the cake and sing Happy birthday…
It never sounds good.
Never in the same key. Not harmonious in any way.
The drunk will go…
Very noisy.
When they put the cake in front of me, there we go.
A fan's blowing.
Candles go out.
While they're relighting the candles, I just stand waiting for the surprise.
They're like, "Who has a lighter? Come here."
As they light this one up, that one goes out.
It's very annoying.
Then I blow the candles.
I don't find it exciting at all.
And it's even worse if you're at one of those big restaurants,
and people share a birthday.
I find it embarrassing. That table would go, Happy birthday
and the band has to play the "Happy Birthday" song.
Not long after that, this table goes, Happy birthday…
Then another would go, Happy birthday…
Five birthday tables. I just don't get it.
Don't you feel bad for the band
when they have to repeatedly play that damn song?
Don't you think they're sick of it? And why ask for another round?
The first time wasn't enough, you idiots?
Enough with birthdays.
Now let's talk about weddings.
I won't go to those anymore either.
Don't bother sending me invitations.
My staff knows very well that I won't attend their weddings.
But instead,
I'll send them monetary gifts.
Well, you see,
let me be honest.
I've never been happy for the newlyweds.
I'm jealous of them.
You see,
you got what you want.
You're happy with life.
You've found your soul mate.
What about me?
I go to your wedding, give you my money,
so I can feel bad about myself
at your wedding reception.
That doesn't make any sense. I have to watch your wedding presentation,
telling a story of how you met, fell in love, the entire history.
Then you got engaged in front of the Eiffel Tower.
In the videos, the woman has no clue what's happening.
No clue, my ass. What's with the dress with the long-ass train?
You feel me?
I'm so sick of it.
The last wedding I attended, which will probably be the last one,
was Toon and Koi's wedding.
I went because I love them.
I have unconditional love for them.
I was assigned
to manage the stage and stuff like that,
and acted as the emcee.
So,
in the afternoon,
there was a water-pouring ceremony to give blessings to the bride and groom.
There were many guests…
respected people and close friends.
There were about this many people.
About this chunk right here.
They were sitting just like this.
Names were being called, and they were famous people.
Those in the music industry,
politicians, or even famous artists.
"Mr. Aed Carabao, please come to the stage
to pour water and give words of wisdom to the newlyweds."
You know? I didn't think they would call out my name,
because I wasn't on the list.
I was just standing there by the stage, doing my thing.
"Udom Taephanich, please come to the stage to pour water and give words of wisdom."
I was like, "No."
"No, it's okay. It's all right."
I'm a firm believer that you shouldn't give to others what you don't have.
What words of wisdom do I have to offer? None.
So I was like, "No, it's okay."
"Mr. Udom Taephanich, please come to the stage."
Then there was this silence at the ceremony.
"Move on to other people."
I acted like nothing happened.
"Mr. Udom Taephanich, please come to the stage."
Toon and Koi were here.
Here were the pillows to support their arms.
And they put their hands here
for people to pour water on them.
Their hands were pale, like their nails were falling off.
I was like, "Damn it." And so I went.
People were watching, just like you're watching me now.
I was like,
"Toon."
Toon was waiting for my words of wisdom. Both of them were.
I said to him, "Toon. I don't have any wisdom for you."
"The thing is,
I wanted to wish you happiness,
but you two are already happy."
"You're perfect together."
"You have a good and beautiful wife."
"You're compatible."
"You both have status, fame, prestige, wisdom."
"You enjoy each other's company."
"Both of you are good looking. You're a perfect match."
"And me? Look at me."
"Toon, I believe firmly that we shouldn't give to others what we don't have."
"Otherwise, it's just like a fat person trying to teach someone
how to get slim, you know?"
"You know what I mean?"
Toon was like,
"Well, what should we do now?"
So I said, "All right, I have an idea."
"How about you two give me words of wisdom?"
The photographer managed to capture the moment.
We didn't plan this at all. This really happened.
Toon was a bit uncomfortable at first, but he ended up doing it, saying,
"Note, I hope that
you find the right person someday."
We were all confused.
See.
Even when you take a sip of water, people won't stop looking at you.
You're making it worth every penny, aren't you?
Did you buy the doll?
That's cute. Can I see it?
So cute. Look.
Is this for me? Thank you.
I want one too.
Just now, while I was talking…
When I'm on stage and see someone I know,
I will get distracted,
lose my focus, and forget what I was going to say.
Just now, I saw Tony Jaa somewhere around here.
Here, right? Where is Tony Jaa?
There he is. Tony Jaa. Hi. I missed you.
Thanks for coming. Let's hear it for my favorite guy.
He's the best.
I visited Tony Jaa at home.
How long ago was that when I went there?
Oh, this will be a very long story.
You'll all get home late.
It's something that I'll never forget.
-Well… -Tell the story.
It isn't that funny. It's a bit personal.
All right. I'll tell you very briefly.
Tony Jaa invited me to dinner,
and I wanted to see his place.
I wanted to see what his home was like. So we arranged the dinner.
We invited Singto Numchok and Kong Huayrai.
The three of us were having dinner at Tony Jaa's.
We were looking forward to it.
During that time in my life,
I really wanted to have a girlfriend.
You know?
I wanted a girlfriend so bad, my staff had to hold a meeting
to figure out how to make this happen.
There were around 15 of them in the meeting.
"You have to go on Tinder."
"Swipe left and right." They even taught me how to do it.
"Come, let me create an account for you. Go premium."
I'd never used any of these apps, I didn't even have TikTok.
My staff created the accounts I have today.
They were like, "Go ahead, create your profile."
"What do I upload?" I asked.
"Three photos. We'll choose the good ones for you."
They chose some cool photos I've taken.
"Okay, sure."
Then they said, "There are different age ranges."
I was like, "Let me see which range I'm in."
So they showed me. "You belong in the 50s age range."
I swiped through the profiles and went, "Oh my."
At this rate, I'll be matching with people in nursing homes.
It was bad. So I told them, "This is not going to work."
"This seems all right," they said.
-"Seems all right" means what? -It's not all right.
If it were an old, white lady, that might be okay.
I was like, "How can I possibly get a match here?"
They said, "We'll get a premium upgrade so we can see their profiles first.
Then you can see if you like them.
If you do, you swipe and make a match."
As I was getting started, another staff objected, saying,
"No. Don't let the boss go down that road."
"How can we know if the girl is really okay?"
"Like, she might look young…
let's say a bit over 30."
"But when you start a conversation, what would do you if,
scenario one, she doesn't believe it's you?"
"Right."
Let's imagine if this were you.
You're swiping, and you see Note Udom with a six-pack.
Let's say you matched with Note Udom,
and he starts a conversation.
"Hello." "Who's this?"
"I'm Note Udom." "Screw you."
"Stop messing with me. Note wouldn't mess around like this."
"Are you one of those scammers?"
You know what I mean? It's like that.
So I said, "We could just do a video call, so they can see me."
"We could just call them if they don't buy it."
The staff said, "We don't know if they… What if you say something…"
"What if they record the call
and post it on the Internet or use that to blackmail you?"
"I'm not scared." They were like, "Who knows?"
"What if you accidentally send them a photo of your dick?"
Who, me?
That's a given.
For real. That's my selling point.
The staff insisted, "No, you can't do this."
"You can't use apps. Let's try something less wild."
Then they showed me this page,
"PlayQpid."
You've probably heard of it.
It's a low-key matchmaking page
for those looking for love.
There's a post for each person,
detailing their preferences, what they like and stuff.
So my crew went through them.
"Look, this one. Early 30s."
"This one here."
"She looks like a good match, boss."
"She likes someone with a good sense of humor."
You know? "Mature and caring."
That sounds like me.
It also said, "She prefers someone who's taller than 5'8."
Doesn't matter. We can give it a go.
I can put something in my shoes or stay on my toes like this.
So I told my staff,
"Go ahead. Send her a text."
My staff, Nell, texted her.
"Hello. I saw your post."
And so on.
"I see that you're looking for someone. I have someone."
"He's like a brother to me."
"He would really love to get to know you,
and he thinks he's what you're looking for."
"Would you be interested?"
Stuff like that.
She replied and asked who I was.
So Nell just told her that it's Note, Udom Taephanich.
She didn't believe it.
She said, "Please don't mess with me."
So Nell said,
"Boss, let's video-call her."
She picked up
and saw my face on the screen.
If only you'd seen her reaction.
She was like, "How can I help you?"
I said, "No, I just want to get to know you. I saw your post."
"Well,
why?"
So, I can't just say I want to be her boyfriend. That's too fast.
So I told her, "We can just get to know each other as friends."
She was like, "Okay."
She was in shock, and she was…
stuttering.
I told her,
"If you're free, I'd like to take you to dinner."
"Get to know each other. When are you available?"
I let her choose.
Maybe she was still in shock, because she said,
"I'm free this evening."
That's brilliant. She's up for it.
I can't just say no or play hard to get.
So I said, "Fantastic. Let's meet up this evening. I'm free."
"Do you want me to pick you up, or…"
"I can get there by myself," she said.
There was a lot of hesitation in that conversation.
But that's okay.
We agreed to meet in front of my office.
When I agreed to meet her,
I totally forgot about
another appointment
I had that evening,
which was the dinner
with Tony Jaa.
You know?
A dinner with Tony Jaa was very hard to arrange.
We're all so busy, and Tony Jaa is always overseas.
We met several times on other occasions. But that evening,
his wife and mother-in-law wanted to cook a northeastern meal for us.
They know that I'm from Surin. We're from the same province.
When I remembered that,
I asked her before we hung up, "Just a question."
"Would you mind if today,
for dinner this evening,
my friends will be there too?"
"It's nothing serious. We'll just be chilling."
I thought this was good. It wasn't too romantic.
She could meet my friends.
She was fine with that.
She said, "Sure. No problem."
But she didn't know which friends.
So we were to meet in front of my office. I called her.
"You can park right under the tree." I crossed the road to her.
As I was opening the door for her,
she came out and was like…
"So,
where are the cameras?"
"There's no camera. There's really nothing. Trust me.
Honest, I really want to get to know you."
She was like, "Oh, okay.
You're not pulling a prank on me?
Really?"
Then she locked the car and crossed the road
to the front of my office.
I said, "I live here. There are three floors."
"I live on the top. Office, second floor."
"The meeting room is on the first. My mom is on the same property."
"My mom's house is here."
I wanted her to feel welcome.
Then I said, "Let's wait for my friends."
"They're coming with us."
We were both standing there, being awkward.
I was making conversation, asking her stuff.
While I was talking, she hadn't completely recovered from the shock.
Along came Kong Huayrai.
He got out of his car.
"Hello, folks."
"Hey, Note. Who's this?"
"Oh, you're hitting on her."
"That's brilliant."
"That's great."
"You're the girl of his dreams."
Now things got messy.
As if meeting Kong Huayrai wasn't enough of a surprise,
Singto Numchok pulled up in his car.
"Hello, Note. Wow."
"Okay, I won't say anything. Not a word. I have manners."
Imagine if you were that girl. How would you feel?
What was going on? She was probably confused.
So I told her, "We're going to another friend's house,
which is a bit far from here."
"It's quite a hassle to go there, so we're going to carpool in the van."
I was sitting here. She was over here.
At the back were Singto and Kong.
Another person who knew the route was driving.
On our way there, the girl was pretty anxious.
She was…
Imagine if you were her.
On our end, we didn't think we were…
We are all humans.
I wanted to get to know her. I didn't think I was special.
Along the way, I tried to make conversation.
When I asked her something, she would just give a short answer.
Tony Jaa's house was very far away.
It's like we were heading out of town.
The road to his house from the main road was very narrow.
We drove by abandoned buildings and a banana plantation.
I bet she must have been thinking something like,
"The three DTK bastards
committed gang rape by a banana plantation."
We tried to make her feel comfortable, though.
We were telling jokes.
Kong was singing his unreleased single.
Singto was humming. We were having so much fun.
But the girl, she was as stiff as a log.
I didn't know what to do. I guess that's the way it is.
So we were making our way there. I called Tony.
He asked, "Where are you? Where are you now?"
He said it was a bit tricky to get to his house.
We had to go past this bush.
So we parked where he said his house was.
Imagine this.
Tony Jaa's house is not a house.
He bought an apartment building.
The whole building.
I don't know how many rooms are in there. It's a whole building.
It's like an apartment,
an old dorm, with paint peeling off the walls.
Just like in Buppah Rahtree.
Tony Jaa loves that kind of stuff.
He bought it.
Later, I asked him why he bought it.
He said the building is by the lake.
He loves looking over the view of the lake.
And he likes to live
mysteriously, like a real fighter.
It wasn't a house. He made it into a refuge.
It's kind of like a secret meeting place
where the heroes would get together,
where you'd find CIA agents, James Bond.
Originally a dorm. This place has tons of rooms.
What he did was, he tore down all the walls.
So you'll see columns all over his house.
Imagine a school canteen
from when you were a kid
that had all these huge columns in an open space.
For the bedrooms, he kept the walls.
He tore down the other rooms, except for the bathrooms.
So it'll be one room, open space, a room, and more open space.
In my life, I've never seen any house like that before.
As we parked, the girl didn't know what this was.
We parked. She was still in shock about meeting us three.
As the door opened, bam!
Tony Jaa was standing there going…
She…
She must've thought, "What the hell is this?"
Tony Jaa isn't someone you get to meet easily.
She saw him and went, "What the hell?"
Then Tony Jaa was going…
He chatted with Singto. They can speak Cambodian. They were joking around.
There was no elevator, so we took the stairs,
like the ones in a dorm.
The building's pretty old.
When we reached the second floor,
it was full of columns with lots of open space.
And there was a gym
with cushions on the floor for doing flips.
There were mirrors, fighting gear,
swords and lances.
This wasn't a house. Not at all. It was like a gym.
Next to the gym was a prayer room.
In there was…
an altar around 15 meters long.
It looked like two rooms combined.
On the altar, there were statues of the Holy Hermit, Lord Naga,
all kinds of Buddhist statues, but no Ong-Bak.
These statues were placed one after another.
Lots of incense smoke.
To use the restroom, you had to go all the way to the back, to the other end.
Each part of the house was far from the others.
As for the interior design, I guess Tony Jaa has lived
in so many countries,
and he just bought whatever he liked.
So it's a loft with Chinese,
European and Cambodian influences.
Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom.
Also a hint of French.
It was a mess.
But who would say anything? It's Tony Jaa.
After that,
we asked the girl to make herself at home,
which was impossible to do.
She was sitting with her back straight.
I'd be the same way. But I didn't realize it at the time.
Tony's wife brought out the food. His mother-in-law also joined us.
Then Tony Jaa wheeled out a karaoke machine.
There was a TV, so we started singing.
When we're with friends, we're just being ourselves.
We were singing carelessly. Kong was half-drunk.
Singto as well.
Tony Jaa started singing and rapping in Cambodian.
And he was really good at dancing like Michael Jackson.
This may surprise you. He was moonwalking all around the house.
It was fantastic. That girl was as still as a statue.
She was probably dumbstruck.
Wondering what she was doing there.
I didn't think she would get drunk on the first date,
but she wouldn't stop drinking.
Like, "Am I dreaming? Is this real?"
"Note Udom asked me out on a dinner date."
"Then I met Singto and Kong."
We were singing,
and when were singing, having fun, we made up a rule:
Whatever we say, we have to rap it.
We would play a beat on YouTube, the free ones.
This lady, what's she doing here?
Just sitting there talking to nobody near
So I passed the microphone to Singto and Kong
She was drunk. She was trying to get away from whatever was going on.
She came to the date all dolled up. Now her hair's all messy, her face oily,
like she was sitting at a food stall thinking, "Damn, is this real life?"
But we always made sure she was taken care of.
I was making conversation.
But I guess that night was too overwhelming for a first date.
We were having so much fun. Tony, that was such a great night.
We were there until I don't know what time.
Then we left.
We dropped the girl off at the same spot.
Singto and Kong left.
I walked her to her car.
As I was shutting the door, I said, "Thank you for coming tonight."
"It was so much fun."
The look on her face.
Like she was saying, "Is that what you call fun?"
When she took off, I texted her like a gentleman,
saying, "Get home safe."
She lives around Rama II. Off she went.
I texted her again:
"Drive safe. Is the traffic bad around Rama II?"
Something like that.
She got home that night.
From 10:00, 11:00… Probably midnight. Before bed, I texted her good night.
She didn't reply.
Maybe she was tired.
Next morning, I woke up around 8:00 a.m.
"Good morning." I sent her some cute stickers along with some jokes.
Still nothing.
Later, I texted her again, at noon and in the evening.
Then she blocked me.
Being famous doesn't help.
It was a total mess.
After that incident, I held a company meeting.
"Look. What does this mean? Tell me."
"What happened?" I asked. And everyone was like,
"Boss."
"Maybe she saw…"
"Maybe she didn't think she would see you and your friends
behaving that way."
"Maybe it was too abrupt. Too fast. Too soon."
"She was probably in shock." Well…
It's been a week. She still hasn't recovered from the shock?
"Or maybe it's because you're not her type,
but she doesn't want to say it."
Maybe when she met me, I looked older than what she expected.
Or maybe I'm not that good looking.
Let's just say it didn't work out.
Fame didn't help.
And the blessings from Toon couldn't save me from this shit.
So like I said, no more weddings for me.
Now, funerals, I won't go to those either. I'll say it here.
I'm sick of funerals. I'm not going anymore.
Sometimes I think for my own funeral, I might not even go.
It's such a hassle going to funerals.
It's a hassle to find a parking spot,
especially at Wat That Thong, you know?
It's harder to find a spot there than at Siam Paragon.
I was circling endlessly before I could get a spot.
Let's just park by one of the monk's residences.
I squeezed in. Then I had to find the pavilion.
Which one? Oh, boy. I was wearing a suit.
I had to be respectful.
As a celeb, I had to.
I would've much preferred to wear a tank top.
So in my suit, I had to find the pavilion.
I was sweating. My armpits were soaked.
And the pavilions were all different.
All different sizes, in no particular order.
Pavilion One was here, Four there, Eight all the way there.
They weren't built at the same time. I couldn't find the right one.
In front of the pavilions, there weren't any LED signs
or photos of the deceased, you know?
Like, "Here I am."
I had no clue where the signs were.
When I walked in,
people would recognized me.
When I walked in, they'd come to greet me:
"Mr. Note, thank you for coming. This way, please."
They'd sit me down, and I'd see the photo.
Shit. Wrong corpse.
How do I get out of here now?
They sat me down in the front row.
Everyone had seen me. They know it was me sitting there.
Shit. I had to leave somehow.
Then they served me some water and snacks.
Shit. How am I going to tell them?
And the family was looking at me like,
"Since when did we know him?"
I was like,
"Oh, I got a call."
Then I walked out and left.
In a funeral…
As you get older, they will sit you down
at the very front.
For senior guests, they'd have those armchairs with lion legs
or a couple of sofas in the front.
Let's say you're the guests at a funeral.
When I'm dragged over, I'm like, "It's okay." "Please," they say. "Fine."
So I sit down.
Being in the front row, you can't get up.
If you're on your phone, it doesn't look good.
You don't understand the monks' chants.
What are they saying? You have no clue.
Why can't they deliver a simple sermon?
So you sit there, empty-headed.
This is so boring.
You want to take out your phone and watch pimple-popping videos.
It's just as sad, you know?
But, nope, you can't. What to do now?
At another funeral,
they announced, "Will Mr. Note Udom
come on to the stage to light the candle as homage to the Three Jewels?"
Me?
Really?
I can't be the chief guest at a funeral.
If they had told me this, I wouldn't have come.
Imagine this.
You're at a funeral.
They announce,
"Will Mr. Note Udom
come on to the stage
to light the candle as homage to the Three Jewels?"
I walk up.
At a funeral, I know how to behave.
I'm total Men in Black.
I know it's a mournful occasion.
So I walked up.
They were laughing, just like you are now.
I don't know what I did wrong.
My fly was zipped up. I was conservatively dressed.
It's a mystery.
I was standing awkwardly in front of the Principal Buddha image.
The undertaker in brown said into the microphone,
"Mr. Note Udom, you may light the candle."
I whispered to him, "Where is the candle?"
"Where is it?"
He said right into the mic, "It's an electric switch."
He pointed to a switch.
It was the kind you see in front of restrooms. I flipped it.
They were all electric… the incense sticks, the candle.
They lit up.
All at once.
Did it have to be me?
It was within arm's reach, you idiot.
Was it embarrassing? Hell, yes. As I was up there,
when I couldn't find the candle, I heard people giggling.
Even the monks were trying not to laugh,
covering their faces with those talipot fans.
I don't belong in these mournful events.
Here's something I don't understand:
At a funeral, they ask you to go see the body.
"Come, please. Come this way. I'll show you the body."
What for?
"No one else gets to see it."
So why do I need to?
Pop Areeya's mother called me over: "Come look here."
"Look at my mother's face. It's still pink."
She opened the coffin. I was like, "No."
I want to remember them
as they were when they were alive.
Not as a body that will haunt me when I get home at night.
I just don't see the point.
What is so appealing about this?
A dead body with cotton balls…
and makeup like…
Especially those with wounds. Not many get the foundation shade right.
I mean, the dead,
they don't have a say in this.
So I asked an expert,
"What's the point? When did it start?"
"It's a long tradition. It's so people can contemplate death."
"They can see what death is like."
I understand the contemplation of death,
but have you ever asked the deceased
if they want other people to see them like that?
Imagine this. You don't have to be dead.
Every woman in this hall,
imagine you were sleeping without any makeup on.
At 5:30 a.m., people are at your house.
You have a blanket over your head.
Those people come in. They lift up the blanket…
"Let me contemplate death."
Would you like that?
If not, don't do it to other people.
Funerals are full of awkward moments.
Once, I was at a funeral for Toni Rakkaen's father.
Kandy Rakkaen was there too.
We're acquainted.
I have so much respect for their mother, the national artist Banyen Rakkaen.
The funeral was at Wat That Thong.
When I got there,
I knew how to behave.
I got there and greeted them.
Then I walked into the ceremony.
There were already people there.
Now, they were taking photos of me,
posting me on TikTok and whatnot.
Then a brave girl walked over…
"Note, can I get a selfie?"
It's a funeral. Okay. Fine.
I was trying to compose myself.
So, we took a selfie. Then came another one.
Click. Then another one came. "Can you hold the camera, please?"
"My arms are big," they'd say.
Then more people came. The crowd got bigger.
I told myself, "Don't smile. It's a funeral."
They seemed to like it even more. More came.
They wanted a photo of me with a straight face.
Then someone said, "Let's move there. It's too crowded here."
"Come over here. It's an open space. It's more comfortable here."
Where was that? In front of the coffin.
The coffin was there with all the flowers.
The portrait of his dad who died was right here.
They wanted to take photos there.
I didn't know what to do. I really didn't.
"Come here, come."
They were calling their family from out of town.
"Come quick. Note is here. It's not often we get to see him."
Four or five people gathered.
"Hey."
"Kandy, come here. Toni, come here. Let's wait for Toni."
"Take this camera too. And this one."
The person was holding so many cameras.
Don't they have a group chat?
It's the same photo, you know?
"Okay. Ready?"
One, two, mini hearts.
Mini hearts?
I was more respectful to your dad than you all.
How big should my mini heart be?
How big should a heart be at a funeral?
Are you insane?
They're not for me.
Not for me.
Funerals are not for me.
And those funerals with lots of wreaths, I don't think it's right.
Wreaths are so expensive.
The ones I buy for respected people or for fellow celebrities
cost me 10,000 baht.
Ten thousand for one with fresh flowers.
I'd order it from Napasorn at Pak Khlong Talat.
I can't buy cheaper ones. Why? Because my name's on it.
It'd be embarrassing.
If I could take out my name, I would order a 380-baht one
with silk folded into stupid peacocks.
It's because my name is on it.
Like, if I could,
I'd have them shine a spotlight and include the price.
Ten thousand, man.
I went to a funeral of this famous friend.
You'd know them.
The wreaths? There were so many.
There wasn't enough space. Ceiling to floor.
They had to rent another tent to hang all these wreaths.
Not enough. They had to rent four. Four tents. I was like…
And seeing the names, these are all famous people.
That day, I stayed on until the ceremony was over.
I wanted to find out what they were going do with these wreaths.
I was filming, but not to make a documentary.
I really wanted to know. So I waited.
At the end, when everyone left, the temple boys came
with three or four tricycles.
Some were huge with a motor.
The wreaths came down and were thrown onto the tricycles.
I filmed the names of some of those stars.
When they got all the wreaths,
they dumped them in the BMA yellow bins, the heavy ones.
And they were throwing them like this.
I did the math.
Out went 10,000, 20,000, 30,000, 40,000.
The wreaths totaled to four million baht.
It was all for nothing.
I love what they do at Wat Chonprathan Rangsarit.
They don't accept wreaths.
They only take fans.
I was there.
Fans were everywhere in the pavilion.
Probably more than those in a fan shop.
If all of them were turned on, your wig would fly off.
Enough with funerals.
Tomb Sweeping Day. I won't go to those either.
I told my mom that the previous one
will be the last one for Udom Taephanich.
For me, Tomb Sweeping Day
is when people in a family who can't stand each other
are forced to be together
in a horrendous place,
in scorching heat,
eating disgusting food.
Getting to the tomb is bad enough.
My father, he died when I was six.
To get to his tomb, we have to go past a sugarcane farm.
It isn't a fancy tomb.
We didn't have a lot of money.
So the tomb was behind the sugarcane farm in Ban Bueng, Chonburi.
Going there is tiring. Traffic out of Bangkok is bad.
Then we have to drive through the sugarcanes. Very dusty.
The rich would have their tombs in fancy locations…
by the water, near the mountains, those big hilly tombs.
Some are as big as this stage.
My dad's is just this small one.
The road is so dusty.
It's also hard to park. You risk parking on someone's tomb.
They're all very close to one another,
so you have to park on the curb somewhere and brave the sun to get there.
There's no shade.
Not a single tree. It's boiling out there. We need to find a tent.
So we put up a tent we rented to give us some shade.
And the tent can't be very big,
or it will cast a shadow on others' tombs.
They might get upset.
So the whole family is packed
under this tiny tent in the heat.
And there's the tomb that has been made to look like
we've been taking very good care of it.
Just days before, grass magically grew.
Truth is, we'd just put the grass there.
Very recently.
We'd also recently repainted the tomb to make it seem
like we'd been tending to it.
When, in fact, for the rest of the year,
he's just left there in the sun.
He's probably all tanned now.
There is no grass there,
not one seashell.
It's tradition to scatter seashells on the tombs. Stuff like that.
So what happens is, it's a very hot day.
So freaking hot. What am I doing here?
And the people who hate each other haven't really been in touch.
They have to share the tent in that heat
with the background music of firecrackers going…
The family members who hate each other start talking with a certain tone,
in a kind of passive-aggressive way…
"Your kid hasn't got a job yet?"
"My kid's doing pretty well abroad."
"What's your salary?" "What car are you driving?"
"Japanese car? I drive a European car. The doors are pretty heavy."
Things are heating up and about to explode.
When you're in the same tent
with someone you hate on Tomb Sweeping Day,
it's uncomfortable. What do you do?
You light firecrackers.
On Tomb Sweeping Day, you light firecrackers.
Lighting firecrackers is an activity that…
I've never seen anyone light firecrackers in a relaxed manner.
It's not like…
Whoever's doing it is like…
"No, you do it."
No one likes it.
And when it's lit, you have to run
and cover your ears.
You want it to be loud, but then you cover your ears.
The air is full of sulfur and pieces of paper.
Everyone's nose is burning. What the heck is this? What's the point?
That's the way it is.
Firecracker manufacturers, can't you just
make controllers instead?
The world would be a much better place.
And why do we have to use the big rolls?
I tell people, "We should just get a small one. A roll of 100."
Done.
They'd say, "Those don't give you the lucky numbers."
"We need to buy at least 500 to get the lucky numbers for the lotto."
My mom no longer uses regular incense sticks.
She uses the ones that when you light them,
lucky numbers appear.
She uses them to buy lotto tickets.
I asked, "What's the point of firecrackers?"
She said, "So your dad knows we're here."
"But Dad is a ghost."
"How can he not know we came? Are we even father and son anymore?"
"Don't say that."
"The point is, lighting firecrackers is like
we're calling him
to come eat the food here."
"How do you know it's Dad eating?"
"You see all these tombs that no one visits?"
"What if they come eat our food?"
"And Dad likes fancy food and liquor."
"He's probably dining at that big tomb over there."
"He's got taste."
"He wouldn't be squatting here, eating this dry chicken."
"Why do I have to be here?"
"Because you have Chinese blood. Your name, Taephanich."
"The Taephanichs all have Chinese names."
"Your dad's is Toh Kim."
"Your uncle's is Toh Kai."
"And there's Toh Leng, Toh Song, Toh whatever, you name it."
So I asked, "What about me?"
She said, "You're Toh Tuek Tuek."
So I'm done with funerals.
I'm done with Tomb Sweeping Day.
Now chef's tables,
I won't do those either.
A chef's table is like omakase.
Omakase means
the trust you have in the chef.
So everything is up to them.
At omakase, you let them pick the food,
'cause you don't want to.
Deciding what to eat can start a fight
with your partner.
Those with a partner would know.
"What should we eat?"
The girl would say, "Anything."
I've talked about this before. This word, "anything," can start a war.
So at omakase, you don't have to choose.
Let the chef decide.
I had an idea once
on how to solve this "anything" problem.
It'd be great if 7-Eleven had ready-made meals
with no labels on them.
You won't know what's in them.
Mystery box meals.
You can't see inside.
When your SO says, "Anything," you can just grab a box,
and they'll have to eat it.
Okay, at with omakase, you let the chefs choose the food for you.
However, chefs these days, they don't just want to cook anymore.
They also want to do Ted Talks.
They like to tell stories.
Lots of stories.
They have a lot to share.
When I eat out, I just want to eat and get it over with.
But when I go to omakase, I have to wait a long time.
You know? They explain things.
There are so many tables, but they just focus on me.
The chef said,
"Mr. Note,
this one is Ibérico pork."
I felt stupid. I had to look it up.
What the hell is Ibérico pork?
Does it come from the Aborigines?
They're not related. It's just expensive pork.
"Ibérico pigs are very hard to breed, very expensive."
"It took us over a year to dry-cure this leg right here."
"Mr. Note, please enjoy it."
"You don't need to worry about the fat
because the pork is from our own farm
in the English countryside."
"Our pigs are fed high-quality wheat bran."
"Most importantly, we mix it with salt. Himalayan salt."
"Very high quality. We mix it up and feed it to the pigs."
"Why do you need to put salt in it?"
"The pigs can taste the salt."
"When the pigs eat the food, they will get thirsty."
"And?"
"We set up a pond on a hill."
"You have to hike up from the foothill
about one kilometer away."
"So we train the pigs, after their meal,
to walk up the hill
to drink at the pond."
"And?"
"After they drink, they get hungry
and have to walk down another kilometer to eat."
"Then they go back up again, doing another kilometer."
"So our pork, like this one here,
has no fat because the pigs got continuous exercise."
Why would you tell me this?
You think I'm going enjoy it more?
You're committing sin, you moron.
Karma will bite you in the ass.
The next time you're taking a dump at a PTT gas station,
the bidet, cleaning water, toilet paper will all be at the Bangchak gas station.
At another chef's table, the chef is quite famous.
He works at Workpoint.
"Mr. Note, this is the volcanic sea bass."
"And I am Thailand's only brand ambassador of this fish."
"I have to tell you that
they are from our high-quality farm."
It's their own farm again.
"We raise them in a volcanic crater in Indonesia."
I wasn't trying to mess with him when I asked,
"Why all the way there?"
"Well, Mr. Note, it isn't dangerous because it's an extinct volcano."
"There's a lake in the crater from rainfall."
"There are lots of minerals around a volcano,
so our sea bass are raised
in a water source full of minerals."
"What do you feed them?"
"They are fed dead volcanic sea bass
that have been dried and ground into powder."
"So the ecosystem there is full of minerals."
"The fish is thus packed with minerals."
"Please enjoy. There's no fat."
As I was eating, Jo, Thana Thienachariya, texted me.
He was like, "What's up? Wanna grab dinner?"
So I sent him a photo, saying I'm at a chef's table,
the only place to get volcanic sea bass in Thailand.
"You wanna join me? What are you eating today?"
He said he was at Lhao Lhao, and he sent me a photo of his food.
Volcanic sea bass.
Another chef was a one-Michelin star chef from New York.
"Now that I'm back in Thailand, I'm going to make waves
in the food industry to amaze Thai people."
"I'll make roasted chicken and fried chicken."
"How is that new? We have that here too."
"My chicken is very special. I have my own farm."
Again?
"My chickens are raised by a stream in Chiang Rai."
"They drink from the stream, which is very pure."
"They're raised on a longan farm. My own longan farm."
"So the chickens feed on longans. Their meat becomes more tender."
"And did you know that longans are good for the knee?"
"They use longan extract to make knee oil."
"This will be our selling point."
I thought to myself, I have gout.
Chickens are birds.
Whatever you feed them,
I'll still get a gout attack.
Recently, I went to a place in Ratchaphruek.
The Ratchaphruek compound. It was a fancy omakase.
I went with Reed of Aroi Lert
and Sorayuth.
It was a very expensive restaurant. But did that bother me?
No, because they were paying.
It was a whole other level of Japanese fine dining.
The chef wasn't just wearing a white uniform with a white hat.
There was this huge plank in front of the table.
And the chef's uniform was like that of…
a Japanese warrior, with ropes and stuff.
I must say, his uniform alone was worth the experience.
He filleted the fish and served it to me.
He sounded very Japanese, but his face said northeast Thailand.
"Mr. Note,
this fish here is very rare."
"It's seasonal and very hard to find."
"This is the last one for this shipment."
"It's called…"
He then said the fish name. I don't remember what it was.
Let's call it Shogi Mitsu Monogatari.
"To catch Shogi Mitsu Monogatari, you have to do it naturally,
under a cliff in a stream."
"They live in pairs."
"They're like hornbills."
"They only have one partner in life."
"We catch them during their hibernation,
because that's when they have a lot of fat.
The good fat. We don't take the females, because they have too much fat."
"It can be too greasy."
"The males have the right amount of fat and texture."
"Even otoro can't compete with this."
Then he put it in front of me.
I thought to myself,
how can I enjoy this?
You just told me that they mate for life.
One partner for life. And you separated them.
Now there's a Shogi Mitsu Monogatari widow
living under the cliffs all alone.
How can I eat this?
These chefs… Sometimes I want to tie them all up
and make them eat the food I make.
"Hey chefs, look. This is a catfish."
"This catfish
was raised
in a fish cage at Wat Tha Makham,
which is an animal sanctuary."
"They were fed fish-food pellets
given by righteous temple-goers."
"They get to listen to sermons twice a day."
"We catch them at the best time, which is when the abbot isn't looking."
"We didn't force them in any way. They all died voluntarily."
"Because we just prayed, 'Dear fish,
if your time has come,
just float to the surface.'"
"Then we put 220 volts of electricity
into the water,
and they just floated to the surface naturally."
"We grilled them at a steady temperature
in the incinerator at the temple."
You think hearing this would make the food taste better?
I don't think it matters if the fish are from the moon.
What matters is if you cook it well.
I think, at a chef's table,
they serve too little, take too long, and talk too much.
Another thing that I can't take anymore
is a squat toilet.
Those of you who are still young,
aren't fat, and don't have knee problems wouldn't understand.
When I was your age,
I never thought it was a problem to use a squat toilet.
But as you get older,
you feel tight around here.
Or if you're fat or have knee pain or leg pain.
In my case, it's worse because I had ACL surgery,
where they replaced a torn ligament with a segment of tendon
which is secured with two screws, so I can fold my knee just this much.
If I force it any further, I'll feel as if my leg is falling out.
When I was a monk,
I saw other monks have no problem sitting cross-legged.
But in my case, I had to sit like this
when I was praying or doing the chants.
So I was the center of attention in the temple.
But I have this issue, this mobility issue.
I can't squat. I can't bend my knee.
So life gets hard when I have to use a squat toilet.
It's pure hell.
In gas stations in Bangkok, they all have sitting toilets.
But if you go outside Bangkok, you only get it in a disabled toilet.
The rest are squat toilets.
I have to confess
that I always sneak into a disabled toilet.
My thought was,
if I ever got caught,
I'd tell them I'm mentally disabled.
That's the only way.
In other situations, what do I do?
I love street food.
I love trying different places, as you may have seen in the clips.
I go to the Walking Street.
Once, I had squid skewers.
As I was eating, I could feel it coming.
I didn't know my way around the area.
And, as a recognizable face,
as a celebrity,
when you feel like you have diarrhea,
you need to find a toilet ASAP.
Otherwise, if you get spotted,
people will want to take photos, and it'll never end.
People will keep coming.
Selfies, group photos,
retakes, this and that.
Adjustments. Posting on TikTok.
And you can't have your shit running down your legs.
So I needed to go as soon as possible, anywhere.
I needed to find any kind of public toilet. Any.
I couldn't be picky at this point.
So I got myself
into a public toilet.
It was that kind of toilet where if there's a lock,
consider yourself lucky.
Usually there will be some wires to keep it shut.
So I got in.
Oh, dear.
I needed to compose myself when I saw
that yellowish squat toilet.
Imagine this.
There's a small water tub,
a square one,
with barely any water.
Barely.
In there is an old bowl with cracks
and some rust on it.
Over the tub is a leaking water tap
wrapped with a plastic rope to help with the leak.
The bin is overflowing with used toilet paper.
It was like 300 people had been in there that day.
The floor is wet and muddy.
You can't tell if it's someone's pee.
The floor is uneven.
Water puddles cover the floor.
The whole scene just looks very suspicious.
There are no hooks on the wall for you to hang anything.
Just a bare wall. Shit.
And it's so hot.
But you can't leave to find another toilet.
You can't,
or someone else is going to take this one.
So you have to deal with it.
So here's what I did.
First, I strategized
how I was going to deal with this.
All right. I'll pull down my pants.
I'll pull them down to my ankles.
That won't do.
Because then my poop
would fall onto my pants.
Damn it.
What if I pull them off all the way?
Nowhere to hang them. Or maybe I can put them over the door.
But my phone and wallet are in there.
I saw in a video
that someone can easily take away your pants.
Someone like Note Udom can't be walking around,
asking, "Have you seen my pants?"
That can't happen. What should I do?
Shit. I feel it coming.
I can't hold it in anymore. What should I do?
All right. Calm down.
I know. I'll take them off and wrap them around my arm.
You know what I mean?
No?
Actually, I took off my undies too.
Should we go there?
Just use your imagination.
My undies are here.
Do you want to zoom in?
For those of you who want to try this,
let me warn you.
Make sure your butthole isn't directly over that curve in the toilet bowl.
Because when you poop,
the law of impact
will cause the poop to splash.
That will mess up your thighs and your favorite sneakers.
You know what I mean? Walk up one step.
Now that you're in a good position, it'll flow smoothly.
Then, you do the squat.
Keep going. Keep it steady.
Go. Keep going.
Keep going. Don't stop.
But then,
those with bad legs or knees won't be able to do this for long.
That's because you tend to sink lower
as you keep holding the squat.
Not to mention it's stinky and hot. The wet floor makes it worse.
Right then, what I needed was…
I kept sinking lower, but I'm not finished yet.
I just needed…
something to hold on to.
What I really needed right then
was the rope women used to deliver babies back in the day.
God help me. There was nothing for me to hold on to.
I'm being honest here. I was shitting and crying.
The tears ran down my face. Damn it.
What have I done to deserve something like this?
Tears were running down my face and shit was coming out of me at the same time.
Finally, I couldn't hold on any longer.
The floor was so wet.
"No. Shit, no. I can't anymore. I can't."
I put my fingers down.
I never thought I would be pooping in a pose, like…
like an American football player heading for a touchdown.
It was so disgusting. I was like, "My hand."
But I had to, because my knee was hurting like it was going to pop.
As I was crying and pooping, I was like, "Damn it."
I kept going.
And then my weight got the better of me.
My hand was shaking like it was going to cramp.
I couldn't go on, so I used my whole hand.
My pooping pose
was like a hero in The Avengers.
When all was said and done,
I was like, "Damn it."
Can I cut off my hand?
This is not my hand.
Not anymore.
What should I do? Who knows what nastiness it touched?
What should I do with this?
An evil thought crept in.
There was a tub right there.
You know? What if I did this?
But deep down, I felt guilty.
I still had some decency.
Other people will be using this.
Okay.
What do I do?
I know. Let's do this.
Where's the bowl?
So I took the bowl and scooped up some water.
It had cracks, so the water was dripping.
I was washing my hand like this.
I kept doing this, cleaning it bit by bit,
until my hand was clean enough.
What now?
There's no toilet paper. I don't carry tissues. I'm not a woman.
Okay. Let's just put on the pants.
Walk out. No one has to know.
But what if my fans see me, you know?
A photo from the back would reveal stains on my butt.
My reputation would be ruined.
How am I going to clean my butt now? Let's try the dipper again.
I scooped up some water. The water dripped.
Now what? This will be a mess. How about here?
I'm not Jackie Chan. I can't put my leg up the wall and just splash water
on my butt everywhere.
Shit! How am I going to get out of here?
Think. I have to think.
Wait. I have this.
It really worked. Let me tell you.
Easy breezy.
Fold it like this.
And that's done.
That's…
for your entertainment.
You know, in K-pop concerts,
with Korean artists,
the fans would go crazy
when the artists wipe their faces on a scarf or something.
The fans would fight for it.
Screaming, "That's mine!"
Don't fight here.
I'll shoot it at you.
You don't want it?
-You want it? You're kidding. -I want it. The other one too.
One is better.
It's a pair of socks. You know?
You have one, I have the other.
That incident made me…
That made me realize that I have bad karma
with toilets.
After that, I made lots of donations to build toilets at schools, temples.
Usually when people make merit, they pray for things
like a long life, happiness, health,
going to heaven, stuff like that.
Not me. I'm like,
"Whenever I have diarrhea,
let there be a toilet nearby."
"Let there be a regular toilet with lights, clean water,
a bowl, toilet paper, and a lock on the door."
"Let there be no snakes, no toads, no geckos, no creatures."
"Let there always be a good toilet for me."
"Amen."
So that's what I won't tolerate.
There's another thing that I won't tolerate anymore.
It's not an object, not a person.
It's…
a ghost that's living in my house.
There's this ghost that I talked about last time.
It's still there.
I don't know what to do with it.
So I brought Oum Oim from The Sixth Sense to my house.
As you know, my house is a building with three floors.
I live on the top floor.
The second floor is the office. The first floor is for meetings.
Oum Oim walked into my house
and took the elevator to the third floor.
She walked out to the living room,
which is around 12 to 15 meters long.
It's an open space.
Let's say the elevator's here.
This right here
is the wall before we reach the bedroom.
This is the bedroom door.
This is a wall.
The bedroom's here.
We walked out of the elevator.
Oum Oim walked around, using her sixth sense.
I was right behind her. I asked, "Is it still here?"
Som, the first person I brought,
told me that it was sitting here.
That it sat there the whole time.
Oum Oim went closer and looked.
She said, "No. It's not here. Can I go into your bedroom?"
So we went into the bedroom.
"There, at the head of your bed."
Shit. All this time, I thought it was out there.
"How did it get here? It followed us?" "No, this is its place."
What? "Why is it here?"
"He watches you sleep every night."
Shit.
"How does he watch me? How, Oum Oim?"
"Here. Like this. This is where you sleep."
"He stands here like this."
What the heck?
"I see his routine. He's at the head of the bed
and at the end of the bed."
"This is his area. This is where he lives."
What?
"Do you have anything to say to him?"
It's like this. Oum Oim was standing here.
Right here.
She said the ghost was there.
And I was here.
"Do you have anything to say to him?"
Now it's like I have an interpreter.
"Ask him
where he's from and what he's doing here."
"He said that he was an ancient Thai man
who died here and had lived here long before you moved in."
"Back in the day, this was a canal for cargo shipping."
"He died here."
"What does he look like?"
"He's dark, tall, and pretty big."
"He's wearing a loincloth."
"Why is he staying here?"
"He said he likes it here."
"Out of all places?"
"Go to someone else's house. Theirs are much nicer."
"He says merit is abundant here. He doesn't get as much at other houses."
"A lot of merit-making and dedication goes on here."
"He gets merit here."
Between my mom's house and mine,
there's a tamarind tree with the girth of two hugs.
It's a huge tree. Taller than this stage set.
"Oum Oim, can you tell him to move to the tamarind tree instead?"
"He's troublesome here. Go to the tree."
"He says it's pretty crowded there."
"Ask him why he keeps making knocking sounds at the head of the bed."
"It bothers me."
It sounds like this. Same time every night.
All around.
"He says it's because you're rude to him."
This is true.
In this entire world,
I'm the only one who knows that I do this.
I live alone.
When the elevator opens, it's a dark room
you must walk past before you reach the bedroom.
I…
Whenever I walked past it, I'd get chills.
When humans are scared, we usually express it in aggressive ways.
This is really just to help us cope with our fear.
When the elevator opened, I knew for sure.
I could feel him sitting there.
So I impersonated Auntie Rattana.
"Asshole!"
"Don't you even dare, you asshole!"
"Keep your distance."
"Ghosts and humans don't mix. Don't even think about scaring me."
"Karma's going to punish you hard. Asshole!"
Then I closed the door.
I thought that would keep him out.
Now I find out he watches me sleep every night.
I thought to myself, "Dude!"
I'm already scared. What do you want me to say?
"Oum Oim, I have a question. What should I say to him? Like, what?"
I come home from work. I step out of the elevator.
"Did you miss me?"
"Are you craving merit?"
"You want some merit? I'll send you some."
"I have milk, Nutella, and KitKat flavors. Yummy stuff."
"Oum Oim, ask him for me."
"What does he want in exchange for leaving?"
"He says he wants you to build a spirit house for him."
I asked, "How about this? Is a small spirit house okay?"
I was thinking of those modern spirit houses.
I could get a minimal one to go with the house decor.
So I said I could get a small one.
Can it be downstairs by the bathroom? There's a bathroom downstairs.
"He says it's not honorable."
Ghosts have honor?
They say ghosts have a hierarchy, seniority, whatever.
Anyhow, he didn't agree.
"So will you build one?" "I won't."
Oum Oim said, "If you don't, that means you're going against him."
Those were her words: "You're going against him."
"Oum Oim, so what? You can perform a ritual,
stuff him in a pot, and drown him in a river."
Oum Oim replied, "I can see ghosts, but I can't dispel them."
Oh. What now? She said, "I don't know. You're against him now."
"It's 11:00 p.m. I have to go host a program."
So, what now? "I have to go," she said.
"I have to warn you, though. You might have trouble sleeping tonight."
And she left. Gone.
I was left to fend for myself.
I was very troubled because I felt so confused. I called Oum Oim.
"Don't you have any protective mantras to ward him off or something?"
Oum Oim said, "I do." "Can you send it to me?"
"You can download one from Google."
"Which mantra?" "Any works." Oum Oim left it at that.
I went back up to my room. How am I supposed to sleep?
She said he's pissed off now too.
I'm a dead man.
I called someone to keep me company: Kong Huayrai and Bell Khanittha.
They live close by.
When they arrived, Kong was like, "I'm here."
"I'll take care of him for you."
I offered the bed to him. He said, "I'll sleep on the floor with my wife."
So I prepared a bed on the floor for them.
This is the head of the bed. I'm sleeping here.
My legs go that way. My head's here. Kong and his wife are on the floor.
When I sleep, I need the room pitch black. That's the only way I can sleep.
But I could sense a light in the corner of my eye.
It was around midnight now. I opened my eyes to look.
Kong and his wife were on their phones.
It was completely dark. Their phone screens made their chins glow.
It was like I had two donor bodies in the room.
I'm even more scared now.
"Kong! What are you doing at this hour?"
"Hold up, I'm not dead yet. Just a sec."
Then they finally finished their game and went to sleep.
At 2:30 a.m., I felt something pulling my bed.
It was like an earthquake. My body jerked.
It was as if a large hand of an ancient Thai man was doing this.
What's happening?
Then something heavy pressed down on the mattress.
The mattress sank. It did.
I was already primed to shit my pants, you know?
I was expecting it.
So when it happened, I yelled, "Kong, help me!"
Kong answered me right away. He was by my bed. "I'm here."
"Kong, a ghost is pulling my bed!"
"Actually, I kicked your bed."
"Why would you do that?"
"I got up to go to the bathroom and got confused."
He thought it was his room, and the bed was on this side.
"No, something leaned over like it was about to strangle me."
"It pressed down on the bed."
He said, "After hitting my leg, I fell face-first onto the bed."
Oum Oim couldn't help me with the ghost.
So I contacted another person, Bee, the Ghost Ambassador.
Bee came over.
Bee seems like a ghost-buster who is very educated.
He came in. Same thing. The elevator opened.
He said, "Let me have a look."
"Nothing here. Not over here. May I go into your bedroom?"
"He's standing over there."
Same place. "He's over there."
"What's he like? What does he look like?"
"Well, he's not a ghost."
"He's a demon."
A ghost is bad enough.
What the hell is a demon?
"They're…"
"They're much scarier."
"And also…"
"What is he like?"
"A bit like Gollum, like you described, but more gruesome."
"And it's bigger."
"So what now?"
"He doesn't want merit either."
"How did he get here?"
"I think someone cursed you."
That escalated.
"A curse? So what should I do?"
"Give me a minute. Let me meditate. Go wait outside."
Bee then meditated like this.
Later, he called me back in.
"There's a cursed item in your room."
"I saw a red inscription."
Oh, dear. My room has a bed, a bedside table, and a flat-screen TV.
No other decor. Very minimal.
I asked, "Where is it?" "Let's try turning over the bed," he said.
We turned over the bed and found a red Khmer inscription.
There was a Khmer inscription. I was like, "Really?"
Bee said, "Hold up. I see another one."
We turned the bed over again. It was under the bed.
Two under the bed. I was shocked.
Damn. Could this be true?
Bee said, "Not so fast. I see another one."
What? There's nothing left in my room.
Under the bedside table, there was another one there.
Same handwriting. Also in red.
I went, "What is this?"
I didn't believe it.
I thought to myself that a carpenter could have done it.
A Cambodian carpenter who perhaps
likes to do graffiti.
He may like to leave etchings around.
But the bed and the bedside table
were bought separately.
How did the same inscription get on both?
Bee said, "Someone cursed you. They made this
and summoned the demon as well."
"The demon was instructed to haunt you."
What the hell? So what do I do?
"I can only see things. I can't fix any problems."
If it were you, if someone told you you were cursed, what would you do?
It's not like I can drive around and find "Khmer curse-lifting services."
I don't know what to do.
I'm still living with him.
Bee went back to manage his coffee shop.
I was left to deal with it.
Shit. What am I going to do now?
I'm living with a demon.
I'm still living with him today.
I won't tolerate this, but I have to,
because I don't know what to do.
I asked Bee before he got in the car,
"Don't you have any remedies that could help fix this?"
Bee said, "Try to remember."
"I see a date, the 7th, seven years ago in September."
"That person put a curse on you."
Seven years ago?
Seven hours ago is already too long for me to recall anything.
Anyway, I'm still living with him.
How am I doing that?
I'd say it's because of my ordination experience.
After I'd been ordained, I'd say that our mind is like a muscle.
With some practice, it gets stronger.
After being ordained, let's just say,
I've seen much worse.
The temple I was ordained at is in the Phan district.
It's on a small hill in the middle of the forest.
And…
I was isolated.
My quarters were about 500 meters away from the other monks'.
I wanted to live humbly,
with not much electricity and alone, to see if I could do it.
In the beginning, it was tough.
There were six dogs at the temple.
They kept howling next to the quarters.
They would howl
around 7:30 or 8:00 in the evening.
That's when they'd start.
It was like a horror movie.
It was out of a horror movie.
It wasn't just one dog either.
It was a chorus.
A grand orchestra.
I was terrified.
It wasn't mating season or anything.
The howling scared me.
During the first few nights of living alone,
I went to ask a senior monk why they howled.
The monk was really reassuring. He said they probably saw ghosts.
A tall demon might be asking for merit.
I decided to ask another monk. He said,
"Yes, because right there, in the village below,
someone hung themselves."
"The tall demon could be them, asking for merit
from a newly ordained monk."
"It's quite possible."
So I considered it.
It might well be a tall demon. Because if it were a normal ghost,
it wouldn't have such a high voice.
Tall demons are tall, right?
The dogs were probably like,
"Do you see it?"
"I see it too."
"As tall as an eight-story building."
Days and months passed.
My mind became stronger. So I was like, let's just talk this out.
Let's talk it out, because after the morning observance, I had to meditate.
The noise was really bothering me.
It felt very close by.
So I meditated and made a deal with the demon in my mind.
"All right. Tall Demon."
"We don't know each other, Tall Demon."
"I'm honored by your presence."
"You want merit, right?"
"I will dedicate my merit to you so you can be at peace."
"Once you receive the merit, please calm down."
Would you believe, all this was in my mind,
once I finished thinking that thought to please quiet down,
the dogs that were howling…
They stopped midway as if someone pulled a plug.
That just confirmed that, "Damn, you really are a demon!"
After that, the demon was spoiled.
Every night at 7:30 or 8:00,
next to my quarters,
I had to keep giving it merit.
When we do things over and over again, our mind starts to get used to it.
In this sense, the demon in my home isn't that bad.
I've seen much worse.
After I disrobed and got back home,
I had a chat with my demon.
Or that ancient Thai man. Whatever.
I closed the door, turned off the lights, and meditated.
I opened the conversation.
I was guessing he was probably around there.
"Someone might've sent you here."
"So do whatever it is that you were sent to do."
"Maybe strangle me."
"Maybe appear before me. Just do it."
"I'll be waiting right here."
I continued to meditate, waiting for him to come.
I waited for him to strangle me.
True story. I was like, whatever.
If I get strangled by a ghost, I'm fine with dying.
I've done a lot with my life.
I'm just doing the same things now. I'm okay with dying.
Plus, getting strangled to death by a ghost is pretty darn classic.
It's never happened before.
An hour passed. He didn't come.
Two hours passed. He didn't come.
More than two hours passed, and he still didn't come.
I ended my meditation.
So I realized, huh.
All you can do is make those noises.
You can't kill me.
In that case, we're compatible.
It's not too bad.
Knock away. I'll live my life.
You can watch me sleep.
It's not all bad.
There's a lamp at the head of my bed. A curved one.
Having another one can't hurt.
Nowadays, we're still living together.
I can live with him, no problem. No problem at all.
I even belittle him in my head.
Is that all you can do?
Because if I were a ghost,
I wouldn't just stop at making noises
for those I wanted to haunt.
At my funeral, whoever opens my coffin without my consent,
I'm going to haunt you.
The thing with ghosts is they have powers.
Let's lay down the basics of ghosts.
For nonbelievers, take this as a fun story.
Ghosts have powers to a different degree.
It's like us having unequal amounts of money.
We have different levels of purchasing power.
The village chief, for example, only has power within his village.
Governors might have more power.
As for prime ministers, they have lots of power.
They have power to rule the whole country.
But if they abused their power, the country would be how it is today.
Ghosts have many powers.
They can influence or possess you.
They can blind you, close your ears. We've heard these stories before.
When we go to a faraway hotel, the tap turns on by itself.
Ghosts can do that. The water starts running. The lights go off.
The TV turns on by itself. Lights go off in the whole building.
Their powers and pranks vary.
They might appear near you. They might show their legs.
Some might show their insides. They may paralyze you in dreams.
Ghosts have powers.
So when I die,
I think my powers will be quite extraordinary.
When you flush the toilet, I'll make the water flood up.
The more you flush, the more it floods.
When you try to leave that stall, you'll pass the next person coming in.
You'll look real bad. You'll be that person.
I'll be haunting you in these little painful ways.
The bidet that was working fine?
I'll squeeze it so that the water drips out so slowly
that you'll have to cup the water with your hands.
Or I'll increase the water pressure so high
that it slices your hemorrhoids in half.
There are dozens of stalls in the malls.
I'll be that person who puts down all the toilet lids.
Usually in Japan,
if you enter a stall with a closed toilet lid,
that means it's just been cleaned.
You'll always be the first to use it. The Japanese have a lot of trust.
But in our country,
if you see a closed toilet lid,
it's sending you a message.
I'm going to close all of them.
Why? So that you can feel the thrill of gold-digging.
Will you find
lumps of gold,
bars of gold,
or gold ornaments?
If you need an ATK test,
I'm going to haunt the hospital or possess your nurse
to use the wrong end of the swab.
I've been to a drive-through COVID test site where you stay in the car.
This was the early phase of the pandemic.
They had you sit in the car.
Then a nurse covered from head to toe would swab you.
You know these swabbers? I think,
before they became nurses, they used to be fencing athletes.
Did they even go through training?
They'd stick that thing in, I'd pull away. Anyone would pull away. I did.
They'd say, "Don't pull away. Don't."
How could I not? You literally lunged in.
And they'd follow you too. They'd follow you and swab you.
I wanted to push them away with my foot.
You're an inch away from my brain.
The thing is, it's not that difficult.
The swab, if you did it yourself, you'd know.
You'd know how far to go in. It just goes in like this.
There are two parts: the first part, and then you tilt your head back.
It will pass through that mysterious area.
Once there, you're very close to the nasopharynx.
When the swab touches it, you'll know.
You can slowly rotate the swab.
This is when the tears will come.
It's pure bliss. Really.
I'm an old man who's not sexually active.
This is how I get pleasure.
I want to swab my nose three or four times a day.
If you're crazy about designer bags, I'm going to possess your child,
your nieces and nephews.
Those limited-edition bags made from alligator leather and all that?
I'll make your child drag a pen all over your bags.
When you see it, you'll be like, "No, no, no, no, no."
The pen marks are very thin.
Especially those Horse brand pens. You'll just die.
You ladies, you see a scratch this small, you lose sleep.
Even though no one else sees it. You're the only one.
When you go out, you hide that side away.
When you put it on the shelf, you still think about having it repaired in Paris.
It's like a thorn in your heart.
This kind of haunting hurts.
When you go to the mall,
when parking is sparse and you're backing in,
I'm going to make you feel you have to answer a phone call.
You park. You get out.
After shopping, you head back.
"Where the hell did I park?"
And when you're leaving the lot, you forget the card.
You can't find the card. You get home. It's in your wallet.
That's how it'll go.
If your husband gets a bonus,
you think he'll take you on a trip somewhere out of town,
maybe to the Maldives or something.
I'll influence his thoughts to use that money to buy a big bike.
What you'll be getting is a stupid helmet
and a leather outfit you'll never wear.
Your hubby will feel super cool with his big bike,
feeling like Andy Lau.
And you'll just be hanging on for dear life.
Your hubby is the one feeling cool. But you'll have to make do.
If you don't tag along, he won't know where to go.
It's hot and sweaty. You go with him. Then he'll want to go on long trips.
Bangkok to Chiang Rai, maybe?
Meanwhile, you just hang on, helmets clashing with every brake.
If you have insomnia or are a light sleeper, I won't come like this.
I'll be a mosquito. Just one.
Once the lights are off, I'll come out.
I'll make you turn on the lights and look for me.
Good luck with that.
You think you have me. But when you look, I'm not there.
I'll be that mosquito.
If you're afraid of geckos, then I will
possess a gecko
and latch on to your car window.
When you get on a tollway, you'll see me right here.
You'll see my red-and-green belly.
Right on the tollway. No escape.
You try to spray the windshield washer fluid.
Take that. Still there?
Take this, windshield wiper!
Fall to your death, gecko. What? Still there?
It's now on the driver's side window.
It's even closer than before.
Right here. You roll the window down,
hoping to knock the gecko off to its death on the tollway.
You hit it. Then it comes inside.
When you wash your socks,
you'll always lose one.
Especially in the washer.
Especially the ones with cartoon prints that you love.
You do your laundry, and one sock disappears as you unload the washer.
Then another, and another.
Now none of your socks match.
And you'll look crazy wearing mismatched socks.
So you keep a pile of the remaining ones.
Six months later, you still haven't found their pairs.
You give up hope and throw them away.
That's my cue. I'll slowly return the missing socks one by one.
When you shop at the supermarket around the end of the month,
at Big C or Tesco Lotus,
I will cause you trouble.
You'll run into this auntie in front of you in the checkout line.
The cashier's like, "Miss?"
"This mango hasn't been weighed. It doesn't have a barcode."
Oh, boy. Time to wait forever. The lady doesn't want to go weigh it.
The cashier's busy. There's no staff around.
You'll be stuck there until you go, "Damn it."
You switch to another line. You wait and wait until it's your turn.
Finally.
"Dear customer,
we currently have a promotion for the detergent you're buying."
"It's buy one, get one free."
Then what? "If you want it, you'll have to go grab another."
You're in a hurry.
And you're greedy.
Greed wins. You leave the line.
When you return,
all the lines are super long.
You see an auntie in the shortest line. You line up behind her.
But her cart is piled with goods.
And the auntie is paying using something called
"end-receipt coupons."
The ladies know what I'm talking about.
Spend 800 baht and get 40 baht off.
Oh, boy. Be prepared.
The cashier will now start typing and retyping stuff
because they have to group the goods into 800-baht sets.
"650 baht… 680…"
"Hand me that cabbage."
"Oh, the cabbage makes it 900. Take it out. Take this instead."
"Swap out the tea. The tea can wait."
"Now, hand me the laundry detergent."
Key in. Delete. Key in. Delete.
Oh, God. I want to get out of here. Oh, God.
The first 800 is done.
Many more 800s await.
Then she gets more end-receipt coupons. The discount cycle continues.
Receipt after receipt. It keeps going.
Finally, it's the last set. They're almost done.
"The total is 650 baht."
"You'll need to grab more things to make it 800."
Oh, boy. The wait continues.
You wait until it's your turn.
You're finally getting your ass out of here. You step up.
The cashier places down that triangular wood.
"Sorry, my shift is over. Please use the next lane."
What I don't want to do, I avoid.
But what I've never done, I always find a way to try it.
Personally, you see,
I don't want to spend the rest of my life traveling around the world
or bungee-jumping from a helicopter.
That's not my thing. I'm more into mysterious things.
I'm interested in mysterious things that make you wonder whether it's true.
Like nagas.
Are nagas real?
I went to make merit in Chiang Rai.
I went with Kong Huayrai and his wife,
Palmy and her partner, Jae Nam as well, to sponsor a Principal Buddha image.
While we were there, an abbot from a monastery in the Nan province
solicited a donation, and I made a contribution.
He said, "Thank you for helping to build a residence for our monks."
"I would like to invite you to the monastery."
"Lord Naga has a gift for you."
"Lord Naga? A gift from Lord Naga?"
"Yes. I'll ask for it from Lord Naga himself."
I'm like, huh.
I asked Palmy.
"Palmy, should we go get a gift from Lord Naga?"
She's like, "Is he real?"
"If so, it might be worth a try."
"Shall we?" So we went.
We crammed into a van from Chiang Rai to Nan.
It took over four hours.
Once in Nan, the monastery was in the woods.
It was around 6:00 in the evening. It was dusk.
The monastery was surrounded by a forest and under construction.
It was just recently built.
The building was part concrete, part wood.
It was about this big. About the length of this stage.
The area next to the monks' quarters
was under construction to be the pavilion that we made the donation for.
Ten meters away was a lotus pond with no lotuses left.
It was an old lotus pond about the size of a basketball court.
In front of the monks' quarters was a table.
There was a rice offering wrapped with banana leaves in the shape of a naga.
There was also a speaker as tall as that chair with a microphone on it.
There were red and orange lights to guide the abbot
through the woods so he doesn't get lost.
When we arrived, we thought, "It's so desolate."
The sun was setting. It was getting dark.
There were two monks there, the abbot and the prior.
The prior was the one doing the ceremony.
The abbot asked us to sit down.
There was some small talk. We were served some water.
The prior informed us,
"Lord Naga is bringing his gift at 9:00 tonight."
So we chitchatted. There was nowhere to eat.
It was all forest.
We chatted.
We moseyed around until 9:00 p.m.
The prior came over and said,
"Lord Naga would like to postpone to 10:00 p.m."
Oh. We asked, "Why is that so?"
"Lord Naga says that, within this group, someone is being disrespectful."
"If you're disrespectful, he won't give you a gift."
I didn't know who it was.
I can't just ask, "Are you being disrespectful?"
No can do. So we waited for 10:00 p.m. to come.
We chatted with the monks to kill time.
The abbot is sitting here,
Kong Huayrai is here,
Jae Nam is here, and I'm here.
Palmy is at the doorway between the inside and the outside.
Palmy is standing like this.
Kong asked the abbot,
"Father, I don't know why,
but when I'm near the Mekong River, I get heart palpitations."
"It's like I'm about to faint."
"I'm a good swimmer, but I'm afraid of going into the water."
The abbot said, "You were a naga in your past life. Are you aware?"
"Really?"
"Whatever you do that is related to nagas, you'll do it well.
Like the songs you write."
"Oh, that's right. When I write songs, it comes easy."
"I wake up, and the lyrics pour out."
"That's it."
"Your naga wife inspires you."
"You used to have a naga wife."
"You were reborn as a human."
"She's still waiting for you."
Kong replied, "No wonder whoever I date, we always break up."
"Yes, she's making it difficult."
I thought to myself, "It's because you're a flirt."
Kong said, "Now that I'm married to my wife,
I'm afraid we'll break up."
"Can I do anything to prevent it?"
The abbot said, "How about this?"
"Go sing for the naga."
"Sing that song you wrote."
"That 'Khu Khong' song."
"Sing that for the naga."
"And where is he?"
"Right over there."
"The lotus pond is Lord Naga's palace."
"You can sing for him there."
"He'll acknowledge it, and all will be well."
Kong believed him and went out.
The microphone was there
on the speaker.
And the forest was dark.
There wasn't much light in the temple. Not much at all.
Kong started singing.
He wasn't half-assing it either. He was, like, all in.
Wherever love is found…
As if his wife was listening. His naga wife.
His real wife was inside.
It doesn't matter who it is
It'll be there, it won't disappear…
With the times
He cried. He really did.
It was surreal. He cried as he sang.
As he sang, his voice echoed inside.
Jae Nam was sitting in front of the abbot.
The abbot's seat was raised a bit.
There was an alms bowl with holy water in it
and a bundle of bamboo strips.
The classic set of things you find at a monastery.
Suddenly, Jae Nam got worked up, like she was possessed.
She has yantra tattoos all over.
She's into black magic, oil tattoos and holy water.
She worships holy stuff. She also has a tiger tattoo on her back.
So Jae Nam jumped up. She wasn't herself.
She was… a tiger.
Oh, she's a tiger. This is bad.
She jumped up like what you see in clips
of initiation rituals.
Jae Nam was a damn tiger.
What the hell? I jumped away.
My back was against the wall.
Everyone scattered away.
Outside…
It'll be there
He was completely clueless about the tiger pouncing inside.
The floors shook.
I was like, "Father, help us!"
The abbot had a bowl of holy water. He grabbed the bamboo bundle and chanted…
He splashed holy water at her, but she didn't calm down.
It was like adding fuel to a fire.
She got even more erratic.
No one dared to stop her now. "Jae Nam, what's up with you?"
Outside…
Jae Nam was still a tiger.
I said, "Father, help! Please help!"
He'd already splashed the holy water at her. It didn't work.
He ran out of ideas.
He rummaged through the things around him
and found a conch shell,
like those you see along the beaches of Bang Saen or Rayong.
It was about a foot long.
He didn't know what to do. I think he was startled.
So he threw the conch at Jae Nam.
He threw it. The conch hit her and kept rolling.
And you know what? The tiger went and picked up the conch.
Why, you ask? To blow.
What the hell?
There was no melody. It was just air.
A tiger was blowing a conch.
Outside,
the singer was crying to his naga wife.
Whatever happens, we'll stay strong
Palmy was at the door.
She was observing both events. She saw all that happened.
In the dark, Palmy exclaimed,
"What the fuck?"
"Too much religion."
"Why are we here, Note?"
I don't know either! I didn't think it could get this out of hand.
Jae Nam kept blowing…
until she ran out of breath and fainted onto the mat.
I was like, "What kind of multiverse is this?"
"How did I end up here? I'm so confused."
Once Jae Nam fainted,
everyone started to calm down.
They fetched drinking water for her.
The timing was perfect. Kong finished his song, came back in, dried his tears.
He came back in and said, "What's wrong with Jae Nam?"
You too! What the hell is up with you?
Next, the prior in the monks' quarters finished the ceremony and came out.
Perfect timing.
"All right, everyone."
"Lord Naga is ready."
"You can go get your gift."
"Where, Father?"
"You, young man, go into the lotus pond."
"Huh? Why do I need to go in?"
"That's Lord Naga's palace. That's his home."
"Us?"
"You want us to go into his home?"
"To be his supper?"
It was pitch dark. So dark. There were no lights.
We only had the temple's flashlight and our phones' flashlights.
We were pretty dazed, so we followed the abbot.
Then the abbot said, "The ladies cannot go in."
"It will contradict his powers."
"Ladies have menstrual cycles. It negatively affects his powers."
So we're like, okay, no girls in the pond. Palmy, you can't go in.
As we were sorting this out, Jae Nam was already in the pond.
Jae Nam didn't think she was human.
She was a tiger.
No one dared to stop her for fear she'd bite us.
"Father, she's already in the pond."
"Well, I don't know…"
"All right."
In that lotus pond the size of a basketball court,
the abbot had us hold hands.
We held hands and walked side by side from one end to the other.
If we find anything, we should pick it up. That's the naga's gift.
"Okay," said the abbot. "From up here, I'll perform the ceremony."
He lit a candle.
There were whistles of the natural breeze,
the natural sounds of crickets, and darkness,
as well as the uneasiness of our fear.
When I went in, the water was this high.
The bottom was mud. We walked in that.
It was a lotus pond, or a former lotus pond.
There weren't any new lotuses. There were only dried stems,
which irritated our feet when we stepped on them.
As we walked, small bubbles would form with each step.
There was a pungent smell. But we…
I honestly don't know why we did it, but we had come this far.
The abbot said, "All right."
His voice was soft, but you could hear it clearly in the darkness.
"If you find anything, don't yell."
"Don't make a racket. Don't make it a big deal."
Huh?
I'm in a pond. If a naga comes,
wraps its body around me, gobbles my leg,
should I really stay quiet?
Should I just let myself sink down?
Really?
I was so confused. Everyone was scared. Myself, Palmy's partner,
the driver, all the men, you know?
We were all scared. Only one of us was cheerful.
The ex-naga.
Kong Huayrai. He was swimming, going all in.
He was doing the butterfly stroke. Because nagas swim like this.
He was swimming away, enjoying the moment.
He was heading home, going to see his wife.
Amidst the silence were our squishy-squashy sounds.
Meanwhile, the abbot was chanting his mantras.
Midway, he said,
"Miss, you on the shore,
please chant with me."
"The 'Itipiso' chant."
"Chant along with me."
The woman on the shore
was no one other than
Eve Pancharoen,
our dear Palmy.
In the total blackness
of the forest,
you could hear
Palmy's voice performing a single
unlike any other.
While we were squish-squashing away…
Itipiso bhagava araham
Samma sambuddho
Vijjacaranasampanno
Sugato lokavidu
Anuttaro…
So damn surreal.
I thought I was dreaming.
We're squish-squashing in a naga's palace
while Palmy's chanting "Itipiso."
What madness is this?
We were squish-squashing and feeling around.
In the darkness, Kong called out, "Note! Note! Note!"
"What? What's up? What?"
"He swam through my legs!"
"What?" "He swam through my legs!"
What the hell?
"He's real! He swam through my legs."
What he meant was a naga swam through his legs.
Really? Its crest didn't slice your balls?
It didn't make me feel better.
I was terrified. We squeezed our hands hard.
Don't you dare swim under me!
No swimming under! Don't strangle me!
We kept walking to the other end. It took several minutes.
Before we reached the shore,
it grew quiet all around.
The abbot said,
"Don't stop."
"Keep chanting."
He was probably talking to Palmy.
"My throat is dry from chanting."
"I'm sitting on tons of touch-me-not plants."
"My bottom hurts."
Itipiso…
We walked all the way.
We found nothing! We rummaged around and found nothing.
I was so discouraged.
I crawled to the edge of the pond. The edge was about 1.5 meters high.
I told the abbot, "Father, we didn't find anything."
The abbot said, "Hmm."
"This has never happened before."
"Something must have gone wrong."
"Lord Naga said we disrespected him."
"Someone must have been disrespectful."
Who?
Not me.
I came to observe, you know?
So…
"I'll go in myself," the abbot said.
He took off his robe, wearing only his shoulder piece and inner garment,
and went into the pond.
But we didn't want to go for a second round.
We were already covered in mud, and it was almost midnight.
You know who went with the abbot? You guessed it. That guy.
Bobbing up and down he went.
They rummaged around.
All the way to the end. And they found it.
For real.
A crystal ball. A crystal ball.
The abbot said it was Lord Naga's. It was this big.
It weighed about 130 pounds.
It was crystal clear. They fished it out, and it slipped away.
"It's wriggling," Kong said.
It kept slipping away.
It was muddy, you know. The crystal ball kept slipping away.
Finally, the driver was called to bring a cloth to hold the ball.
They carried it up. It took about six people. It was heavy.
We washed it and brought it to the monks' quarters on a pedestal tray.
We looked at it, oohing and aahing.
Kong was so elated.
He paid his respect, washed it and dried it.
He wouldn't stop talking.
I didn't know what to think. It was very clear and beautiful.
Palmy came to look.
"Can I see it?"
"Father, can I touch it?" "Yes, go ahead." Palmy squeezed in.
"Is this what we were chanting for for so long?"
"You can find tons of these at Tha Phra Chan."
In the end, I couldn't bring it back by plane because it was too heavy.
We had to hire a van to transport it from Nan to Bangkok.
We ended up giving the crystal ball to Kong Huayrai.
He was super excited.
My show is supposed to end around now. Right about now.
But I don't want to end it yet. Can I stay a little longer?
Because I have yet to mention
one person whom I will not tolerate anymore.
I've tolerated him for eight years.
What's this? You guys too?
You're kidding.
He's kind of…
Let's just say he doesn't want to leave.
Psychologically speaking, he wants to stay with a passion.
Even though he acts like, you know,
"Whatever the people want, okay?"
But his behavior shows that he wants to stay, maybe until the APEC meeting,
as an honor for his family.
Or maybe he wants to stay for another four years
to make it 12 years in total to break some kind of record.
But, like, since he won't go,
I suggest that we make his dream come true.
Let's make an elderly man's dream come true.
So that when he goes, he has no regrets.
Deep down, I want to join his team
and help him campaign for his next term.
Because I know that if he does it himself, he'll fail.
You see, it's old news already,
publicizing and campaigning in the old way.
Better known as "false promises."
Promising to do this and that.
Promising to raise the minimum wage to 400 baht and whatnot.
When those aren't fulfilled, they delete the discussion forum.
We've had enough of that. These days, your true self is what sells.
Just be yourself. If people vote for you, it's because they like who you are.
You know? I call this kind of marketing
"bully marketing."
Just tell the world who we are.
The idea I've come up for Uncle Tu
comes from the Bangkok governor election.
They use those cars that blast Thai country music
with familiar melodies and adjusted lyrics.
The tunes are very catchy. After that,
publicize your qualifications truthfully.
What I heard sounded like this.
You'll hear the echoes.
Up-country vibes, you know?
Turn up the echo, please.
It runs past your house.
I will cast an enchanting spell
Telling your heart to choose an old flame
The same prime minister
Let's gather round
Let's sound our votes
And choose old Uncle Tu
Next, state your qualifications.
Bold.
Unreliable.
We've been left to care for ourselves.
Bold.
Unreliable.
Enabler of existing issues.
Creator of new ones.
You have to tell people what they should expect, right?
Enabler of existing issues. Creator of new ones.
Ensurer of transparency.
But no audits allowed.
Ready to face all problems
with all the intellect he has
and all of his 84,000 brain cells.
His strongest point… is his head.
His strongest point is his head.
His weakest point is what's inside it.
He's smart with words.
But smarter without.
A prime minister who fixes the country's problems by writing songs.
So many new songs. Why don't you just make an album?
He fixes the country's problems by writing songs.
He fixes his own problems by acting aggressively.
When there's a question he can't answer, he covers it up with anger.
The man who made a commitment to the nation.
And not just one nation.
He's made commitments with many nations.
The latest commitment was getting a loan from Japan.
Our debt is now at tens of millions of baht.
Let's stay calm, and pay back our debts together.
Let's pass on our debts to our children.
Why, you say?
Because our generation can't pay it off.
We don't copy anyone's policies.
If you vote for Chadchart, you'll get work, work, work.
But if you vote for Uncle Tu, you'll have to pray, pray, pray.
And get annoyed, annoyed, annoyed.
Let's take a break from the campaign.
Let's cut to the people gossiping on the streets.
The thing is,
there are two people in this country
who, whenever they speak,
I get mad.
Those two people are Uncle Tu and Kratik.
It's like…
"Sir,
how can we fix traffic jams?"
"Traffic jams are good. They prevent accidents."
He was the chief guest the other day. Uncle Tu was the chief guest
at the Thailand 5G Summit.
It was a technology conference.
He presided over a meeting about technology.
The golden line of that day was when he said
he had so much work
that if he were a computer, at this rate, he'd have already crashed.
Sir, please take a deep breath and wake up.
You are not a computer.
Computers have a processing unit…
as well as a memory unit.
You have neither.
You are merely a keyboard.
Okay? There isn't even a screen.
There are no displays of your work at all.
Some would even call you a typewriter. And a vintage one at that.
Is that annoying?
Yes, yes, and yes.
I have a simple question for you. Let's say you own a business.
Y'all probably have one of some sort.
Let's say someone applied to work for you
with the attitude…
"You think I want to be doing this?"
"Want to try your hand at it?"
Imagine this was a job candidate. They applied for a job.
Would you hire them?
It's an easy question.
Right now, this kind of person is working for us.
Think there's a future here?
What's Thailand's population?
Is it 67 or 76 million?
Somewhere around that. Tens of millions of people.
Imagine we're all on the same plane.
We're on a huge plane. This plane is called Thailand.
Normally, a plane is flown by an experienced pilot.
Right? A plane is flown by a pilot.
But right now, all the knowledgeable and capable pilots aren't in control.
Who's in the cockpit? A security guard.
Let's get on the same page first. I'm not looking down on security guards.
Humans are born with different preferences.
You like numbers? Be an accountant.
You like peace and not being attached? Be a monk.
You like fighting? Be a boxer. You like cooking? Be a chef.
Everyone has their own thing.
You like titles and ranks? You like discipline? Be a soldier.
You like maintaining order and security?
Be a security guard.
The world needs everyone.
But that doesn't mean
a security guard
will be good at flying a plane.
Let's take a deep breath.
Right now, our nation is being piloted by a security guard.
For the fans of Uncle Tu, hear me out.
I'm not saying he's a bad guy. Just hear me out.
I used to like him too.
I'm not saying he's a bad person.
Being capable of flying a plane is separate from being a good person.
Say we meet this monk.
He does good things and observes 227 rules of conduct.
Are you going to ask him to fly a plane? No.
Virtues and good deeds cannot lift a Boeing
weighing 200 tons into the air.
Let's be clear on that. It's about expertise.
Our nation is being piloted by a non-pilot.
Since he doesn't know how to do it, when he has to…
When people do things they don't know how to,
all they can do is act.
Say you become the head chef.
You can't cook, but you're appointed as one. What can you do?
You put on the uniform and act the part.
When asked about recipes, you act all mad.
You yell them away. It's a survival mechanism.
Say you're a soccer coach. You don't know how to play it.
What can you do? You act.
It's a pitiful sight, having to dress up as a soccer coach
and go, "Hey! Advance! Let's go! Run!"
But do you even know how to play?
It's like that. That's how he's flying the plane.
The people on the plane can feel it. They're not thinking he's a bad person.
They're just wondering where he's taking them.
Are we wrong to question where we're heading?
As passengers, we need to know where we're going to land.
When we bring it up, he yells at us.
"It's a 20-year route."
Well, what are the stops along this 20-year route?
And when the plane has problems,
whether it's air pressure, lack of food or clogged toilets,
he knows nothing when we ask him.
When one doesn't know how to pilot, there's a pilot handbook.
Unfortunately, that doesn't help, because it's in English.
My English isn't that good either.
But shouldn't we let those who can read it do the job?
The solution isn't to read a Better Homes and Gardens magazine instead.
This isn't the time to decorate the plane.
We can't rely on him. He has no answers. So we ask the copilot,
who has more seniority and experience.
We nudge the copilot, and heavens, he's fast asleep.
We nudge and ask him.
"I have no clue."
Having to fly somewhere
without knowing the destination…
Don't even mention the 20-year plan.
For your plan, 20 minutes is already too long.
This is the sentiment of our nation.
We don't know where we're heading.
If you love the people as you say you do,
both of you, the pilot and copilot,
please eject yourselves from the plane.
Don't worry that we'll crash. You can turn on the autopilot mode.
The passengers will find a suitable pilot.
So many people know how to do the job. Let the people figure it out.
Don't be like, "No! We'll choose someone ourselves."
Don't have 250 senators choose for us.
Just a second.
Can I have this light on?
You in the black shirt. You're not a soldier, right?
Let's talk this out. Everyone was clapping except you.
The thing is…
you should know that my words are not mine.
I got cursed, remember?
Nothing will take it away
Itipiso bhagava araham…
I'm not myself.
Don't report me, okay?
The thing is,
in my whole life, I've never seen
such a display of solidarity.
Think about this. When it's Uncle Tu's birthday,
it'll be on the Workpoint news, on Facebook.
The comments are in solidarity.
I make fun of every administration.
Whether it be Yingluck, Abhisit, Taksin, I make fun of all of them.
But I've never seen such solidarity.
So under his birthday post, all the comments say one thing: FU.
Shit, I've never seen that before.
-Right? -Right.
Everyone is telling him to focus and understand,
focus and understand, focus and understand.
Such solidarity.
So after this performance,
if I disappear from the newspapers,
the media or news, I'm saying right now that I didn't enter monkhood.
Don't assume Udom decided to live a solitary life as a monk.
I think you're the one who'll kidnap me.
Let's get back to the campaign.
We're done with people, crazy people, nagas, and gossip.
Make-believe things.
Let's continue the campaign.
The car drives on.
This is an invitation to all Thai citizens.
Together, let's protect the country
from moving forward.
Let's protect the country from moving forward
by choosing Uncle Tu.
Uncle Tu is the best choice
for those without a choice.
Good night, everyone. Thank you for coming. Love you all.
Love you all. Thank you. Thank you all. Thank you.
You guys aren't going home?
No!
You're joking, right?
We want more!
What's going on?
We want more!
Fine. Just a bit longer.
Clothes off!
Let's stay till morning!
Mister soldier, sir,
you can go prepare the troops.
There's only one exit anyway. I don't think I'll get out of this.
A stand-up comedy show usually ends with laughter,
like what you saw.
But I think that I'm old enough to end it differently this time.
I don't mean ending my life.
I have a lesson learned that I want to share with you.
Ever since it occurred to me
that I don't have much time left on Earth,
it makes living life much easier.
I'm less nosy about others.
I have more time to be nosy about myself.
It made me realize what it is
that I really want to do,
and what it is that I just want others see me do,
or be, that kind of thing.
The phrase, "This works for me," has helped me a lot.
This works for me.
Whatever is in or out, new or old, open or closed,
here or there, cool or luxe, it doesn't really matter to me.
It might be cool for others, but it doesn't work for me.
Take those super cars with gull-wing doors.
It's cool for others, but it doesn't work for me.
It's hard for my mom to get in. It's hard for me to get in.
My wife and kids wouldn't be able to use it.
Where do I park at the market?
The wings would just hit the merchants' umbrellas.
It just doesn't work for me.
Or those who want to show gratitude to their moms
by plopping a wad of cash in front of her and saying, this is gratitude.
It's a nice thing, but it doesn't work for me. I'd rather wire it.
Or if we didn't have the funds, we could give her a foot massage instead
while she watches Mic On Debt Off,
where Ryan has been the champ for eternity.
Everyone has their own concepts
of convenience, happiness and success.
They are concepts that fit well with their life.
We can't borrow and wear other people's clothes.
Imagine if we borrowed Ice Apitsada's outfit.
It's a bodysuit that requires oiling before you can wear it.
It's cool for her, but try putting that on yourself, you know?
It doesn't fit us. It doesn't. We have things that work for us.
The problem with most people today
is that we adopt other people's ideas of success, happiness and convenience.
Everyone wants a good life. Everyone wants to become mega rich
or be a billionaire overnight, like what those self-help books claim,
like what those life coaches teach you, like what those podcasts say,
like how those YouTubers live.
They want us to be rich, mega rich. Connect to the universe.
Unlock your mind. Manifest lots of money.
Ask the universe to send you a fortune within 72 hours.
Is the universe that malleable?
Then get the universe to cure your partner's gaming addiction first.
Get your children to put their things away first.
If it's that easy, everyone would be rich. Class wouldn't exist.
Who's going to drive taxis for us? Who's going to operate our sky trains?
Who's going to make food and serve it to us?
The world is made up of people of all situations.
Wake up.
One percent of people in this world,
only one percent of people in this country are mega rich.
Life is like a marathon.
Out of 10,000, only one makes it to the finish line.
Never in a marathon have you seen
ten thousand people reach the finish line together.
Wake up. It's not real.
That's the one percent.
Those rich people with good lives
who post pictures on Instagram, those mega rich people?
Let them be rich. Be happy for them.
We don't need to wear their clothes.
So what if they're super rich? You know?
We might not be as rich, but we're happy in our way.
We're rich in friendships, rich in health, rich in laughter.
There are other ways to be rich.
But the one percent we're so envious of,
what if they're rich but lack friends, lack good health,
lack laughter, lack friendships, lack admiration?
I call that being poor.
We're richer.
Death is not scary. It's not scary at all.
What's scarier is being alive but not being happy.
Not doing what's convenient for you. Not doing what works for you.
Stuck doing something you don't love.
If you're not being who you are,
you're no different from a living corpse.
Remember this well.
This works for me.
Live life the way that works for you. Good night, everyone.
Subtitle translation by: Pannapat Tammasrisawat and Tanya Sritanyalucksana