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12.09.25: The Alien Zoo
If aliens ever visit, they won’t study us in labs. They’ll build a zoo. Not cages, but curated spaces. Cities with invisible walls, humans going about daily life while extraterrestrial scientists observe. We’ll think it’s normal. Bills, traffic, grocery stores. Meanwhile, they’re writing papers: “The Ritual of Commuting,” “The Mating Dance of Nightclubs.” Every so often, glitches reveal the walls. Someone disappears into thin air. We call it a mystery, an unsolved case. But really, it’s just bad zoo maintenance. The terrifying part isn’t captivity. It’s the thought that maybe we’re already inside.
12.08.25: Digital Silence
The hardest silence isn’t in nature. It’s when your phone dies. You reach for it, and there’s nothing. No buzz, no glow, no escape. I once spent a week in the mountains with no signal, and the first day was brutal. By the third day, the quiet became addictive. No notifications, no scrolling, no endless feeds. Just thoughts, unfiltered. The scary part isn’t silence itself—it’s realizing how badly we avoid it. Maybe that’s why we fear boredom so much. In silence, you meet yourself. And sometimes, that’s a stranger you’ve been dodging for years.
12.07.25: The Airport Nap
There’s an art to sleeping in airports. Some people curl on benches, others sprawl on the floor with backpacks as pillows. I once saw a man sleeping perfectly upright, arms crossed like a monk. Nobody judges, because everyone knows the exhaustion. Airports are the only places where snoring in public is accepted. It’s oddly comforting. Strangers side by side, unconscious, waiting for their turn to move again. Sleep in airports isn’t restful, but it’s communal. A reminder that, no matter how different we are, sometimes we’re just animals curling up wherever we can.
12.06.25: The Glitched Advertisement
Billboards in the future will glitch. Not by mistake, but on purpose. Ads that flicker, distort, and twist so they stick in your brain like a half-remembered dream. People start calling them “mind splinters.” At first, everyone hates them. Then, inevitably, they spread. The human brain can’t ignore disruption. Soon, art imitates ads. Music videos mimic glitches, fashion embraces “broken” aesthetics. Reality starts looking like corrupted files. And the strangest thing? People grow nostalgic for smoothness. They crave stability. A resistance forms: groups who paint over glitches with clean white walls, fighting chaos with silence.
12.05.25: Thai Temples
Thailand’s temples don’t just feel spiritual, they feel alive. Gold spires glitter in the sun, incense thickens the air, and monks move slowly in orange robes like flames drifting through stone. Tourists rush to take photos, but if you pause, you notice small things: a dog napping in the shade, a child playing with prayer beads, old women sweeping steps that have been swept for centuries. I once sat cross-legged near a temple in Chiang Mai and realized faith isn’t just ritual. It’s repetition. The act of showing up, over and over, until even stone remembers.
12.04.25: The Failed Invention
Some inventions die quietly. A gadget hits the market, promising to change everything, and vanishes within a year. Remember Google Glass? A glimpse of the future nobody wanted yet. I like failed inventions though. They’re fossils of what could have been. Each one says, “we tried.” Humans are obsessed with progress, but failure is where imagination really lives. Somewhere, in a box, sits a device that almost changed the world. It didn’t. But it proves we’re willing to gamble on strange ideas. And one day, something equally ridiculous will stick, and everyone will forget it once seemed dumb.
12.03.25: Dream Markets
In the future, people buy and sell dreams. You wake up from a wild one and upload it, turning subconscious chaos into currency. Dream traders build portfolios, chasing demand for flying sequences, lost loves, even nightmares. At first, it’s entertainment. Then corporations step in. Advertising slips into dreams, product placement stitched into REM cycles. People forget what’s real, what’s purchased, what’s their own mind. Eventually, the black market grows. Unfiltered dreams. Pure, unedited subconscious. The kind of dreams you can’t buy. And suddenly, people start valuing nightmares again, because at least those feel real.
12.02.25: The Empty Stadium
Walking into a stadium after a game is eerie. The roar is gone, but you still feel it in the air, like echoes clinging to concrete. Seats are littered with wrappers and forgotten drinks, reminders of thousands of tiny lives that passed through hours earlier. I once wandered a stadium in Peru long after the crowd left, and it felt like sneaking into a sleeping giant. Sports are about energy, but emptiness has its own power. You realize the game isn’t the place—it’s the people. Without them, it’s just steel and silence.
12.01.25: The Cold Shower
Cold showers are torture until they aren’t. The first seconds are agony, skin screaming, breath gone. But then, something clicks. Your body adjusts, adrenaline spikes, and suddenly you’re awake in a way coffee never manages. I started taking them after reading some nonsense about “resilience training,” expecting to quit in a week. Instead, it stuck. Not because it feels good, but because it forces surrender. You can’t argue with cold water. You just take it. It’s humbling, refreshing, painful, and cleansing all at once. A reminder that discomfort is sometimes the quickest way back into yourself.
Short Story: The Year of Wet
Day 167 of Songkran
No one remembers the exact moment it stopped being fun.
Some say it was the influencer livestreaming from Tha Phae Gate, shrieking with glee on Day 12 as the rain started falling again, unseasonal and heavy. Others say it was Day 37, when the military trucks joined the parade—no orders, just cannons and chaos. But most agree it was the mountains. When the gangs tapped the mountain lines, when the streams were bled dry to flood the streets of Chiang Mai, that’s when Songkran became something else. Something permanent.
The water doesn’t stop.
They call them the Hose Kings now. Kids who once sold buckets on the roadside now patrol intersections with PVC guns, pressurized with stolen pumps. Entire sois are walled off, guarded with makeshift barricades and diesel-fueled slip’n’slides. You want to cross the moat? You pay the toll—usually a soaked passport or a boot full of ice water. Maybe both.
Tourists who didn’t leave by Day 60 are either prisoners or soldiers. There’s no neutrality anymore. You’re in a crew, or you’re prey.
Electricity’s patchy at best. The government tried to cut the water main on Day 103—drones caught the attempt, and by morning, the water warriors had repelled the workers with high-pressure hoses and frozen balloons packed like grenades. One of them hit a lineman in the neck. He drowned standing up.
In the old city, the Wetside Syndicate controls from Moon Muang to Ratchadamnoen. They’ve got the pressure guns, fire hoses, even one of those old riot trucks refitted with a DJ booth on top. Their leader wears a snorkel mask full-time and speaks only through a megaphone. No one's seen his real face since Day 88.
On the Nimman side, the Aqua Marauders run things. Flashier, more brutal. They’ve built ziplines between cafes, sniper perches in co-working spaces. Their weapons are artisanal—hand-carved teak super-soakers, insulated to hold ice longer. They say one of them modified a hydro pump to break glass at 30 meters.
Food’s running low. Even the pad thai stalls gave up. Who wants to fry an egg when it’ll get doused before it hits the plate? Most of us eat what we can steal—instant noodles softened by the air, bread soaked beyond saving. Salt’s the real currency now. Keeps the mold off your stuff.
Some of us remember when this was a celebration. Cleansing, renewal, joy.
Now it’s war.
Day 167 and the skies show no sign of mercy. Rain at dawn, thunder at dusk. The rivers have turned on us. Every pipe leads to a barrel, every barrel to a cannon. There are whispers of a resistance—dry rooms deep in the basements of malls, where people wear socks and sip tea. But no one’s seen them. Maybe they’re just legends.
Tonight, I sleep in a plastic poncho, wrapped in garbage bags, dreaming of the desert.
Or maybe I don’t sleep. Not here. Not when every splash could be a warning.
The water’s everywhere now. And it’s winning.
Clothes Have Been Donated!
Collected 250kg of clothes last month! After sorting, several boxes went to migrant communities in #ChiangMai through the Shan Youth Power program, helping both kids and adults. Huge thanks to everyone who donated! ❤️ If you're in CM and have more clothes to give, DM me! 🙏♻️
More from Hua Hin
Hua Hin isn’t just another beach town in Thailand—it’s got history, charm, and a vibe that balances laid-back beach life with a touch of sophistication. Whether you're thinking about a weekend escape from Bangkok or just curious about this coastal gem, here are some fun facts about Hua Hin that might surprise you.
1. Thailand’s OG Beach Resort
Before places like Phuket and Samui became international hotspots, Hua Hin was the beach destination in Thailand. Back in the 1920s, King Rama VII built his summer palace here, and ever since, it’s been a go-to retreat for Thai royalty and Bangkok’s elite. That’s why you’ll still find a more refined, old-school vibe compared to the party-heavy islands.
2. Home to the Longest Golf Course in Thailand
If you're into golf, Hua Hin is a paradise. The Royal Hua Hin Golf Course, built in 1924, is Thailand’s oldest 18-hole course and still one of the most scenic. Bonus points: it's right next to the train station, which itself is one of the most picturesque in the country.
3. It’s Got a Vineyard—Yes, Really
Thailand and wine? Sounds like a weird combo, but Monsoon Valley Vineyard in Hua Hin is proving that tropical winemaking is a thing. Set in rolling hills just outside the city, it’s a spot where you can sip Thai wine while surrounded by vineyards—something you don’t see every day in this part of the world.
4. The Night Markets Are Next-Level
While Thailand is known for its night markets, Hua Hin’s are especially fun. The Cicada Market brings in artsy, handmade crafts and live music, while the Tamarind Market is all about incredible food. If you want seafood fresh off the boat, the night market in the center of town is where you’ll find grilled prawns, fresh squid, and just about every Thai dish imaginable.
5. You Can Ride Horses on the Beach
Move over, jet skis—Hua Hin’s beaches are famous for horseback riding. Thanks to its royal history, the tradition of horses here is strong, and you’ll find locals offering rides along the sand, making for a totally different kind of beach experience.
6. It’s One of the Driest Spots in Thailand
While much of Thailand deals with heavy monsoons, Hua Hin gets less rain than most coastal areas, making it one of the best year-round beach destinations. Even in the rainy season, showers tend to be short-lived, which means more sunshine and fewer interruptions to your plans.
7. There’s a Train That Goes Straight to Bangkok
If you hate dealing with airport transfers, Hua Hin’s got you covered. Thailand’s Southern Railway Line runs right through town, and you can take a scenic 4-hour train ride straight to Bangkok’s Hua Lamphong station. Bonus: the Hua Hin train station itself is a historic landmark, with its classic red-and-white architecture making it one of the prettiest in Thailand.
Hua Hin is that perfect mix of relaxing and lively, with just enough history and uniqueness to set it apart from other beach destinations in Thailand. Whether you’re there for a short getaway or looking to slow things down for a bit longer, there’s plenty to love about this royal retreat by the sea.
Hua Hin: The Retirement Capital I Had to See for Myself
I knew what I was getting into. Hua Hin has a reputation, and it’s well-earned—this place is retirement central. The sidewalks are filled with slow walkers, the beach chairs are occupied by people who have been here since the '90s, and every second restaurant serves up some version of schnitzel with mashed potatoes. If you’re looking for nightlife, excitement, or—let’s be real—anyone under 50, this isn’t the spot.
But hey, I wanted to check it out. First and last time for sure.
To be fair, the beaches are decent, and there’s a certain charm to the old-world, laid-back vibe. The seafood is fresh, and the night markets aren’t bad if you’re into browsing knockoff watches and elephant pants. If I were 70, I’d probably love it. But I’m not. And after a few days of watching the early bird dinner crowd shuffle through European bistros, I was ready to move on.
Hua Hin? Been there, done that. No need to return.
I Got Instagram
Alright, I caved—I got Instagram. Posting on the blog was becoming a hassle, and since I’m not traveling as much these days, I figured I’d join the masses. It’s mostly me and Cooper, so if you’re into cute French bulldogs, give me a follow and say hey: https://www.instagram.com/degen.11/
I’ll still keep this site going, but it’ll be more text-focused—think writing, my portfolio, and an archive of travel shots.
250kg of Clothes, One Big Thank You
Sometimes, the simplest things make the biggest impact. Over the past few weeks, we pulled together 250kg of clothes for Child’s Dream Foundation, and now they’re on their way to families who actually need them.
This wasn’t just a dump-run of old stuff—these are clothes that’ll keep people warm, that’ll be worn daily, that actually matter. And it only happened because a whole lot of people showed up, donated, and made it happen.
So, huge thanks to everyone who pitched in. Whether you dropped off a bag, spread the word, or just helped move all that weight—this was a team effort. Feels good to do something real.
The Collar
Cooper's dealing with an eye infection, so he's rocking a collar—which, unsurprisingly, he’s not thrilled about. The eye drops every two hours are getting easier with practice, but I totally get it—eye drops are the worst. Fingers crossed he’s all good in two weeks!
2025 Goals, Resolutions, Whatever
Every year, I scribble down a mix of goals, dreams, and random "let's see if I actually do this" ideas. Call them resolutions, plans, or just things I hope don’t stay in my head too long—they’re my way of keeping life interesting. This year’s list is all over the place, from fixing my balcony to exploring new corners of the world. Some goals are about leveling up, some are about tidying up, and a few are just about enjoying the ride. Here’s what I’m aiming for in the year ahead.
Visit a new country: Papua New Guinea, Solomon Islands, New Caledonia, Bangladesh, Bhutan, or Timor-Leste
Spend a week at a resort in Thailand (Phuket or Hua Hin)
Read 12 books throughout the year
Get a new built-in walk-in closet
Stretch every night (continuation from 2024)
Donate 50 kg of clothes to charity
Fix the water problem on my balcony (Condo above me is leaking and soaking my drywall ceiling, just haven’t gotten around to addressing it)
Have all the drains in my condo replaced
Save $50,000 by the end of the year
Double my Bitcoin holdings