Thursday, February 14, 2008
Amsterdam, 10-02-2008. Rob told me this morning about Jackeline, one of these street people that hang around the westerpark neighborhood. Apperently she died of cancer, no big surprise there. She was thin as a yearling tree, always together with Woef the Dog he owned. A friendly bitch that would always patiently wait for her while she was indide the Albert Heyn supermarket buying her booze. I remember that Harry once had sex with her but he laso told me, it was no big success....I also rewmember she used to come over to my house to visit me once she found out about that bottle of Wodka that was living in my kitchen. Every day she would come over to drink a glass of Wodka and then leave again, just to return the next day - with Woef the dog off course - and have another shot of Wodka. Once the bottle was empty, she never returned. I remember her grooved face, like for hunderts of life times of bad life was engraved there....en fin any one way, miss Jackeline - was she from England or from France, she was never really clear aboat the part - is no longer among us and will be dearly missed by Woef the Dog.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Amsterdam, 04-02-2008. Rob got his bicycle back!!! I saw him last week and he was fuming hell and beyond about Richard The Little Shit who had borrowed his bike and never brought the bloody thing back, reminds me of the cell phone thing I had with that Little Shit some weeks ago....not that I care much...Saw Rob again today and all in a good mood he told me he got his bike back. Richard probably thought "hey Shiva can kick hard but Rob can kick even harder!!!". I had a beer together with Rob in his house and the half smoked sigar on his table just freaked me out, amazing that after having been clean on the smoking department, a simple three quarters smoked butt of a sigar can still do such a strong job on me, can still bring this whole adiiction problem all the way back, can still get me back into this street life of losers, this life of Westerpark drunks, this brotherhood of professional drunks that do nada all day but drink King Alcohol, smoke dope and coke and quarrel all the time over the dough to finance all this crap....just how come I can sit there in that junk house, see that sigar butt on Rob`s table and feel that attraction coming back so strong, almost like it never was away at all....after all the good things I`ve been doing off late, the healthy jogging in the park, my volunteer job at the animal farm, SHIT I even became a member of the public library and have been doing great on the internet with my travel stories on reisprofiel.nl - over 600 hits in a few days and that on such a small site!!! - Well, I managed to leave that sigar butt where it belonged, hAd only one beer, rest and relax a bit in the house and even went jogging once my body had gotten rid of that beer.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Amsterdam, 03-02-2008. Tonight is the night that dutch crime reporter Peter R. de Vries will get world fame, or at the very least american fame. Just a few short days ago he claimed on public dutch TV to have solved the Nathalee Holoway case, the disappaerance of this aforementioned american young lady during her holiday on the antilian island called Aruba. Joran v. d. Sloot, the suspect of her disappaerance and other player in this little drama has since freaked out and is now in hiding, though the dutch media has already found out where he`s currently staying. Holland is basically a small country with a bit of an overcrowded population problem, sort of difficult to hide in a country like that especially so when the whole population knows your face.