Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Dikke kees aka Fat kees on Cold Turkey


Russel, one of our employes at the farm and a 100 % street shit like me - told me last week about Dikke Kees his dealer and assiosiates,

Michiel, a frĂȘle-framed loser who brought in the daily dough for his crack habit working for Max, arrested...

Max with his flaming red shoulder long hair, big guy with a shitty face and a likewise tember, spending X-mas and New Year in jail...

And then there was Ali, the Marrocan supplier - Hell freezing over, why do these shits always have to be Marrocan? - living out on the Haarlemmerweg, another small framed shit whose mouth seems to have make up for his diminutive frame... spending these so-called Holy Days in jail, New Year`s celebration, fire crackers and people being merry and toasting with full to the overflow champagne glasses... - hehehe- seen from the inside of a nowadays not all that clean Dutch prison cell, behind bars and kicking the habit brought about by your own mercandise...

Small wonder I saw Dikkie kees - Fat Kees - thought everybody else calls him Big Kees due to his bulky frame, walking down the Haarlemmerdijk, his habitual alu can of cheap beer in hand, big blue ice bonnet on his carzy head, demanding free smokes from people whoe were glad to be out of the house on a sunny afternoon after three X-mas cold sundays, screaming across the road "heeft U twintig Euro cent voor mij?", freaked out of his head after three days of forced Cold Turkey...

I wasnt`t all that surprised I found my cycle tyre flat of air like the Sahara without water monday morning...Fat Kees hates me to my guts but sneakiness is only Kees his repertoire when Cold Turkey is in the air or a speed ball has gone down the neurals of his fucked-up mind the wrong way again.... all other times he`ll steer well clear of me though he might promised Harry a few nasty things considering me hoping for a few cherished aforementioned cheap alu cans of beer...

Monday, December 28, 2009

Lady with a broken nose

Acrylis on canvas



Finally, the dark and lonely days of X-mas are gone and over with, walking around snowy streets nearly devoid of people reminding me the harsh way of my self-chosen life of solitute around these so-called Holy Days.

The Noordermarket on each monday morning is clamoring with activity, people go to and fro chatting gayly under a nice winter sun. I hear the languages of the world, tourists checking out free city maps are the norm, not all that strange considering the Anne Frank House is just around the corner.

My mind is as always these days on my upcoming trip to King Bhumipol`s Asian realm, erotic images of Asian beauties trying to work there way to my conscious mind, battling vainly with the hordes of ravages Hot Momma faces, faces from the past that haunt me into the present, refusing vehemently to trun themselves into sexy dream world play mates, instead reminding me of their plight, the swearing eye and bad tooth, the baby back home in the Northern impoverished Isan provinces, the hopes they had and the drug and alcohol crazed life that came out of it...

I wonder where they are nowadays, institutionalised in a local Wad? Not much left there in the brain of a Hot Momma on a early pension, cared for by the monks and living on scraps left behind by the villagers - their Karma will survive another day...

My thoughts trail on and on hardly noticing the worl around me...I did see the mysterious multi-colores eyes of a Muslim lady, veiled and all that, passing by. I presume she can NO WAY IN MUSLIM HELL imagine what life is like for her Thai contemporaries.

Sunday, December 27, 2009

The inside of a lady`s belly; pulbic property


Sitting behind my computer screen, big fat Mary-Jane joint dangling from my mouth`s corner and a recently opened alu can of Albert Heyn Pilsener cold to the touch, ready for consumption, totally prepared for blogging...

Going back in time I`m lying on my bed here in Amsterdam, my latest bed partner next to me, another tourist lady picked up during my frequent haunts downtown in the multitute of backpack cafes in the Warmousstraat, a bit tired but highly satified after our mutual physical bit of the oldest game between man and woman...

With my male seed dripping out of her snatch and my hand absendmindedly playing with her her erect nipple, I`m aware that as a gentleman - am I really a gentleman? - I should ask her "hope you use protection"...considering the sex was so hot and steamy, our lust so overwhemlming that we had luscious mating condom-free.

A tricky question never knows whether or not the question will be latest lover might take offence believing it should be the man taking care of that part of our hot encounter...

Yeah, let your female erotic feelings run lose and expect your new partner to have a more sober mind, remember that the inside of a woman`s belly is after all Public Property...public debates on telly and in the newspapers, countless fora on the Sacred Internet discussing abortion and the Rights Of A woman`s Own Belly make it clear enough, a female`s womb is not her personal organ but a public domain open to anyone who dares to enter...the discussion.

In the end I leave this "tricky question" where it belongs...inside my Farang gray mass of neurons, get out of bed to make her breaky before sending her on her way with my blogspot address hidden in her purse. Kissing her goodbye before she boards bus 22, wondering if all my male seed has safely dripped out of her private parts or maybe one macro small spermatoide was a winner but I will never know about it.

A bit like all the hunderts of Thai Hot Mommas I send running out of my Farang excistence, 500 Baht in a worn purse or maybe hidden in her bra, condom-free sex here too means one or more of these hunderts of Oriental bed partners from my dark and crazy sex-driven past might well have left me with a bun in her oven!!!

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Muslim Lady in the Jordaan

acrylic on paper,. The lady in the drawing I saw last saturday on the Noordermarkt here in Amsterdam.

Ehm from Thailand

pen drawing on paper

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Midnight dreams.


City hall trucks spraying the snow covered streets with a mix of anti-freeze shit and salt but apperently are too short on this sorry stuff to spray the sidewalks. My fellow pedestrians shuffle from street sign to the next street light for support.

Darkness is early in Amsterdam at this time of the year, engulfing me while I dare the slippery street stones under the soles of my feet. I am on the way to the coffeeshop for my first joint of the day - having a hard time to burry this uncomfortable feeling inside my Farang skull insisting on that sheer number of Rey Dinero that has slipped through my fingers these last six months of addiction to Mary-Jane. Enough money for my upcoming trip to Asia, with probably a fat wallet still next april when I`ll return...

Too bad, indeed considering how far a few meagre Euros will go in the Land of the Thais, good fresh food and juicy Thai pussy are mine for the taking at GREAT economic prices, cold beer and warm oriental winter sun will keep me occupied 24/7, three months gone like the wind before I know it.

Twenty Euros disappearing into the coffeeshop`s owner`s already fat wallet, would go a long and much more healthy way in King Bhumipol`s Asian realm. No dulling the mind with evil tasting cancer sticks, fighting boredom with or endless runs on my telly of VCR movies that fall apart at the seams while wedding my throat with cold beer....

Instead my money will go there where it should go, the aforementioned little pleasures of a male Farang life in Thailand, a bit like charity for the notorious Isaan Sisterhood in exchange for physical lust and banter [?], nutricous oriental food at bargain prices, more charity for the needfull, my skin getting suntanned by a wintery Oriental sun that would be much appreciated in heart of a Dutch summer...well, with global warming we might get there sooner as we might like.

So what does all this crazy blattering of a drug-crazed Farang sound to you...just another sex-obsessed john getting all excited about his next sex holiday to Pattaya, a drug-crazed nut who dulls his boring life in between these sex holidays with too much booze and Mariuana stained green pods????

Easy enough for outsiders to judge though reading other entries in this blog you might come to the conclusion I`m a lost soul who tries to excuse his horny experiences witnh Thai Hot Mommas by giving them second hand clothes, buying them food and drinks, paying the occasional doctor`s bill for a necessary removal of a cataract in a female dark-brown Thai eye that would otherwise go blind - not a nice prospect for a Thai street hooker...

Yeah, think of me as the Good Samaritarian for the Thai Sex Industry and you`re still mistaken the way I see it....not that I care much in the end any one way. It is after all my own conscious I have to cope with...that and the hordes of worn-out Thai female faces that have haunted my dreamworld ever snice my first trip to the Land of the Isaan Sisterhood...

Feels a bit like self-punishment going back there collecting more sexy bed partners or maybe just more ravaged faces to scream at accusingly during the dark of the night when I roll about in my bed here in Amsterdam, drenched to the skin in acid perpiration, my sheets ready once again for the dryer, my arms flashing around wildly in midnight fear - wouldn`t be the first time I find my knuckles bruised and bloody from a close encounter with my bedroom wall...

Self-punishment by scoring more Thai pussy and thereby adding to the chaotic array of Hot Momma faces inside my fucked-up Farang mind, inside my gray mass that by now is probably inky black due to the amout of sheer verbal venom they have been throwing at "poor me" over all these years!!!

Friday, December 18, 2009

The Fearfull One

Aquarel on paper

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Brontosaurus in aquarel

The corrupted human mind

Cabbages and Knights,

Oceans and Mountains,

Colors and Shapes,

Places with people in them,

Doing things that mean someting,

Where does it all come form???

The answer: Emergent properties of relationships manifesting themselves
at prgressively higher levels in a hierachy of increasing complexity.

Neural constructs created in the human mind end therefore tainted
and corrupted!!!

Hip Hip Hooray to the Isan clan of Hot Mommas


There seems to be some sort of coffeeshop war going on in my neighborhood. Not much of a problem to my near 24 hour a day intoxicated farang mind - the only mentally clean hours seem to be my mornings at the farm where fresh air, hard stable work and a stubborn Shetland pony rule my excistence.

Once again I find myself in a situation where my departure date for Thailand is coming up fast but with my mind in Ganja green clouds I hardfly seem to notice...yeah, if it wasn`t for my friends, colleages at the farm and people around me constantly reminding me of my incredible luck having three months in Southeast Asia, how little time remaining...tell you, I might well forget it laying on the couch in my crappy old house, with one of my favorite Hliister romans, a can of cheap supermarket beer and a nowadays not so expensive joint...laziness to max, an expensive and self-destructive way of whiling away a boring life.

Funny though, just twelve hours of flying high up in my aluminium flying machine, will bring me to a completely different world where it is not the sweet parfum and mind enhancing smile of Miss Mary-Jane that attacks me with false promises but the sex promising smiles of Isan clan females that will be in control of my mental processes, a different sort of entertainment on sale in tropical country for lonely European males...and that all at deflated prices.

Good food and cold Leo beer, fresh vegetables and veal, chicken or prok used for your meal, cheap but clean accomodation where the receptionist or else the cleaning lady will gladly take the place of the ladyfriend that was so particularly lacking in presence last summer.

A problem with Miss Mary-Jane...don`t worry your new found oriental love will gladly fuck your brains out, give your former lover a firm kick in the proverbial green leaved marijuana ass and take her place...In the end you will be off financially and physically feeling better.

Never mind your mental`ll feel like walking on clouds, like there was never an endless run to the neighborhood`s coffeeshop maffia, the dealers of a high ,induced by a certain plant life but now replaced by the expert dealers in cheap but great sex. Like I said; Hip Hip Hooray to the Isan clan of Hot Mommas!!!