A malaysian moslima

Holland, Amsterdam,
29-05-2010.

I watch with mixed interest how Micha the neighborhood,s cop at the Anne Frank House, tells the latest street musician to go and find a different busking place, no way people can work the infamous long line outside Amsterdam's tourist hot spot numero uno, no entertainment for those waiting for Anne Frank, boredom to the max and a 8.50 Euro entrance ticket after spending up to two long hours in an endless queue...

Bejesus, how long have I been sitting here right opposite this queue selling my Mandala games, entertaining those waiting for friends and loved ones still inside the house, keeping the coppers and the Anne Frank private security guards informed of pick-pocket and street robber activity in the area, making money, hard earned dough for my yearly trips to my beloved Thailand....

A young woman, her head covering telling me her Malaysian origin, with two boys wants to buy some of my games...showing her sons how to handle the Mandala game I make a mental pfoto of her face being captivated by the slight tingle of light blue in her dark-brown eyes, surely a good face for my collection of moslima portraits back home...

In the end I sell 19 games bringing the total sold so far up to 318, easy money on a sunny day out in the street.

The old gang of druggies

Holland, Amsterdam,
26-05-2010.

I return to my little imagenary cubicle, that place inside my head that makes me feel like I am in some sort of monk-like excistence, the part of my gray brain mass my spiritual entity departs for when I take my paint brushes between my fingers, fingers soon to be covered in a multitude of colored paint...there are no more worries or dead friends in this excistence, just me and my artistic activities, my Kliederen on wood, a naked woman from the past who once shared my bed for a few meagre third world money notes and now burned on my rectina or a print from my computer stolen from a XXX site, or maybe a photo of Mayke in the nude....plenty of inspiration with my crazy extra-prostitucional affairs the world over, beaucoup d'inspiracion with all the Amigas y Novias that shared shorter or longer moments of my life...

I really need to be in this personal spiritual mental realm after yet more bad news concerning friends long lost but never forgotten, my contacts from the street from times long since behind me....

Hard work at the farm and really in the mood for a free coffee and a bowl of hot soup at the Tweede Mijl aka as the Tweede Kwijl, a free food place for the homeless and drug crazies here in Amsterdam - yakie yakie - I lock my bike running into a familiar female figure though her pudgy face brings back no recollections whatsoever...still something in her way of being stirs memories from long ago but definetely not forgotten...only when we talk do I recognise Beautifull Lisa, Frank's downstairs neighbor and sister in arms in his crack smoking habits, her ravaged face has nothing of the angular lines I remember, just worry lines and deep canyons brought about by countless crack smoking sessions, losing her house and health to a serious bad habit, a higher mind in exchange for a ravaged body and a homeless excistence...

The stories on the group, the gang of people I used to hang out with here in Amsterdam, are bad to the core, no survivors there but Frank who is back in his native Norway, waiting for the inevitable end being in the final stages of MS, Francine still out there somewhere but in no mood to return her mental thoughts to Amsterdam and our old group of baddies, the gang of crack druggies...

With Ohn and Moo from faraway Thailand barely out of my system, I now have to cope with a very different group of people from my past and there messy ends...

Laughing out loud

She started to laugh out loud when I asked her if I could make a quick sketch, a fast pen drawing of her face in my sketchbook but willingly obliged...it was the Laughing Out Loud pose my fingers had to get out of my system.

She told me her name was Lek, 28 years old with a small 4 year old Luuk Chai up in her native village near Buriram called Loi Et, looked after by her parents, the kids father a no-good Mau Thai male she knew from her childhood...

Thanks for posing Lek, hope you liked the two Chang beer I paid you...this acrylic on wood painting in this posting I did in my house here in Amsterdam from the sketch

One more cold Leo or I am getting bored

Tjea, the smiles were all for me when I promised these two ladies of the night I met on Pattaya's infamous boulevard a cold Leo from the Seven/11 in exchange for a twenty minutes posing session but boredom quickly set in when the beer had gone down thirsty female Thai troats

Nang from Buriram

A quick sketch of Nang, yet another Hot Momma from Buriram roaming the notorious Pattaya boulevard whenever the rent is due, maybe teamoney has got to be paid the corrupt to the core Thai Tamruat, money for the baby up in Buriram looked after by the grand parents, maybe a few hundert Baht for new platform shoes....well in my case I paid her a cold Leo beer freom the Seven/11 which she drank from a straw while posing for me.

Lucky bastard

Holland, Amsterdam,
21-05-2010.

With the sadness that had taken root inside my gray brain mass, a deep mourning over the crazy lives and subsequent deaths of the Thai Sisterhood of bedpartners in my life trying to take up permanenet residence inside my fucked-up brain, but now pushed back to the more dustier and forsaken corners of that human computer hard disk I call my gray brain mass, I feel once again happy and at peace with my excistence, selling well and good at the Anne Frank House, running in the park with fresh air invading my lungs, standing in front of my house with a ice-cold beer chatting with Rob and enjoying all the female beauty walking by...

Ha, Rob has no eye for the Asian Miss World strolling past my house, way to worked up with his crazy street contacts, shouting in my face about Harry losing big Dinero again over a stupid bet, how his house got smashed to pieces and his mates once again got beaten up by Lange Willem, with the police threatening Harry yet again with eviction...no way he sees that Asian Miss World strolling by...Ha, but I do "Hallo Schoonheid" is rewarded with a beaming but surprised smile, a smile big enough to make my testosteron levels go sky rocketing....

Ha, I have her face in my mind now, a painting tonight will be the proof to my happy mood and renewed mental recovery...I am reasonably sure Miss Ohn wouldn't want me go mourning her forever, turn my mourning into a prolonged period of feeling sorry for myself...I know for sure she wants me to be happy, have Sanuk and feel good...

"Hey mon, you don`t listen to a word I say, you must be drunk" Rob says before turning away and walking back to his house..."No mon, I ain't drunk, I am horny chatting up the ladies in the street just like in Thailand, outside my hotel while having a cold beer....

"Lucky bastard" is the last I hear of him before he turns the corner, the big plastic Albert Heyn supermarket bag full with cheap beer bungling from his shoulder is the last I see of him.

Mahatma Gandhi

acrylics on wood, done from a photo

The journey that knows no end

Holand, Amsterdam,
20-05-2010.

I still see you in my dreams, smiling at me in the same way as you did then, though I still don't remember the why and how, the reasons of our meeting or the meaning behind these cross-cultural little differences between us in the past, you were only one of many, bargirls from the Isan, one of these wretched creatures hooked to Sanuk and booze, Ya-Ba and other illigitimate substances, already gone to Kingdom-come like all the others...

I remember how you used to come to my room, my little sanctaury in the New Star Guesthouse, flying high on speed and Ya-Ba, horny and with a belly full with Meakhong whiskey, an empty wallet but desperate to have sex to satisfy your lust but also to forget the sweaty and big-bellied Mau Farangs that ravaged your body and your self-esteem....

No quick or swift passing to the other side, but a painfull and prolonged path to whatever is There, clammy sweat soaking the sheets of your bed while you wait for one of your friends, other ladies of the night, to tend to your emaciated body, a bottle of mineral water and some Khao Pad, a few cooling pieces of cloth on your fewered brow, a towel to wipe your shivering burning hot body clean of sickly perpiration...

I still see you in my deams smiling at me as you did there and then but I still don`t remember the why or how...but with Bangkok burning on CNN I realise my time of mourning must be over, mourning over your useless and messy death has got to come to an end...with the uprising of your people, the poor of my beloved Thailand quashed to smittereens for the whole world to see on the international TV I realise I have to move on, make my money for another prolonged stay in King Bhumipol's mystic realm...

I am sorry my big Tilak but life goes on...you were one of many, one of the many Tilaks, Thai ladies of the night, hot mommas sharing my bed and emptying my wallet during my stays in Thailand, that went to the other side but whose spirits and souls stayed in my Farang brain, one of the many that went on the journey that knows no return...hope you will rest in peace my dear Ohn...in my mind you will always smile at me, like all the others, your sisters of the night, poor bargirls from the Isan....

Straight-nosed Nel

Straight-nosed Nel, another Hot Momma I met on Pattaya's boulevard last march and who was quite willing to pose for me...when I asked about her small Farang nose and her European name she told me "daddy me was American marine from big navy ship".

Basically she has ended up in the same profession as her Mum and might very well end up with a Leuk Kreug baby - mixed race baby in Thai - herself in the future...

Nit from Kachanabury

Nit from Kachanabury...I met her in Pattaya on the boulevard where I made this sketch of her..a face that seemed somehow totally out of order with her eyes too high up her brow, her nose too close to her mouth but an interesting subject nonetheless though she never told me much about her life..."me from Kachanabury"...and that was it, no age, nada about children or how long she had been in Pattaya, waiting on the boulevard for fat-bellied Mau Farangs...

How it all came about

Hindu male from New Dehli.


Holland, Amsterdam,
08-05-2010.

According to the Hopi Indians from North America The Infinite Became Pregnant And Created The Finite, their idea of how it all came about, whoever had the evil nerves to impregnate the Infinite is not revealed...

In Genesis The Land Was Wild And Without Life Untill The Allmighty Created Order Within The Week and mankind to probably amuse himself, just another fairy tale or maybe the superstitious fantasies of people who lived centuries ago and lacked the education that even today is only available to a relative small portion of the human species...

It all depends on the location of your cradle, your birthpalce and where you grow up...good education availabe and even obligatory in some so-called rich countries but a dream to the better part of these so-called Third World populations...

Not that it matters much in matters of relicious feelings wether you had a good educatioon or you are a backward illiterate rice farmer from the Indian plains whose sole duty in life is feeding his over-extended family - no birth control for the poor illiterate masses of this crazy world - but then our ragged rice farmer without books in his head might be just as convinced of his Hindu believes as our child-mollesting Pope in Rome is of his own convictions of Good and Bad, his own dedication of the Genesis origine stories written down in his personal Holy Bible despite his numerous years of devoted theology studies...

In my own personal life I have consciously chosen to believe in the Lucky Charm, my Buddha pendant that has been hanging around my Farang neck for nearly a quarter of a century, a Noordu as the Thais call it - a protection against bad luck - and a gift from Nong once I got out of that Thai Monkey House all these years ago...

Touch wood but ist seems to work too, having brought me monetary gains, was always able to pay my debts, being able to travel across the globe - an old childhood dream - and countless sexual encounters with the other sex....the bad health came about by my crazy drug and booze obsessed life style, no way I can blame my Buddha pendent for that....

Memories from Magic Land

Male from Rajastan, a quick sketch from my sketchbook while backpacking in India.

Magic Mushrooms out of dreams.
Acid sipping in the air.
Smoking chilams every day.

Please, please take me away.
Fly me back to Magic Land.
Oh, Lord give me your hand. I wanna live,
I wanna stay. Please, please take me away.
Please, please don t let me stay.

No, no not one more day.
Oh, please take me away.

Babas flying in the air.
smokings chilams every day.
Finding opium on my way.

Please, please take me away.

Breakfast, chai and morning smoke.
Full moon parties full with hope.
Valium for a trying day. Please,

please take me away.

\Bang lassy in Ratjastan.
Sugar brown takes what I can.
Sugar white has evil ways.

Please, please take me away.

Ganja leaves and Charras cake.
Drugstore speed keeps me awake.
Cosmic dreams and inner ways.

Please, please take me away.

Take me back to Charras Land.
Oh Shiva, give me a hand.
Fly me back to Charras Land.
Magic, magic Shiva Land. Shiva, Shiva, Magic Land.

Behavioural software

Holland, Amsterdam,
06-05-2010.

I feel a bit like my mind is programmed from birth, everything predetermined like behavioural software installed on my computer the day I bought it from the second-hand computershop...

But still the thoughts going through my mind are very real to me, a bit like viruses going through the aforementioned installed software, topics that matter to me in my life but that depress me and are therefore not exactly benign to me, more like a malignant cancer cell eating itself through my coprporal body but than inside my gray brain mass...

Since I don't believe in God, Allah, Manitoe or whatever you might call this Higher Being, there is also no heaven to me, no refuge for those that were close to me and have departed to another plain of excistence, an excistence where there is Nada the way I see it, just a graveyard where you mortal remains take about an avarage of ten years - coffin included - to rot away, food for the beetles and wurms, ashes to ashes and dust to dust, no Kingdom Come for the spiritual part of your mental afterword....

So when I depart myself there will be no reunion with Jamie, with Martine, no close encounter with Ohn or Moo, zilch and nothing...maybe I have to return to my religious studies, back to comparing different believes, back to the study of theology, maybe back to my roots in order to figure out why Ohn and Moo torment my dreams and waking day time present...they and all the others...why I keep painting Lord Buddha obsessively, why my thoughts return to those that once were close to me and are now dust, cold wurm eaten bodies six feet under or a few handfull dusty remains after the tradional Thai creamation at a local Wat...

Still...I feel like I am slowly coming out of my crazy depression set about by Miss Ohn's painfull death three months ago, a death notice I banished from my Farang mind while touring Southeat Asia but came back with a vengeance once back in my beloved Amsterdam...

My Mandal agames sell well again, faster as I can make them...sun in my face and money in my pocket..save it up for my next trip to King Bhumipol's Asian Realm...wonder if the guy will still be around when next I set foot on his holy soil....

Two ladies freom Pattya's boulevard

Two quick sketches of Hot Mommas I met on Pattaya's boulevard

An early wake-up call

Holland, Amsterdam,
02-05-2010.

I wake up early, my clock telling me it is close to 04.oo h. and way to early to get up if I wanna survive the rest of the day in any sort of working order...but then my dreams were as always tormented by images of the past, screaming women and uncomfortable travelling in thrid world chicken buses..the faces of the impoverishes masses looking at me accusingly from across a wooden bench in a primitive train carriage, jealousy beaming out of dark brown eyes, my white skin and the ecomomic riches of a developed Western country where its citizens can affort backpacking across Mother Earth as opposed to the hard work and bad medical health care, slanty town rich countries of the favorite choises of any Western backpacker on the move...

Or maybe that was all part of my latest nightmare...as far I can remember most of these impoverished masses, these undereducated wretches were actually quite friendly, hospitable and happy to meet people from the other side of the world, willing to share their way of life with strangers, their meagre meals and wooden shacks...

I am trembling and hoping for Nong's voice inside my gray brain mass to help me calm down but she has been mystriously absent these last few months, leaving me alone to deal with me mental sorrow, my recurring nightmares and misplaced feeling of Guilt and frustration...

A cold shower won't do the job either...not trying to stay under these sweat drenched sheet hoping for the God of Sleep to drag me back under, back to the realm of heavenly Bad Dreams, back to my years of backpacking across the globe, my only friends my Lonely Planet Bible and my crappy backpack filled with dirty laundry...somehow these years on the road seemed a whole lot more bening at the time as opposed to the memories of them that nowadays rule my sleeping hours...

I start painting again hoping desperately for some sort of menatl relief, hoping to enter the "zone" again, the zone where I feel like a monk in a cubicle, totally oblivious to the outside world, totally oblivious to my mental processes, where I feel like totally taken over by what slowly but surely is coming out of my hands...

By 07.00 h. I come out of my trance, ready for a cup of coffee, some breakfast and a hot shower, maybe some more sleep too...Lord Buddha smiles at me beningly, his eyes beaming back at me from a wooden baord filled with acrylic paint...