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.