Tuesday, June 29, 2010

La Ragazza della Squadra Azzurra


acrylics on wood and from a photo in a local newspaper

Saturday, June 26, 2010

Selling the Mandala Game

Holland, Amsterdam,
26 June 2010.

With the sun doing its best trying to get the inhabitants of Mother Earth happy and the summer queue at the Anne Frank House slowly reaching its peak, long hours of waiting in the endless seeming line of people to see the Achterhuis with the Dutch summer sun blaring away on the heads of our foreign visitors, my little one-man Mandala business is reaching its peak too...

It is the time of the year when I feel like making and selling the Mandala game has completely taken over my life, blotted-out memories that came to my conscience during a bad night's sleep these last few months are replaced by day time flashbacks of all the places in this world where I used to make money the Mandala way...back to Las Ramblas in Barcelona while staying at the local Hospitaje de Juventud, making the games in their comunity room at night and selling them during the day at Las Ramblas...

Back to the Khao Sarn tourist district in Krung Thep where I used to sell and make them behind the Wat, getting free food from the monks, getting tranquil and melacholy in a polluted, crowded third world capital that is full to overflow with motor vehicles and motorbike taxis but where the Temple complex grounds where my private domain...selling and making games on Pattaya's boulevard where the Hot Mommas would keep me company and would rush across busy Beach Road to buy cold to the touch Leo beer to help pass the time more comfortably...

Selling games at the Fishrman's Warf in San Franscisco after my big bicycle trip in California...

Selling games in London during my shorttime affair with English Rose, my relatively short-lived contact with Andrea in Kassel or equally short Intermezzo with Christine
in München, Paris with Colombian Patricia...lets suffice to say that the list of foreign cities where I sold my games while being on romantic visits to various girlfriends is pretty long....

for nearly 25 years these games followed me across the globe, during my long and sometimes arduous backpack trips across and through quite a few countries, bringing me the dough to pay for dumphouse hotels, a fistfull of tatty and dirty local bank notes to keep the local ladies happy and me bodily satisfied...

In the end I`m always finding myself back on my Giant mountain bike on the way to the Anne Frank House, my little Mandala suitcase full with my Mandala making equipment, a few drinks and lunch, my sketchbook, ready to make more Dinero, hard earned D'argent so necesary for my chaotic and alcohol and drug ruled excistence, so much needed to buy friendship and physical contact from these poor creatures of the night that at times seem to possess my life just as much as these funny little games do...

... a lonely male on the wrong side of his forties who had the dubious luck of finding a simple but provitable way to make dough on the side and who would have otherwise ended up a hopeless drunk, a druggie from the street living on the dole and spending most of his summers in the park boozing with his equally hopeless mates...

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Lao-Lao on the way to Inferno

Holland, Amsterdam,
23 june 2010.

Dreamed again of Thailand last night waking up as usual covered in clammy sweat, my sheets ready for the dryer but hardly having the time to change my bed linen, having to get up early for a much-needed cup of steaming Java before rushing off to my volunteer job at the Kinderboerderij, the animal farm for children, cleaning stables, shovelling manure, half a day of hard work but a meagre pay....or maybe the big smiles of visiting city kids and happy parents being my greatest reward...

While I sweat away shovelling horse sh*t my mind turnes inward, back to that Asian mystic realm ten to twelve hours of flying high up in the air in my Eva Air flight is all it takes to make it real again...In my mind's eye I am back on Sukumvit Road, foul smelling arabs passing me in crowded Asian streets, their eyes full with lust for Isan rice farmer-turned wh*res who will spread their legs even for these sweaty Saudi Djalleba-covered hated and despiced Arabs, a couple of hundert Baht going a long way in this according to Allah's devotees, filth and Western-oriented lowest of the lowest moral...

Yeah, in the schizophrenic minds of these religiously minded Saudis this is a zone of fear but the tempting voices of this Isan Sisterhood of Hot Mommas calling out from the numerous bars on Soi Cowboy, are irrisistable, Yings for the grabbing, all it takes a fistfull of tatty Thai bank notes, deal with the Imam's speeches when they get back home, after all the Clocks of Hell are ticking, waiting for cliêntele, Lao-Lao on the way to Inferno, Hell beyond Imagination...

Sh*t three times in a row, small wonder I wake up in a sweat every morning having words like this in my crazy Farang mind...Maybe I will sell some games at the Anne Frank House later today, more dough to make these f*cked-up dreams a reality again....

Monday, June 21, 2010

That little sex-obsessed monster

Holland, Amsterdam,
21 june 2010.

I wake up to the urgent calls of Khun Little-Sex-Obsessed-Monster that lives inside my head and usually makes its presences and its crazy sex-obsessed lust noticable by the huge erection in my underwear, the morning erection most healthy adults males suffer from but in my case after yet another night of battling with my erstwhile friends and lady bedpartners of the past, I am ill-motivated to give in to the urge though after my last stint in King Bhumipol's Asian Realm I should say I have enough mental jack-off material for the rest of the year...

Instead I make myself a coffee and work on this crazy Khee-Neo Monster that has taken up residence inside the dusty corners of my mind during my puberty years, coming to the frontal lab of my conscience early morning when I could do well without Him, sketching a mental image of Him in my sketchbook, slowly starting to feel happy again while empting my mug of morning coffee, making progress with my sketch...maybe a quick shower before hitting the Anne Frank House again now that the weather has turned for the better, making money for another meeting with these ladies of the night that inhabit Thailand's many bars and beach resorts...

No Mai Subarp words coming from female thai voices but sweet promises of erotic togetherness in exchange for a few hundert Thai Baht, the tones of the Isaan dialect adding more romance, more feminity, more jack-off material for when I get back home...

Sunday, June 20, 2010

The Sad Buddha

Of all the religious nutcases that have wandered the Earth during the reign of Mankind, I only know of the One and Only who never felt the need to convince the others of the Truth, the rightiousness of his own convictions, to feel the need to maker the others see what he saw.

I seriously wonder if what he saw during his deepest meditations made him weep, the total understanding of the human psyche, motivated by egoistic greed or maybe self-preservation...

Only Lord Buddha knows!!!

Saturday, June 19, 2010

Anika fran Sverige

Holland, Amsterdam.
19 June 2010.

Sometimes I wake up early in the morning, the tiny feet of Hannes, my neighbor's tow year old son banging away on the floor overhead but not bothering me much, feeling like my whole life has been quite literally blown to smithereens, I feel like I want to cry, maybe start the new day with a very cold from the frigde alcoholic pint of cheap Albert Heyn brew....though most of all I want to fall back to sleep, to a deep sort of comatose sleep that is devoid of nightmares, devoid of all the crazy things that have happened to me in my life...

Back to the times when I was in my teenage years touring Europe on fake homemade Interrail passes, sometimes months and months on end, forging new passes in cheap Hotel rooms in Istanbul or Casablanca, sharing train compartments of dirty international trains with illegal immigrants willing to tell me their big hopes of building up a brand new life in the fabled rich West...

My crazy Farang mind is full with memories of the past, as always these last few months, cycling to the Anne Frank House through a festive Amsterdam, people celebrating the 1 - 0 victory over Japan in far-away Zuid Afrika, giving the Dutch a real opportunity to push on to the next fase in the World Soccer Championship...hoping the wind will clean my gray brain mass, hoping to sell some games, make more dough for my next trip to the East, maybe a nice tourist lady willing to pose for yet another portrait in my sketchbook...

Loony-tunes f*ckers half drunk on Heineken and blowing like mad on orange-colored Vuvuzelas disturb my peace while I dedicately work on my games, no customers but nutcases with too much booze down their Dutch throats celebrating the Dutch soccer win...but eventually a blond tall lady with a full sun-burned face wants to know about my games, willing to pose but on a tight budget that allows no five Euro games..Fair enough, I got my sketch but Pas d'Argent...

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Una Peruana Guapa at the Anne Frank House

Holland, Amsterdam,
16 june 2010.

No young Chinese ladies today buying lots of games, no middle-age English lady with an obsession with black beachboys aka as Sanky Panky on the beaches of yet another third world garbage belt called Santo Domingo aka The Domenican Republic...none of all that but a pretty young lady from Peru who spent two hours waiting for her German husband still inside the Anne Frank House, telling me her whole life story and even more while enjoying the sun...charming company and a great opportunity to practice my Spanish while selling thirteen games...

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Sanky Panky, the male wh*re from Santo Domingo


Holland, Amsterdam,
15-june 2010.

All day but pas de clientes, not that I care much being occupied replacing all the games I sold yesterday to these young good-looking ladies from Honk Kong, still remembering vividly how the sight of these Guapas Asiaticas, the sounds of their chinese speaking voices, even the smell of their make-up and shapoo, brought back all these sweet memories of my six weeks in Kowloon...Haaa, was I young and willing then, transfixed with Asian beauties, obsessed by the desire to inmortalise them in my sketchbooks, bed them down and share physical pleasures with them...at that young age in my corporal excistence still "blisfully unaware" of the hordes of good-looking babes that would pass by in my life, often sharing short or longer times of their lives with me, often leaving me alone with an empty wallet but at least a pen drawing in my sketchbook and empty balls in my jeans...sweet memories in my f*cked-up mind...

No Chinese ladies to brighten up my day, my solitary excistence today but a middle age English lady the moment I pack up to go home, three games and a few jokes later on in our lives, both feeling more relaxed in each other's company she invites me to a nearby bar for a coffee, where I tell her about my Thai ladyfriends, my models last winter in Thailand's Numero Uno male paradise called Pattaya, showing her the pics I made of the artwork I did while they modelled for me....

In no time she returns the favour telling me about her experiences with male wh*res on Santo Domingo's super white beaches, black well-hung young males that call themselves Sanky Panky and often not much older then 16/17 years...

In the end I cycle home having another pen drawing in my sketchbook, an English middle-age woman with a physical obsession with under-aged, under-educated black teenage blokes from yet another third world garbage belt...

Monday, June 14, 2010

Young Chinese ladies from Hong Kong

Holland, Amsterdam,
14 june 2010.

With Holland just having had a difficult 2-0 win over Denmark in the World Soccer Games in South Africa, I cycle back to the Anne Frank House through streets covered in the color orange, our royal color though meaningless to me, back to my Plekkie, back to my profitable Mandala-selling place opposite the endless long queue, people from all over the place waiting to see the hiding place of a jewish girl long since dead but worth waiting for under a reasonable hot sun, two hours and eight fifity in Euros just to see a fewe dusty rooms in the world famous Achterhuis....

But I am lucky today selling a shitload of games to a group of young Chinese ladies from Hong Kong, making jokes with them, me the Gwailo who spend six weeks in Kowloon, a sort of Susie Wong story with me the Western Painter, lodging in a dumphouse hotel where the ladies working the late nights streets and bars of Kowloon whould come to my room at all possible hours to crash in front of my small TV to watch Chinese movies, talk shows from mainland China, talking a mix of different Chinese dialects, young Asian ladies originating from various parts of the Kingdom of the Yellow Man, farmer girls who shared their young lives with me but who had very little education, city girls who confessed incest rape by father, uncles and older brothers with a smile so typical for Southeast Asia...I inmortalised them in my many sketchbooks, brought them Chinese beer and ate friend chicken legs with them which we bought ouside in dimly lit streets and alleys...

I remember how I would take the ferry every friday afternoon for gambling weekends in Macau, I even remember the salty air blowing over the ferry's deck while it would manouer itself in between the waiting cargo ships and Chinese jonks, the cacaphony of sounds so arch-typical of any given city in Southeast Asia...

I am brought back from my mental images of the apst by the questioning voice of these Asian girls if maybe, maybe, maybe I would consider bringing the price back to three Euro a game since they are on a thight budget and wanna buy many...

Haaaa, the memories alone are worth the two Euros I lose on each game they buy, the memories of six weeks on Brittish/Chinese territory but long since gone...the dumphouse hotel I stayed has been replaced by other rat-invested whorehouses/hotels the world over but where I somehow felt at place, surrounded by undereducated impoverished ladies of the night selling their young and nubile bodies to any passing male, drunk or not, willing to show them a well-fed wallet in his pockets and a hardon in his pants...

Friday, June 11, 2010

Me and my three women

Amsterdam,
11-06-2010.

I feel like I have worked on this painting for years, constantly changing colors and lay-out but when I finally got to Lisa on the far right...well, enough was enough and I asked my upstairs neighbor Renske to make this photo...like I said, enough was enough!!!

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

You make me look ugly

Amsterdam,
09 June 2010.

"Why you make me look ungly?", this Canadian tourist lady with Asian genes asks me after I am done sketching her in my sketchbook and show her the result...have to admit though, it is not one of my better portraits but then I WAS attracting quite a crowd sitting on my habitual spot opposite the Anne Frank House sketching Miss Not-Happy-With-The-Result, not even bothering to ask me for the sketch as my Thai models back in Pattaya always insist on, walking away with her nose high up in the air the way only women can, beaming an air of contempt out of her petite body, once again, the way only women can...

Not that I cared much. Apart from the fact I still have her sketch instead of another page torn out of my sketchbook, I also sold eight games to the crowd...easy money in just under twenty minutes, back home in time before the approaching thunderstorm will hit me hard and with no mercy...

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

Tuk deep asleep

Yes, I remember this sketch and the words that came with it, how Tuk would always tell me how she would love to pose for me a little bit, And then we make love a little bit", yeah everything was "a little bit" for beautifull Miss Tuk but eating which was Mak Mak - Thai for a lot - but me thinks this sketch I made after our love making should be definitre proof that our love making was equally Mak Mak....hehehe

Sunday, June 6, 2010

A different way of foreign aid

Holland, Amsterdam,
06-06-2010.

I'm spending long but easy daily hours in front of the notoriously long queue outside the Anne Frank House, selling my Mandala games to people from every imaginable corner of the world. Trying hard to stay well away from my house that is full with malignant spirits from the past, the souls of Amigos long since having departed this sorry world, Phra Phun that have returned from a stinking corporal oblivion to a semi-real spirit realm, having taken up roots in my dusty appartment, incorporate entities that chase me out of my own territory but are at the same moment responsible for my fat wallet....

The more I work the more dough I make, maybe a quick visit to De Tweede Mijl aka De Tweede Kwijl because of the bad quality of their free soup where I hardly mingle with the usual street crowd though all of the Tweede Mijl habitues know me and are on reasonably good terms with me these days though probably begrudging me my financial success and my yearly winter trips to the other side of the world where the food is good and tasty, where the life is cheap and the beer is cold to the touch, where the women are willing and friendly and even cheaper...

But however much they begrudge me my good luck, are jealous of my easy and relaxed approach to life itself, my ease at handling addictions, booze and pot attacks on my poor Farang mind...they have no idea at what a price this free life of mine comes, the spirits of ladies of the night gone over to the Land Of No Return but whose spiritual entities still scream at me during the nights making me wake up each and every night, again and again, my friends here in Amsterdam I used to hang out with and whose bodies are now cold and worm eaten...

No big bottle of Red Wine can overcome that, a joint will bring me back to a comatose state, making me sleep as a baby but then only for a few hours before the sweat attacks will plaque me again leaving me swimming in sickly perpiration, my sheets ready for the dryer Otra Vez...

Slowly coming out of my mental reverie I will more often then not find myself back at De Tweede Mijl aka De Tweede Kwijl laddling down a small iron bowl of untasty and bland soup donated by the Albert Heyn Supermarket from around the corner, a few barbequed sausages that taste only slightly better since they originate from the slightly more expensive Jumbo supermarket in the nearby Westerstraat...I'm surrounded by the homeless and street junks, alcoholics that have nothing better to do but wait for their next paycheck from the local social wellfare department...

Maybe another couple of hours at the Anne Frank House before returning to my friends from the other side...loud music doesn't scare them away but will give me serious problems with my neighbors, gallons of Red Wine are no serious deterrent to these crazy Phra Phum either, they all happen to be great swimmers, burning down the house is no option and will only result in a homeless state of life for me and most likely serious bodily injuries to my aforementioned neighbors...

Yeah, lets get back to my little one-man streetselling spot, lets return to my Plekkie if front of the ever longer queue in front of the Anne Frank House, make more D'argent, Mas Dinero for the Hot Mommas in this world, a different way of foreign aid...

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

The Drunk Crossover Highway

Holland, Amsterdam,
02-06-2010.

The bad news of Frank Lisa gave me last week has not as yet left my brain, the thought of poor Frank pining away in his native Norway by that horrible life destoying disease called MS, in the country he was during our mutual highdays as streetsellers, so proud of and then came to hate while waiting for his forced return back home, to go to trail in a Oslo court of justice over alleged drug-related charges...poor Moo withering away in her beach chair back in my second home Pattaya...it all makes me feel like crying out loud....

Maybe I should return to my house in the Amsterdam Spaarndammerstraat, my big condo filled to overfill with my own art and masks and souvenirs from my trips in the past, remants in the real from my restless moving across the world, a local Lonely Planet showing me the cheapest accomodation, a house full with memories, full with the energy of people visiting me in this life and then departing for Kingdom-come, leaving me alone and bewildered...

Yeah, return home instead of sitting here in the sun again in front of the infamous long queue, people waiting to feel the energy of a young Jewish girl whose life was preditermined to finishing in the hell holes of Nazi determination camps in faraway Poland, young and well before her blossoming...yeah, return home and have a ice-cold beer, another one and maybe a big bottle of Albert Hayen huiswijn - Color Rojo - and go to the Drunk Crossover Highway to that other realm where there are no dead friends to torment my day time dreams and night time nightmares, fall into a dream-like state in front of my telly, a mental place that carries no nightmares, not a single memory of all the bad luck that has befallen my friends from the past, maybe go back to Pattaya some time soon to chat up bargirld or Hot Mommas patrolling the boulevard, who alway have half an eye open for the fucking Thai Tamruat...

Yeah lets go home Lao-Lao, rent a high speed action movie from the nearby Videotheek and buy Red Wine and forget all this messy human shit happening to these that brush life with me...there is always another sunny day in store for me in front of the Anne Frank House, another sunny day to make money fast and furious, good honest Dinero the Euro way to exchange for Thai Baht and then turn into great sex with Thai Hot Mommas at inflated prices, hot and steamy sessions of lust and mental forgetfullness...