an African lady with titties

Last night of the year, fireworks going off all over the city, plenty of tourists blocking the streets excitingly waiting to celebrate the new year in good old Mokum, hard to get home on my old trusty iron friend manoeuvring carefully around all these foreign visitors to my city...

Not much in the mood for big parties with lots of French champange and mightily mind altering green leaves, wanna freak around with my paint and get high on red wine, wanna immortalise another black African lady from my f*cked-up dream world on a wooden board...

I often wonder what my neighbors think when they see me yet again carrying up all these wooden boards found in the rubbish, all these carton boxes I take apart and use for impromptu drawing paper, carry it all up the steep stairs of my crappy old house and back down again in the middle of the dark night transformed into crazy colorful artwork and left behind in the same streets where I found it but than blank and boring...

Free art for the taking but most likely ending up in the city council garbage removal cars...

Oh yeah and for all out there reading all this crap I write about, maybe admiring this freaking artwork, enjoy good health and happy feelings in the new year and don't forget to keep your partner happy



 

Another chance to drool

Upload some nice and colorfull portraits and Nada Pasa but add a couple of tits and the amount of views goes through the leaking roof with even more peeping eyes fighting for the slits in that darned aforementioned house cover...300/400 hits on www.flickr.com and that on a bad day 

So no portrait tonite but titties to work on my confidence and give you wankers another chance to drool...

Nude female drawings

Bald African lady in the nude

Strict looking Thai lady portrait

Colorful naked lady in acrylics

Redhead lady in acrylic

Ah yes, I know for a fact you are wondering what these downward cast eyes are looking for, have patience and you will find out...

These last three portraits I have been working on and downloading to the sacred internet are actually part of a bigger painting that I hope to finish soon.

The impossibility of a pee pee affair

                                                  Amsterdam, 18 dec. 2014.

Hurrying home on my iron invention, pedalling the pedals like mad, the headwind trying so hard to discourage me, a sleet rain in my face doing a serious job to convince me otherwise but Pas De Chance here, images in my head as always at this miserable time of year, in between trips to more hospitable climates and more enjoyable social companionship of the female gender, braving the elements and boredom of life in Amsterdam in winter...

Waking up every night in my chaotic old Amsterdam house in the dark of the night, the countless portraits of my dream world reminding me of places and foregone times,

Were Lord Morpheus was just mere seconds ago doing likewise in his limbo kingdom...

Stumbling to the toilets in the dim light of my bedside candle, side stepping the jars of dirty water containing ageless brushes once donated by good old Dad, drawings and sketches aplenty of nude models from the dusty corners of my f*cked-up crazy alcohol wrecked mind, my throat dry and sour from cheap Appie Heyn table wine - too much again of course as always at this freaking time of year...need a piss but my painful erection telling Pas De Posibilité, erotic dreams originating from times long gone and over making a simple Pee Pee session a impossible affair...

Shit, still a full three weeks and twelve hours of flying to go before paradise is back upon me...

My unobtrusive dream world

Colorful faces from the private territory of my brain mass, the female faces from the past, a past of sleazy bars in South/East Asia and dirty beer joints in backward African dictator ruled garbage can countries where social security was a far away reality, the rich west an unobtainable dream for most of my fellow drinking buddies whether they were male or female, my white skin a certain proof to my financial status and therefore an asset for picking up the dark snatch possessed obsessions of my crazy Mzungu mind, my Farang dreams of wed Asian pussies easily fulfilled for real because of my fat wallet...

Back here in Amsterdam they come back night after freaking night to visit me in my unobtrusive dream world where Lord Morpheus rules and where I have no power over the way I had dominance over my bed partners in these third world nutcase places...

Ungodly in every way but my horny so much younger body screamed for fullfillment with a inner voice so hard to ignore...

Thai lady with wild african hairdo

Thai lady in acrylics

Thai lady in acrylics

Nude female drawings

Vulcan logic dictating my life

                                                     Amsterdam, 11 dec. 2014

My real strength probably comes from a perfectly easy to understand maxim, a bit like being completely honest to myself and deceive all others, many edges to this crazy state of mind and most likely won't gain me much respect from those deceived, so much harder to raise a few steps on that ladder of popularity among friends and acquaintances, working colleagues and those I am interacting with on a day to day base...

But then I am not really into it for glory, control or glamour, power over my fellow human kind doesn't either appeal to me, nor do riches beyond imagination, not even feeling superiority to these equally self-deluded peers of my race and existence, just being clinically and cynically self-interested and mildly surprised I get away with it, almost slightly disgusted that those around me have some sort of misguided genuine faith in my personality and f*cked-up character...

Considering all this it is only simple rational Vulcan logic there is no need for all the above in my life, simple Vulcan logic therefore dictates I can afford to be just and honest in my dealings with my contemporaries...Pas De glory, Pas De glamour, Pas De fianacial shit or power, Pas De deceiving therefore...

Mister Spock is right, only Vulcan logic remains...

God a myth, don´t make me laugh.

And then I woke up, still in the domain of God, still in the Land of Slumber and did this, sensuality in the female form...great therapy to forget the lessons of theology, the crappers that are supposed to be Higher Beings, believed to be devinely beyond the trivialities of the mortal human beings that worship them so stupidly...

God a myth, don´t make me laugh...

God is a myth

Amsterdam, 10 dec. 2014.

Is God really a myth, alive and kicking in the misty corners of mankind but predestined to be as mortal as those that consider Him, or was God female, devine and the surpreme being of their sorry lives...

God who is bound to become as death in the passing of time as those that have put him on his holy thrown of thorns and thistles, the misery of the poor masses of human society that idolise Him beyond crap and all else believe are devoid in his holier then holy mind, probably more interested in boozing and gangbanging the nubile angels of his heavenly Kingdom...

Feeling like half drugged and and sweaty like a man minutes before his final execution by hanging, my mind still in God´s domain I wake up from the demons of the dream world to the bad spirits of the here and now, to the chaos that rules my existence as well as the state of my crappy old house here in good old Mokum, no Gods here but colorful but useless artwork, painting done on old paper found in the streets of my beloved Amsterdam, my new street licence lying randomly on the table, fighting for its rightful place with my next ticket to Thailand, bank receipts and more of the crappy likewise papery essentials of my nowadays existence...

I should feel happy, Thailand is coming, another summer in front of the Anne Frank House, good health and no doomed Euro worries, red wine in the Frigo and food in the Farang tummy...no need for Manitoe Or Allah, the Christian God, no devotee of any religious higher being but still visited frequently during my nocturnal hours by the devine and holy myth some call God....

Naked African lady on paper

Acrylic paint on paper I found today in the Amsterdam streets while out for shopping for food and wine, red wine of course, do I drink anything else at all at night when I freak around with my jars of acrylic paint trying hard to keep myself busy in a positive way and keeping the demons at bay

More African faces in acrylic

A black lady portrait in acrylics

acrylics on wood found in the street

Lady portrait in acrylic

Nude female drawings

portraits in acrylic

Lady portrait in acrylic

pages from my sketchbook

Chaotic sketchbook pages

Pages from my sketchbook

Ayuthaya, Thailand

Pages from sketchbooks

Unhappy moslima

Acrylic paint on a piece of wooden board found in the street

Happy moslima

Acrylic paint on a piece of carton found in the street

Painting moslimas

Amsterdam, 24 nov. 2014.

Painting moslimas in my house with some old work for devine inspiration

Nude Female Drawings

Pages from my sketchbook

Fruitseller in Bangkok

A fruitseller in the chinese district of Bankok. Pen drawing with markers and aquarel colors

Pages from my sketchbook

Today at the city zoo

Theoretical flawfull words of insult

Amsterdam, 18 nov. 2014.

I don't really buy into the idea of the truth of an ever lasting love affair, even though the last four weeks in King Bhumipol's mysterious Asian realm has given me every appearance of doing so, maybe as a gifted evangelist with the misguided Holy Word of God on my side, an experienced madly religious TV disputer of the cloth, or else a Djalebba donned idiot from the local mosquee arguing the matrimonial bliss with great force, logic and passion for the Church or Allah's words on the need for life long female companionship, I would have been commended for my words of wisdom...

Though rumour has it that these catholic inspired fools are too busy chasing their choir boys and those Allah devouted Djalebba clothed freaks on a very different pathof a holy quest recruiting young crazies for martyrdom in the newly founded IS califat in the Middle East...too busy indeed to preach about their cherished Truth...

Yeah, dear reader to this blog as you can see my words are still a draw, crude un-nuaced terminology, trying to write about the sadness in my nutcase soul about my failed Asian love affair but ending up writing abstract theoretical fucked-up flawfull words of insult to those that believe in a higher truth...so sorry not indeed...

Sentimental and emotional attachments frighten me to a state of unexperience altruism which is not my cup of Thai tea...

A final punishment to the assassin

Amsterdam, 17 nov. 2014.

From the air Amsterdam looked like giant grey and pinkish colored snowflake, good old Mokum lying half embedded between cold and rainy clouds, nothing special this time of year but horrible in my imagination after a full month in tropical Thailand, barely endurable after a full four weeks of Suk Sabai treatment by an Asian love affair, madly mouth watering Thai food making me go completely insane in the famous Farang tummy, particularly gratifyingly friendly local people whose enthusiasm for life and fun is infectiously addictive...

I felt deplorably mad with sadness looking down on my home town of choice, sensors, tubes, micropumps and all that other crazy biocircuitry inside my sunburned head making my imaginary impressions of Amsterdam looking battered, bruised and bloody, cold to the touch, a bit like after a bout with Mohamed's Ali's iron fists in his better days...if Amsterdam had a human face it would be with puffed-up eyes and ears, a re-broken nose, blood trickling down split lips, tears diluting the blood covering the major part of unhealthy looking cheeks...

I feel like an sadistic psychopath with a limited imagination and deplorable writing skills but truth be told it was how I felt barely a week ago coming back home to my dusty chaotic life in this capital of the Low Countries, decreed back in the miserable cold of another Dutch winter, a final punishment to the assassin of my own existence, savagely tortured for earlier sins in a former life

Pages from my sketchbook