The sweet sound of silence still not declining

Amsterdam, 29 june 2014.

The sweet sound of silence only to be experienced at night during my nocturnal periods of rest in dank and dark forests so many years ago when cycling was my big thing, far away and solidary, nature all around me and nobody to bother me but real Mother Nature all over my inmortal soul, Nit Noi D'Argent but plenty of happiness in the Gringo Cabeza....

No sounds of silence but the rumourous expectation of Hup Holland Hup minutes before the match of all matches, hurry hurry on the way to Stef's place, a couple of millions of good old dough with 4000 hard Euros rent paid by the wife's company, great garden and Beaucoup De Famille all ready for the big Mexicana beat-up on the sportive field of soccer, Copa Mundial keeping my fellow country folk on the top of their chairs, inherent football speech on the tip of their tongue, expectations and hope failing but the outlet is always there in the games of chance encounters...

plenty of riches around me but only Paul - I always think of as Mister Porn but Mister Soccer when we watch this game - and Stef the Cool One have any knowledge of the real thing, outbursts of denied disappointment and High Fives bring Holland closer to the Final state of extasy...

Maybe I should feel happy surrounded by the presence of friends, doing social stuff like watching football and  the exchance of High Fives with Amigos newly found but the sweet sound of cycling silence is still not declining in the gray brain mass of my Farang skull.... 

Amsterdam urban paintings

Kindergarden time again

Sunny weather and Kindergardentime again, young kids from across the globe feeling bored in that endlessly long line outside the Anne Frank House, not as patient as their parents but luckily for them- as well as for their parents - there is nutcase Hans The Streetseller waiting for customers and always carrying some Dutch cookies...and YES the line was long again today, better you come back tomorrow...

Blackened chicken legs

Amsterdam, 16 june 2014.

It is not like I am the fourth watcher of my own life, not the second or the third and definitely not the fourth but at times it feels like eyeing all and everything, all the crazy stuff of my life from space beyond my own reconning, a bit like reconnoitring alien territory from the point of view of entities I don't recognise...

Not That Rob The Toiletman's crazy actions are beyong my understanding of drunk inebration...

No way I can say no to his offer of free barbecued chicken legs, not in his ultimate drunk state, shit-housed drunk to the max, the state where he is having trouble figuring out doorknobs or finding the correct bell on my door, never mind handling heavy machinery of the steering wheel in a beat-up car they stole last week, or did they really believe I took their story about finding lost driving equipment for granted, a nice thing the neighbors are apperently out, probably barbecueing in the park and enjoying the Belle weather, most likely feasting on much tastier barbecued chicken as Mister Toiletman is insisting I should accept, pushing his dirt stained fingernails into the blacken meat to reveal the yummie yummie stuff underneat - yummie yummie my ass...

Shiva, Shiva, - my street name you know -  they screamed at me from the Spaarndammer Pavilion when I cycled home, my little mobile Mandal shop as usual tied to the back of my transport mode of choice, mentally looking forward to count the day's financial winnings as yet totally and happily unaware of the ten Euros they would drag out of me, bankpas once again eaten by the f*cking money grapping bank machine, a lie I have heard a hunderd times over from these street urchins, it is getting old and yellowy...

Yeah I remember one of these chicken legs dropping on the dirty dog stained ground, never mind right back on the grille with it a grinning Richard The Little Shit told me, dog piss makes a nice saucy addition to an allready ripened and soothed black colored something...

I accept the whole shit, give the fool his cherished 1.50 Euro in change for more beer  and mentally make up my mind what a great addition this will make to the garbage already in my dustbin, better than having nonsense conversations with this professional drunk, important topics of annoying inanimate object that he will have no collection of the next day...       

Anne Frank, 85 years old

Anne Frank, she would have turned 85 years today but then we all know what happened to Anne Frank, just one of the many victims of Nazi Germany but somehow she made world headlines and moved 1.300.00 foreign toursts and locals alike in such a emotional way they are willing to brave the notorious line-up outside her world famous Achterhuis here in my beloved Mokum.

RIP Anne Frank.

The Anne Frank statue

Me and my little mobile Mandala shop tied to the luggage rack of my present bicycle next to the Anne Frank statue just around the Westerchurch from her hiding place on the Prinsengracht during the Nazi occupation of the Amterdam "republic".

Kindergarden time

It was kindergarden time again around my small Mandal shop today outside the Anne Frank House exit, and YES the line was long also on this sunny Whit Monday.

Nude female drawings

Amsterdam urban paintings

Westerchurch, my constant companion

The Westerchurch, the church that has been my constant companion, always towering over me like some sort of guardian angel while I make and sell my Indian Games sumer after summer, a good friend I guess...

Done on wood with a newspaper page stuck on the front glued with - yes you guessed it - paint...

Three young nieces from Italy

Three young nieces from Italy and yes the line was long again today athe Anne Frank Houseas you can see in the background.

Pan-face from Hong Kong

Amsterdam 02 june 2014.

I tell her to most bizar shit wondering seriously why I even bothered to take her up on her offer for a free beer, I tell her such absurd shit I actually fear she will slap my face here in Cafe De Twee Prinsen on the Amsterdam Prinsengracht, I try hard to make it clear Mano A mano I am not into her, I tell her things so badly I am sure she will run out of her leaving me with the bill, wouldn't want to look at me much less bed me down in her Haarlemmerdijk Hotel conveniently close to our present location...

But no this Chinese girl from Hong Kong is not getting the message across, googly-eyed and smitten, the sickly sight of a female lovesick smile all over her oriental face...

Can't even down my beers fast enough before she has two more in front of us, King Alcohol doing a nasty number on me, an alcoholic feedabck loop that will run a precariously close road to mishap and disaster...the way this sex starved pan-face chinese monster hopes down the Prinsengracht and up a flight of stairs, chinese privacy in earnest in the closed quarters of her overprised hotel room...

Crap in earnest but even a washed up truckstop stripper having just finished a gangbang movie in LA would be preferable to this overweight Chinese montrosity that some people might with luck call a woman...

Maybe I should get sarcastic and nasty in the vulgar way, insultive on her femininity, her obese body leaving plenty of insultive openings, her face that looks like it has had a close encounter with frying pan reasons in the hunderds for more crappy remaks...

But no I stay the charming local male whose weakest point is an open tab and hope secretly I won't wake up between pink satin sheets, fat Chinese arms wrapped around me, obese body pushed into my back, happy female snoring telling me  I did a great job last night...    

Mandala bracelets

Young lady customers today at the Anne Frak House using my Mandals as bracelets