Yings from across the world in my house

Amsterdam,

I have my house full with ladies, young Yings from Taiwan, Slovenia and Colombia, guests who send me requests on the http://www.couchsurfing.org/ website...

"All the hostals are full, please, we will be happy with just a plain place on the ground," "need a couch, anybody can help me?"...

I feel a bit like being back in my beloved Pattaya where the local ladies, Hot Mommas from the infamous and notorious Thai nightlife run down the door of my 350 Baht room, 100 Channels satelite TV included, bringing me food and drinks, looking for a place to crash...where I often have to treat my way carefully around the place on my way to the bathroom during the night, where I wake up in the "not so early morning" to the snores of my female visitors lying around at random on the floor and on the big double bed, slender Asian arms and legs, brownish and all that, wrapped around my various body parts ...

Where I find typical feminine pharaphernalia like lipstick and eye liner, maybe a forgotten piece of lingerie under my bed...a sweaty bra in my bathroom and the oh so typical smells of the Sisterhood of Young Females hanging all around the place, perfume and feminine odours lingering in my Farang nostrils...

At least here in Amsterdam in my own house, old and crappy as it might be, I can at least retire to my bedroom, to the second room in the back of my Dutch condo, waking up early morning to the sounds of one of my guests having a cr*p on the toilet...after all my bathroom is in the back of my house, tough luck for me, or maybe less privacy for my international list of overnighters... 

Drunk As A Skunk

Amsterdam,

Drunk as a skunk this Farang was, and that already early in the morning, lying there in the yellow colored sand on the beach of that notorious sea resort that unhappily married men back in Europe dream of, enviously listening to the stories told to them by single male colleagues in the men's room...

Well, don't worry, more often than not the end result is Drunk As A Skunk most of the day and very little action of the more intimate nature during the night, the attractions of King Alcohol way too strong to single males with too much dough in the shorts...

The Alien in the background...?...maybe he too dreams of Pattaya and its good looking Yings listening to the stories of his male colleagues in whatever passes for a bathroom on his planet...

A hilltribe lady in Pattaya

Amsterdam,

I saw this hilltribe lady on the beach in Pattaya selling handicrafts, burmese sigars - basically rolled-up tabacco leaves, a bit like the Beedies I used to smoke during my trips in India - bangles and the like...

No licence and corrupt to the core Thai Thamruat - Thai for police - keep these ambulant sellers fit, running down the beach whenever a Thai copper needs to pay for his Mira Noi, a down payment on his expensive Honda Black Shadow motor bike he can never pay with his meagre police wages, or maybe just some dough for the local Bordello later during the night after his shift of "serving and protecting the populace" is over...

The alien shapes in the background are just an infestation of my Farang mind...

Westergas Fabriek Ketelhuis, Amsterdam Westerpark

Amsterdam,

I admit, no doubt about, no way I can deny it, drawing architecture is definitely not my Forte, but still...every so often I feel the need, drawings of my city, with the sacred Internet a real possibility to show the whole wide world what my place of domicile looks like...

This is the Westergas Fabriek Ketelhuis in Amsterdam Westerpark...or at least my artistic version of it which is probably not all that good...

After the renovation several years ago Westerpark is a big cultural centre with culture events, art markets and various festivals each summer...or else just a nice park to go to on a sunny spring or summer day with your rented bike - don't forget to lock it -  smoke your spliff, drink your glas of Albert Heyn supermarket Red Wine - only three Euro for a litre bottle of table wine available just around the corner from the park in the Spaarndaamerstr. in the aforementioned Appie supermarket - or else luke warm Pilsener for only 50 cent half a litre alu can... ENJOY I would say....

Lady not have money, what can lady do?

Amsterdam,

I do not want to refer to what some Thai Yings can and often will do to a Farang, not like they could have done a whole lot better with their lives, maybe a very beautiful girl from up north but now in Thailand's bustling capital sweltering under a harsh summer sun, a city crawling with these oriental beauties all harbouring their personal dreams, on a quest for Baht to feed a baby back in that dusty Isan village she was brought up in...or else to satisfy her Pho's thirst for moonshine rice whisky, or to bring relief to his throbing loins...

Get a job in Nana Plaza, some sleazy bar that feels like suicide the moment you step across the threshold...no challences here for a determined lady of the night, wintered through a life time of sweaty drunk Farangs that see Thailand as the Drunk Crossover in between four or five hard months of work back home...

A fat Mama-San who has seen it all but will instantly recognise a promising new arrival, use her to the fullest, make hairy white armpits get early ejaculations...a new pretty face on stage throwing her stockinged legs high up in the air and fear her first bar fee night...

Strange and weird thoughts flashed through my Farang mind while I drew Nit and listened to her plans of moving from Pattaya to Krung Thep - Bangkok as the Thai call their capital - to get herself a job in a bar at Nana's....

Only 23 years old and just having arrived from the impoverished north of Thailand, prertty yet and new to the scêne...what can I say "no money, no honey", as the Thais say' "lady not have money, what can lady do?", as anothet Thai saying goes...

Madame Stoeptegel (part two)

Amsterdam, 22 April 2011.

Feared by many, loved by very few, but still she didn't mind posing for me in the nude in my New Star Guest House room, a few bottles of Chang, maybe some Thai moonshine rice whiskey but Pas D'argent, Ao Mai Thai Baht though staying the night was preferable to another night on the beach...

 She would often show me her wallet full with 1000 Baht notes stolen yet again from another h*rny Indian tourist, "they not like going Thamruat", drink too much whiskey, not can make Bam-Bam", she would proudly tell me before pushing the stupid little typical lady wallet back behing her bra, asking me if I would like a beer, maybe another nude posing session in my room...

Yeah, stealing money from h*rny indian male tourists and chasing European Farang men down the boulevard with her high heeled platform shoes though a big pavement stone would come in handy as well - hence her nickname Madame Stoeptegel - when she was in one of her more aggressive moods...

Still, I never had any problems with Madame Stoeptegel...thanks for posing Tui.

Jürgen, aka Jo-Jo

Amsterdam, 22 April 2011.

Jürgen, or as we his Amigos in Pattaya call him Jo-Jo who has been coming to Pattaya for quite some years always sitting inside the Mike's Shopping Mall when the weather is Mal or else on the boulevard enjoying countless big bottles of Chang under a nice Thai sun...

"Der Mund Ist Zu Gross, Die Nase Zu Klein, Die Brille Muss Gröser, Viel Gröser", I love it when my models interfere with what I am doing, drunk on big bottles of Chang or not...

Thanks for your time, Jo-Jo, and yes, Kees did recognise you in this drawing...

The art of Thai Hot Momma seduction

Amsterdam,

Waves, going up and down, the colors of their crests changing from a light grey to absolute blackness, I feel like rolling down a mountain slope...flashes of lighning shooting through the inside of my skull, fireballs exploding soundlessly...

I try to open my eyes but a sharp light forces me to close them again - if ever I managed to open them at all - a red colored bright light behind my closed eye lids...maybe a complete white heaven above me shadowed over by a female shape...maybe my latest bar fee lady and the weird feelings inside my Farang gray brain mass a result of all the whiskey I consumed last night in one of the dubious bars down on Walking Street...

But no, wait a frigging minute, I ain't back in Pattaya enjoying the little pleasures of life in the f*cked-up life of a confirmed bachelor from the "rich" west trying to drink his sadness with life itself away with copious amounts of cheap Thai Mekhong Whiskey, paying bar fees for good looking Thai Yings that I have no serious interest in but just trying to throw away my hard earned dough and unwilling to face the solitary darkness of the dreaded morning after...better I find a warm female body next to me when waking up to nurse me through the pains of mourning, mourning over the messy death of another one of her contemporaries...

I wonder how many times I had Moo in my room, waking up to her beautifull young Asian body wrapped in one of these ridiculous orange colored hostel provided towels, holding her in my arms and listening to her light snoring while trying hard to ignore the pains of whiskey induced hangovers...

Now I wish I was back in that time, Moo still in this sorry world and my head heavy with the aforementioned morning after whiskey pains, but no mourning aches that somehow seem so much more serious....

But no, I wake up in my own house in Amsterdam where the walls are covered woith my own produced art, portrets of ladies of the night the world over, Thai newspaper pages full with colorfull Asian nude females in acrylics covering the shit that screams at me from the front page of the Bangkok Post...

Making my way to the bathroom while carefully avoiding glass jars with dirty water and old brushes, weights that are supposed to keep me healthy and my muscles strong, a plate with the left-overs from a Chinese Bami Take-away...

Shit, mourning or not, Whiskey hangovers and all that...I did feel better in Thailand!!! Thailand and its cold Leo beer, its good and cheap food, the Thai smile and the art of Thai Hot Momma seduction

Jordi from the street

Amsterdam, 18 April 2011.

This is Jordi, one of the professional alcoholics who frequent the Westerkerk Square, alway short of money but not too shy to beg a bit of spare change from the tourists lining up outside the Anne Frank House, waiting for a hour or more to see the world famous Achterhuis...

Not that the staff of the Anne Frank House or their security squat is all that happy to have unkempt, raggedly dressed down and out alcoholics hassling their visitors..."a few coins so I can buy my next can of cheap pilsener, please, my dole money just doesn't cover my thirst, mister, dear lady from wherever you are"...

The ten minutes posing session came fore free though..."I know you don't make much money, mom"...

Doing it my way

Amsterdam, 17 April 2011.

Wonder if sitting here outside the Anne Frank house under a nice spring sun and selling my games, 8 in total today, not all that bad for my first day of the year, makes me as much of a loser as those dumb tattoed f*cks that hang out in the Kao Sarn Road in Bangkok, or maybe in Pattaya, risking anything to stay Thailand LONG TIME...

Maybe the Hippy scêne in New Dehli, living on a bare bread excistence, staying in supercheap hostel dormitories, anything but going back to their European homelands where the local social service will pester them into taking a job, you have to make your own money mister whatever your name, can't hold up your hand anymore, no idling at home drinking cheap beer and smoking pot in front of your telly watching boring soaps that don't really penetrade your doped-up gray brain cells...

I am NOT a member anymore of the Westerpark Brotherhood of Professional Drunks and Coffee Shop Habituees...

Instead I sit here outside the Anne Frank House, making and selling my games, saving money, Beaucoup D'argent, Un Montón De Dinero for my next trip to King Bhumipol's Asian realm where I feel like I live my life instead of other people living it for me as is the case here in Amsterdam...

Yeah, I can understand all these wasted doped-up hippies in Dehli, young Thailand lovers in their dirty rags and sweaty clothes back at Kao Sarn Road in Krung Thep, their beat up blue jeans hanging from skinny hips, unwilling to go back home, maybe beg for some more Peso from Mum, or else seriously consider a one time only dope run to Tokio - in the end there will be more and more of these Ya Ba runs untill their luck will run out...

Maybe my way out here under this early spring sun ain't so bad after all, do my volunteer job at the animal farm for children to keep the social service freaks off my back, clean rabbit cages and shovel Shetland pony manure two or three half days a week and spend the remainer of my time at the number one tourist hotspot of Amsterdam...

The drawing is of two hares I saw today in Westerpark enjoying the same spring sun as I did...

Miss Jiff, the business lady

a drawing of Miss Jiff, my number one Amiga and "art agent", always having little dollar signs in her dark Thai shiners when she comes into my room in the New Star Guest House in Pattaya for possible new drawings, maybe some charcoal nudes of Hot Mommas on Bangkok Post newspaper pages, pinned to the walls...

Her gray braincells quickly doing its arithmetic, how much can she charge the Bangkok elite coming to Pattaya's polluted beach during the weekends, or maybe a bunch of Farangs interested....

If I have been lazy she will scold me good-naturedly before switcing on my 100 channels satelite TV for another episode of Startrek, a female Thai trekky making herself compfy-compfy on my bed, a plastic bag with food and drinks within easy reach...

I guess I can't really blame her, with her serious overbite both in her under and upper jaw, and dimunitive skinny body she probably won't find many Farang customers on the beach, surviving on her own on a bare bread excistence...no wonder she tries to take up permanent residence in my room wheneve I am around...always leaving some clothes before departure the next day, a good reason for coming back...scan the place for possible new artwork, more money to be made selling in on the beach...

Back in Amsterdam, back another summer of making beaucoup D'argent

Amsterdam, 15 April 2011.

For a short moment I look at the photo of me and Nong, back in our happier days, back on the beach in Pattaya when Soi Buokaoh was still a mud pool during the Monsoon unpaved and with bags of sand in front of the bars to stop the water from flooding the insides, back to the days when Jamie was still alive...

I look at the pics of myself when I was a bicycle messenger cycling the busy streets of Amsterdam, my portophone always reminding me of my haste, HURRY UP, SHIVA, WE HAVE A SUPERSPOED AT well whatever...hanging out at Leideseplein after my shift with the other blokes and girls, blowing pot and drinking Heineken, laughing and having fun....

I look at the pics of myself with my kids, the kids I was never really a father too, never been good at being a parent..

Pics of women all over the world, exotic locations and erotic looking babes...well, that was something I was good at I guess...

Guess, I am back home, back in the coffee shop rife place called Amsterdam, back in that city where I have to slash it out again for another summer with the Brotherhood of Professional Park Drunks, back to another summer in front of the world famous Anne Frank House selling games and saving up Beaucoup D'argent for another winter in the Land Of The Smiles....

Shit, wish it was already winter again!!!

The Land of Allah U 'Akbar

Dubai, 14 April 2011.

Weird nightmares and frequent wake-up calls from a limbo state of mind I am not all that unfamiliar with though this time not the result of too much luke warm cheap supermarket supplied beer in my Farang belly, back in my own bed in Amsterdam, back in that crappy old house I live in...no, this time, I have no doubt, the reslut of five days of a serious lack of alcohol in my bodily and mental system, causing havoc on my dream world and playing tricks on my mental realities during my Dubai nights...

I drink Malt Bavaria nad Two Horses, sweet and bitter in front of the telly of my 50 Euro, two room apartment trying hard to ignore all the little pleasures of life I could have gotten back in Bankok with Nong, maybe on my own in Pattaya, down there in the Land Of Smiles instead of sitting in front of this stupid TV that plays non-stop Arabic soaps and Al Jazeerah news flashes of uprisings in this Allah U'Akbar part of the world, a rebelion in the land of the Mad Dog Muahamar talked about in depth by talking heads carrying the inevitable white and red checkered Kaffiyeh, the dangers of infectious insurections to those not yet hit by the calls of the unemployed arab youth...

Tommorow I fly back and goodbeye to Dubai and its oriental mix of Arab and sub Indian cultures

Dubai, the world of the BIG FINANCIAL PROMISE

Dubai,
12 April 2011.

Wandering through Indian and Pakistani rife Soukhs who offer me gold rolexes - probably as  fake as those sold by their ambulant colleages in Pattaya back in Thailand - and Refrescos stashed in a sort of iron shoebox filled with cubes of ice, busy streets reminding me of the dirt ridden cities of India, Bangldesh, Pakistan maybe where the number of males was staggering but hardly any ladies....didn,t my Loney Planet Guidebook tell me Dubai seriously lacks the female sex with over 75 % of the population being male...

Those ladies I do see are covered in heavy lack carpets with a slit for heavily mascaraed dark pupilled eyes, slender females from the Indian sub-continent showing off colorfull Saris or else Phillipinas and good looking Thais working, no doubt in the Me Baan industry, cheap maids to help out the lazy Emirati housewife...

Still, I wander the streets of busy and comercial Dubai, often feeling dwarved by enormous skycrapers with a weird acihtecture, outrageous shapes of concrete swaps - does every bank and holding company, realty firms and more of those assorted world multinationals that probably have a bigger - or fatter cash book - than some third world countries, want a office here, big competition going on who can erect the biggest, the grandest, the most alien looking piece of tax payer, client rip off financed status, 800 dollar Armani suits travelling the world from one office to the next in first class airline seats, demanding bail outs from embarrased governements...they walk past me in their flanel custom tailored crap holding the latest technology to their ears talking in French or English, German and Hindi...

Whatever, I am just a stupid tourist in a world of the rich, a world of the Big Financial Promise, searching for a virus free internet cafe where African immigrants scream in French and try to get me involved in weird money scams that I have absolutely no interest in -  PLEASE YOU LISTEN TO ME ONLY FIVE MINUTES,  I HAVE A GOOD PROPOSITION TO MAKE - probably better for them than for me...

Maybe a few alcohol free Malt beer - Bavaria or else Five Horses - for back in my 250 Dirham apartment, one of the most expensive accomodations I had so far in my miserable life...

In mere days I will be back home...if I am lucky!!!     

Detoxing in Dubai

Thailand, Bangkok,
09 April 2011.

With Soi Cowboy just around the corner from my No Name Hotel in Soi 22 and Nana Entertainment Plaza within walking distance, I wonder what was in my f*cked-up farang mind, say what, 5 or 6 months ago when I booked my Emirates Plane ticket for Bangkok, my three month a year bit of fun in a far diffrent world as my own back home in Amsterdam...

Opting for a five day stay in Dubai seemed like a GRAND idea at the time, a new city in my life, another place to visit in the Gulf area, walk around the Souhks and Indian bazaars, five days of easy but alcohol and girly bars free life in a Arabic world where I can relax and do the big detox thing before my "other" life starts again, a summer of selling my games at the world Anne Frank House facing the long queue of waiting cry-bes from all over the place, waiting for their turn to see the Achterhuis where a small and young frele looking Jewish girl wrote her version of living a life in a time that was controled by Nasi swines with no consciousness or morality ...the paper tear handkerchives are already at hand waiting for the cries of horror...five Euro for one game lady, 10 Euro for 3 games...my next trip seems ensured thanks to the horrors experienced by a young innocent Jewish girl!!!

Still, another five days enjoying the little pleasures of Bangkok's sex rife nightlife, Soi Cowboy and Nana Plaza begging me to stay, cheaper prices and more fun...or else detoxing from all this weird crap is not such a bad idea after all, Nong might disagree though...

Tonight I will be on the plane to Dubai for my detox shit!!! 

The heaven of Los Limpdicks Supremos

Thailand, Bangkok,
08 April 2011.

Back at the Suzie Wong Bar, back in Soi Cowboy, another early evening waiting for Nong, waiting for my big Tilak to de-attach herself from her Per, her not so mobile anymore ATM card, the Norwegian source of her Kronor, changed into Thai baht at the hunderts and thrown around as though it was colored Chinese Monopoly money, an offer for the Phra Phum, a deceased ancestor's much needed dough in the afterlife maybe...

Still, I don't mind the waiting enjoying the early evening sights that are all around me and Oh so different from my Amsterdam world 12 hour of non-stop flying to the West...like this quadrupled amputee with a beard an Indian Yogi or else a Charras in the holy Chilam addicted Sadhu from the same sub-continent would be jealous of, arriving in one of bangkok's pinkish taxis as he does every night, big grin of delight on his bearded face while the bargirls of Suzie Wong hurry over to help him out and into his personally adapted wheel chair, the computerised "joy'" stick on the front ideallly for the shape of his square hairy chin though obsolete due to the willingness of Isan Hot Mommas who - over the weeks he has been here - have come to regocnise the smell of the very leather of his well fed wallet, a certain disability pension back home and a plastic ATM card makes his top of the pick, King Rat though back home no woman would have turned her head around to him...

A bunch of elderly Americanos with frele frames and clad in oversized Bahama shorts, singlets that read CHOOSE OBAMA FOR PRESIDENT, AMERICA WILL OVERCOME and more of the same shit, habitues to the Suzie Wong just like me and Nong, or Mister King Rat without his Paws, sit at the next table discussing the merits of cheap Ciallis, the prices of Kamagra, the blue wonderpill that will turn even these old Limpdicks Supremos into number one actors in a Los Angeles produced porn movie...

Over the last couple of days I have come to recognise each and every one of these Limpdicks, talking to them, my sketchbook a testimony to the idiotic grins of pleasure on Farang faces that back home would otherwise have ended up behind the proverbial gerania but here in sin city Bangkok...TOP OF THE POPS,
 KING RAT in an Asian cesspool of sex, booze, cheap sex pills and false promises, cold beer aplenty, a pension back home that will be happily transformed...well, you should know into what if you have been following this blog for a while...  

Certain changes to the Soi Ngam Duphli district.

Thailand, Bangkok,
07 April 2011.

I guess I could have spent my afternoon better sitting inside the Lumpini Park reading Stephen King's latest novel called Under The dome, or else watch the enormous lizards glide by in the park's canals and lakes, their cold reptilian eyes keeping a watchful look on camara toting tourists trying to get as close to them as possible for a good digital shot...

But then sitting here in Kenny's Restaurant is like going back in time, back to my earlier days coming to Bangkok and staying at the Madam Guest-House just around the corner and spending my nights boozing Singha beer, sometimes being "involved" with girls with questionable profession in one of the dingy rooms upstairs where the very sleazyness of the this Soi Ngam Duphli ditrict would literally drip of the walls...hot and naked young bodies covered in sticky sweat - Thai female and Farang male - making out in a sort of cultural exchange of the more physical intimate nature, often being accosted on the short walk back to the Madam by good looking Yings...

The rooms are still up there I have no doubt, the Yings still inhabiting them, hanging out here in the restaurant, bored feminine eyes with heavy mascara shooting in my direction but the days of yonder are far away from my present day mind....maybe if this was Pattaya and the grief over Moo's cardiac arrest Death clouding my common sense - only mere days ago but to my Farang mind a far-away world already - well, lets say there COULD have been business for them...

Still, Kenny aint what it was, the neighborhood  still quiet and tranquil but the small Sois full with international couples like the good ole days if it wasn't for the very sexual orientation of these happy looking MEN, grizzled looking elder males with beer bellies and hairy claws holding the slender hands of young Thai males - a different world altogher from its former heydays with the Babylon Bed And Breakfast and its famous - maybe notorious to some - gay sauna having a serious say in this same gender change of Soi Ngam Duphli...

The sleazy rooms over the kenny's are still there, the girls still inhabiting them but most of them working now at Nana's or Soi Cowboy instead of at the numerous bars in this area, bars that are simply gone and taken over by internet cafes where local boys with feminine faces search the Sacred Internet for chat session with grizzly looking bears with huge forewarms and even bigger hairy bellies ...

Madame Stoeptegel

Thailand, Bankok,
06 April 2011.

Beste Hans,


Gisteravond zat mevrouw Stoeptegel heeeeeeel rustig aan de beach. Emiel vroeg of hij naast haar mocht zitten en kreeg toestemming. Ik was zonder wat te vragen al een half uur eerder op 2 meter afstand van haar op de bank gaan zitten. Ze schijnt toch een voorkeur te hebben voor de bank waar wij altijd zitten.

Vanavond en morgenavond is het Champions League voetbal dus ga ik niet naar de beach. Ik verwacht eigenlijk dat
ze binnenkort weer problemen gaat veroorzaken. Je hoort het t.z.t wel.

Groeten van Kees

Yeah, I got this e-mail baout Madame Stoeptegel just there and then on my by Nong supplied 3000 Baht a month of free mobile internet cell phone last night while the laduy herself was busy whispering her intention for the upcoming night in my ears, her pudgy hands high up on my Farang blue jeans clad tight, my growing male member amusing her greatly, half Mao on Suzie Wong Bar Chang and definetely looking forward to see her hot promises becoming reality back in that No Name Dumphouse Hotel in Soi 22...

Sort of hard to forget that always drunk to the max Madame Stoeptegel - Mrs Pavement Stone - because of her annoying habit of knocking people over the head with that darned pavement stone of hers, though her high heels would come in quite handy too serving basically the same purpose...

I seem to remember my last night in the lobby of the New Star Guest House in Pattaya where she came over on a little "social" visit, stealing 100 dollar from a stupid Indian - "I gave her 100 dollar to change, you think she will come back", " very unlikely my friend from the Indian Subcontinent, but thanks very much for helping us out getting rid of her" -

Before the 100 Dollar Indian Debacle she was busy screaming, throwing her high heeled shoes around the lobby - which by the way ended up in the dustbin as a garbage war trofy - bouts of drunken raving, intermixed with crying, waiing everybody with heart breaking apologies before getting into a nutcase bout of complete madness again...

The bobble in my blue jeans up at the height of my crotch is slowly disappearing again remember this sad case of pattaya's nightlife, much to Nong's chagrine though I have no doubt she will get me back there to that heightened sence of sexual arrousal before the night is done and over with...

Soi Cowboy in Bankok

Thailand, Bangkok,
05 April 2011.

Nana Plaza looks a bit run-down these days with the third floor's collection of girlie bars mostly under reconstruction, the escalator out of service and garbage everywhere, Soi Cowboy on the other hand, is pleasant with the Isan sisterhood's giggles and screams ringing through the early night...

" Me want take care you good," , " oh, sexy man, come inside please", " me love you big time", Kamagra and Viagra, Ciallis for those who get too nervous or maybe with too much booze down their Farang throats, for sale from countless street vendors, tables full with pirated porn videos though officially forbidden in the Thai kingdom but a nice little tip to the local constabulary with result in blind Thai Thamruat eyes though I have no doubt those same eyes will be wide open when watching these sex tapes back home in the company of their Mia Nois...

The Suzie Wong Beer Bar is half way up Soi Cowboy and our long time favorite, beer at 55 Baht and salted peanuts for free, young bar ladies sitting on your lap, giggling at whatever goes on down yonder in the Farang male crotch while whispering words of lust and love in hairy white ears - the first English words they learn when getting off that bus that very first time arriving from the arid plains up north, wondering at the enormous heights of concrete buildings rising into the hot and humid air - the only concrete building back in that little dusty Isan village they spent their young lives in was the governement school - the English/Thai phrase book a serious investment at a hefty 110 baht but will come in handy for that bar job that they hope will improve their wretched lives and pay for daddy's  philandering back home in the village poolhall < read local wh*rehouse>...

Not that I am a serious option for their opinionated views on Farang men..no way with Nong's possesive arm on mine directing me with serious intentions toward the Suzie Wong Bar, Ready for some serious "indrinking" before heading back to her sexercise dumphouse hotel room back in Soi 22     

Messages on my phone, well actually Nong's phone.

Thailand, bangkok,
04 April 2011.

nana Plaza's food market is just coming into swing with early Farang male, Thai female couples having an early bite before hitting the raucous bars and small groups of Isan Yings enjoying a plate of spicy Somtan, a few bottles of Leo before diving into the Go Go places of their nightly employment, a couple of squarish looking Kathoys eyeing me curiously, probably wanting to Phom Ao Chai Khun tonite....

Me will take good care of you tonight, Phom Tilak from far away Farang Land...

I check my internet using the mobile phone Nong gave me last night, 3000 BAHT a month of free intenet, more than enough to check on my Facbook account, a message from Peter Klashorst aka Het Konijn Dat Klashorst heet according to some vindictive NRC Dutch newspaper reporter...what the hell is wrong between these two anyway...

I try to concentrate on my drawings of the world around me, Thai ladies of the night aplenty to immoralise in my 40 baht Thai produced sketchbook while slowly working on my cold to the touch Chang beer, a small fried brass as an appetiser for later tonight when Nong will have freed herself from her Norwegian sugar daddy, basically when he has fallen asleep after consuming his daily two bottles of Regency, the third one will hopefully be stacked away in her lady's handbag for consumption in the dumphouse hotel - if I can call it that - back in Soi 23, her sexercise place where, I have no doubt, she has lots of fun with young Isan farmer's sons having come to Bangkok in search of a motorbike taxi excistence, nothing can be worse but living a boring life in Thailand's rice producing villages up north...

Again my - that is Nong's phone - does its beebing work warning me yet again of incoming messages on both Facebook and Yahoo....Nong on the way with Regency and a wad of Thai red colored 100 baht notes, Peter Klashorst telling me by means of facebook of his imminent departure for Amsterdam...too bad for him - I bet a 1000 to a single Baht my friend nong would have taken good CARE OF HIM - well, posing in the nude that is, and throwing her Norwegian Pensionado boyfriend's savings around as though they where mouldy raisin cooking out of date and therefore obsolete, ready for the dustbin but in this case...yeah right, READY FOR NANA'S ROWDY NIGHTLIFE and a drunk posing session in the nude afterwards with that darned bottle of regency stacked away in her expensive lady's handbag!!!

Grief, a grievous thing

Thailand. Bangkok,
Sunday, 03 April 2011.

The matrass of this dingy room at the Nutcase Shorttime Guest House - I guess I have to call it something the dirty crap place lacking a real name - is hard underneath my Farang *ss, trying hard to ignore to sounds outside, the Bangkok world outside the room of this Soi 23 prostition rife dumphouse guest house, courtesy of Nong...young ladies of the night, originating from the Barren Fields of the Isan provinces up north of Thailand's impoveriched country site, taking quick but cold water showers, the sounds of female garments being washed with flower scented shampoo, hung over corrosive balconeys, the grunts of of their latest customers waking up to hung-over morning head aches, the result of Go Go bars' whiskey Tailandes aplenty, but at least a "fine" and satisfied feeling in the male member down yonder, underneath the carefully groomed English or German beer belly...

Six weeks in Pattaya's rowdy nightlife, losing my summer's savings big time on Chang beer and stupid bar fees have taken care of my feelings of grief, a grievous Farang guild complex over Moo's cardiac arrest and subsequnet death causing a writer's block - first time for everything - but moreover, desolation and a misplaced Alone In The Sahara sort of thirsty loneyness...

No Phom Pho Emiel coming over to my New Star Guest House for chess, no Kees De Mafkees stopping by for a nightly chat on his way home from the Beach, no countless number of Thai yings waiting for my return to my Soi Sip-Ett New Star Guest House, hoping for a warm place on my bed instead of a winding place on the beach, corrupt Thai Thamruat waking them up for the obligatory 300 Baht fine...

No Mad Belgium frolicking with the Hotel Wh*re, aka Miss Sandwich, coming to my room stark naked demanding his girlfriend back, holdiong a bottle of 100 Baht Hong Thong whiskey in the left hand and jerking off his erecy member with the other, courtesy to numerous sackets of liquid Kamarga, orange flavoured, down hiss swollen belly, Thai whiskey and Ya Ba at 300 Baht a pinkish pill...

No Father and Son Norway and their passion for Ya Ba, apart from sandwiching Miss Sandwich - hence her nick - nor the two black haired, olive skinned Swedes who spoke everything but Swedish but equally keen on a threesome with our aforementioned Hotel Whore...

None of all tha freakish shit - and much more - could take me out of my writer's Bloque- or my feelings of noir mourning...now lying here, back in Krung Thep, back at Nong's secret "sexercise Place" away from her seventy plus Norwegian sugar daddy's suite at the Sangria-La Hotel, I feel like magically touching down on the main landing strip of sin city, down on Planet "Horny" Earth's number one party place..back out of the haze and smack back in the Land of the Holy Thais...

Yeah, welcome home, Mistel Farang Han-sss