Okay, I freely admit, though it is still several months before my next departure to that weird and mysterious kingdom at the other side of the world, King Bhumipol's realm who is still in hospital being kept artificially alive to avoid military contra police political problems in that volatile society where the locals prefer to hide their true feelings beneath a facade of the eternal smile, the smile that made them famous the world over, a tourist destination of sun, beach, good food, cold beer and smiling friendly people...all that at bargain prices...yeah, I definetely need that departure...
Being here, locked up in this tilting over old but oh so typical Amsterdam house, rain battering against my windows, Nada to do but paint, paint and paints some more, naked ladies aplenty coming out of my drug and booze destroyed gray brain cells, alcoholics ringing my door bell, making polite and friendly small chit-chat, making me wonder when the eternal request for some small change will come up, the real reason why they braved the torrential rain outside and made it to my house, dirtying my toilet with their cheap beer destoyed darms...searching my Frigo for cold to the touch Appie Heyn cans of beer, unabashed and shamelessly...
Shit three times in a row, wish this rain would stop and I could go to the Anne Frank House, sell my games and save up Mas Y Mas Dinero for my next trip to that sick old man's kingdom only ten or twelve hours flying east...
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