Money talks and God walk across the Lake of Galilea, but these days Thor the Thundergod seems to rule the weather here in Amsterdam with the rain still battering the windows of my old but typical Amsterdam city house and if God, or else his son that misguided martyr Jesus Christ, really walked the Lake of Galilea without drowning, he would probably drown anyway because of all that heavenly piss coming down on him...
No money talks at the Anne Frank House selling my games, hardly enough of that paper or nickel stuff for a cold Guinness at Cafe De Wildeman with my pal Paul, enjoying a easy evening out in the company of a Amigo while watching fustrated young cops running up and down the alley on a police related matter...
My house becoming more and more a representation of my New Star guest house in my second home, Pattaya, ten or twelve hours flying in an Eva Air airbus...paint brushes and spray cans, jars with dirty colored water, half empty alu tubes of acrylics paint, wooden boards standing and lying around at random depicting more and more naked nubile ladies from my dream world....
If this really was my New Star room I would have my LIVING models sitting all over the place, nibbling at barbecued chicken legs and wrapped in orange colored reception delivered towels, their hair wed from a recent shower washing off the sweat accumulated on the Pattaya boulevard waiting for fat bellied half drunk Farang customers...great inspiration indeed but here in good old Mokum I only have my memories, my dream world...
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