The memories in my dream world are like over ripe fruit in my mind, flooding my consciousness, waking me up as so often in my early morning bed, the sheets soaked with alcohol based perspiration, making me feel nauseous and ready to puke my heart out...
No time to wrap them up these yellow stained sheets, put them in the 240 Euros washing machine I bought with the money I got for the renovation of the crappy old house I live in...the other 4760 Euro of these 5000 crappers I spent on booze, drug and women in that sodom and gomorra hellhouse called Pattaya twelve hours flying from my native Amsterdam, but then that is a completely different story...
I drag my middle aged body to the toilet, the contents of my stomach, my home cooking of the night before - no more Nasi Special Pork from the Kam Yin since I kicked Lola out of the house - flooding the paint I put in the inside of my toilet bowl - I live the life of an artist and put my paint all over my place, including my toilet...
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