Pattaya, 31 Jan. 2012.
I might feel like an author caught in a sluggish routine back home in good old Mokum but here in Big Party Place Pattaya, impressions and images assualt me nonstop even though my stories are probably a drag, old fashioned and boring, not entertaining people, reading these words of lust and human deprivation so artificial, all made up in the writers head, flimsy situations that don't happen naturally...but no, I hear the voices, feel what I see and turn it into mashed potatoe crap.
These are after all, not stories but an endless narative churning through my Farang skull, I am wandering and sniffing for adventure, from one territory into another, a bit like a Soi dog, lifting my hind leg every so often to mark my turf...
Sitting here on the boulevard with Mister Porn, my lady of the night a lost soul, another bareback rider coming out of the Isan, at 42 years of age her face a slab of concrete, spongy and leaking despair, stealing shy kisses through a post-hangover numbness, her chicken-feet hands reminding me of barbecued chicken-claws sold by ambulant food sellers...she has been a bareback riding machine for drunk Western sex starved office spooks for more years as I care to imagine, peddling her ass for Lao Khao moonshine whisky, a dot of flesh in this ocean of depraved humanity, an insignificant Isan rice farmer's daughter turned whore...
The one of Mister Porn's arm pretty much the same story, Miss Mieo, a cash cow for dad once but done the drain by Ya Ba at only 27, no room and her good looks ravished by countless barback riding sessions, Daddy Norway and his son doing their sandwich thing on her...yeah, the family's investment for free dough has passed the danger of the firing line here, but no weepy regrets, daughter number two is already on the bus!!!
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Sang Hoon Jai
Pattaya, 30 Jan. 2012.
I feel like I scamble my words and sentences into a Mashed Potatoe Puree, verbs and nouns going haywire inside my skull, an endless narrative making my life difficult and uncomfortable...and that while writing stories is so superficial in these days of mass communication, incredible images turning them into stupid artwork, or maybe painting with words while being on massive ammounts of drugs even though my days of drug induced painting crap are well and truely over...
My friend, Mister Porn, would say that painting and writing will seriously cut into Babe Time, and anything at all here in fabled Pattaya cutting into Babe Time is a serious offence, a crime upon yourself...but word are a drag and I haven't come here for the clean air or rest and tranquility...or have I???
My phone ringing, a female voice at the other end of this high technological piece of human comfort...Patty telling me she is on the bus back home, Miss Dracula Tooth, her lazy good for nothing Nongshao with empty pockets, a missed carreer as Mamma-San for poor Patty, a pawned scooter for 9000 Baht gone done the drain...a missed opportunity for a never ending love affair with a crazy Dutch Farang failed due to Phishao responsibilities...
Maybe she should have send Little Sister on her merry way a long time before funds ran dry, move into my room instead and enjoy life to the fullest, sleep peacefully in my arms, even in her dreams moving her petite cute ass into my growing manhood...but then a premonition, Sang Hoon Jai as the Thais would call it, tells me things would have gone wrong anyway, the way things always do in Ma Vie...
I have enough problems as it is with my own Nongshao, contacting me out of the blue on FB, another premonition of things going wrong, Sang Hoon Jai in full overdrive...my instincts of a hard boiled private eye persona never having been off the mark, easing into a story easier as easing into my real life!!!
I feel like I scamble my words and sentences into a Mashed Potatoe Puree, verbs and nouns going haywire inside my skull, an endless narrative making my life difficult and uncomfortable...and that while writing stories is so superficial in these days of mass communication, incredible images turning them into stupid artwork, or maybe painting with words while being on massive ammounts of drugs even though my days of drug induced painting crap are well and truely over...
My friend, Mister Porn, would say that painting and writing will seriously cut into Babe Time, and anything at all here in fabled Pattaya cutting into Babe Time is a serious offence, a crime upon yourself...but word are a drag and I haven't come here for the clean air or rest and tranquility...or have I???
My phone ringing, a female voice at the other end of this high technological piece of human comfort...Patty telling me she is on the bus back home, Miss Dracula Tooth, her lazy good for nothing Nongshao with empty pockets, a missed carreer as Mamma-San for poor Patty, a pawned scooter for 9000 Baht gone done the drain...a missed opportunity for a never ending love affair with a crazy Dutch Farang failed due to Phishao responsibilities...
Maybe she should have send Little Sister on her merry way a long time before funds ran dry, move into my room instead and enjoy life to the fullest, sleep peacefully in my arms, even in her dreams moving her petite cute ass into my growing manhood...but then a premonition, Sang Hoon Jai as the Thais would call it, tells me things would have gone wrong anyway, the way things always do in Ma Vie...
I have enough problems as it is with my own Nongshao, contacting me out of the blue on FB, another premonition of things going wrong, Sang Hoon Jai in full overdrive...my instincts of a hard boiled private eye persona never having been off the mark, easing into a story easier as easing into my real life!!!
Sentimental Judgement
Pattaya, 29 Jan.2012.
This bar is chaotic but once inside, attracted from outside by the good music, I was instantly dragged by the arms to a corner table, occupied by a group of scarcely dressed bar girls already in various states of intoxication, several big empty bottles of Mhekong, bags of ice spiiling melted water all over the table's surface and scores of empty Coca Cola bottles tell me all there is to know about my new lady drinking mates.
I order a big Mhekong bottle myself and am applaudecd by high shrieked female yells of excitement, maybe these ladies don't belong to this bar after all, thing could get interesting here!!!
Free lancers stuffed like spiders around this corner booth, their eyes Nit Noi yellow from Thai whisky intake, they throw back long black manes of hair while they laugh at my silly jokes, one of them lifting her dress and showing me her livelyhood, her product of sale, another grapping my crotch and squealing with laughter at my bodily manhood reaction, another of them licking my earlob, leaving a hot trace of mhekong...
I try to imagine them being on their first night out with Phishao - older sister - pimping them the Mama-San way, the way that Patty was her own Nongshao...lying on the bed waiting for her first Farang customer, curled up naked under a cheap guesthouse sheet, a bit like when she was still in the womb just before birth, nervous and in a weird state of anticipation at the same time, arms wrapped around her breast, sexual passion having collapsed at the sight of her manof the night's big sweaty Tompui, probably feeling like a pig led on a robe to the slaughterhouse, subject to a certain terror eating away her Phii, looking for a womb to crawl back into and leave this world back to a fetus excistence...her Phishao meanwhile hitting it off with a Dutch Farang her own age, making up three years of abstinence while Little Sister is about to experience the worst trauma in her young life...
But who am I to pass sentimental judgement here surrounded by Mau free lancers who have overcome this trauma themselves a life time ago, their slender Asian Hot Momma bodies swelled with sexual arousal, their private parts wed in aticipation of the coming night, a night of hot and steaming passion with a Ting Tong Farang from the European Low countries...
This bar is chaotic but once inside, attracted from outside by the good music, I was instantly dragged by the arms to a corner table, occupied by a group of scarcely dressed bar girls already in various states of intoxication, several big empty bottles of Mhekong, bags of ice spiiling melted water all over the table's surface and scores of empty Coca Cola bottles tell me all there is to know about my new lady drinking mates.
I order a big Mhekong bottle myself and am applaudecd by high shrieked female yells of excitement, maybe these ladies don't belong to this bar after all, thing could get interesting here!!!
Free lancers stuffed like spiders around this corner booth, their eyes Nit Noi yellow from Thai whisky intake, they throw back long black manes of hair while they laugh at my silly jokes, one of them lifting her dress and showing me her livelyhood, her product of sale, another grapping my crotch and squealing with laughter at my bodily manhood reaction, another of them licking my earlob, leaving a hot trace of mhekong...
I try to imagine them being on their first night out with Phishao - older sister - pimping them the Mama-San way, the way that Patty was her own Nongshao...lying on the bed waiting for her first Farang customer, curled up naked under a cheap guesthouse sheet, a bit like when she was still in the womb just before birth, nervous and in a weird state of anticipation at the same time, arms wrapped around her breast, sexual passion having collapsed at the sight of her manof the night's big sweaty Tompui, probably feeling like a pig led on a robe to the slaughterhouse, subject to a certain terror eating away her Phii, looking for a womb to crawl back into and leave this world back to a fetus excistence...her Phishao meanwhile hitting it off with a Dutch Farang her own age, making up three years of abstinence while Little Sister is about to experience the worst trauma in her young life...
But who am I to pass sentimental judgement here surrounded by Mau free lancers who have overcome this trauma themselves a life time ago, their slender Asian Hot Momma bodies swelled with sexual arousal, their private parts wed in aticipation of the coming night, a night of hot and steaming passion with a Ting Tong Farang from the European Low countries...
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Goodbye to Miss Patty
28 Jan. 2012.
The late afternoon sun outside my room is turning the sky to a strange copper color while I lay here on my belly on the bed, arms propped up under my chin watching Patty have her usual smoke after our love making, her Zippo lighter shooting a tonque of flame into the air when she lights up...
She probably senses my uneasiness, me knowing with reseanable "social security" this was our last moment together, our last moment of mutual intimacy...there have been no demands nor a financial situation, no resentment, a great physical attraction but a mental divide that neither of us could cross, get to a mutual mental understanding and close the cultural gap that feels like the Grand Canyon back in that obscure state in the good old Us of A.
Travel has always allowed me to shed one identity for another but despite years of coming to the Orient, trying so hard to grasp the Asian mind, Pas De Comprend here, maybe I am unwilling on some deep subconscious level to abandon my Western mental comforts, don't wanna understand the need of this petite lady who is so determined to make ends meet that she is perfectly capable to teach her Nongshao the art of prostitution, even getting enraged that Little Sister is lazy and prefers to polish her nails, watch Thai love songs on telly in their 400 Thai Baht New Star room downstairs...
I watch the relfection of her still beautifull Asian body despite her 49 year of age, in the reflection in my mirror, hearing her voice inside my head, how she plans to lend yet more money fron the folks back home and take Nonshao down to Phuket, maybe there the pickings will be richer, probably forgetting that a lazy Little Sister in Pattaya is very unlikely to become active in Phuket...
I am quite happy to take Miss Patty out for dinner though have a strong suspicion she will want to return to their room and vocalise her latest plans in the Little Sister Grand Prostitution Scheme to Miss Bored Nonshao...
Fair enough...I haven't crossed the hardcore cardinal rule, during a moment of passion, to declare my undying love for her, knowing my place in her life perfectly well, a physical male Farang body to help her overcome three years of abstinence, not having made the mistake of sleeping around with another girl the moment she left my room, causing her Asian concept of face to be shattered into a thousand fragments of unabashed shame...I know from countless experiences how that sort of shame and loss of face has got to be remedied, only one way to recover that sort of face loss...a knife stuck between the Farang shoulder blades, the hapless victim hardly aware of what or how but definitely who!!!
The late afternoon sun outside my room is turning the sky to a strange copper color while I lay here on my belly on the bed, arms propped up under my chin watching Patty have her usual smoke after our love making, her Zippo lighter shooting a tonque of flame into the air when she lights up...
She probably senses my uneasiness, me knowing with reseanable "social security" this was our last moment together, our last moment of mutual intimacy...there have been no demands nor a financial situation, no resentment, a great physical attraction but a mental divide that neither of us could cross, get to a mutual mental understanding and close the cultural gap that feels like the Grand Canyon back in that obscure state in the good old Us of A.
Travel has always allowed me to shed one identity for another but despite years of coming to the Orient, trying so hard to grasp the Asian mind, Pas De Comprend here, maybe I am unwilling on some deep subconscious level to abandon my Western mental comforts, don't wanna understand the need of this petite lady who is so determined to make ends meet that she is perfectly capable to teach her Nongshao the art of prostitution, even getting enraged that Little Sister is lazy and prefers to polish her nails, watch Thai love songs on telly in their 400 Thai Baht New Star room downstairs...
I watch the relfection of her still beautifull Asian body despite her 49 year of age, in the reflection in my mirror, hearing her voice inside my head, how she plans to lend yet more money fron the folks back home and take Nonshao down to Phuket, maybe there the pickings will be richer, probably forgetting that a lazy Little Sister in Pattaya is very unlikely to become active in Phuket...
I am quite happy to take Miss Patty out for dinner though have a strong suspicion she will want to return to their room and vocalise her latest plans in the Little Sister Grand Prostitution Scheme to Miss Bored Nonshao...
Fair enough...I haven't crossed the hardcore cardinal rule, during a moment of passion, to declare my undying love for her, knowing my place in her life perfectly well, a physical male Farang body to help her overcome three years of abstinence, not having made the mistake of sleeping around with another girl the moment she left my room, causing her Asian concept of face to be shattered into a thousand fragments of unabashed shame...I know from countless experiences how that sort of shame and loss of face has got to be remedied, only one way to recover that sort of face loss...a knife stuck between the Farang shoulder blades, the hapless victim hardly aware of what or how but definitely who!!!
Friday, January 27, 2012
Miss Patty and her Nongshao
Pattaya, 27 Jan. 2012.
Laying on my belly and watching Miss Patty having a smoke, a small and dingy room, beneath a ceiling fan, the door to the balconey open letting in the early morning sounds of Soi Sit-Ett, aptly nicknamed Soi Honey -Inn by the Thai because of the Honey-Inn hotel opposite the New Star, no breeze and the air hung heavy with the aromatic bodily smells of our love making from the night before, mixing with the smoke coming from the mosquito coils burning in a corner of my four hunderd Baht a day room...
Last night was fun with Mister Porn, me, Patty and her so-called Nongshao, though actually her 27 year old niece, drinking Chang in front of my guest house with Mister Pron doing his stuff on the Nongshao lady despite his usual shorttime in my room a few hours earlier...
I remember last week when first I met Miss Patty sitting outside on the very same chair as last night, shooting hot glances at me while I was playing Chess with my Papa in Pattaya, Emiel, who was losing by the way, how she was trying to avoid being chat up by the clumpsy English Mister Chocolate Drinker, making polite conversation with him the way only a Thai lady suffering from absolute boredom can...
With Papa Emiel gone, pissed of at once again having lost a night's playing chess, she offered me a beer, telling me how she had come to Big Party Place Pattaya to assist her Nongshao, her little sister in Thai though in Verdadadera Realidad her younger niece, to adjust to the "Scene", the scene she herself had played with determination for years before meeting her German Tilac with whom she was married for eight years, before he succumped to a Thai whisky induce terminally sick liver disease three years earlier, not all that uncommon here in the Land Of The Thai....
No more sex for her since than, moving back to the parental house and being watched over by family and relatives...her assist in her Nongshao's big dreams and desires, willing to barter her young nubile body and soul for instant cash, maybe have a shy young English bloke fall in love with her and take her to Fabulously Rich Europe, never mind she doesn't hold no currency, doesn't speak the Lingo, after all that is where the older sister comes in, maybe she can drag along and do some Mhe Baan household chores, sleep on the couch and being 49 years of age and therefore " an old lady", dream of her many Farang lovers in her better days...
When she was Mau enough and secure in the feeling "younger sister" back at the Bamboo Bar had been picked up by a wealthy 61 year old lucky Farang sex tourist- thanks to mobile phone technology - she went upstairs but not before showing me her room key, the number on the tab a clear invitation to help her end three years of abstinence, help her out of a mournfull excistence, no family members doing the gossip, Pas De Baht, just plain old sex and Nada Mas...
Tha was three or four nights ago but now she is fuming, a bit like the sigarette top she is smoking, with "younger sister" who has decided adopting the role of a Hot Momma really isn't her future, fat and hairy white bellies repulsing her,,,
"she lazy, no good!!!"..."why she not go with your friend Mister Porn last night?"
What can I say, having heard the same story a hunderd times over???
Laying on my belly and watching Miss Patty having a smoke, a small and dingy room, beneath a ceiling fan, the door to the balconey open letting in the early morning sounds of Soi Sit-Ett, aptly nicknamed Soi Honey -Inn by the Thai because of the Honey-Inn hotel opposite the New Star, no breeze and the air hung heavy with the aromatic bodily smells of our love making from the night before, mixing with the smoke coming from the mosquito coils burning in a corner of my four hunderd Baht a day room...
Last night was fun with Mister Porn, me, Patty and her so-called Nongshao, though actually her 27 year old niece, drinking Chang in front of my guest house with Mister Pron doing his stuff on the Nongshao lady despite his usual shorttime in my room a few hours earlier...
I remember last week when first I met Miss Patty sitting outside on the very same chair as last night, shooting hot glances at me while I was playing Chess with my Papa in Pattaya, Emiel, who was losing by the way, how she was trying to avoid being chat up by the clumpsy English Mister Chocolate Drinker, making polite conversation with him the way only a Thai lady suffering from absolute boredom can...
With Papa Emiel gone, pissed of at once again having lost a night's playing chess, she offered me a beer, telling me how she had come to Big Party Place Pattaya to assist her Nongshao, her little sister in Thai though in Verdadadera Realidad her younger niece, to adjust to the "Scene", the scene she herself had played with determination for years before meeting her German Tilac with whom she was married for eight years, before he succumped to a Thai whisky induce terminally sick liver disease three years earlier, not all that uncommon here in the Land Of The Thai....
No more sex for her since than, moving back to the parental house and being watched over by family and relatives...her assist in her Nongshao's big dreams and desires, willing to barter her young nubile body and soul for instant cash, maybe have a shy young English bloke fall in love with her and take her to Fabulously Rich Europe, never mind she doesn't hold no currency, doesn't speak the Lingo, after all that is where the older sister comes in, maybe she can drag along and do some Mhe Baan household chores, sleep on the couch and being 49 years of age and therefore " an old lady", dream of her many Farang lovers in her better days...
When she was Mau enough and secure in the feeling "younger sister" back at the Bamboo Bar had been picked up by a wealthy 61 year old lucky Farang sex tourist- thanks to mobile phone technology - she went upstairs but not before showing me her room key, the number on the tab a clear invitation to help her end three years of abstinence, help her out of a mournfull excistence, no family members doing the gossip, Pas De Baht, just plain old sex and Nada Mas...
Tha was three or four nights ago but now she is fuming, a bit like the sigarette top she is smoking, with "younger sister" who has decided adopting the role of a Hot Momma really isn't her future, fat and hairy white bellies repulsing her,,,
"she lazy, no good!!!"..."why she not go with your friend Mister Porn last night?"
What can I say, having heard the same story a hunderd times over???
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Mister Singh and his useless predictions
Bangkok, 25 Jan. 2012.
Ambulant vendors selling about anything and everything, this being the low season they try even harderto get rid of their wares, collapsible tables exibiting Viagra and Xiales, porn movies even though officcially forbidden in the Kingdom of Thailand, tourist underwear and sexy lingerie for the bar girl of your choise, the pavement is hardly passable and with a happily chatting Gail in tow I try to wurm my way through a multitute of nationalities, a bunch of Hindus in their sunday clothes gaily discussing the purpose of 7/Eleven bought condoms, rubbers going from one Indian pair of hands to the next, their exitement making it clear to me that their are on their way to some shorttime off the road hotel where the girls wait outside on bar stools for h*rny Kleags as they call Asian tourists in this part of the world...
" Mister, I can predict future for you and your lady".
A dazzingly white turban and a azure blue tie on a pink shirt, black tailor made pants and all of his atire sweat stained free despite the sweltering heat here on Sukhumvit Road...of course it is one of these imaculately dressed Sihk fortune tellers always called Mister Singh and making a living as a conman, or maybe better frased, a charlatan, though Gail already poffers her slender hands in eager anticipation, excitedly a-waiting to hear what is pobably no more but a load of old cow dung, bittersweet as it might sound to her superstitious female Isan ears...useless predictions that come at hunderds of hard earned Bahts...
"Ah, sir I see you are a great sportsman and probably a bit of an artist too".
He continues ignoring Gail's poffered hands, probably believing the pickings will be richer in my case, probably had a peep-in at the Suzie Wong Bar last where, after finishing the bar girl letter affair, I spend most of the night drinking Thai whisky with ice and cola, making sketch after sketch of not just the Suzie Wong bar working girl population but had the ladies dragging in their colleagues from neighboring bars as well...
Cheeky bugger indeed and I send him on his merry way despite his demands for a miniscule one hundert Baht...high time I get back to the peace and quiet of Pattaya, longingly remembering my bottles of beer in front of my guesthouse at night while watching the going-ons in the quiet and sociable Soi Honey-In!!!
Ambulant vendors selling about anything and everything, this being the low season they try even harderto get rid of their wares, collapsible tables exibiting Viagra and Xiales, porn movies even though officcially forbidden in the Kingdom of Thailand, tourist underwear and sexy lingerie for the bar girl of your choise, the pavement is hardly passable and with a happily chatting Gail in tow I try to wurm my way through a multitute of nationalities, a bunch of Hindus in their sunday clothes gaily discussing the purpose of 7/Eleven bought condoms, rubbers going from one Indian pair of hands to the next, their exitement making it clear to me that their are on their way to some shorttime off the road hotel where the girls wait outside on bar stools for h*rny Kleags as they call Asian tourists in this part of the world...
" Mister, I can predict future for you and your lady".
A dazzingly white turban and a azure blue tie on a pink shirt, black tailor made pants and all of his atire sweat stained free despite the sweltering heat here on Sukhumvit Road...of course it is one of these imaculately dressed Sihk fortune tellers always called Mister Singh and making a living as a conman, or maybe better frased, a charlatan, though Gail already poffers her slender hands in eager anticipation, excitedly a-waiting to hear what is pobably no more but a load of old cow dung, bittersweet as it might sound to her superstitious female Isan ears...useless predictions that come at hunderds of hard earned Bahts...
"Ah, sir I see you are a great sportsman and probably a bit of an artist too".
He continues ignoring Gail's poffered hands, probably believing the pickings will be richer in my case, probably had a peep-in at the Suzie Wong Bar last where, after finishing the bar girl letter affair, I spend most of the night drinking Thai whisky with ice and cola, making sketch after sketch of not just the Suzie Wong bar working girl population but had the ladies dragging in their colleagues from neighboring bars as well...
Cheeky bugger indeed and I send him on his merry way despite his demands for a miniscule one hundert Baht...high time I get back to the peace and quiet of Pattaya, longingly remembering my bottles of beer in front of my guesthouse at night while watching the going-ons in the quiet and sociable Soi Honey-In!!!
Monday, January 23, 2012
Bar girl letters
Bangkok, 23 Jan. 2012.
A boring 110 Baht bus ride, a strech of heavily built-up roadside view I have seen hunderts of time already, not all that pleasing to the eye but has to be endured if I want to enjoy the little pleasures of Bangkok's notoriouslly obnoxious Soi Cowboy...at least Akkamalai bus station is within walking distance of my favourite haunt in this sweltering Asian metropole.
Jum is one of the Go Go dancers I remember from last year when I was hanging out here with Nong who is now happily taking care of her little Thai restaurant back in the Land Of The Vikings, and though I am not a member of her rather exclusive, and probably extensive, club of Farang lovers, juggling her availability and their arrival times the way only a Isan bar lady can but has always mystified me, still we are on relatively good terms and plenty are the letter I have written for her foreign clientele, words of love and lust in a variety of European languages...
Wearing her working costume, a gold colored bikini that barely covers her essentials, she flies over the moment I enter the Suzie Wong bar smack in the middle of Soi Cowboy, aware of her petite hand that gropes the indise of my jeans clad left leg...
" Maybe You write good letter for me in German for my wealthy sexy Tilac from Munchen, Hans? "
Many of these bar girls can hardly write or read Thai let alone English or one of the more obscure tongues coming out of Ancient Europe and these so-called Scribes they are obliged to dictate their letter to make bad substitutes, incompetent bastarts that have the nerves to charge 200 Baht for semi-literate translations...often hilarious to the max.
I find myself back in a sexual laden admosphere with bare female limps smothering me while I write letters to forlorn elderly European males who thousands of miles from home and in a alcoholic mist, threw their dough around like it was confetti at a children's party, getting themselves infatuated with Hot Mommas often younger that the daughters they have back home, alimony money going into a Isan female purse...
These Isan bar ladies have little concept of tomorrow, no understanding of qualities the Western World considers important but they are street wise - or should I call it bar wise?- to their trade, specialised to the art of extracting Farang exchange baht and convincing me of prostituting my writing skills and languistic knowledge...
It goes a bit like this...
My dear john..maybe I should call the john for this love letter John-Paul The Pope just for the heck of it...
Me miss You too much, your strong arms when in bed together...
You gone only two weeks but me feel not see you life time...
Me yearning for you make love me...
Please, please, Phom Tilac, you come back soon...maybe I should add, don't forget your fat wallet, hehehe
I cry every night in pillow me before sleep...
You big ande strong, me can not live without you...
Your sexy Tilac, plus name.
Please, mommy me sick much, please send money!!! plus bank account number.
My letters, be they in Englsih, Dutch, Swedish or Italian, have become legendary in this bar over the years and my bar fees low due to it...never lost any sleep over it either...so if ever you receive a Soi Cowboy bar girl letter, changes are it was me they dictated it to!!!
A boring 110 Baht bus ride, a strech of heavily built-up roadside view I have seen hunderts of time already, not all that pleasing to the eye but has to be endured if I want to enjoy the little pleasures of Bangkok's notoriouslly obnoxious Soi Cowboy...at least Akkamalai bus station is within walking distance of my favourite haunt in this sweltering Asian metropole.
Jum is one of the Go Go dancers I remember from last year when I was hanging out here with Nong who is now happily taking care of her little Thai restaurant back in the Land Of The Vikings, and though I am not a member of her rather exclusive, and probably extensive, club of Farang lovers, juggling her availability and their arrival times the way only a Isan bar lady can but has always mystified me, still we are on relatively good terms and plenty are the letter I have written for her foreign clientele, words of love and lust in a variety of European languages...
Wearing her working costume, a gold colored bikini that barely covers her essentials, she flies over the moment I enter the Suzie Wong bar smack in the middle of Soi Cowboy, aware of her petite hand that gropes the indise of my jeans clad left leg...
" Maybe You write good letter for me in German for my wealthy sexy Tilac from Munchen, Hans? "
Many of these bar girls can hardly write or read Thai let alone English or one of the more obscure tongues coming out of Ancient Europe and these so-called Scribes they are obliged to dictate their letter to make bad substitutes, incompetent bastarts that have the nerves to charge 200 Baht for semi-literate translations...often hilarious to the max.
I find myself back in a sexual laden admosphere with bare female limps smothering me while I write letters to forlorn elderly European males who thousands of miles from home and in a alcoholic mist, threw their dough around like it was confetti at a children's party, getting themselves infatuated with Hot Mommas often younger that the daughters they have back home, alimony money going into a Isan female purse...
These Isan bar ladies have little concept of tomorrow, no understanding of qualities the Western World considers important but they are street wise - or should I call it bar wise?- to their trade, specialised to the art of extracting Farang exchange baht and convincing me of prostituting my writing skills and languistic knowledge...
It goes a bit like this...
My dear john..maybe I should call the john for this love letter John-Paul The Pope just for the heck of it...
Me miss You too much, your strong arms when in bed together...
You gone only two weeks but me feel not see you life time...
Me yearning for you make love me...
Please, please, Phom Tilac, you come back soon...maybe I should add, don't forget your fat wallet, hehehe
I cry every night in pillow me before sleep...
You big ande strong, me can not live without you...
Your sexy Tilac, plus name.
Please, mommy me sick much, please send money!!! plus bank account number.
My letters, be they in Englsih, Dutch, Swedish or Italian, have become legendary in this bar over the years and my bar fees low due to it...never lost any sleep over it either...so if ever you receive a Soi Cowboy bar girl letter, changes are it was me they dictated it to!!!
Friday, January 20, 2012
Renard Le Fuchs and his anorexia affairs
Pattaya, 21 Jan. 2012.
My first cup of Nescafe coffee wakes me up slowly but more importantly brings me a bit of peace and tranquility in an otherwise hectic world surrounding me 24/7 in Big Party Place Pattaya, sitting here on one of the stone bences lining the boulevard and watching the Isan sisterhood of females trying hard to convince yawning Farang males making, a shorttime before breakfast is a real appetite affair, breaky will be all that more rewarding with empty b*lls...
Renard Le fuchs is doing his thing too...an emaciated anorexia patient of near legal age his latest victim with our friend El Zorro Holandes probably feeling like he is the proverbial chicken house, Poublet a-plenty for the Hunting Fox, the tiny starving looking type he would find hard to even see on telly on the latest fashion catwalks back in ancient Europe...small wonder the Man stays Pattaya 6 months a years!!!
If he knew I was watching the proceedings, the sleep still in my eyes notwithstanding, he would probably get an inmidiate heart attack, a personal assault on his chat-up lines where none is in order, everything Riap Roi the way the locals consider it...
Deep set paranoia another ailment Renard le Fuchs suffers from...I seem to remember doing his portrait once in my sketchbook while have a bit of a chit-chat some years back but our favourite Hunting Fox turned a vividly crimson in his Vossengezicht, making me fear an inmident brain tumor was setting in, an explanation to the local Thamnuat about The Death Of The Fox not really my cup of Dutch tea for the price of a simple sketch, and anyway, our friend Der Fuchs showed the better part of valour ranning away with his tail - or maybe his overused manhood - between his legs...we never got back on speaking terms after that!!!
Maybe better I finish my instant cup of Seven/11 Java and wander up to La Piazza Dei Delfini where overweight Italian pensionados start their day with ambulant sold expressos and a militia of the Isan sisterhood always willing to please their daily needs, strike whittish Maffiosi bellies that have grown considerably due to too much sitting around and eating Thai prepared Pizzas, Chang beer a good substitute to their home brewn Chanti...
My first cup of Nescafe coffee wakes me up slowly but more importantly brings me a bit of peace and tranquility in an otherwise hectic world surrounding me 24/7 in Big Party Place Pattaya, sitting here on one of the stone bences lining the boulevard and watching the Isan sisterhood of females trying hard to convince yawning Farang males making, a shorttime before breakfast is a real appetite affair, breaky will be all that more rewarding with empty b*lls...
Renard Le fuchs is doing his thing too...an emaciated anorexia patient of near legal age his latest victim with our friend El Zorro Holandes probably feeling like he is the proverbial chicken house, Poublet a-plenty for the Hunting Fox, the tiny starving looking type he would find hard to even see on telly on the latest fashion catwalks back in ancient Europe...small wonder the Man stays Pattaya 6 months a years!!!
If he knew I was watching the proceedings, the sleep still in my eyes notwithstanding, he would probably get an inmidiate heart attack, a personal assault on his chat-up lines where none is in order, everything Riap Roi the way the locals consider it...
Deep set paranoia another ailment Renard le Fuchs suffers from...I seem to remember doing his portrait once in my sketchbook while have a bit of a chit-chat some years back but our favourite Hunting Fox turned a vividly crimson in his Vossengezicht, making me fear an inmident brain tumor was setting in, an explanation to the local Thamnuat about The Death Of The Fox not really my cup of Dutch tea for the price of a simple sketch, and anyway, our friend Der Fuchs showed the better part of valour ranning away with his tail - or maybe his overused manhood - between his legs...we never got back on speaking terms after that!!!
Maybe better I finish my instant cup of Seven/11 Java and wander up to La Piazza Dei Delfini where overweight Italian pensionados start their day with ambulant sold expressos and a militia of the Isan sisterhood always willing to please their daily needs, strike whittish Maffiosi bellies that have grown considerably due to too much sitting around and eating Thai prepared Pizzas, Chang beer a good substitute to their home brewn Chanti...
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Daily uploads for survival
Pattaya, 19 Jan.2012.
Another lazy beach chair session might be well in order for today, maybe another mental image of a metamorphosed, sanitized and modern Pattaya beach resort, maybe watch another 400 Hamburger pounder being pleasurably tortured by the hands of another dimunative masseuse with malignant eyes, pummeling parts of the man's body he has only seen in a mirror's reflection these last twenty years...
I watch two backpackers slashing it out verbally with a Songthaew driver, a heated arguement over a ten Baht bus drive...if these youngsters from ancient Europe have a Gran Problem with a ten Baht fare and a low budget, Pattaya as their Numero Uno tourist destenation will have a few nasty surprised for them yet!!!
I still see hope inside my Farang skull for my own survival though, how outrageous my Pattaya excistence might be with Miss Rath knocking on my door this morning, dozens of text messages on my cell declaring her never ending love for me and her desire to travel to Ubonthani together, meet the folks and pay a hansome Simsod dowry for a Isan lady who has seen her better days already at the age of forty-one, a free shorttime a good investment for a Holland related new life...
Sorry Miss Rath but it isn't about to happen...
Remembering vividly Miss Ramong, the Bamboo Girl who had pretty much the same ideas about our mutual future and whose friend left us to live it up with my friend, Mister Porn, a jealous English bloke blowing up his chest like he had just watched Gorillas In The Mist and felt like a male version of Jane Goodall....Miss Ramong who had to cope with a Mau-Mau German Arschloch mistaking my 507 room with his own 504...Nah, dass ist toch mal nett, eine hubsche einheimische Dame in meinem zimmer, lassen wir mal Spass haben - hey this comes in handy, a good looking Thai babe inside my room, let grope around and have fun - the Dutch kick in the German butt was not calculated for though, nor was the arrival of Miss Jiff much later in the morning, nearly all her teeth gone in a motorbike accident last summer but still willing to start a massive arguement with my latest Bamboo conquest....Yeah after just ten days pattaya I know for sure I am back!!!
Still, the seed of hope for my survival is still present however outrageous and harsh the situations might be that assault me here in this mistaken beach resort, requiering desperate solutions to survive them, formulating action plans that need daily uploads and modifications, a ruminant of an idea in the back of my head telling me on a subcounscious level Bangkok might be a much better place of domicile...still, I might be able to stay in Pattaya instead!!!
Another lazy beach chair session might be well in order for today, maybe another mental image of a metamorphosed, sanitized and modern Pattaya beach resort, maybe watch another 400 Hamburger pounder being pleasurably tortured by the hands of another dimunative masseuse with malignant eyes, pummeling parts of the man's body he has only seen in a mirror's reflection these last twenty years...
I watch two backpackers slashing it out verbally with a Songthaew driver, a heated arguement over a ten Baht bus drive...if these youngsters from ancient Europe have a Gran Problem with a ten Baht fare and a low budget, Pattaya as their Numero Uno tourist destenation will have a few nasty surprised for them yet!!!
I still see hope inside my Farang skull for my own survival though, how outrageous my Pattaya excistence might be with Miss Rath knocking on my door this morning, dozens of text messages on my cell declaring her never ending love for me and her desire to travel to Ubonthani together, meet the folks and pay a hansome Simsod dowry for a Isan lady who has seen her better days already at the age of forty-one, a free shorttime a good investment for a Holland related new life...
Sorry Miss Rath but it isn't about to happen...
Remembering vividly Miss Ramong, the Bamboo Girl who had pretty much the same ideas about our mutual future and whose friend left us to live it up with my friend, Mister Porn, a jealous English bloke blowing up his chest like he had just watched Gorillas In The Mist and felt like a male version of Jane Goodall....Miss Ramong who had to cope with a Mau-Mau German Arschloch mistaking my 507 room with his own 504...Nah, dass ist toch mal nett, eine hubsche einheimische Dame in meinem zimmer, lassen wir mal Spass haben - hey this comes in handy, a good looking Thai babe inside my room, let grope around and have fun - the Dutch kick in the German butt was not calculated for though, nor was the arrival of Miss Jiff much later in the morning, nearly all her teeth gone in a motorbike accident last summer but still willing to start a massive arguement with my latest Bamboo conquest....Yeah after just ten days pattaya I know for sure I am back!!!
Still, the seed of hope for my survival is still present however outrageous and harsh the situations might be that assault me here in this mistaken beach resort, requiering desperate solutions to survive them, formulating action plans that need daily uploads and modifications, a ruminant of an idea in the back of my head telling me on a subcounscious level Bangkok might be a much better place of domicile...still, I might be able to stay in Pattaya instead!!!
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
An idyllic Pattaya
Pattaya, 19 Jan. 2012.
Pattaya Beach in front of pattaya Festival, one of the latest major shoppin mall adventures of international investors, is enjoying a nice crop of visitors despite the cloudy threat of rain overhead...my thirty bad beach chair is confortable and I relax after a filling buffet breakfast at the apex hotel.
next to me a petite Thai lady is busy massaging an enormous pinkish colored Farang male, grotesquely fat, especially so around the mid section and I wonder if this dimunitive masseuse is charging him by the hour or by the centimeter, the latter would be more profitable...
Mister Fat Farang cries out in pleasuably pain while the lady streches and contorts his limps, excited giggles from a few beach ladies nearby who watch the proceedings with keen interest...the eyes of the local masseuse beaming sadistically while she pummels away at various white bodily parts of her client's anotomy...I silently wonder how long it has been since Mister Fat farang has seen these, big rolls of European fat obscuring his more intimate of physical male pride!!
In my mind pattaya is turning ito a more idyllic version of present day's reality with inpecably honest locals and incorruptible Thai coppers, the Thamnuat with beaming Thai smiles at every Hot Momma on the beach, not harrasing the incountable street vendors, roads that are clean and well maintained, Adios to all the girly bars and exotic lewd shows, where the eligible and available beach ladies dress modestly instead of the ultra short cut off jeans and see through T-shirts, no more orphanages for Leuk Kreug children sired by irresponsible sex tourists from the not so rich anymore Western World, no more noxioux urine smells on every street corner and misshaped beggers with little dirty babies to make the Thai Baht come in all that faster, no more Missionaries Of Ideological Madness searching among the hopeless, no more dealers of Yaba intoxicating young ladies of the infamous Pattaya night life wit their mind poisoning wares, aggressive stray dogs something of the past, crime and rip-offs belonging to a far away memory, no pick-up trucs blaring away the latest Mauy Thay fighting matches, no more Hot Momma suicides or Farangs drinking themselves to Kingdom-com....
The sort of buddhist Nirvana millions of light years away from the real here and now, where I sit in my thrity Baht rented beach chair amusing myself with the sight of a white-skinned Farang being massaged by a dimunitive masseuse with a sadistic beaming smile on her Asian face!!!
Pattaya Beach in front of pattaya Festival, one of the latest major shoppin mall adventures of international investors, is enjoying a nice crop of visitors despite the cloudy threat of rain overhead...my thirty bad beach chair is confortable and I relax after a filling buffet breakfast at the apex hotel.
next to me a petite Thai lady is busy massaging an enormous pinkish colored Farang male, grotesquely fat, especially so around the mid section and I wonder if this dimunitive masseuse is charging him by the hour or by the centimeter, the latter would be more profitable...
Mister Fat Farang cries out in pleasuably pain while the lady streches and contorts his limps, excited giggles from a few beach ladies nearby who watch the proceedings with keen interest...the eyes of the local masseuse beaming sadistically while she pummels away at various white bodily parts of her client's anotomy...I silently wonder how long it has been since Mister Fat farang has seen these, big rolls of European fat obscuring his more intimate of physical male pride!!
In my mind pattaya is turning ito a more idyllic version of present day's reality with inpecably honest locals and incorruptible Thai coppers, the Thamnuat with beaming Thai smiles at every Hot Momma on the beach, not harrasing the incountable street vendors, roads that are clean and well maintained, Adios to all the girly bars and exotic lewd shows, where the eligible and available beach ladies dress modestly instead of the ultra short cut off jeans and see through T-shirts, no more orphanages for Leuk Kreug children sired by irresponsible sex tourists from the not so rich anymore Western World, no more noxioux urine smells on every street corner and misshaped beggers with little dirty babies to make the Thai Baht come in all that faster, no more Missionaries Of Ideological Madness searching among the hopeless, no more dealers of Yaba intoxicating young ladies of the infamous Pattaya night life wit their mind poisoning wares, aggressive stray dogs something of the past, crime and rip-offs belonging to a far away memory, no pick-up trucs blaring away the latest Mauy Thay fighting matches, no more Hot Momma suicides or Farangs drinking themselves to Kingdom-com....
The sort of buddhist Nirvana millions of light years away from the real here and now, where I sit in my thrity Baht rented beach chair amusing myself with the sight of a white-skinned Farang being massaged by a dimunitive masseuse with a sadistic beaming smile on her Asian face!!!
About Soi dogs
Pattaya, 18 Jan. 2012.
After my Hot Momma induced nightmare state of mind the other day I have come to believe Bangkok might be a great alternative to my present location...too many memories of dead local Amigas and Farang friends who live it up, feel the need to boast actively about their nighttime encounters with the other gender in front of my guesthouse in Soi Honey-Inn...either I get a solid grip on this or else my Pattaya domicile will turn into the Farang/Hot Momma chaotic mess it usually seems to have to be after only mere weeks in this all Farang male paradise called Pattaya by the locals but the Big Male Party House for Farangs might be a better name...
Nearing the Buddha temple off a Soi on Sukhumvit Road after an near hour exhaustive hot afternoon walkI am taken out of my mental ponderings by a pack of nine or ten dogs, different sized but obviously all mongrels, sleeping and feeling lazy in the middle of the Soi, making me wonder why these stupid abandoned mutts always have to do their midday Siesta in the middle of public roads...
Hunderts of homeless, diseased and undernourished dogs wander the streets of Pattaya, social health and hazardous canine related problems aplent for both Farang residents, foreign tourists and the local populace aplenty but the Buddhist concept of reincranation probably the guildy reason for Pas D'Activite by the city council...
They eye me suspiciously from sleepy canine eyes but the heat seems to be my salvation, too much sun to chase the crazy Farang into the next canine territory...
I know of friends who always carry a bunch of stones in the basket of their bicycle when late at night they return home, maybe a Hot Momma conquest on the back, ready to face the militia of canine armies more active during the darker hours of night, with a stony defence...
However, like I siad, I can pass them unhindered and continue on my merry way to the temple!!!
After my Hot Momma induced nightmare state of mind the other day I have come to believe Bangkok might be a great alternative to my present location...too many memories of dead local Amigas and Farang friends who live it up, feel the need to boast actively about their nighttime encounters with the other gender in front of my guesthouse in Soi Honey-Inn...either I get a solid grip on this or else my Pattaya domicile will turn into the Farang/Hot Momma chaotic mess it usually seems to have to be after only mere weeks in this all Farang male paradise called Pattaya by the locals but the Big Male Party House for Farangs might be a better name...
Nearing the Buddha temple off a Soi on Sukhumvit Road after an near hour exhaustive hot afternoon walkI am taken out of my mental ponderings by a pack of nine or ten dogs, different sized but obviously all mongrels, sleeping and feeling lazy in the middle of the Soi, making me wonder why these stupid abandoned mutts always have to do their midday Siesta in the middle of public roads...
Hunderts of homeless, diseased and undernourished dogs wander the streets of Pattaya, social health and hazardous canine related problems aplent for both Farang residents, foreign tourists and the local populace aplenty but the Buddhist concept of reincranation probably the guildy reason for Pas D'Activite by the city council...
They eye me suspiciously from sleepy canine eyes but the heat seems to be my salvation, too much sun to chase the crazy Farang into the next canine territory...
I know of friends who always carry a bunch of stones in the basket of their bicycle when late at night they return home, maybe a Hot Momma conquest on the back, ready to face the militia of canine armies more active during the darker hours of night, with a stony defence...
However, like I siad, I can pass them unhindered and continue on my merry way to the temple!!!
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
A dead Hot Momma's Phi and the Naga
Pattaya, 17 Jan. 2012.
The history and mythology in the Thai Isan are intertwined, veiled in half truths, rumours and catogorical denials but accepted on a deeper mental level byf the Isan populace as probably true anyway and therefore better taken care of by offerings of titbits for the Phi of the deceased...
In my dream world I see the head of that poor Isan lady whose lonely funeral I unintentionally attended yesterday...though that peacefull but horrible image of her lying there in her bamboo coffin on a dais in front of the closed doors of the cremation chambre waiting for her turn to be turned into ashes, is not all that peacefull anymore in Lord morpheus realm, with her head slightly raised, her dead eyes wide open and glowering at me under deeply frowning eyeballs...a chilly sight, really!!!
I feel like she is trying to sustain figments of her presence inside my Farang Phi, a sort of dead telepathy is taking place here, a sort of telephone call from the nether world...I try to muster up the courage to summone an image of Poor Moo inside my gray brain cells, replace it with this gruesome face from the other side, but instead the Dead Hot Momma's come-alive-again distorted face turns into that of a Naga, that folklore God serpent Jamie and his gang of No-Goods told me about all these years ago while touring these obscure bars in some parts of Bangkok Farangs better shy away from...
I am shaking now by the sight of this mytological serpent trying to adverse influence over my sleeping hours, it is monstrous and I feel like my eyes are deceiving me...figments of my imagination brought about by a dead Hot Momma whose Phi connected with mine and refused to believe to be in the Buddhist version of a waiting room, hoping her next shot at the corporal world would be a good, if not a better one...
Finally I manage to break free, waking up with a start, Hot momma's Phi still trying hard to hold on but in vain...soft snoring next to me reminding me of my visit with Mister Porn to the Bamboo bar last night where my mate chatted up two lady-friends before making of with one and leaving me with the other, miss Lamoo...is she the one snoring softly and peacefully now while I was being tormented in the dream world???
I guess I will find out in the morning when the fiist rays of a brand new day enter my room through the cracks in my blue ancient curtains...lets hope their will be no financial demands!!!
The history and mythology in the Thai Isan are intertwined, veiled in half truths, rumours and catogorical denials but accepted on a deeper mental level byf the Isan populace as probably true anyway and therefore better taken care of by offerings of titbits for the Phi of the deceased...
In my dream world I see the head of that poor Isan lady whose lonely funeral I unintentionally attended yesterday...though that peacefull but horrible image of her lying there in her bamboo coffin on a dais in front of the closed doors of the cremation chambre waiting for her turn to be turned into ashes, is not all that peacefull anymore in Lord morpheus realm, with her head slightly raised, her dead eyes wide open and glowering at me under deeply frowning eyeballs...a chilly sight, really!!!
I feel like she is trying to sustain figments of her presence inside my Farang Phi, a sort of dead telepathy is taking place here, a sort of telephone call from the nether world...I try to muster up the courage to summone an image of Poor Moo inside my gray brain cells, replace it with this gruesome face from the other side, but instead the Dead Hot Momma's come-alive-again distorted face turns into that of a Naga, that folklore God serpent Jamie and his gang of No-Goods told me about all these years ago while touring these obscure bars in some parts of Bangkok Farangs better shy away from...
I am shaking now by the sight of this mytological serpent trying to adverse influence over my sleeping hours, it is monstrous and I feel like my eyes are deceiving me...figments of my imagination brought about by a dead Hot Momma whose Phi connected with mine and refused to believe to be in the Buddhist version of a waiting room, hoping her next shot at the corporal world would be a good, if not a better one...
Finally I manage to break free, waking up with a start, Hot momma's Phi still trying hard to hold on but in vain...soft snoring next to me reminding me of my visit with Mister Porn to the Bamboo bar last night where my mate chatted up two lady-friends before making of with one and leaving me with the other, miss Lamoo...is she the one snoring softly and peacefully now while I was being tormented in the dream world???
I guess I will find out in the morning when the fiist rays of a brand new day enter my room through the cracks in my blue ancient curtains...lets hope their will be no financial demands!!!
Monday, January 16, 2012
A Hot Momma Funeral
Pattaya, 16 Jan. 2012.
The creamation tower is spewing forth dark grey colored clouds of smoke, a depressing sight really though the partly open bamboo coffinsitting on a dais in front of the creamation chambre's closed doors is even more depressing, revealing a small female corpse, whittish decaying skin betraying me aproximate time of death for this poor girl who even in death looks surpringly young and beautifull...
This is a funeral Isan style, I have seen it before up Thailand's north but still fascination is getting the better of me...
No Hot Mommas around of the living type paying their last respects to a fallen colleague of the night life, with the cadaver itself dressed in ragged long faded jeans and a white T-shirt that has seen better days, bold red letters an advertisement to Red Bull energy drinks - does the Red Bull company donate to this particular temple? - her hands tied with a hennep robe in front of her to prevent the body from moving during rigor mortis, the partly open mouth contains an orange and some Chinese paper monopoly money for the afterlife or maybe, the next reincarnation around for a young victim of Thailand's infamous sex industry...I throw some one Baht coins into the coffin myself, maybe she can buy some mascara, jewelry or other typical female pharaphynalia in that next sorry excuse for an Isan Hot Momma excistence...
At her left site I detect a small glass of fermented rice whisky, maybe she died like Miss Guan, an alcohol overdose of moonshine crap, so popular among Thai prostitutes, a bit of her favourite tabacco crumpled across her chest, obviously she was a smoker when still alive....
A young monk willing to take some time off from his cherished meditation is at my side, showing me around and offering me some Chai afterwards...a moment of paying respect to an unknown female who was involved in the world's oldest trade but inside my Farang skull remembering all the Hot Mommas I got to know and left me in my own excistence...I wonder where they are now!!!
The creamation tower is spewing forth dark grey colored clouds of smoke, a depressing sight really though the partly open bamboo coffinsitting on a dais in front of the creamation chambre's closed doors is even more depressing, revealing a small female corpse, whittish decaying skin betraying me aproximate time of death for this poor girl who even in death looks surpringly young and beautifull...
This is a funeral Isan style, I have seen it before up Thailand's north but still fascination is getting the better of me...
No Hot Mommas around of the living type paying their last respects to a fallen colleague of the night life, with the cadaver itself dressed in ragged long faded jeans and a white T-shirt that has seen better days, bold red letters an advertisement to Red Bull energy drinks - does the Red Bull company donate to this particular temple? - her hands tied with a hennep robe in front of her to prevent the body from moving during rigor mortis, the partly open mouth contains an orange and some Chinese paper monopoly money for the afterlife or maybe, the next reincarnation around for a young victim of Thailand's infamous sex industry...I throw some one Baht coins into the coffin myself, maybe she can buy some mascara, jewelry or other typical female pharaphynalia in that next sorry excuse for an Isan Hot Momma excistence...
At her left site I detect a small glass of fermented rice whisky, maybe she died like Miss Guan, an alcohol overdose of moonshine crap, so popular among Thai prostitutes, a bit of her favourite tabacco crumpled across her chest, obviously she was a smoker when still alive....
A young monk willing to take some time off from his cherished meditation is at my side, showing me around and offering me some Chai afterwards...a moment of paying respect to an unknown female who was involved in the world's oldest trade but inside my Farang skull remembering all the Hot Mommas I got to know and left me in my own excistence...I wonder where they are now!!!
Saturday, January 14, 2012
A text message exchange
Pattaya, 13 Jan. 2012
So there I am again, waiting for my key, no lady of the night keeping me company in my lonely life, guiding my hand to her crotch, the hot and damp sensation of a woman's private parts wedding my fingers through the thin layer of fabric, dirty blue jeans with a certain smelly mid section...instead I drink my Chang Export while Mister Porn is doing honor to his nick, balling that big silicone tit from the New Star laundrette...
With me watching the going-ons in Soi Honey Inn, a bunch of sharply dressed Indians unwilling to pay their taxi, a scrawny dog licking his flea invested behind, the countless ambulant food vendors preparing for tonight's business, bored motorbike taxistas waiting for clientele...
My thoughts turn inward, maybe amuzing myself with the memory of last night's text messages exchange on my newly bought mobile telephone...it went something like this:
Mun to me, "Hans, me hungry"
Me to Mun, " What you like eat?"
Mun to me, "Me like eat your c*ck"
Me to Mun, " What is prise dinner?"
Mun to me, " Three hundret Baht"
Me to Mun, " Okay, name restaurant, New Star, number table 507"
- 507 being the number of my New Star guesthouse room!! -
The big beaming smile of Mister Porn's face brings me back to the here and now...at least he had the decency to pay fifty Baht to the Lady Receptionista.
So there I am again, waiting for my key, no lady of the night keeping me company in my lonely life, guiding my hand to her crotch, the hot and damp sensation of a woman's private parts wedding my fingers through the thin layer of fabric, dirty blue jeans with a certain smelly mid section...instead I drink my Chang Export while Mister Porn is doing honor to his nick, balling that big silicone tit from the New Star laundrette...
With me watching the going-ons in Soi Honey Inn, a bunch of sharply dressed Indians unwilling to pay their taxi, a scrawny dog licking his flea invested behind, the countless ambulant food vendors preparing for tonight's business, bored motorbike taxistas waiting for clientele...
My thoughts turn inward, maybe amuzing myself with the memory of last night's text messages exchange on my newly bought mobile telephone...it went something like this:
Mun to me, "Hans, me hungry"
Me to Mun, " What you like eat?"
Mun to me, "Me like eat your c*ck"
Me to Mun, " What is prise dinner?"
Mun to me, " Three hundret Baht"
Me to Mun, " Okay, name restaurant, New Star, number table 507"
- 507 being the number of my New Star guesthouse room!! -
The big beaming smile of Mister Porn's face brings me back to the here and now...at least he had the decency to pay fifty Baht to the Lady Receptionista.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Missionaries Of Ideoligical Madness
Pattaya, 13 jan. 2012.
Her name is Tui, hard bodied with firm boobs and huge niples sticking into the air like an invitation for sexual play, though sex in not ruling my senses right now...I am more interested using my newly bought pastel crayons while this rare beauty from the Isan is happily posing for me, telling me her life story while pushing her silicone filled breasts forward provocatively...
She claims to be from one of the dusty villages around Buriram, from humble origins and orphaned at the age of two or three, her exact birth year apperently misted in obscurity, abondoned by a elderly widowed aunt who was childless but decided that playing Mum to her deceased brother's daughter was not really her cup of Thai tea...the autorities then placed her in the care of a state orphanage in Buriram where she got a better eduaction than most of her female contemporaries up Thailand's poor north, her near perfect commant of the Queen's English betraying the truth of her story...
Frequent donations by the Mormon Missionaries Of Ideological Madness keeping the orphanage afloat and the kids hanging from the lips of sharply dressed American boys with fancy badges on creased white shirts that read Elder though most of them were still in their late teenage years, talking about the Book Of Mormon and the Love of their Mormon God...
I remember these Missionaries Of Ideolocical Madness, having seen them in the streets of Thirds World cities, though even in my beloved Amsterdam be it in lesser number, preaching and stalking among the poor and undereducated, trying to win inmortal souls while being on a stupid crusade while the real Elders back home were busy marrying their younger sisters, taking the virginity in marital bliss of girls they themselves should deflower instead of doing a tour of religious duty in far away Asia, South- and Middle America or more afluent Europe...
My drawing is nearing completion, as is her life story, and I wonder if I should take advantage of my models offer of a free shorttime, after all her clothes are off already and though I will pay her three hundert Baht for the posing session she can still take my stupid artwork with her...
Her name is Tui, hard bodied with firm boobs and huge niples sticking into the air like an invitation for sexual play, though sex in not ruling my senses right now...I am more interested using my newly bought pastel crayons while this rare beauty from the Isan is happily posing for me, telling me her life story while pushing her silicone filled breasts forward provocatively...
She claims to be from one of the dusty villages around Buriram, from humble origins and orphaned at the age of two or three, her exact birth year apperently misted in obscurity, abondoned by a elderly widowed aunt who was childless but decided that playing Mum to her deceased brother's daughter was not really her cup of Thai tea...the autorities then placed her in the care of a state orphanage in Buriram where she got a better eduaction than most of her female contemporaries up Thailand's poor north, her near perfect commant of the Queen's English betraying the truth of her story...
Frequent donations by the Mormon Missionaries Of Ideological Madness keeping the orphanage afloat and the kids hanging from the lips of sharply dressed American boys with fancy badges on creased white shirts that read Elder though most of them were still in their late teenage years, talking about the Book Of Mormon and the Love of their Mormon God...
I remember these Missionaries Of Ideolocical Madness, having seen them in the streets of Thirds World cities, though even in my beloved Amsterdam be it in lesser number, preaching and stalking among the poor and undereducated, trying to win inmortal souls while being on a stupid crusade while the real Elders back home were busy marrying their younger sisters, taking the virginity in marital bliss of girls they themselves should deflower instead of doing a tour of religious duty in far away Asia, South- and Middle America or more afluent Europe...
My drawing is nearing completion, as is her life story, and I wonder if I should take advantage of my models offer of a free shorttime, after all her clothes are off already and though I will pay her three hundert Baht for the posing session she can still take my stupid artwork with her...
Waiting for my key
Pattaya, 12 Jan. 2012.
With the key to my room in the possession of my old Dutch mate Paul, pronounced Porn by the Pattaya clan of Hot Mommas, there is nothing to do but wait for Mister Porn to finish his "business" in my New Star guesthouse room, a 400 Baht quicky with a local female from probably up north but having her domicile here in big party place Pattaya to make the Thai currency fast and furious, well, on her flat on her back would probably be a better way to describe it I guess!!!
Not that my room key is unaccustomed to be in the hands of other people but its original owner, plenty are the Thai ladies who run off to my room late afternoon, a quick shower and a hourly nap on my bed, sometimes alone or in the company of other members of the Hot Momma clan of local females, leaving me on the beach with a cold Leo and feeling lonely...
Other Farang friends apart from Mister Porn have gone his way, a petite lady of the infamous Pattaya nightlife holding on to a hairy Farang arm, rearranging the sheets of my poor bed after the action is over...or so I might wish...maybe I should rent my room out by the hour or change my status as a semi-professional artist to that of an Anhaelter, a soeteneur as my counrty folk call it...you don't speak Dutch or that gutteral German? Buy a diccionary I would say...
Miss Ang is Guan's best friend, the Guan lady who apperently suffered from a local wisky induced pass-away some four weeks ago and is probably now enjoying the heavenly version of mind enducing alcohol - the piss of the angels in the Drunk's Heaven up in the clouds, together with The Sheriff and all these other Mau crazies that entered my life in the past and have now gone the way of no physical return!!!
Well, I have to admit Miss Ang, pretty Mau already despite the early hour of the night, is doing a good job to entertain my room key waiting time, moving my pinkish long fingered Farang hand to her crotch every so often, the this fabric of her dirty and worn blue jeans the only "protection" for her fremale parts, telling me about Guan's demise and quick jumping the conversation to her childhood up north in Buriram...
When Paul, or should we stick to his nick Mister Porn, returns, a big beaming idiotic smile covering the space beneath his nose betraying me a had a great time with his chosen lady of the night, I have the disticnt suspicion my fingers detect a certain moist dampening the tigh area of Ang's unwashed blue jeans...good time Mister Porn didn't take more but his habitual thirty minutes!!!
Shit, I need a beer now!!!
With the key to my room in the possession of my old Dutch mate Paul, pronounced Porn by the Pattaya clan of Hot Mommas, there is nothing to do but wait for Mister Porn to finish his "business" in my New Star guesthouse room, a 400 Baht quicky with a local female from probably up north but having her domicile here in big party place Pattaya to make the Thai currency fast and furious, well, on her flat on her back would probably be a better way to describe it I guess!!!
Not that my room key is unaccustomed to be in the hands of other people but its original owner, plenty are the Thai ladies who run off to my room late afternoon, a quick shower and a hourly nap on my bed, sometimes alone or in the company of other members of the Hot Momma clan of local females, leaving me on the beach with a cold Leo and feeling lonely...
Other Farang friends apart from Mister Porn have gone his way, a petite lady of the infamous Pattaya nightlife holding on to a hairy Farang arm, rearranging the sheets of my poor bed after the action is over...or so I might wish...maybe I should rent my room out by the hour or change my status as a semi-professional artist to that of an Anhaelter, a soeteneur as my counrty folk call it...you don't speak Dutch or that gutteral German? Buy a diccionary I would say...
Miss Ang is Guan's best friend, the Guan lady who apperently suffered from a local wisky induced pass-away some four weeks ago and is probably now enjoying the heavenly version of mind enducing alcohol - the piss of the angels in the Drunk's Heaven up in the clouds, together with The Sheriff and all these other Mau crazies that entered my life in the past and have now gone the way of no physical return!!!
Well, I have to admit Miss Ang, pretty Mau already despite the early hour of the night, is doing a good job to entertain my room key waiting time, moving my pinkish long fingered Farang hand to her crotch every so often, the this fabric of her dirty and worn blue jeans the only "protection" for her fremale parts, telling me about Guan's demise and quick jumping the conversation to her childhood up north in Buriram...
When Paul, or should we stick to his nick Mister Porn, returns, a big beaming idiotic smile covering the space beneath his nose betraying me a had a great time with his chosen lady of the night, I have the disticnt suspicion my fingers detect a certain moist dampening the tigh area of Ang's unwashed blue jeans...good time Mister Porn didn't take more but his habitual thirty minutes!!!
Shit, I need a beer now!!!
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Dead Hot Mommas
Pattaya, 10 Jan. 2012.
Her missing front tooth gives her a facial appaerance a bit of a loopy smile, a sort of loopy smile that reminds me of that volatile Laotian lady I met last year, the one we all called Madame Stoeptegel because of her darned hobby of hitting people over the head with that piece of pavement concrete she used to hide on the beach for just that purpose, though I am reasonably sure this particular lady is far from being in the possession of the capability of that sort of physical violence...I suspect she is into a shorttime, maybe three hundert Baht for Yaa Baa and a couple of bottles of Chang beer, judging from her thin emaciated body and shaded over eye balls both addiction run Amok inside her female mind...as a m,atter of fact I am sure I have met her before though the big gap in her dental work confuses me...
"You know Hans, Guan she died last month, too much whisky!"
Well. at least she does seem to know me which makes it reasonably certain I must know her too, now I just have to figure out who the hell is Guan...maybe an old model from times gone by, and if she was a model she probably was one of my bed partners too, though not necessarily so...was this sorry creature here in front of me another model from a communal past and therefore a probable sex mate?...If so, I must have been quite Mau, Khe Mau like the proverbial skunk, or maybe she was better looking then in these days of yonder, more flesh on her wasted body and still in the possession of that missing piece of dental work...
As for Miss Guan and her alcohol induced whisky death...there have been quite a few ladies of the Pattaya Boulevard prostitution scene called Guan in my life and I tend to forget names anyway, add names to the portraits in my sketchbooks most of whom are piled away either in carton boxes or lining the shelves in my house in Amsterdam...so no way to bring back memories but wait and see if my gray brain cells will bring Miss Guan's face back to me in Lord Morpheus realm some time sooner or later during this trip... maybe tonight when I close my eyes and drift off to an uncertain dream like state of beer induced slumber...
Last month Miss Loopy Smile told me, more or less around the same time that Scottish freak called The Sheriff passed away...shit, they might be living it up in the Heaven Of Drunks up yonder, maybe have a party with loads of free heavenly whisky piss - probably no currency in that celestial place after all, so Pas De Problem with L' Argent, be a it Thai Baht or the doomed Euro...I would almost get jealous here!!!
I wander off, down the Boulevard, still wondering about the identity of a dead Hot Momma called Miss Guan with Missing Front Tooth in hot pursuit, probably still hoping for that darned three hundert shorttime in my New Satr Guesthouse room...
Plenty of dead Hot Mommas in my life that is for sure!!!
Her missing front tooth gives her a facial appaerance a bit of a loopy smile, a sort of loopy smile that reminds me of that volatile Laotian lady I met last year, the one we all called Madame Stoeptegel because of her darned hobby of hitting people over the head with that piece of pavement concrete she used to hide on the beach for just that purpose, though I am reasonably sure this particular lady is far from being in the possession of the capability of that sort of physical violence...I suspect she is into a shorttime, maybe three hundert Baht for Yaa Baa and a couple of bottles of Chang beer, judging from her thin emaciated body and shaded over eye balls both addiction run Amok inside her female mind...as a m,atter of fact I am sure I have met her before though the big gap in her dental work confuses me...
"You know Hans, Guan she died last month, too much whisky!"
Well. at least she does seem to know me which makes it reasonably certain I must know her too, now I just have to figure out who the hell is Guan...maybe an old model from times gone by, and if she was a model she probably was one of my bed partners too, though not necessarily so...was this sorry creature here in front of me another model from a communal past and therefore a probable sex mate?...If so, I must have been quite Mau, Khe Mau like the proverbial skunk, or maybe she was better looking then in these days of yonder, more flesh on her wasted body and still in the possession of that missing piece of dental work...
As for Miss Guan and her alcohol induced whisky death...there have been quite a few ladies of the Pattaya Boulevard prostitution scene called Guan in my life and I tend to forget names anyway, add names to the portraits in my sketchbooks most of whom are piled away either in carton boxes or lining the shelves in my house in Amsterdam...so no way to bring back memories but wait and see if my gray brain cells will bring Miss Guan's face back to me in Lord Morpheus realm some time sooner or later during this trip... maybe tonight when I close my eyes and drift off to an uncertain dream like state of beer induced slumber...
Last month Miss Loopy Smile told me, more or less around the same time that Scottish freak called The Sheriff passed away...shit, they might be living it up in the Heaven Of Drunks up yonder, maybe have a party with loads of free heavenly whisky piss - probably no currency in that celestial place after all, so Pas De Problem with L' Argent, be a it Thai Baht or the doomed Euro...I would almost get jealous here!!!
I wander off, down the Boulevard, still wondering about the identity of a dead Hot Momma called Miss Guan with Missing Front Tooth in hot pursuit, probably still hoping for that darned three hundert shorttime in my New Satr Guesthouse room...
Plenty of dead Hot Mommas in my life that is for sure!!!
Monday, January 9, 2012
The Death Of The Sheriff
Thailand, Pattaya, 09 Jan. 2012.
I guess I had ample time to dwell upon the miresable death of that street scum no-good nicknamed The Sheriff, on the long and boring flight from Amsterdam to Suvarnibhumi New Airport, east of Bangkok and conveniently closer to Pattaya than the old Don Muang airport which with the passing of years became pretty much a intergral part of greater Bangkok...
Back homer in my house in Amsterdam, the night before my sceduled departure, enjoying a last bottle of my treasured alcoholic beverage, Red Wine, three Euro table wine from Appie Heyn, hoping in vain as it turned out that The Deviler Of My Toilet would keep a low profile, hoping in vain that my night would pass in tranquility before drifting off to a well deserved sleep of the innocent...but no such luck for me during my last evening back home, not with Rob nearly raping my door bell, fried chicken and all that, another bottle of Red Wine as a farewell present...I mean he means well but I JUST WANTED TO BE ALONE< TREASURED ALONE!!!
Not with Cesca on the phone, " Hey Hans, the Sheriff has passed away!", only three weeks ago, never woke up again, not that his miserable death came has a great surprise t most of us, with hime being the Numero Uno Borracho, twenty alu cans of cheap cerveza, a couple of bottles of Vino Tinto a day, hell watever contained alcohol was good to the Sheriff, a pack of tabacco and some little balls of Crack would come in handy as well...
Shit, the first time I heard his nicknamed being mentioned, at least twenty-five years ago, I though he would be a giant of a man, over confident and over muscled, but no, he was a frail and insicnificant individual, always nervously dragging on the wed end of his hand rolled sigarette, nicotine stianed fingers shivering with a near nervous breakdown, always feeling sorry for himself, to a point where a couldn't even fall asleep despite his life wrecking hobbies, instead whining the night aways untill sheer exhaustion and the approach of a new day would find him in a state of couple hours of comastose oblivion....
Shit I can probably forget about the hundert-odd Dutch guilderds he still owned me for what seems like centuries already...at least he died peacefully and painless which was not what one could say of his life..
I guess I had ample time to dwell upon the miresable death of that street scum no-good nicknamed The Sheriff, on the long and boring flight from Amsterdam to Suvarnibhumi New Airport, east of Bangkok and conveniently closer to Pattaya than the old Don Muang airport which with the passing of years became pretty much a intergral part of greater Bangkok...
Back homer in my house in Amsterdam, the night before my sceduled departure, enjoying a last bottle of my treasured alcoholic beverage, Red Wine, three Euro table wine from Appie Heyn, hoping in vain as it turned out that The Deviler Of My Toilet would keep a low profile, hoping in vain that my night would pass in tranquility before drifting off to a well deserved sleep of the innocent...but no such luck for me during my last evening back home, not with Rob nearly raping my door bell, fried chicken and all that, another bottle of Red Wine as a farewell present...I mean he means well but I JUST WANTED TO BE ALONE< TREASURED ALONE!!!
Not with Cesca on the phone, " Hey Hans, the Sheriff has passed away!", only three weeks ago, never woke up again, not that his miserable death came has a great surprise t most of us, with hime being the Numero Uno Borracho, twenty alu cans of cheap cerveza, a couple of bottles of Vino Tinto a day, hell watever contained alcohol was good to the Sheriff, a pack of tabacco and some little balls of Crack would come in handy as well...
Shit, the first time I heard his nicknamed being mentioned, at least twenty-five years ago, I though he would be a giant of a man, over confident and over muscled, but no, he was a frail and insicnificant individual, always nervously dragging on the wed end of his hand rolled sigarette, nicotine stianed fingers shivering with a near nervous breakdown, always feeling sorry for himself, to a point where a couldn't even fall asleep despite his life wrecking hobbies, instead whining the night aways untill sheer exhaustion and the approach of a new day would find him in a state of couple hours of comastose oblivion....
Shit I can probably forget about the hundert-odd Dutch guilderds he still owned me for what seems like centuries already...at least he died peacefully and painless which was not what one could say of his life..
Friday, January 6, 2012
Fire and fury in my life
Only two days to go, less than 48 hours before my China Air departure for The Land Of The Smile, back to my second home and away from chilly Mokum, back to the easy life and back to Soi Honey-Inn, the New Star Guesthouse that has been my wintery hide-out for quite some years now...
Back to the Dutch Beach right across the Seven/11 - or was it 7/Eleven - where the Leo beer is rumoured to be in short supply due to the recent floods...
Back to these boring old Dutch pensionados that bore me shitless with their second hand stories about football and home-country politics...
Back to the fire and fury in my life, supplied free of charge but sometimes at deflateds and inflated prices by intoxicated Hot Mommas, maybe a bit of Yaa-Baa to give the Mau state of female local minds a bit of extra spike, also comes in handy to ball these fat bellied elderly s*x starved European males with slightly more wh*rishly appetite...
Plenty of material for my fucked-up blog stories and nubile bodies for my sketchbooks and acrylic paint...my room a gathering place for the members of the Isan sisterhood of street butterflies, cold alu cans of Leo, bottles of Mhekong whiskey and take-away Khao Pat Kung dragged up the stairs of my hotel...episodes of the original Star Trek series on my hunderd-twenty channel TV, captain Kirk still a hot item on the minds of undereducated Pattaya s*x workers...
Thank you, Thalaind, for getting me addicted to the Hong Kong Based Suzie Wong story!!!
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