Even Soi dogs can't be that depraved

Pattaya, 02 febr. 2012.

I seem to loose track of time and dimensions, my poor Phii going into overdrive, my already overstreched Kharma going haywire...

I sit around with the circle of regulars, the hardcore Pattaya visitors who have seen the scene played out hunderts of times, men who know the score, old johns who can no longer be deceived by love and sentiment, male Europeans cured of romance, who rattle of the sex menu in advance, three reds for a shorttime, maybe add another red for the absence of the dreaded rubber, Russian roulette no longer a testimony to their physical routine...maybe the 5 % discount and 7 % refund for tourists that are being advertised at Pattaya's Festival, the latest shopping mall adventure for foreign investors, though I find it hard to explain that back at Suvarnibhumi's airport immigration officials...shit, even Soi dogs can't be that depraved!!!

Maybe a drunk whore, slurring her words for two reds and a cheap bottle Lao Khao, a woman who has forgotten her whereabouts, where she has been and where she is going next...

Really, if the holy pope Benedictus in Rome's Vatican City did come to this Sodom and Gomorra hellhole, we would all be in serious danger of eternal hell, even though Mister Holiness Himself is rumoured to be at the head of the world's biggest child abuse organisation mankind has ever know...

I watch Paddie combing her hair, trying hard to forget the endless narrative churning itself through my gray brain cells, doing serious damage to my Phii and Kharma, neurons and chemical reactions causing havoc to my mental state of Farang health...she has come back to Pattaya, come back into my life, remembering hours of steaming and tenderly love making, something remembered from a thousand love affairs with crazy Farang like me but a Number One absence in her life these last three years before meeting me one week ago...