Isan ladies and fried grasshoppers

Bangkok, 10 Febr. 2012.

Then usual Bangkok air pollution is playing havoc on my lungs, a ice-cold beer would come in handy, still plenty of time before my scheduled appointment with the Enfant Terrible of the Dutch artworld Peter Klashorst, escape this pack of marlboro smoked air which is gray with dust, infiltrating heat waves that jam my lungs and nostrils producing brown saliva down my Farang throat...

This is Nana Plaza, this is Soi Cowboy, off Sukhumvit Road where small bars are plentifull and the girls everywhere, in search of a better life, where whoremongers the world over try hard to swallow enough beer to wash away a Western bred guild complex...but who am I to judge those that corrupt local women, those that exploit the innocent...or maybe better, I should see the other side, a tidal wave of female sex ripping over Western males that are so emotionally unbalanced they need that constant stream of Chang, Leo or Tiger beer...

Outside the sound waves of heavy traffic is like a horizon of eerie, unintelligible wave frequencies boucing off the windows of this Bar Beer place...sound waves that remind me of support beams attached to old Amsterdam houses tilting over...

Inside the sisterhood of Isan women next table try hard to gain my undivided attention, they want serious emotional attachment in exchanged for some purples, no doubt...girls that have grown up on a diet of sticky rice, Somtam and fried grasshoppers... a plastic bag of barbequed insects proving my point...one of the ladies arching her back to make sure her well curved breasts stand out like those of Miss Silicone Tits back in Pattaya, muncing away on fried grasshoppers, a skinny hopper's leg sticking out of her mouth, wringling, almost like kicking its leg while the lady keeps rotating her jaws, a well polished fingernail with glossy nail coloring delicately pushing the insect's protesting leg inside her mouth cavity, swallowing it with a loopy smile...

Shit, I need to get out of here !!!