Don't step on the toilet seat

I found this funny sticker on the door of a public toilet in the Pattaya Festival shopping mall last winter

Ignorance is truely bliss

                                      Amsterdam, 27 April 2012.

Ignorance is really and truely bliss, I mean if I wasn't aware of the police here in the Dutch capital having drastically changed their approach to the dealing of harddrugs and methadon around the Westermarkt, happily unaware of how these losers from the Mokum streets blame Pauvre Moi for their dopeless existence, I would sit here in front of the world famous Anne Frank House blissfully unaware of the dark clouds hanging over my imminent future, making my funny games and chatting gayly with my customers while street alcoholics and drug abusers blame me for police hassles, plot for the soon to be demise on Mother Earth of yours truely...

Yeah, one methadon pill in the pocket of a greasy junkie blue jeans is enough for one month in the Dutch monkeyhouse...shit, Henk the Unhappy Yaba Daeler in Pattaya would have been in the high dopedealer's version of heaven with only one month in a Dutch "holiday resort" for one pill, a cell all to yourself with cable TV and free internet, three healthy meals a day free of charge...

Me the big police spy though personally believing I am just an impoverished street seller trying hard to survive with simple handmade Mandalas, "one game is five Euro lady and a quick sketch comes free of charge", but no, those losers from the street blame me for the reduction in their own little street business...

Well, I guess my live has never been without a certain sense of irony!!!  

Cherished dole money for street people

                                   Amsterdam, 24 April 2012.

If there is any place in Amsterdam where the smell of humanity rules it must be that crazy homeless centre De Tweede Mijl or was it De Tweede Kwijl, a nick given by its many homeless, drug and alcohol addicted clientele, in the heart of the old Amsterdam neighborhood called the Jordaan...

smelly unwashed feet in a plastic bowl of soapy luke warm water, thin walked socks like yecky yecky after a whole night of forced marching around the streets and alleys of the Dutch capital, motorbike police in hot pursuit, making sure the "homeless of the failed Dutch Knuffelkultuur" - basically speaking, give them dole for the rest of their life and watch the outcome in the longer run. Father State taking care of the losers of society and making merit to its own Kharma in the process - won't have a couple of much needed sleep on a park's wooden bench...

Their dole money gone the moment it hits their bank accounts, a few days of heavy drinking and the local crack dealer waiting around the corner for the next call on his cell, and Adios it is to that meagre amount of worthy paper that was supposed to last all month, enabling you to buy your daily supplies courtesy of the failed Dutch wellfare system aka the Dutch Knuffelkultuur.

But at least these misguided volunteers from the Dutch hinterland, the Netherlands bible belt, always willing to do their own little Kharma improvement, free coffee and brakkish soup, a stale sandwich fried egg and mouldy cheese...

Yeah, the smell of humanity is rife here where I try vainly to laddle down my Appie Heyn donated soup, surrounded by street people dressed in dirty rags that haven't seen a washing machine for weeks, if not months!!!

Didn't the Dutch cabinet go down the political drain last weekend due to that blond dyed nutcase populist poilitician called Geert Wilders?...don't worry, it ain't important to the De Tweede Mijl clientele...their only worry is their cherished dole money, how much longer till the next payday...

Dull and dreary in Farang Land

                                          Amsterdam, 23 April 2012.

One night in Bangkok - which by the way is called Krung Thep by the Thais - says the song which I heard the first time on radio when I was a mere lad, a young teenage boy dreaming of pussy and stealthily looking at the apple sized boobies of my female peers at school, still too shy to approach my lady contemporaries, hardly aware how much impact Bangkok would have on me or all the Thai pussy coming my way later on in my life...

Nor was I aware at that eraly age in my personal existence of all the prejuidices and generalisations once back in Farang land after yet another prolonged trip to King Bhumipol's Asian realm where the Thamluat is corrupt to the core and social security non-existent, forcing the Isan sisterhood to move down south En Masse to sell their "bank" to sex starving western males whose female contemporaries back home are as fustrated as the Thai police is corrupt, who spit in the faces of those Asian Hot Mommas lucky enough to make it to ancient Europe, or at least up north in Viking Land if I can believe Nong...

One thousand nights and more banging around - the real meaning of Bangkok's name is slowly becoming clear to me, to Bang your Kok, you know - the Thai capital and sin city Pattaya, a bit of additional fun in the Thai hinterland, just for the heck of it and feeling bored again once back on native soil...

Painting in my house, the only company a bottle Mooi Kaap red wine as contrasted to all the semi nude ladies in my New Star guest house in that high testosteron ruled Gomorra kingdom twelve hours flying by China Air...

My clothes smelling of horse manure and cow dung, an odour lingering in my Mokum house but familiar to my oratory sences though prefering that typical smell of femininity, high female giggles and lipsticks left on my drawing table, a pair of painties left underneath my bed, or maybe a scribbled note with a cell number from the Mhe Baan New Satr guest house lady whose drak brown Asian shiners have followed me into Farang Land and Lord Morpheus dream world...

Shit, Amsterdam is dull and dreary as contrasted to the intensity of my last three months in The Land Of Smiles....         

Jealous Norsk females

                                           Amsterdam, 20 April 2012.

"It is fucking cold here", Nong told me on the phone, adding she hates Oslo where the local fat assed women spit at her in the street and call her a whore in the harsh Norwegian lingo, telling me she needs a friend to accompany her to the market or else she will be in serious problemos - no that last part came out of Terminator which she was watching last night - with these good for nothing jealous Norsk females...

Her endless telephonic array of complains does not really surprise me, not with all these Thai ladies living in the Norway capital, all of them having a Scandinavian sugar daddy and loads of young blond Amantes on the side for Sanuk, Sanuk purposes...

Small wonder blond Viking femininity is in an uproar about these freelancing Asian "prostitutes" sleeping with their men and leaving Pas D'Amantes for local ladies, whether they be young or old. What is new here?

Oh, and before I forget, Nong, Phom Tilac, it is cold in Amsterdam too and, no, Dutch blond females just don't really like Asian Petites to steal their men either!!! 

Trying to heal Kharma

                                                     Amsterdam, 18 April 2012.

The Sois and main streets are full to overflow with high testosteron filled Farang males, big bottles of Chang or Leo in hairy claws, sweaty T-shirts notwithstanding, hairy armpits the rule rather then a seldom smelly physical occurence, they get approached by hungry Hot Mommas dressed in the obligatory cut off blue jeans showing sexy Asian thighs and the beginning of petite female bottoms, calling after white male skins in baggy Bermuda shorts "Paduay", "me like go with you", for those having mastered a few words of Farang tongue...

Almost like the final apocalypse is approaching fast and furious and everybody wants a last lay before it is all gone to kingdom-come and beyond!!!

The usual Sodom and Gomorra that ruled my life in Pattaya for the last three months where God's sin is commited in every hotel room En Masse but at least at deflated prices, where the dreaded condom can be left outside where it belongs, still air tight packed but without a purpose...maybe hell is for the cowards and for those not using skins when having intercourse with Pattaya beach ladies...why use a raincoat in a tropical paradise where the female smiles are as beaming as the hot rays of the local sun...

Back home they would be an outcast from society, family and friends rejecting them for their evil ways, a possible public standing in the roman church gone to smithereens, what chance of a social life among colleagues when the truth was known, suffering in public in the neighborhood...

But no, I ain't in sin city anymore uploading my daily blog stories about the endless narrative besieching my gray brain cells 24/7, I am back in good old Mokum, early morning cold air filtering through my heavy winter coat making me shiver - or is that because of the memories? - , on my way to my volunteer job at the neighborhood's petting zoo, on my way to make merit for sins comitted, trying to heal my over damaged Kharma a bit...

The Muslim faith, a religion for the advanced

Amsterdam, 12 April 2012.

I suppose I should hit the sack, hard work at the farm has knocked me out and I feel it when I get home and take a hot shower, wash away the smell of numerous animals that needed care, fodder and clean stables, but the sunny weather is tempting, the Anne Frank House and my funny handmade games are beckoning me, reminding me of my empty wallet after my Saam Duan Thai adventure, three months of fun in the Land Of Smiles has cost me most of my savings, really time to hit the streets again and make Gran Soldi...or so I hope anyway...

Hordes of young German/Turkish ladies wearing the obligatory headscraf my main customers and all of them willing to pose for me, lots of new customer drawings for my sketchbooks after a legion of Thai Hot Momma portraits last winter...a contrast of sorts I guess but then the Thai way is Sanuk, Sanuk and these girls have grown up in strick Turkish immigrant families in the Land Of The Sauerkraut And Bratwurst People where Islam is a faith for the avanced...

Hordes of young German/Turkish muslimas walking off downtown with a five Euro Game  each and a free portraits...24 games for my first day at the Anne Frank House, I am quite pleased!!!  

A hazy reaquiantance with Farang Land

Amsterdam, 09 April 2012.

Back in Farang Land, feeling a bit like a long lost dream from a forgotten past, some sort of hazy reaquiantance with another life...

No more monitor lizards languidly swimming in the Klongs of Lumpini Park, eyeing me from the inmense cold  depths of their reptilian irisses, seeming to know somehow with their primitive brains that their time will come back, that they will control the world again like their ancestors did for millions of years...

No more great tasty Thai food available from numerous street food stalls, blue clouds of bellowing smoke raising from iron cooking pots into the exhaust rife air of Bangkok, but at least making it clear to Pauvre Moi that the food is freshly cooked on the spot...

No more Hot Mommas knocking down my door in Pattaya looking for free accomodation or, maybe, a bit of time off from the harsh Thai sun outside, maybe a bit of TV time while relaxing on my New Star bed, a long shower to wash off that film of persperation accumulated on the boulevard while waiting for customers, "Paduwai, me like go with you, sir"....

No more high pitched female giggles on the Bench of MILFs, or was it the Khyberpas Bench?, paying these amorous semi-drunk local females countless bottles of Siamsato, the Seven/11, or was it the 7/.Eleven?, across busy Beach Road doing great again on my no-so-fat anymore wallet's behalf....

No, it is all over, and that due to twelve boring hours in a alumnium flying machine belonging to China Air, 10 kilometers up in the icy cold air with stale styrofoam packed aircraft food that makes me feel like puking, where the stewardesses are friendly enough but serve half filled carton cups of non-tasty red wine, why for fuck's sake can't they at least fill them up to the brim and save me precious drinking time asking for more every 15 minutes???

Back to rainy Amsterdam and also back to cleaning cow dung from Teuke's stable, shovelling horse manure and smelly sheep shit, another summer selling my games at the Anne Frank Huis and, yes, lets not forget these idiots from the Mokum street drinking cheap Albert Heijn supermarket beer and their negative obsession with me ...

Shit three times in a row but this all feels like a real hazy reaquiantance with Farang Land that does not appeal to me!!!  

A gruesome menagerie of wraithlike memories.

Bangkok 04 April 2012.

Three big bottles of condensed Chang into the process, sticky rice with papaya and much laughter while her white/brown striped bag with all her worldly possessions, a bunch of spare clothes, some lingerie and a spare pair of platform shoes, is patiently waiting for a place in my room...actually I believe so is my lady drinking partner, lost and alone in that big sweltering Asian megapole where the traffic is horrific and the air suffocating and full with exhaust fumes...nothing healthy for the lungs of a Thai female from up north, from one of the many dusty hamlets in the rice growing regions of the Isan...

Not that I have any doubts Paddie has not been here before in her long life of "me take care you", probably frequent visits to the Thai capital, waiting for the departure of another Farang hubbie from Don Muang but being a bit older as the average Thai hot momma nowadays she has to move around on her own, maybe use her perfect English and reasonably good German to help out younger local members of the race of Eva, introduce them to the Trade...

our stories are rife with memories, memories from our shared past in Pattaya, only mere months ago, memories that right now seem humerous and fun but in years to come will turn into a gruesome menagerie of wraithlike, alcohol drenched females manifesting themselves in evil ways in my dreams that should have no right of existence but will plaque me while being in the arms of Lord Morpheus...plenty of experience has taught me that little fact of my life...

Right now, though, barely a week before my own departure back to Farang Land, memories are fun and produce alcohol induced laughter...Paddie's white/brown striped bag with all her worldly possessions will find itself a place in my Sala Thai hostel down in Soi Ngam Dupli, at least for the next couple of days, after that she will be on her own again!!!     

Hypocritical crap by the dyke brigate

Bangkok, 03 April 2012.

"Hieuw Mai Khun?", I aks her, "are you hungry?", in the local lingo. Seems fair enough to take her out for breakfast considering she has gone to all the trouble of visiting me here in this sweltering megapole, waiting patiently for me to pick her up, all her wordly possessions in a small white/brown striped bag, some spare clothes, a bit of lingerie and a spare pair of platform shoes, a couple of photo books depicting her in earlier times of her life, other Farang men who shared a part of their lives with her while being on a holiday in the Land Of Smiles...

Silom Road is just across from busy Rama Four Road and provided one is carefull, crossing is a matter of being patient rather than wait for the traffic lights to turn green, better to wait for a lull in the endless line of cars and scooters to literally run across...across to the old Farang haunts of the Patpong Sois, once a paradise for lonely Farang males looking for girlie bars and massage salons, nowadays where street restaurants profilerate, where everything is for sale on the busy side walks, tourist gifts and orange juice dripping with ice cube cold water still, maybe Thai p*ssy but these days only from paper handouts from the legions of scam artists...tha patpong Sois tranformed into a huge tourist market everynight of the week.

Considering that my young female visitor is Thai, maybe Khao Pat Khung would be in order instead of the typical greasy English breakfast, out in the street like the locals, sharing your fried rice with shrimps with taxi drivers or maybe a couple of American lesbians who will most likely eye me suspiciously, who will most certainly contemptously view my female Thai companion to the status of an odinary bar-girl though they themselves are on a serious dykie hunt for local p*ssy to s*ck and f*ck in the privacy of their overpriced hotel room...

But then, I am not supposed to know these little things, I am supposed to be oblivious and totally ignorant to the goings and doings of the lesbian brigate overseas, their activities during their annual holidays in the Land Of Dykie Physical Delight...the lesbian movement in the West likes to keep that little secret to themselves, much more fun condemning their Western men for sexual exploitation of Third World undereducated starving females...Hypocritical crap by the Dyke brigate...