This is the time of year I most certainly don't need pleasure oriented women on my phone wanting me to come over well past midnight with the morning after waking up again in my own bed, the whole phisically pleasurable experience feeling like a mot pem adventure...
The time of year when stupid street alcoholics knowing fully well about my profitable ambulant street business, acutely aware of my fat wallet after yet another sunny day at the Anne Frank House seem to have a renewed interest in me...yeah, lets phone Shiva and hassle him for some seriously needed dough, ring his bell while on the way to Appie Heyn and/or the Heavenly Coffee Shop conveniently located around the corner...
My cell never stops ringing where only mere weeks before when the torrential rains pouring down on my beloved Mokum, was as dead like a proverbial rat having been driven over by a bulldozer...
Maybe I should kill myself slowly, after all I don't have the courage or bloody nerves to do it fast...though hindsight sacarsm is out of place here, I am exclusively at fault and responsible for my own mistakes....
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