I think of Red Wine. smooth
to the tongue, maybe Hong Thong Thai whiskey - seem to remember I still
have a small bottle at home brought along from my latest stint in King
Bhumipol's strange Asian realm - ,
Maybe
I shoud dwell mentally on Antonia's telling me "smell me and like my
scent" but I threw her out of the house last weekend together with her
fatty semi-lesbian ladyfriend, enough is enough after all, any man's
erortic phantasy or not...
I
try hard to ignore the freaky print seller always working on my nerves
but my neighbor here at the Anne Frank House for nearly twenty years
already, the art of living easy beyond him, his mind on the level of a
nine year old istead of the seventy-two he has claimed to have for the
last four years or so "don't I look young still"? Few people in this
world lying about their age in the major instead of in the minor!!!
Crazy
Oscar who has been the neighborhood's number one dealer for years, a bit like a walking pharmacy,
despite the city's finest hot on his heels sort of constantly, his
extra-vagant way of reversing his way around and beyond them maybe
impressive but definitely not to my liking...
Nor
is his present customer, down and out, drunk as a skunk and flat broke
but with the nasal passages screaming their lust for that mind enhancing
necessity of his fucked-up existence....
Still,
twenty-five games out and sold should make up for a live among the
eternal losers and walking corpses of my beloved Mokum...
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