Energies of broken lives

Amsterdam, 30 March 2013.

The energies of the broken lives of Pattaya's night time beach ladies is hitting me hard and with a vengance, waking up in sweat and unaware of where and who, sheets ready for the dryer and my head in need of a bunch of red wine though one thirty in the morning is hardly the time to leave the house and face the harsh and freezing streets of good old Mokum...

Leidseplein full with people despite the advanced hour, typical Amsterdam brown bars spilling them into the streets by the sackfull, locals and tourists alike just as much in need of entertainment and nighttime company as yours truely...

Pauvre Moi running into a construction type female that looks like a Thai Kathoey that should never have fancied the operation, bony limps and huge hands with black nail polish, the sort of face that looks like it has been moulded in a concrete mall, wanting to know if I fancy another glass of wine...

A gipsy woman with a polaroid camar wanting to know if I like to get my photo taken, never had my photo taken in the not so charming company of a female construction worker who looks like she is considering having me for breakfast but friendly enough to pay for my wine and the photo which quickly finds its way into her purse - am I gonna find myself back on her Facebook page...maybe under the caption "my stud in Amsterdam', "Cafe con Leche and a Dutch cheese sandwich afterwards"...and more of the same shiut???

Somehow I feel like I am up against her biological preferences though the slutty things she wispers into my ear leave very little to the imagination...

Maybe I should return home alone on my rusty old bike and face the energy of these alcohol and Yaa baa addicted poor wreches of the Pattaya night t

ime Beach Road....  

Nok and lek from the Isan

Nok and Lek, two lovely and soft hearted Thai ladies of the infamous Pattaya Beach Road whose pportraits I sketched last month.

My Walks Of Chaos.

Amsterdam, 25 March 2013.

A goofy stupid mutt seems unconscious of the Dutch "spring" cold, entertaining himself the way dogs only can by running around in circles chasing his own tail, making me realise the stupidity of dogs has never ceased to amaze me...actually the first thing I see upon walking out of the Amsterdam Central railway station after Song Dhuan - two months - in a tropical paradise for unattached European males...

My other senses are under attack as well with my nostrils being invaded again by the strong and obnoxious smells coming out of the Haarlemmerstraat located coffee shops, Mary Jane still the number one attractions for many young backpackers visiting my cherished Amsterdam, or good old Mokum as I personally always refer to this old city...

My nerve ends under the stinging attacks of King Winter, goodbye and Adios to the sunny Thai sun that carressed by unexposed skin while most of my country fellows were getting their balls and fannies freezing to a bitter crisp useless body parts...

I was pusuing my shallow desires in that Sodom and Gomorra for Caucasian males while good old  Mokum and its population were trying to cope with yet another Euro crisis and a cold winter, saving on the gas bill wrapped in heavy clothing in front of the telly every night after slaving away in boring offices all day for dominant bosses and seeing talking heads on the screen informing them about devaluation and financial sacrifices in order to maintain collapsingn banks and a out of hand bonus culture for Armani clad legal criminals...

Yaeh, reality is hitting me hard only hours after my unnecessary return to my native soil...I am no longer a fictional character trying to define the line between fantasy and reality, living it up in the Land Of Smiles with a great but cheap culinary tradition, cold Archa and a loving local ladyfriend, thinking that the truth of life is too complicated for Pauvre Moi, a web of deception that while walking back home through the cold and harsh streets of my home town are slowly unravelling, leading me head first back into my walks of chaos

Sketch of Amsterdam houses

Stress...what stress?

Some Thailand sketches

Some of the sketches I made during my latest trip to Thailand...a full hundert more can be found on my www.facebook.com page under Hans Klausmann

Grand Ma Duck with vibrator

Certain plans on the duck's mind.

Back at the Suzie Wong Go-Go Bar in Soi Cowboy

Early evening but well past the time where hard working office stiffs hurry home to air-conditioned condos, though traffic is still the typical Bangkok nightmare and I, once again, have decided to risk my balls and very life on the back of a motorbike taxi, on my way back to this decadent Go-Go Bar in Soi Cowboy called the Suzie Wong, frequented by sex-starved expats who are looking for the underbelly of life after a whole day of enslaved time for the boss, maybe looking to barfine one of these Bangkok angels dressed in G-strings and high platform heels...

There is a certain attraction in decadent behavior, charm in things that are low, I believe while I pay my taxi nutter, eighty THB though the Eau De Traffic comes for free as well as the massage for my balls on the pockmarket Bangkok roads...

Seeming degradation on high heels and G-strings greet me, the habitual bottle of Mhekong whiskey on my very personal table, a puddle of water surrounding the bucket of ice and a plate with boiled rice with fishhead - I really have to get it across to these rice farmers' daughters turned wh*res that fishhead is not on my menu nor is fried cockroach for that matter, but what the heck it is, after all, the gesture that counts...

Miss "Peliot" from last night - remember her dear visitor to my blog? - joining me at my table, not so sure any more about the letter I wrote her last night but telling me she had her heart broken so may times by Farangs, Dutch, German and English alike, all promising to marry her, take her back to Farang Land but they only Paag Waaned her, so May Pen Rai, maybe one more letter for Mister Danish Hubby twenty years her senior and stay with you tonight because being on her "Peliot" it seems unlikely some "handsome" Farang will barfine her...

fair enough I guess!!!

Writing begging letters

Bangkok, 17 March 2013.

Late afternoon and sprite, cola, a small bottle of Mhekong and a bucket containing ice on the table, writing paper, pen in hand and a whole lot of Bangkok's famous angels, the type that comes on high platform heels and dressed in G-strings, all around my table and excitedly awaiting their turn for a love letter to Mister Sugar Daddy back in fabled Europe that despite the Economic crises hitting hard and with determination, is still sending monthly "alimony" checks...or so these scarcely dressed young Isan rice farmers' daughters turned wh*res hope...

Outside under a sweltering heat  the hordes of Bangkok's office stiffs swarm out of high rise buildings, towering constructions of glass and concrete spewing forth sprawling overcrowded groups of Armani suited Farang expatriates and locals alike, jostling and elbowing for a bit of personal space, trying hard to make it to the Bangkok underground and skytrain, anything to keep moving and get home, to the airconditioned condo..

In the distant world outside this Soi Cowboy Go-Go bar called Suzie Wong, I can hear the soft hum of a teeming city, steady but far enough away to feel comfortable surrounded as I am by this harem of over-excited clan of Go-Go females...

I imagine metalic Bangkok city buses spewing big black sooty clouds of poison into an already overpolluted air making these so-called office workers cough and sufocate, gritty sooth acumulating in Farang expatriate lungs while I write Danish and German, English and Dutch begging letters, full with simple grammar and countless spelling mistakes as though the ladies themselves wrote them, telling love sick elder men in ancient Europe about a terminally conditioned mum and hungry children who all need the dough in due haste...

One lady tells me to write to her lover of one night she is on her "peliod" - they cannot pronounce the European R you know - "so me can not work", making me wonder seriously if hubby back in the Danish homeland will be really endeared into parting with his hard earned Kroener...I write it down anyway...

The heat of the day is beginning to fade though still laying heavily on the moist evening air by the time I leave, hailing a motorbike taxi to get home and relax, get the whiskey out of my system as well as the over-excited giggling and scarcely dressed members of that Isan clan of money hungry females...

Cycling in Bangkok's Chinatown.

Bangkok, 16 March 2013.

Cycling a bike in the middle of Bangkok's Chinatown puts me right in the middle of total chaos but being on a bicycle makes me feel evrything just twice as intense, see, hear and feel everything like it is a dream, a sort of alternate reality where being stoned out of your proverbial head on your very first number one Thai joint stick is small in comparison...

Old Bangkok chicken busses blowing big sooty clouds of black exhaust fumes into my face while I try to check out the incredible amount of activity taking place, dodging people sprawled all over the sidewwalk and streets selling shoes and second hand clothes spread out on worn blankets, electronics and colorful towels, mot-eaten fabrics and gabage strewn about at random, every nook and cranny of the available space given over to commerce, stagnant air and puddles of dirty smelly water, dilapidated three storied Chinese houses the front of which is invariable a shop...

I avoid running into a kid, maybe twelve years at most, pushing a wooden cart ten times  his own size, laden with rotting fruits and vegetables. I breath in the foul air but refuse to let it spoil my number one good mood...

Some young lady wanting to know if I fancy a handful of flowers for my lady wherever she might be right now, never mind the bid city bus narrowly avoiding my skinny behind on my rusty old bike while I refuse her flowery offer...

I jostle for space in the narrow lanes and Sois where it is difficult to tell who is selling what and who is buying amidst all the peddlers and passers-by, plastic buckets and pots, cooking pans and cigarettes...

People shuffling from shop to peddler...life at its very core right here in Bangkok's Chinatown...

Covered in sweat and accumulated street filth I return to my Saam Roi THB family-run guest house in Soi Ngam Dhu Pli near Lumpini Park, desperate to get a cold shower, maybe a refreshing Leo beer when my phone rings, Miss Endu informing me "me miss you big time"!!!

An encore performance

Bangkok, 15 March 2013.

Bangkok, this so-called city of angels, is as polluted as ever, sweltering under the noon sun, crowed and disorganized, noisy like a bee-hive in full activity, and falling apart at its seams, still having an air of familiarity and a weird attraction though, almost like coming home...

A wrinkled old man, speaking the Isan dialect, wanting to know if I need a taxi while I wait patiently for my pack, no meter but only Song Roi THB to Khao Sarn road, pushed aside by a younger man of lighter complexion, only Nung Ha Sip THB This time, maybe I should walk out of Ekkamai bus station and try my luck in the stifling heat...

This is after all, an encore performance of former times and I really do need a bit of a walk after two hours in a Thai chicken bus, heavy backpack and Bangkok heat, crowded pavement and all that, hail down a motorbike taxi and risk getting my calves scathed while my driver overtakes city buses and countless taxies jammed bumber to bumber in a 24/7 traffic jam...

Get my Farang head together after the emotional love turmoil of these last couple of weeks back in Pattaya, getting attached full time to Miss Endu, not something easy for a full time womanizer like me...

Searching for words of goodbye and Adios last night, trying hard once again to soften to impact of lovers parting, the mutual flow of tears at Tschuess, Tschuess as they say in Sauerkraut Country...seem to remember through the haze of Red Wine induced drunkenness of last night's party that I fancied telling her I had to go to Bangkok on a mission for the Dutch secret service looking for Al-Qaeda Tuk-Tuk drivers in my capacity as a counter-terrorist agent in the Land Of Smiles but doing so only made her laugh out loud....

Maybe she is rich but certainly she ain't stupid so in the end I just told her the truth...I have a low threshold for bonding with the opposite sex, have a problem with rejection issues and need to get rid of a woman before she gets rid of me, a male ego issue at its very height here I guess..

The truth is never very appealing and for me this, after all, is an encore performance!!!

Submissive Asian women...

Pattaya, 09 March. 2013.

She emerges from the bathroom surrounded by a cloud of steam making me wonder how she always manages to produce hot water from my cold-only shower head, my pinkish towel, was that the result of my washing machine back in Amsterdam playing a little joke on me or me stupidly forgetting the old brightly red colored fietsdienst blazer still inside it, wrapped around her, her seductive gaze never leaving me when she moves for the bed, my spoiled towel carelessly unwrapped, revealing a typical MILF body, slight sugar belly and though being at forty-five years of age and delivered and nursed two sons into this nutcase world, still firm breasts with semi-erect nipples betraying the fun she must be having once again posing for me in her Eva costume...

My New Star room a mess with all the new garments she bought for me on the Pattaya friday market, strewn around at random, blue shorts for our daily excurtions to Jomtien Beach, singlets that scream Leo Beer at the world, not my favorite beer in Thailand but I have little choice to drink it now, new blue jeans and Thai produced underwear that she finds sexy...

Sly smiles while she changes positions every so often while my fingers holding my colored markers go like crazed lightning across the pages of my sketchbook, stretching across the bed, draping first her right arm and then her left arm under her boobies, cupping them with her hands, folding one knee in front of her, her inhibitions (if ever she had them) drop quicker as that pinkish towel, having the curves of a real MIlf and my approving smiles emboldening her even further into taking more and more sexual poses and postures...

My pulse is quickening with her exhibition intensifying, her poses getting more suggestive, her demeanor changing to match, her slender fingers pulling at the new boxershorts she bought me today...it is obvious what she wants and it ain't posing no more!!!

Submissive Asian women....definitely not Miss Endu... 

     

Disgustedly gratefull to write

Pattaya, 05 March 2013.

I seriously wonder, at times that is, what my readers might think of these self-styled Psycho babble stories I publish on the Sacred Internet every so often...have I descended to some sort if insect level in a prolonged orgy of twisted words and out of context sentences, a state of functional narcistic barbarism, having been reduced to a babbling idiot who writes everybody and everything into the ground, trying to be propelled to a literary heroic level but really nothing more but a mean tempered piece of shit...

Well, you know to what lenghts narcisitic barbarism can drive a person to, with everything and all being twisted, thwarted and cowed by the need to be heard and read (in this case anyway), everything and everybody being viewed as an item for "sale", my friends and contacts, even myself, all dismantled to their very nature, take away their faith, their identity, direction, politics, their very instinct to survive, all of it turned into a jelly-O of stupid psycho babble by a nutty Farang brain...

I am trying to figure it out, sorting through all the conflicting information and putting it into the reservoir of my mental consciousness, go to an internet cafe here in fabled Pattaya, the best place on Mother Earth for this sort of shit, and turn it into an atrocity of the worst imaginable kind....

You still think this is funny, my dear reader, still have NOT turned away from this site in state of pure disgust, it only takes a simple click of that mouse under your right hand palm after all(unless of course your left handed with the mouse), then keep reading this literary exorcism of human evil and stupidity...

After all, I am disgustedly grateful to write the

Rumours in Pattaya

Pattaya, 01 March 2013.

Rumour has it another bunch of oversized Jumbos landed at Suvarnibhumi Airport last night bringing in yet again several thousand tourists, the majority of them single men whose sole intention upon clearing customs was getting to Pattaya fast and furious...getting laid even faster and more furiously...

The girls late at night look like they have picked up on the rumour too wearing skimpy blouses that look like they will open at the slightest tug and reveal braless small Isaan boobies, the ultrs short cut-off blue jeans variety at sale by the thousands at the local market and very popular by the beach ladies, business is blooming wearing these or so they tell while sipping from their alu cans of Leo beer, thanks be to Lord Buddha Buddha Day is well and truely over and we can all indulge in the art of alcohol consumption again which is off on Buddha day, in case you were unaware of this little bit of typical Thai culture...

My "open air brothel upbringing", going back twenty-five years here in this so-called male Sodom and Gomorra kingdom, has made me abnormally sensitive to the moods and tribulations of these female members of the Isaan clan of Hot Mommas, any breach of beach etiquette instantly picked up by my intoxicated gray Farang brain cells, I am feeling bewitched watching the proceedings of the after midnight Pattaya beach shuffle, a moving jungle of sex trade is constantly and rapidly evolving in front of my Low Countries blue shiners while I drink my habitual Ancha beer...

My retinas being assaulted by a a forest of Homo Sapiens either keen on making the THB or even keener getting rid of it, there are no openings in this fast wall of humans exploiting the art of paid sex, one way or another, no bottlenecks of escape...

Inexplicably the member of this game, whether they are male or female or belonging to the "ubiqitous" third gender, behave like old lovers, delighted to have come across each other again after what looks to Pauvre Moi like years of forced abstinence...

Like I said I feel like bewitched, unable to return to my New Star room despite the late hour and high intoxicated level of my bloodstream!!!