Rumour has it that when you are wise you will realise that life is but an illusion and therefore one does not need to act as though it is real, a very easy way to escape suffering and misery...
Imagine sitting in that torturer's chair, popularly known as the dentist chair, a tooth executioner who will charge plenty of dough just to hurt you and remove fital body parts, Pas De problem if you act as though none of it is real...get my drift?
My phone rings at midnight, I mean really calling, persistently and without stopping, almost like the person at the other end knows I home...yeah reality is calling and bringing me back from the deep philosiphy thought world I was just in, the sort of slumber brought about my too much red wine and not enough sleep the night before...
I try to turn around and return to that state of philosofical half asleep pondering, stay motionless in my bed, waiting for the cue to come and transport me back to that wise man's world of no worries mate...but no, real life is calling urgently and with determination, looming ahead like some giant time machine threatening to send me back to the here and now of miserable reality...
I stagger through the house dressed semi-nakedly knowing fully well at this time of night who will phone me with that state of desperate urgency, girlfriend, lover girl, female friend, temptress or maybe a victime of my midnight downtown visits to the notoriously Amsterdam pick-up joints the Lonely Planet travel guide brag about in this Dutch capital...
A female voice maybe, a victime or else a label, could even be a role model but certainly not an identity I want to remember, a statistic and qoutity number on my f*cked-up list of international conquests picked up in dark bars and tourtist watering holes, a real person with hopes and dreams like anyone else...
A voice I heard only once before though not all that long ago, a fatty Russian asylum seeker sitting in the Pacific last saturday night, a small bag of personal belongings and a glass of white wine she was lingering over, trying hard to make it last all night, sleet outside but Pas De Person wanting to take home a fifty year old overweight turned down Russian refugee...sorry lady but your presence in Holland serves no real purpose....
I should learn to be less soft hearted and not hand out my telephone number to the victims of Dutch policy makers.
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