Dirty Thai money

Amsterdam, 24 March 2014.

Back home, back in my beloved Mokum, Adios and goodbye  to that confusing foreign country tweve flying hour in that big alu can belonging to that Chinese hedgehog and safely back on Dutch soil, thank you so much yellow man and Doei Doei untill the next time around I will have to shell out big bucks for your services, your hard to digest on-board plastic wrapped food and formated movies...

Thai money aplenty left over, waiting in my chaotic appartment untill I have the dubious honor of being allowed to spend it King Bhumipol's Asian realm Una Vez Mas, soft to the tough red ones, brownish one thousand bills grimey from hunderds of Thai and Farang hands, dog eared and soiled from use, a layer of painted dirt after having been stocked in wallets and lady's purses, hot coffee stains and cold Chang smudges, having been stockpiled in crowded 7/Eleven cash drawers...yeah, it smells of stale sweat and prickly heat powder, a few invisble grains of cocaine, notes written on it, the cell numbers of Thai hookers and expensive massage parlors, the occasional sentence of obscenity, graffiti in international languages testimony to the Numero Uno tourist destination in the world. It has been used to pay for food and soft drinks, cold beer and strong Thai moonshine whiskey, drugs and laundry service, a doctor's care, sex and a lover's gift, and maybe a drvie-by murder even - the favorite way of getting rid of the Amour competition in Thailand -

The marginalia of my chaotic mind knows no bounds looking at these colorfull notes back here in Holland where no bank would exchange them and therefore totally uselessly laying around in my house though only short hours ago I could get everything and all with this dirty paper that has seen it all, a big quantity of shit that wouldn't fool even a blind man waiting for its rightfull purpose five, six or maybe seven months before the fun starts again thanks to the overprised services of China Air...