Amsterdam 31 July 2014
One of the ladies from the Free Vodafone Sim Card team coming by the Anne Frank House regularly to hand out free Vodafone sim cards to the people waiting in line to see that world famous Achterhuis...
Needless to say my mind went helter-skelter again when I did this sketch, undressing her mentally while doing this drawing...
I guess if they really handed out these worthless Vodafone sim cards dressed in lingerie and naked boobs they would be out of them in a jiffy and all the wives rid of their equally worthless husbands, faithfull hubbies all of a sudden lost in sin city Amsterdam....
Somehow reminding me of the sight of equally faithfull Farang husbands in fabled Pattaya doggedly following their overweight Farang wives whose sagging old and wrinkled tits bobbing up and down in the oversized bikinis, discussing the horrors these poor female sods of the Thai nightlife had to go through sitting on these stone benches and waiting for oversexed pot bellied and half drunk Farang customers...
"Don't worry Hans", these so called poor female sods of the notorious Thai nightlife would tell me while sipping Leo cans of beer supplied by yours truely, "when lady sleep husband come to me"...
Hehehe, the same sort of hehehe the Vodafone ladies uttered today when I showed them this sketch...
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Je suis chinoise, Hans
I can't really affort to linger, have to move with haste, day after day cycling from my old crappy house in Mokum West to Westerkerk, its tower looming over me while I produce my Mandalas by the sackfull, no time to waste on my daily blogging or drawing, sketching or painting En Mi Casa Vieja...no time to waste, I have to move with haste...
Old American man coming over from the Anne Frank queue, suspiciously looking around before wispering to me "I get it, you are an undercover cop", no time to waste, buy my games and get back into that darned queue...
Old Japanese lady wanting to sit on my little camping chair for a much needed photo for her Saigun country fella back home, the other side of the globe, fair enough lady, after all you bought some games but now that the photo is done and over with GET BACK IN THAT DARNED QUEUE!!! No time to waste, I have to move with haste, more and more games I have to produce and sell, no time to waste at all...
But NO maybe it is time to relax, take this cougar chinese lady up on her offer for a drink at Cafe De Twee Prinsen for a much needed pint of beer, maybe a quick sketch the way I picture her in my mind while listening to her pidgin frog quack quack quack, draw her the way I like most, in the nude...
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Old Japanese customer
Old Japanese lady wantin g to pose in my mobile shop today at the Anne Frank House today...I guess she felt like a carreer move.
Sunday, July 27, 2014
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Mandala "bracelets"
Young Danish girl with three of my Mandala "bracelets", waiting for her parents and showing off her new prize to ther customers...
Two Anne Frank House security guards
Jeffrey and Brain, two of the Anne Frank House security team...trying to scare of pickpockets, beggars and would-be terroritsts...
Lets hope they take their job seriously...
Lets hope they take their job seriously...
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Monday, July 21, 2014
Monday, July 14, 2014
Kharma or freedom, the story continues...
Amsterdam, 14 July 2014...
Is it possible for a first impression to have a second chance, a chance for resurrection of the past, after all the last few weeks away from the Westerpark petting zoo have given me proper time for reflection, continue my Kharma improvement of the last ten years by shovelling bovine shit, goat dropping and Shetland pony manure, clean bunny rabbit cages and chicken runs of goofy crap...
Zoom, zoom zoom into a different reality, a different time and a very diffrent world, one of soft hearted third world hookers ands street walkers, Siamsato drunk prostitues massing on Pattaya's boulevard, Ermita's bars in far-away Manila full with Hunting Girls, draw the faces of Putazas in dark holed bars of Central-American alcohol drenched Paises, Kenia's black skinned night crawlers of the female gender willing to hook up with any Mgunzu in the possession of a wallet drooping with Shilling, maybe make Europe my playground again, Auto-stop and railing, bussing across ancient Europe as used to be my life in early adolescence, surviving on my city aquarels and portrait drawings, a bit of nighttime receptionist work for overnight accomodation...
Zoom, zoom, zoom and my cell doing its notorious peacefull soul wrecking Ding Ding Ding, Pas De Raison for looking at the screen, know perfectly well Big Brother Kharma Improvement Team is sticking its crappy head into my refound freedom, dreams of former times coming back with each new day away from necessary Kharma building goodwill....
Should I ignore the pressing voice in the dusty backroom of my gray brain mass and continue making Indian Games, sell them by the sackfull and save Beaucoup D'Argent for these plans far away from my beloved Mokum, tell Laura The Titless, the farm's CEO to go to high heaven and beyond...
Kharma or freedom, the story continues...
Is it possible for a first impression to have a second chance, a chance for resurrection of the past, after all the last few weeks away from the Westerpark petting zoo have given me proper time for reflection, continue my Kharma improvement of the last ten years by shovelling bovine shit, goat dropping and Shetland pony manure, clean bunny rabbit cages and chicken runs of goofy crap...
Zoom, zoom zoom into a different reality, a different time and a very diffrent world, one of soft hearted third world hookers ands street walkers, Siamsato drunk prostitues massing on Pattaya's boulevard, Ermita's bars in far-away Manila full with Hunting Girls, draw the faces of Putazas in dark holed bars of Central-American alcohol drenched Paises, Kenia's black skinned night crawlers of the female gender willing to hook up with any Mgunzu in the possession of a wallet drooping with Shilling, maybe make Europe my playground again, Auto-stop and railing, bussing across ancient Europe as used to be my life in early adolescence, surviving on my city aquarels and portrait drawings, a bit of nighttime receptionist work for overnight accomodation...
Zoom, zoom, zoom and my cell doing its notorious peacefull soul wrecking Ding Ding Ding, Pas De Raison for looking at the screen, know perfectly well Big Brother Kharma Improvement Team is sticking its crappy head into my refound freedom, dreams of former times coming back with each new day away from necessary Kharma building goodwill....
Should I ignore the pressing voice in the dusty backroom of my gray brain mass and continue making Indian Games, sell them by the sackfull and save Beaucoup D'Argent for these plans far away from my beloved Mokum, tell Laura The Titless, the farm's CEO to go to high heaven and beyond...
Kharma or freedom, the story continues...
Thursday, July 10, 2014
More Kharma improvement shit
Amsterdam, 10 july 2014.
Late at night and returning home, big waves of disappointment have washed over my fellow Dutch country men, Adios and goodbye to Hup Holland Hup in Samba Land - thanks be to the Gods of football land for that - , maybe a consolation match but then these ever really count, now do they, finally got rid of these darned nightly bicycle trips back home from Stev's place, finally time again to devote to my one-man mobile Mandala shop, up early cutting my expensive silver wire, preparing for another day at that Numero Uno hotspot the anne Frank House underneath that Mokum landmark called the protestant Westerchurch, looking down on Hans The Nutcase Streetseller...
No more distractions like fabled soccer matches, Robben and Van Persie trying so hard but in vain to inmortalise themselves, Hunterlaar the hunter having capital punishment plans on his fustrated mind for not participating, for being the eternal bencher, Pas De Chance for doing his thing on the green Brazilian field of the game of all games...
Yeah, another sortie back home at one thirty in the frigging morning from Amsterdam Buitenveldert, a city full with half drunk soccer fan f*ckers lookiing for an outlet to disappointment and fake denied hope on the mundial title of f*cked-up deception, worthy of rioting...
But no, Nada of all this crap, instead a young blonde on pumps wanting a ride home, all the way back to Spaarndaamerstraat, what a coincidence or else the Gods challenging me and throwing some more crappy Kharma improvement shit on my way...
Sweating hard work with a double load but who cares, Kharma improvement is worth a couple of drops of beer drenched perperation after all...
Late at night and returning home, big waves of disappointment have washed over my fellow Dutch country men, Adios and goodbye to Hup Holland Hup in Samba Land - thanks be to the Gods of football land for that - , maybe a consolation match but then these ever really count, now do they, finally got rid of these darned nightly bicycle trips back home from Stev's place, finally time again to devote to my one-man mobile Mandala shop, up early cutting my expensive silver wire, preparing for another day at that Numero Uno hotspot the anne Frank House underneath that Mokum landmark called the protestant Westerchurch, looking down on Hans The Nutcase Streetseller...
No more distractions like fabled soccer matches, Robben and Van Persie trying so hard but in vain to inmortalise themselves, Hunterlaar the hunter having capital punishment plans on his fustrated mind for not participating, for being the eternal bencher, Pas De Chance for doing his thing on the green Brazilian field of the game of all games...
Yeah, another sortie back home at one thirty in the frigging morning from Amsterdam Buitenveldert, a city full with half drunk soccer fan f*ckers lookiing for an outlet to disappointment and fake denied hope on the mundial title of f*cked-up deception, worthy of rioting...
But no, Nada of all this crap, instead a young blonde on pumps wanting a ride home, all the way back to Spaarndaamerstraat, what a coincidence or else the Gods challenging me and throwing some more crappy Kharma improvement shit on my way...
Sweating hard work with a double load but who cares, Kharma improvement is worth a couple of drops of beer drenched perperation after all...
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Leonie coming back into my life
Amsterdam, 08 07 2014.
I seem to remember she had some sort of dark secret, the sort of morbid and mysterious aroma pouring out of her female pores though without any verbal reference to what occupied her young mind, hiding her ovious good looks, a great Bern born hard body under several layers of second hand clothes, ruffled blond hair blowing in the wind while she walked next to me pushing her Ralleigh bicycle, asking me all sort of questions but hardly giving away much about her own life, some years ago when last I walked the Camino De Santiago in Northern Spain, my feet hurting like f*cking motherfrigging hell from the cobble stoned Camino, my shoulders smarting from the straps of my over-packed backpack, my old and trusty travel buddy but my shoulderblades protesting at the time to that defintion called "buddy", trying hard to make sence of her nonsense Fragen Ueber Das Leben Eines Mannes im Mittelalter...
Never really forgetting her even though our mutual encounter on the Camino Sagrado was short and had Pas D'Impoprtance in whatever department you might think of, apart maybe from the erotic thought that kept my crazy Gringo mind going while my smarting feet kept going, one foot in front of the other motherfrigging foot...
Instand recognition three days ago at the Anne Frank House when she stopped in front of my little mobile Mandala shop, the morbid and mysterious dank and dark female feromones still pouring out of her like a drunk Farang sweating away in tropical Pattaya, overwelming my sences, bringing back instant recognition as though time had not moved in years of torment and confusion, the way I always experience the passing of time, the same ruffled unkempt hair and second hand layers of faded clothes, small backpack and plastic Appie Heyn bag full with personal belongings...
Of course I knew perfectly well why she was there, free board and accomodation foremost on her young confused mind...well, whatever, since the petting zoo Kharma building has come to such a sudden and drastic dramatic end I might as well do some sort of misguided good Samaritan act here and let her crash on my couch for some days...forget about the erotic thoughts that turned full force around that nubile body she hides unerneath these countless layers of faded cloth while being on the Camino of madmen...
Maybe I won't talk myself into her unwashed pants but at least talk her into posing for me...
I seem to remember she had some sort of dark secret, the sort of morbid and mysterious aroma pouring out of her female pores though without any verbal reference to what occupied her young mind, hiding her ovious good looks, a great Bern born hard body under several layers of second hand clothes, ruffled blond hair blowing in the wind while she walked next to me pushing her Ralleigh bicycle, asking me all sort of questions but hardly giving away much about her own life, some years ago when last I walked the Camino De Santiago in Northern Spain, my feet hurting like f*cking motherfrigging hell from the cobble stoned Camino, my shoulders smarting from the straps of my over-packed backpack, my old and trusty travel buddy but my shoulderblades protesting at the time to that defintion called "buddy", trying hard to make sence of her nonsense Fragen Ueber Das Leben Eines Mannes im Mittelalter...
Never really forgetting her even though our mutual encounter on the Camino Sagrado was short and had Pas D'Impoprtance in whatever department you might think of, apart maybe from the erotic thought that kept my crazy Gringo mind going while my smarting feet kept going, one foot in front of the other motherfrigging foot...
Instand recognition three days ago at the Anne Frank House when she stopped in front of my little mobile Mandala shop, the morbid and mysterious dank and dark female feromones still pouring out of her like a drunk Farang sweating away in tropical Pattaya, overwelming my sences, bringing back instant recognition as though time had not moved in years of torment and confusion, the way I always experience the passing of time, the same ruffled unkempt hair and second hand layers of faded clothes, small backpack and plastic Appie Heyn bag full with personal belongings...
Of course I knew perfectly well why she was there, free board and accomodation foremost on her young confused mind...well, whatever, since the petting zoo Kharma building has come to such a sudden and drastic dramatic end I might as well do some sort of misguided good Samaritan act here and let her crash on my couch for some days...forget about the erotic thoughts that turned full force around that nubile body she hides unerneath these countless layers of faded cloth while being on the Camino of madmen...
Maybe I won't talk myself into her unwashed pants but at least talk her into posing for me...
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Hup Holland Hup again
Amsterdam, 05 07 2014,
Hup Hup Holland Hup it will be again tonight, fair enough and happy I feel having been once again invited in Amsterdam Buitenveldert, that 4000 stupid Euros rent a month house paid for by the wife's company, luxury of the type I am quite unfamiliar with considering I am a mere street seller however well my Indian Games might sell, selling on the fast track to heaven or hell and beyond but no way they gonna make me a self made slum millionaire...
Still the invite is wellcome and gratefully accepted, do my bit of social life thing...just tell me why the damned game has to start so darned late, ten o`clock evening is hardly my favorite time to leave the house, the crappy old brick structure I live in, to get mixed up in one of these nutty bicycle jams, on the way and back again, semi drunk people on the way and madly drunk nutters on the way back. Hopefully Hup Hup Holland Hup will work or else I might have to face the angry disappointed drunk bicycle traffic jam...
Yeah ten o`clock nighttime is really not my time trying hard to stay sober in the house, no way I can turn up drunk as the proverbial skunk in the middle of that upper class pussy place...
Back to sketching and endeavouring to forget about that cold beer in El Frigo, the bottle of cooled Mooi Kaap Red Wine awaiting consumption in that same aforementioned Frigo...
Hup Holland Hup, loose the damned match and let my country return to some sence of normalcy...
Hup Hup Holland Hup it will be again tonight, fair enough and happy I feel having been once again invited in Amsterdam Buitenveldert, that 4000 stupid Euros rent a month house paid for by the wife's company, luxury of the type I am quite unfamiliar with considering I am a mere street seller however well my Indian Games might sell, selling on the fast track to heaven or hell and beyond but no way they gonna make me a self made slum millionaire...
Still the invite is wellcome and gratefully accepted, do my bit of social life thing...just tell me why the damned game has to start so darned late, ten o`clock evening is hardly my favorite time to leave the house, the crappy old brick structure I live in, to get mixed up in one of these nutty bicycle jams, on the way and back again, semi drunk people on the way and madly drunk nutters on the way back. Hopefully Hup Hup Holland Hup will work or else I might have to face the angry disappointed drunk bicycle traffic jam...
Yeah ten o`clock nighttime is really not my time trying hard to stay sober in the house, no way I can turn up drunk as the proverbial skunk in the middle of that upper class pussy place...
Back to sketching and endeavouring to forget about that cold beer in El Frigo, the bottle of cooled Mooi Kaap Red Wine awaiting consumption in that same aforementioned Frigo...
Hup Holland Hup, loose the damned match and let my country return to some sence of normalcy...
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Doei Doei to the Kharma improvement team
Amsterdam, 03 July 2014.
Is there really in all earnest shit of the yellow color any real and serious Kharma to be gained shovelling horse manure and goat droppings, holy bovine shit or maybe the excrement of an oversized Belgian born pig, should I feel happy my so-called Kharma imporvement is in all serious reality goodbye and over, Adios and Doei Doei to poor Pompeii, Maybe feeling happy about the absence of smelly straw and hay drenched in sheep urine in my apartment, a liitle souvenir from the Westerpark's petting zoo, a little reminder oif my twice a week Kharma improvement sessions...
No more yelling and scearming, name calling of the serious aggresive verbal nature of negativity, blaming all the other members of the Kharma improvement team for the zoo's sudden downfall - not really my petting zoo's cup of Westerpark tea - participate in the children's game of He Is Out Or Else I Will Be Out when blame has to burned on the Schlemiel responsible for the soccer match's loss of the school yard latest sportive endeavour...just as crazily useless really...
Maybe I should feel happy being able to devote more time to my one-man mobile Mandala business, more time producing and selling my funny Indian Games at that Numero Uno tourist hotspot of good old Mokum, nice and sunny weather, Beaucoup D'Argent for my upcoming autumn trip to that misterious Asian Realm twelve hour of flying in that China Air alu can, good tasty food and the loving administrations of my sweet Thai Amante, the soft charactered Miss Endu, good beer and suuny beaches...
Goodbye and Adios, Doei Doei in earnest to that team of crazy volunteer stable cleaners, ten years of hard work on my Kharma down the proverbial toilet drain...still, I wonder if they will phone me after a well deserved cooling off period to conbvince me otherwise though...and what I will say.
Is there really in all earnest shit of the yellow color any real and serious Kharma to be gained shovelling horse manure and goat droppings, holy bovine shit or maybe the excrement of an oversized Belgian born pig, should I feel happy my so-called Kharma imporvement is in all serious reality goodbye and over, Adios and Doei Doei to poor Pompeii, Maybe feeling happy about the absence of smelly straw and hay drenched in sheep urine in my apartment, a liitle souvenir from the Westerpark's petting zoo, a little reminder oif my twice a week Kharma improvement sessions...
No more yelling and scearming, name calling of the serious aggresive verbal nature of negativity, blaming all the other members of the Kharma improvement team for the zoo's sudden downfall - not really my petting zoo's cup of Westerpark tea - participate in the children's game of He Is Out Or Else I Will Be Out when blame has to burned on the Schlemiel responsible for the soccer match's loss of the school yard latest sportive endeavour...just as crazily useless really...
Maybe I should feel happy being able to devote more time to my one-man mobile Mandala business, more time producing and selling my funny Indian Games at that Numero Uno tourist hotspot of good old Mokum, nice and sunny weather, Beaucoup D'Argent for my upcoming autumn trip to that misterious Asian Realm twelve hour of flying in that China Air alu can, good tasty food and the loving administrations of my sweet Thai Amante, the soft charactered Miss Endu, good beer and suuny beaches...
Goodbye and Adios, Doei Doei in earnest to that team of crazy volunteer stable cleaners, ten years of hard work on my Kharma down the proverbial toilet drain...still, I wonder if they will phone me after a well deserved cooling off period to conbvince me otherwise though...and what I will say.
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
Machteld The Incompetent
Amsterdam, 01 07 2014.
Thailand is looming but still Saam Dhuan - three months in Thai - to go, Saam Dhuan and Nit Noi time before boarding China Air, twelve hours in one of these oversized alu beer cans with wings, 10.000 feet up in the air with turbulence aplenty but worth every minute of uncomfortable air sicknessness, flying away from home and friends that were only dreamed of mere years ago when The Gang Of Evil Friends ganged my life and house looking for Anne Frank House money to be transformed into their cherished Gods of choice Miss MJ and King Alcohol....
Nowadays my hard earned Dinero goes to secred places awaiting the sacred transformation back at the Chinese travel agency in the heard of the city's Damstraat, yeah you got it right dear reader of this blog, plane tickets to King Bhumipol's Asian Realm...
Still, semi-soberity and devotion to my mobile Mandal shop as well as the neighborhood's petting zoo, hard work and no pay but plenty of severely necessary Khama building has got a price all in it self...let say the latter keeps me fit and in good mental spirits apart from that aforementioned oh so necessary Kharma improvement...
Still, my little Kharma benevolence seems to come to a sudden stop, no more sweating away cleaning stables and heaving bovine manure, pig shit and Shetland Pony droppings, some good old old goat dung and sheep shit, closure of the Westerpark petting zoo being discussed in earnest on the neighborhood's schoolyards ...
The farm's governing body's only member Machteld the Incompetent sort of conveniently forgot to sign the on-going contracts for the three female CEOs, closure is threatening, the animals donated to different zoos, maybe off to the slaughter house, no more happy childern's smiles greeting me on my tradional wednes - and thursday mornings, goodbye and Adios, Doei Doei to the petting zoo's existence...
All of that because Machteld The Incompetent had to live up to her nickname, or maybe she had her own agenda...
Thailand is looming but still Saam Dhuan - three months in Thai - to go, Saam Dhuan and Nit Noi time before boarding China Air, twelve hours in one of these oversized alu beer cans with wings, 10.000 feet up in the air with turbulence aplenty but worth every minute of uncomfortable air sicknessness, flying away from home and friends that were only dreamed of mere years ago when The Gang Of Evil Friends ganged my life and house looking for Anne Frank House money to be transformed into their cherished Gods of choice Miss MJ and King Alcohol....
Nowadays my hard earned Dinero goes to secred places awaiting the sacred transformation back at the Chinese travel agency in the heard of the city's Damstraat, yeah you got it right dear reader of this blog, plane tickets to King Bhumipol's Asian Realm...
Still, semi-soberity and devotion to my mobile Mandal shop as well as the neighborhood's petting zoo, hard work and no pay but plenty of severely necessary Khama building has got a price all in it self...let say the latter keeps me fit and in good mental spirits apart from that aforementioned oh so necessary Kharma improvement...
Still, my little Kharma benevolence seems to come to a sudden stop, no more sweating away cleaning stables and heaving bovine manure, pig shit and Shetland Pony droppings, some good old old goat dung and sheep shit, closure of the Westerpark petting zoo being discussed in earnest on the neighborhood's schoolyards ...
The farm's governing body's only member Machteld the Incompetent sort of conveniently forgot to sign the on-going contracts for the three female CEOs, closure is threatening, the animals donated to different zoos, maybe off to the slaughter house, no more happy childern's smiles greeting me on my tradional wednes - and thursday mornings, goodbye and Adios, Doei Doei to the petting zoo's existence...
All of that because Machteld The Incompetent had to live up to her nickname, or maybe she had her own agenda...
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