Bar girls and waitresses

Bangkok, 16 jan. 2015.

Always fun to drink cold condensed to the touch big bottles of Chang down at the Gecko Bar behind the Khao San road temple and watch the world slide by, alternatives from all over the globe conversing in the south-east Asian travel hub of travel hubs, best bar in the neighborhood and not all that expensive, draw the waitresses faces and pay them a beer...

After all the down and out looking Thai females waiting on the Gecko tables are notoriously Sukhimvit girlie bars rejects, Ya Ba and too much booze having done a constuction job on ertswhile beautiful faces, bodies that once, maybe ages ago, would have a dedicated to God bishop kick his church doors in sheer frustration of having donned the cloth instead of living the male life of the diciples of sex and booze...

Some of them visitors to my New Star guesthouse back in Pattaya, afternoon knocks on the door while possible farang clients were watching telly in their room in the company of Kwot Jai bottles of beer instead of nubile females helping them to while away sweaty afternoons in airco rooms...barbecued chicken legs and small cans of Leo were my reward for the use of shower and bed, Thai TV soaps on my telly while I would paint them into immortality...

Now they are down and out, no longer attractive to Mister Farang Fat Wallet but still willing to pose, be my personal muse for a short minutes before another Farang hippy with too much dole money calls for more Chang...  

city rats and alley cats

Bangkok, 14 jan. 2015.

It isn't like my storytelling mastery is going from one strentgh to the other, not like ferreting out the mad thoughts that inhabit the inside of my Farang skull is anything to write home about, let alone have the evil nerves to pester the world with my crazy drag of words on the infamous but oh so sacred internet, Nada like it but surely trying hard to have a bundle of nutcase writing crap to gloat over when I am old and wrinkled, walking an aged body tdown the street with the aid of a wooden walking crane, on the way to the oldtimers' bench somewhere in, maybe Pattaya if I am lucky enough or else in that Westerpark just around the corner of my crappy old and derlict house in good old Mokum, read my stories while sipping my cooffee and hopefully have enough of my mental faculties still in working order to remember them some hours later on that bench and boast to the other smelly old crappers always gather on that particular bench and chatter about that much better time long ago when we were all still young and verile...

Bangkok has changes way too much with early commuters crowding the airport skyline train to Makassan like sardines in a can, the only difference here that sardines in a can don't as a rule madly read their facebook news and emails on I-phones and Samsung stolen similar devices, no underground to Hualampong Station with more commuters with same-same modern technology obsessions all these years ago but at least the motorbike taxi ride is pretty much still the same with the driver madly swerving through the notorious Bangkok traffic jams, smells, sights and sounds attacking my senses reminding me of countless motorbike taxi rides in earlier years, earlier visits...

Bangkok taxi drivers knowing the city pretty much the same me my native Amsterdam during my mad bicycle messenger years, Bangkok city rats as compared with Amsterdam alley cats...   

An exchange of societies.

Amsterdam, 13 jan. 2015.

Early morning with rain drumming against the windows, my old crappy house here in good old Mokum creaking in protest, rain and wind having been the constant companions these last few months of the local population, grumpy and ill-tempered trying to hide in overstuffed raincoats, soaked and miserably impatiently waiting in the Appie Heyn supermarket queue, plastic wrapped food and daily necessities packed in government declared coverings, the dustbin back home having a hard time to handle all this needless plastic and high quality paper...

Western winter crap weather and with my fellow city fellows running to and from, basic needfull errands and jobs to keep society flowing in the right direction while I partake in my Kharma improving volunteer job twice a week, horse shit and Shetland pony manure, goat and sheep droppings keeping my muscles strong and my body fit, clean air just five minutes of cycling away from my tilting old Amsterdam house, a necessary way of being part of a madhouse society under fire from muslim extremiststs and internal degradation, rot and over-aged crap tearing at the very fabric of the human culture I am a memebr of...

None of this, however for the next two months, 13.20 h. come this very afternoon and off I will be on my China Air flight to Bangkok, the exchange of one crazy society for another one...  

Nude female drawings

Pages from my sketchbook

Allahaha

Colorful black lady with blue hair

Naked lady showing off her private parts

Painted nun in the nude

Acrylic paint on carton found in the street

Another lady in the nude

Nude female drawings

another African lady in the nude

Not sure why I she covered her ears with her well-shaped hands...maybe she got tired of all the bullshit remarks I made while doing this painting of her...maybe she should have put her hand over her dark eye balls, that way she would have been saved from seeing the freaking outcome of this painting.

African lady with colorful headscarf