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...
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