Showing posts with label amsterdam anne frank house indian games female hot momma thailand southeast asia shiva. Show all posts
Showing posts with label amsterdam anne frank house indian games female hot momma thailand southeast asia shiva. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 6, 2021
Monday, November 16, 2020
Friday, November 13, 2020
Thursday, November 12, 2020
Wednesday, November 11, 2020
Tuesday, November 10, 2020
Thursday, September 13, 2012
A highly sofisticated mode of propaganda
I guess withe the end of the Dutch voting days over I can come out of my self choosen isolation, having emerged myself fully in my latest art project, creating space art while surrounded by spray cans and high gloss paper, trying hard to igore lying politicians dressed in 800 Eoro Armani suits, whose private drivers waiting outside Dutch TV studios next to taxpayer provided four doors Mercedesses - brand new of course - expensive lunches washed won by a good vintage french red wine - a lot better for your palate as the table wine I usually drink - while discussing a solutions to Eurpean financial wooes...
A highly sofisticated mode of propaganda was in full swing for power hungry nutters while I was surrounded by spray can fumes that are rumoured to be toxic...
Oh yeah, before I forget, the Liberals and Labour won...lets hope they won't make to much of a mess out of what alreadsy is a garbage belt!!!
Friday, April 20, 2012
Jealous Norsk females
"It is fucking cold here", Nong told me on the phone, adding she hates Oslo where the local fat assed women spit at her in the street and call her a whore in the harsh Norwegian lingo, telling me she needs a friend to accompany her to the market or else she will be in serious problemos - no that last part came out of Terminator which she was watching last night - with these good for nothing jealous Norsk females...
Her endless telephonic array of complains does not really surprise me, not with all these Thai ladies living in the Norway capital, all of them having a Scandinavian sugar daddy and loads of young blond Amantes on the side for Sanuk, Sanuk purposes...
Small wonder blond Viking femininity is in an uproar about these freelancing Asian "prostitutes" sleeping with their men and leaving Pas D'Amantes for local ladies, whether they be young or old. What is new here?
Oh, and before I forget, Nong, Phom Tilac, it is cold in Amsterdam too and, no, Dutch blond females just don't really like Asian Petites to steal their men either!!!
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
My old lady friend Noi
Pattaya, 28 febr. 2012.
In some forgotten prehistoric age a unknown cave woman hit upon the bright idea of offering sexual services to her male comtemporaries in exchanged for some extra chunks of mamoth meat, a good deal for both parties involved, the woman got stronger by the consumption of more bloody flesh and the male providers felt happy the day after and therefore became better hunters...
Interesting trail of thought I guess while I work myself up the stairs of a huge apartment complex just off Soi Bhukhao, sidestepping all sorts of human produced junk littering the steps and different floors...
Four or five girls descending, cooing and complimenting me, even trying to grope my more personal physical equipment, telling me "you handsome man", me like you too much' and more of the same though I presume they are after that extra chunk of mamoth meat...
enormous amounts of typical female platform shoes in front of the rooms, racks with feminine garments drying in the harsh sun, tell me more about this place, half empty bowls with limp looking noodles attracting birds and big rats alike an even bigger proof to my suspicions, cheap and a bit away from the centre, local ladies sharing rooms being the norm rather than the exception in a apartment complex like this, share the rent and bed space...
I am actually on the way to see Noi, my lady friend from last year who works at the Pattaya Festival as Mhe Baan, cleaning jobs of twelve long and boring hours each night with hardly time for Sanuk, Sanuk but apparently waiting for me in room 115, a text message on my phone with the necessary info but not the reason why though I am reasonably sure what sort of Trabajito is expected of me today...
After the "act" we end up at the Noi restaurant which I consider a fitting name considering the name of my table- and former bed partner...maybe the Mamoth became extinct but a free meal of Gai and Khao Pat should be in order here...
In some forgotten prehistoric age a unknown cave woman hit upon the bright idea of offering sexual services to her male comtemporaries in exchanged for some extra chunks of mamoth meat, a good deal for both parties involved, the woman got stronger by the consumption of more bloody flesh and the male providers felt happy the day after and therefore became better hunters...
Interesting trail of thought I guess while I work myself up the stairs of a huge apartment complex just off Soi Bhukhao, sidestepping all sorts of human produced junk littering the steps and different floors...
Four or five girls descending, cooing and complimenting me, even trying to grope my more personal physical equipment, telling me "you handsome man", me like you too much' and more of the same though I presume they are after that extra chunk of mamoth meat...
enormous amounts of typical female platform shoes in front of the rooms, racks with feminine garments drying in the harsh sun, tell me more about this place, half empty bowls with limp looking noodles attracting birds and big rats alike an even bigger proof to my suspicions, cheap and a bit away from the centre, local ladies sharing rooms being the norm rather than the exception in a apartment complex like this, share the rent and bed space...
I am actually on the way to see Noi, my lady friend from last year who works at the Pattaya Festival as Mhe Baan, cleaning jobs of twelve long and boring hours each night with hardly time for Sanuk, Sanuk but apparently waiting for me in room 115, a text message on my phone with the necessary info but not the reason why though I am reasonably sure what sort of Trabajito is expected of me today...
After the "act" we end up at the Noi restaurant which I consider a fitting name considering the name of my table- and former bed partner...maybe the Mamoth became extinct but a free meal of Gai and Khao Pat should be in order here...
Thursday, February 16, 2012
SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!!!
Trat, 17 febr. 2012.
The kind of look this skinny bloke gives ME probably makes women lament same-sex attraction though the man is Nada to write home about, his clothes falling of his too lean frame like they were potatoe sacks...smoke coming out of his nostrils despite the non-smoking sign on the front window of this mini-bus to Trat, nostrils that belong to a thin and long nose with a couple of bumbs on it making it pretty clear to me he got his orphanatory organ smashed on more than one occassion, probably giving other confirmed hetrosexual-oriented males the same sort of I Want You look, a pencil thin mustache riding a lipless mouth, his hands, long and bony, are marked with lesions that are probably a sign of the AIDS virus he is suffering from...a swagger to his gait as though his hero Numero Uno Freddie Mercury is constantly singing inside his bony head...
Not that I mind gays all that much, the more of them the merrier, less competition in the gene pool, major competition out of the breeding game!!!
Not that I am looking my best myself today...the Kloster drinking session with daughter number one Joy last night probably still clearly visible in the lines that streak my Farang face, my paint-spattered jeans and sweaty singlet, my hairy armpits transmiting the smell of stale beer, a three days' rubble of grayish beard on my chin...
Mister My Name Is AIDS inmediately starting a monoloque about young and willing cambodyan boys, never mind I am interested or not...five hours from Bangkok Ekkamai bus station to Trat, having to listen to this shit...SHIT,SHIT,SHIT!!!
The kind of look this skinny bloke gives ME probably makes women lament same-sex attraction though the man is Nada to write home about, his clothes falling of his too lean frame like they were potatoe sacks...smoke coming out of his nostrils despite the non-smoking sign on the front window of this mini-bus to Trat, nostrils that belong to a thin and long nose with a couple of bumbs on it making it pretty clear to me he got his orphanatory organ smashed on more than one occassion, probably giving other confirmed hetrosexual-oriented males the same sort of I Want You look, a pencil thin mustache riding a lipless mouth, his hands, long and bony, are marked with lesions that are probably a sign of the AIDS virus he is suffering from...a swagger to his gait as though his hero Numero Uno Freddie Mercury is constantly singing inside his bony head...
Not that I mind gays all that much, the more of them the merrier, less competition in the gene pool, major competition out of the breeding game!!!
Not that I am looking my best myself today...the Kloster drinking session with daughter number one Joy last night probably still clearly visible in the lines that streak my Farang face, my paint-spattered jeans and sweaty singlet, my hairy armpits transmiting the smell of stale beer, a three days' rubble of grayish beard on my chin...
Mister My Name Is AIDS inmediately starting a monoloque about young and willing cambodyan boys, never mind I am interested or not...five hours from Bangkok Ekkamai bus station to Trat, having to listen to this shit...SHIT,SHIT,SHIT!!!
Monday, January 23, 2012
Bar girl letters
Bangkok, 23 Jan. 2012.
A boring 110 Baht bus ride, a strech of heavily built-up roadside view I have seen hunderts of time already, not all that pleasing to the eye but has to be endured if I want to enjoy the little pleasures of Bangkok's notoriouslly obnoxious Soi Cowboy...at least Akkamalai bus station is within walking distance of my favourite haunt in this sweltering Asian metropole.
Jum is one of the Go Go dancers I remember from last year when I was hanging out here with Nong who is now happily taking care of her little Thai restaurant back in the Land Of The Vikings, and though I am not a member of her rather exclusive, and probably extensive, club of Farang lovers, juggling her availability and their arrival times the way only a Isan bar lady can but has always mystified me, still we are on relatively good terms and plenty are the letter I have written for her foreign clientele, words of love and lust in a variety of European languages...
Wearing her working costume, a gold colored bikini that barely covers her essentials, she flies over the moment I enter the Suzie Wong bar smack in the middle of Soi Cowboy, aware of her petite hand that gropes the indise of my jeans clad left leg...
" Maybe You write good letter for me in German for my wealthy sexy Tilac from Munchen, Hans? "
Many of these bar girls can hardly write or read Thai let alone English or one of the more obscure tongues coming out of Ancient Europe and these so-called Scribes they are obliged to dictate their letter to make bad substitutes, incompetent bastarts that have the nerves to charge 200 Baht for semi-literate translations...often hilarious to the max.
I find myself back in a sexual laden admosphere with bare female limps smothering me while I write letters to forlorn elderly European males who thousands of miles from home and in a alcoholic mist, threw their dough around like it was confetti at a children's party, getting themselves infatuated with Hot Mommas often younger that the daughters they have back home, alimony money going into a Isan female purse...
These Isan bar ladies have little concept of tomorrow, no understanding of qualities the Western World considers important but they are street wise - or should I call it bar wise?- to their trade, specialised to the art of extracting Farang exchange baht and convincing me of prostituting my writing skills and languistic knowledge...
It goes a bit like this...
My dear john..maybe I should call the john for this love letter John-Paul The Pope just for the heck of it...
Me miss You too much, your strong arms when in bed together...
You gone only two weeks but me feel not see you life time...
Me yearning for you make love me...
Please, please, Phom Tilac, you come back soon...maybe I should add, don't forget your fat wallet, hehehe
I cry every night in pillow me before sleep...
You big ande strong, me can not live without you...
Your sexy Tilac, plus name.
Please, mommy me sick much, please send money!!! plus bank account number.
My letters, be they in Englsih, Dutch, Swedish or Italian, have become legendary in this bar over the years and my bar fees low due to it...never lost any sleep over it either...so if ever you receive a Soi Cowboy bar girl letter, changes are it was me they dictated it to!!!
A boring 110 Baht bus ride, a strech of heavily built-up roadside view I have seen hunderts of time already, not all that pleasing to the eye but has to be endured if I want to enjoy the little pleasures of Bangkok's notoriouslly obnoxious Soi Cowboy...at least Akkamalai bus station is within walking distance of my favourite haunt in this sweltering Asian metropole.
Jum is one of the Go Go dancers I remember from last year when I was hanging out here with Nong who is now happily taking care of her little Thai restaurant back in the Land Of The Vikings, and though I am not a member of her rather exclusive, and probably extensive, club of Farang lovers, juggling her availability and their arrival times the way only a Isan bar lady can but has always mystified me, still we are on relatively good terms and plenty are the letter I have written for her foreign clientele, words of love and lust in a variety of European languages...
Wearing her working costume, a gold colored bikini that barely covers her essentials, she flies over the moment I enter the Suzie Wong bar smack in the middle of Soi Cowboy, aware of her petite hand that gropes the indise of my jeans clad left leg...
" Maybe You write good letter for me in German for my wealthy sexy Tilac from Munchen, Hans? "
Many of these bar girls can hardly write or read Thai let alone English or one of the more obscure tongues coming out of Ancient Europe and these so-called Scribes they are obliged to dictate their letter to make bad substitutes, incompetent bastarts that have the nerves to charge 200 Baht for semi-literate translations...often hilarious to the max.
I find myself back in a sexual laden admosphere with bare female limps smothering me while I write letters to forlorn elderly European males who thousands of miles from home and in a alcoholic mist, threw their dough around like it was confetti at a children's party, getting themselves infatuated with Hot Mommas often younger that the daughters they have back home, alimony money going into a Isan female purse...
These Isan bar ladies have little concept of tomorrow, no understanding of qualities the Western World considers important but they are street wise - or should I call it bar wise?- to their trade, specialised to the art of extracting Farang exchange baht and convincing me of prostituting my writing skills and languistic knowledge...
It goes a bit like this...
My dear john..maybe I should call the john for this love letter John-Paul The Pope just for the heck of it...
Me miss You too much, your strong arms when in bed together...
You gone only two weeks but me feel not see you life time...
Me yearning for you make love me...
Please, please, Phom Tilac, you come back soon...maybe I should add, don't forget your fat wallet, hehehe
I cry every night in pillow me before sleep...
You big ande strong, me can not live without you...
Your sexy Tilac, plus name.
Please, mommy me sick much, please send money!!! plus bank account number.
My letters, be they in Englsih, Dutch, Swedish or Italian, have become legendary in this bar over the years and my bar fees low due to it...never lost any sleep over it either...so if ever you receive a Soi Cowboy bar girl letter, changes are it was me they dictated it to!!!
Friday, January 6, 2012
Fire and fury in my life
Only two days to go, less than 48 hours before my China Air departure for The Land Of The Smile, back to my second home and away from chilly Mokum, back to the easy life and back to Soi Honey-Inn, the New Star Guesthouse that has been my wintery hide-out for quite some years now...
Back to the Dutch Beach right across the Seven/11 - or was it 7/Eleven - where the Leo beer is rumoured to be in short supply due to the recent floods...
Back to these boring old Dutch pensionados that bore me shitless with their second hand stories about football and home-country politics...
Back to the fire and fury in my life, supplied free of charge but sometimes at deflateds and inflated prices by intoxicated Hot Mommas, maybe a bit of Yaa-Baa to give the Mau state of female local minds a bit of extra spike, also comes in handy to ball these fat bellied elderly s*x starved European males with slightly more wh*rishly appetite...
Plenty of material for my fucked-up blog stories and nubile bodies for my sketchbooks and acrylic paint...my room a gathering place for the members of the Isan sisterhood of street butterflies, cold alu cans of Leo, bottles of Mhekong whiskey and take-away Khao Pat Kung dragged up the stairs of my hotel...episodes of the original Star Trek series on my hunderd-twenty channel TV, captain Kirk still a hot item on the minds of undereducated Pattaya s*x workers...
Thank you, Thalaind, for getting me addicted to the Hong Kong Based Suzie Wong story!!!
Friday, December 16, 2011
Two Asian ladies from the Land Of Ozz, part two
The two Asian sisters I met last weekend In Cafe De Gaaper on the Prinsengracht, the saturday evening meet-up of the Amsterdam Couchsurfing Requests group of http://www.couchsurfing.org/, these two ladies of Vietnamese origin but were born and grew up in Melbourne in Down-Under, whose parents were boat refugees after the American/Vietcong conflict somewhere in the sixties of the last century..
These two young Asian beauties who told me they needed a place to crash before their flight back to the Land Of Ozz early next morning, who invited me for a pint of beer and had the patience to pose for a quick portrait in my sketchbook...
These two jewels for my eyes who explained they had actually read my profile on http://www.couchsurfing.org/, enjoyed my artwork I uploaded on that site and would love to pose for me once back home, making me feel proud hearing the way they upgraded my artwork to higher levels as I would ever have thought possible...
Wishfull thinking it was, once back in my seventy square meter two room old house in Amsterdam-West, a quick sorty to the nightshop on De Wittestraat for a much needed bottle of red wine, me asking them "okay ladies, please take of the clothes and start posing", ...
Wishfull thinking indeed, no the ladies had to get up real early, thanks for the free lodging and will leave you a possitive reference on http://www.couchsurfing.org...still/ waiting for that possitive reference and the posing session that never came around!!!
I did this acrylic portrait of them, a copy of the pen drawing in did in my sketchbook at Cafe De Gaaper...a double nude would have been all that much better!!!
Friday, October 21, 2011
Kadhafi, another one bites the dust
I started with this big bossomed black woman sitting opposite me in the train, coming back from Amstel Station after my last walk around Amsterdam, preparing myself for the Santiago De Compostela trek, checking out the bus station for my bus tomorrow morning to Bilbao, northern Spain...but the heavy and angry looks she shot me made me decide to continue with this younger version of Kadhafi I found in the daily Telegraaf newspaper...
From the days he still supported international terrorism and considered himself the king of Africa, the rightfull ruler of the Arab world...
From the days when President Ronald Reagan called him The Mad Dog, a nick that stuck...
I guess he was blissfully unaware in the then and there of his messy bloody death in the here and now, 21 october 2011, taken out of a rubbish strewn sewage tube and begging for his life...
Bragging and boasting, challenging the whole world and ending his life as a coward in the dust and dirt of his native city Sirte for the whole world to see!!!
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