Showing posts with label amsterdam evil can hot momma thai leo beer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label amsterdam evil can hot momma thai leo beer. Show all posts
Monday, November 23, 2020
Tuesday, November 17, 2020
Saturday, November 14, 2020
Tuesday, November 3, 2020
Painting mushrooms
During a normal year I would already have been in sunny Thailand for well over a month now, enjoying the attentions of Thai beach putitas in the farang male kingdom called Pattaya, a mere two hours drive in a iron sardine can from overpopulated and poluted to the max Bangkok...instead I walk around my beloved Amsterdam all day enjoying the colors of autumn, drinking free coffee that reminds by taste and looks of dishwater in homeless centres all over the town centre, eating stale sandwiches with shitty Appie Heyn donated cheece, trying hard and sometimes in vain to avoid the freequent fights among the local clientêle, mostly polish and eastern european homeless drunks....
I haven't been in this city during autumn for the last 15 years, since the birth of my daughter Charlotte which was in autumn by the way. It is quite the experience!!!
Monday, November 2, 2020
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
A dead Hot Momma's Phi and the Naga
Pattaya, 17 Jan. 2012.
The history and mythology in the Thai Isan are intertwined, veiled in half truths, rumours and catogorical denials but accepted on a deeper mental level byf the Isan populace as probably true anyway and therefore better taken care of by offerings of titbits for the Phi of the deceased...
In my dream world I see the head of that poor Isan lady whose lonely funeral I unintentionally attended yesterday...though that peacefull but horrible image of her lying there in her bamboo coffin on a dais in front of the closed doors of the cremation chambre waiting for her turn to be turned into ashes, is not all that peacefull anymore in Lord morpheus realm, with her head slightly raised, her dead eyes wide open and glowering at me under deeply frowning eyeballs...a chilly sight, really!!!
I feel like she is trying to sustain figments of her presence inside my Farang Phi, a sort of dead telepathy is taking place here, a sort of telephone call from the nether world...I try to muster up the courage to summone an image of Poor Moo inside my gray brain cells, replace it with this gruesome face from the other side, but instead the Dead Hot Momma's come-alive-again distorted face turns into that of a Naga, that folklore God serpent Jamie and his gang of No-Goods told me about all these years ago while touring these obscure bars in some parts of Bangkok Farangs better shy away from...
I am shaking now by the sight of this mytological serpent trying to adverse influence over my sleeping hours, it is monstrous and I feel like my eyes are deceiving me...figments of my imagination brought about by a dead Hot Momma whose Phi connected with mine and refused to believe to be in the Buddhist version of a waiting room, hoping her next shot at the corporal world would be a good, if not a better one...
Finally I manage to break free, waking up with a start, Hot momma's Phi still trying hard to hold on but in vain...soft snoring next to me reminding me of my visit with Mister Porn to the Bamboo bar last night where my mate chatted up two lady-friends before making of with one and leaving me with the other, miss Lamoo...is she the one snoring softly and peacefully now while I was being tormented in the dream world???
I guess I will find out in the morning when the fiist rays of a brand new day enter my room through the cracks in my blue ancient curtains...lets hope their will be no financial demands!!!
The history and mythology in the Thai Isan are intertwined, veiled in half truths, rumours and catogorical denials but accepted on a deeper mental level byf the Isan populace as probably true anyway and therefore better taken care of by offerings of titbits for the Phi of the deceased...
In my dream world I see the head of that poor Isan lady whose lonely funeral I unintentionally attended yesterday...though that peacefull but horrible image of her lying there in her bamboo coffin on a dais in front of the closed doors of the cremation chambre waiting for her turn to be turned into ashes, is not all that peacefull anymore in Lord morpheus realm, with her head slightly raised, her dead eyes wide open and glowering at me under deeply frowning eyeballs...a chilly sight, really!!!
I feel like she is trying to sustain figments of her presence inside my Farang Phi, a sort of dead telepathy is taking place here, a sort of telephone call from the nether world...I try to muster up the courage to summone an image of Poor Moo inside my gray brain cells, replace it with this gruesome face from the other side, but instead the Dead Hot Momma's come-alive-again distorted face turns into that of a Naga, that folklore God serpent Jamie and his gang of No-Goods told me about all these years ago while touring these obscure bars in some parts of Bangkok Farangs better shy away from...
I am shaking now by the sight of this mytological serpent trying to adverse influence over my sleeping hours, it is monstrous and I feel like my eyes are deceiving me...figments of my imagination brought about by a dead Hot Momma whose Phi connected with mine and refused to believe to be in the Buddhist version of a waiting room, hoping her next shot at the corporal world would be a good, if not a better one...
Finally I manage to break free, waking up with a start, Hot momma's Phi still trying hard to hold on but in vain...soft snoring next to me reminding me of my visit with Mister Porn to the Bamboo bar last night where my mate chatted up two lady-friends before making of with one and leaving me with the other, miss Lamoo...is she the one snoring softly and peacefully now while I was being tormented in the dream world???
I guess I will find out in the morning when the fiist rays of a brand new day enter my room through the cracks in my blue ancient curtains...lets hope their will be no financial demands!!!
Saturday, January 16, 2010
My old haunt, soi Ngam Dupli
Thailand, Bangkok,
No more of my artwork on this site though I am working on my sketchbook like mad, running around the city hoping for great street sights to draw, maybe enjoy a cold Leo while making a quick sketch in my scrapbook, a different way of photography I guess...
The old tourist area around the malaysia Hotel - made famous during the shooting of Good Morning Vietnam, I still remember all the messages on the hotels notice boards asking for shorttime actors for the role of an American GI - has turned into a gay district with Gay saunas and homo oriented hotels, quite a change from the Pick-Up-Your-Chick kind a neighborhood it used to be say twenty years ago. Coming home late at night from my countless bar hopping nights, I would get besieged by local Hot Mommas eager to make some shortttime money before all the Farangs would be back in bed sleeping the sleep of the innocent, drunk on mekhong whisky.
Times change as the always do and I find myself back walking down Soi Ngam Dupli, on my way to my favourite haunt Kenny s Place for a cold leo beer trying hard to avoid the horny eyes of young local gay guys probably just as keen on making some Thai baht on a quick shorttime as the Hot mommas I remeber so well from my own Farang past in this colorfull part of bangkok.
I have come a long way since these early days, an old hand to a mystic oriental realm that feels comfortable but still just within the grasp of my Western trained Farang mind...
No more of my artwork on this site though I am working on my sketchbook like mad, running around the city hoping for great street sights to draw, maybe enjoy a cold Leo while making a quick sketch in my scrapbook, a different way of photography I guess...
The old tourist area around the malaysia Hotel - made famous during the shooting of Good Morning Vietnam, I still remember all the messages on the hotels notice boards asking for shorttime actors for the role of an American GI - has turned into a gay district with Gay saunas and homo oriented hotels, quite a change from the Pick-Up-Your-Chick kind a neighborhood it used to be say twenty years ago. Coming home late at night from my countless bar hopping nights, I would get besieged by local Hot Mommas eager to make some shortttime money before all the Farangs would be back in bed sleeping the sleep of the innocent, drunk on mekhong whisky.
Times change as the always do and I find myself back walking down Soi Ngam Dupli, on my way to my favourite haunt Kenny s Place for a cold leo beer trying hard to avoid the horny eyes of young local gay guys probably just as keen on making some Thai baht on a quick shorttime as the Hot mommas I remeber so well from my own Farang past in this colorfull part of bangkok.
I have come a long way since these early days, an old hand to a mystic oriental realm that feels comfortable but still just within the grasp of my Western trained Farang mind...
Saturday, June 13, 2009
The Old Man and his dog
Amsterdam,
Still half asleep and putting the kettle on the fire to boil water for coffee, a peek out of my window down to the street below, for a moment I hestitate than I see what I have bewen expected to see since late last year...
When I moved into this house in the summer of 1995 one of the first neighbors I got to meet was the old man across the road, skinny frame and a parchment yellowish skin color looking sickly and spending most of his time behind the proverbial geranium flowers scanning the going-ons in the street from his small first floor appartment that he shared with his aling wife who hardly ever could be seen outside the house.
Both of them old and suffering from a broad spectre of old people`s ailments waiting for the bony hands old Lady Death to stretch her all-encompassing embrace upon them.
The old man`s one and only friend - apart from his wife of course - was his little mongrel, fat from too much inactivity but in the possession of thin dog`s legs who would never get further away than the corner of the street during its many walks with his master, the old man across the road.
Apart from frequent shorttime excursions out of the house this fatty to the max dog would spent the other part of his canine life sitting on the old man`s legs looking out at the world below....
Late last summer bad luck befell the old man breaking his hip and being send to a care centre for the old, his wife being carried down and placed inside a coffin a few weeks later. The old man couldn`t even get to the funeral because of his broken hip.....
....This morning the old man`s appartment was empty, no more furniture inside or whitherred away plants on his balcony, curtains taken down and the appartment stripped of all his personal belongings....later during the day another neighbor told me he died recently in his care centre while he was asleep.
Still half asleep and putting the kettle on the fire to boil water for coffee, a peek out of my window down to the street below, for a moment I hestitate than I see what I have bewen expected to see since late last year...
When I moved into this house in the summer of 1995 one of the first neighbors I got to meet was the old man across the road, skinny frame and a parchment yellowish skin color looking sickly and spending most of his time behind the proverbial geranium flowers scanning the going-ons in the street from his small first floor appartment that he shared with his aling wife who hardly ever could be seen outside the house.
Both of them old and suffering from a broad spectre of old people`s ailments waiting for the bony hands old Lady Death to stretch her all-encompassing embrace upon them.
The old man`s one and only friend - apart from his wife of course - was his little mongrel, fat from too much inactivity but in the possession of thin dog`s legs who would never get further away than the corner of the street during its many walks with his master, the old man across the road.
Apart from frequent shorttime excursions out of the house this fatty to the max dog would spent the other part of his canine life sitting on the old man`s legs looking out at the world below....
Late last summer bad luck befell the old man breaking his hip and being send to a care centre for the old, his wife being carried down and placed inside a coffin a few weeks later. The old man couldn`t even get to the funeral because of his broken hip.....
....This morning the old man`s appartment was empty, no more furniture inside or whitherred away plants on his balcony, curtains taken down and the appartment stripped of all his personal belongings....later during the day another neighbor told me he died recently in his care centre while he was asleep.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
With a pang in my heart
Amsterdam.
I feel quite determined about my plans to go jogging in Westerpark in just a few more hours when I walk down the street to the Albert Heyn supermarket. Just out of habit I decide to walk a bit around the Blokhutten Complex first, an area of prefabricated student houses at the end of my neighborhood.
If it wouldn`t be for the views acroos the river I could still go there to check on the garbage - always interesting stuff these rich student kids throw away - as well as for unlocked bicycles. Most of these students come from small catholic provincial villages or are on foreign exchange programm and have no clue as to the bicycle theft and resell trade here in the "big" city.
No interesting stuff in the garbage and no expensive bikes but Maarten and Klein, two alcoholis and junks from the neighborhood, on their way to an abandoned lot where they wanna grow poppies as they proudly tell me showing me the seeds contained in a small transperent coffee shop provided hashish bag.
They offer me a beer and accepting this Can Of Evil I realise with a pang in my heart that there will be no jogging in Westerpark today but more of where that not all that elusive stuff came from...I can see from Klein`s bulking backpack that there are still several Cans Of Evil that will have to go down our thirsty throats this sunny day.
I see no reason to help these two street people seed their poppie seeds, water the ground with dirty poluted dish water from the river...instead I drink my Can Of Evil....luke-warm beer that does havoc to my still empty belly....I play a bit with Woef The Dog that has been adopted by Klein after Jackeline`s - The dog`s former mistress - messy death of cancer a few years back.
Mentally I wonder about how strange life can be....less than a week ago I was still at the other side of the world in the company of Thai Hot Mommas that were vying for my attention, good sex and tasty food, cold Leo beer and tranquility ruled my life with relaxed conversations late at night in front of the 7/Eleven with the Dutch expats, and now I sit here in a sunny but still crisp Amsterdam drinking luke-warm beer that does havoc to my belly and in the company of drunks who have no future but a mouth full of rotting teeth, bad clothes and even worse health.
I feel quite determined about my plans to go jogging in Westerpark in just a few more hours when I walk down the street to the Albert Heyn supermarket. Just out of habit I decide to walk a bit around the Blokhutten Complex first, an area of prefabricated student houses at the end of my neighborhood.
If it wouldn`t be for the views acroos the river I could still go there to check on the garbage - always interesting stuff these rich student kids throw away - as well as for unlocked bicycles. Most of these students come from small catholic provincial villages or are on foreign exchange programm and have no clue as to the bicycle theft and resell trade here in the "big" city.
No interesting stuff in the garbage and no expensive bikes but Maarten and Klein, two alcoholis and junks from the neighborhood, on their way to an abandoned lot where they wanna grow poppies as they proudly tell me showing me the seeds contained in a small transperent coffee shop provided hashish bag.
They offer me a beer and accepting this Can Of Evil I realise with a pang in my heart that there will be no jogging in Westerpark today but more of where that not all that elusive stuff came from...I can see from Klein`s bulking backpack that there are still several Cans Of Evil that will have to go down our thirsty throats this sunny day.
I see no reason to help these two street people seed their poppie seeds, water the ground with dirty poluted dish water from the river...instead I drink my Can Of Evil....luke-warm beer that does havoc to my still empty belly....I play a bit with Woef The Dog that has been adopted by Klein after Jackeline`s - The dog`s former mistress - messy death of cancer a few years back.
Mentally I wonder about how strange life can be....less than a week ago I was still at the other side of the world in the company of Thai Hot Mommas that were vying for my attention, good sex and tasty food, cold Leo beer and tranquility ruled my life with relaxed conversations late at night in front of the 7/Eleven with the Dutch expats, and now I sit here in a sunny but still crisp Amsterdam drinking luke-warm beer that does havoc to my belly and in the company of drunks who have no future but a mouth full of rotting teeth, bad clothes and even worse health.
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