Far fetched and faded glory

Good wood transmits bad energy too

In my memory a walk brought me on a chilly Friday evening near the Haarlemmerplein. I had gotten a VISA credit card through the Crypto App, and I could use it to withdraw 600 euros without the card being charged. I finally managed to unblock the credit card with the app. The past weeks had been poorer than ever because I was not able to get any money besides from the small pension I receive since being unemployed. I would have to make do with what I had for another week, but I made up my mind and decided to spend most of what I had left on something fun. I was in a state of excitement and as soon as I walked further along the street I was approached by a junkie who was walking in my direction.

I am always alone and often do not see a person ias in an actual human being for days. How could I have strayed so far from my former successful life and how could I possibly lead the life of a loser for good. I was happy to hear someone spoke to me although he sounded tense. He didn't look very sober, this man and soon asked me if I had fifty euros because he could get drugs and he knew a room where we could enter for a few bucks and have a drink. I was about to wal in the other direction. I didn't feel like it, but I dreaded the miserable loneliness of the weather sitting alone inside my shabby home one evening. I was also a bit horny this evening and had not been able to find any intimacy for months.

'No, I don't need drugs and I don't have any money, I stammered. He was a bit short and his face was messy, but I was doubting wether I should try and get a quick hand-job or oral, if only for a couple off minutes. He kept nagging and got annoying but at the same time the thought of some fast food sex lingered in my head. Why drag my loneliness into something that would only cause misery. My need for company was as always a constant source of stress, and I thought maybe there were other people there. While I was walking in the direction of Marnixstraat, still half thinking that I would walk back to my own house, I saw a woman standing in a doorway. Every fiber in me knew it wasn't smart to get in here. The junk kept on bugging. He had a rough and pockmarked face. Too much it seemed like an act or fake, which is on certain days the new normal here.

We walked to the first floor apartment. The woman turned out to be attractive. She looked a lot like Kathy Griffin actually, famous or infamous for her stand up comedy shows that until a year or two ago, filled theaters in the United States and Europe by mocking the world of Hollywood and celebrities as well as her failures in relationships, like her affair with Apple founder Steve Wozniak and she had a strongwomen connections with gays and gay culture. And through the television series "My life on the D list,' a reality series was based on her life "on tour" and her dealings with PA's that assisted her every working day in her imposing home in the Hollywood Hills. She was a gay icon if ever there was one. On this night and on most other nights these days both these cultures seem to be a distant memory. Because of that new generation, right? Some call them ho's. Sometimes they do so themselves. These hunky and handsome straight or bi guys that just ooze sexuality and energy. To be honest I had also found them prettier then the old scene lately in some more recent encounters I'd had, not aware of any sort of selling of the soul or whatever.

I had even read her book, 'Official Book Club Selection,' a nod to Oprah Winfrey's book club. Her affair with Steve Wozniak, along with Steve Jobs founder of Apple, is also described. There were also the New Year's Eve nights she and Anderson Cooper presented overlooking Times Square in New York. What is the difference between a Fatwah and Fatah, were some of the questions he'd ask. She knew how to respond flawlessly to hypes in the world of the Hollywood and entertainment scene and about it's more recent downfall we only hear about in the lyrics of anonymous rappers who's music plays at the gym. About five years ago, around the time of 'Me Too,' I sometimes sent her tweets with her and during this time, in the early days off park life, she or 'the anonymous ed' often tweeted messages that seemed to be directed to me as they were in some way personalised or some sort of coincidence. She was more of a fan of Benjamin, my cousin from Canada, in an epic end of the world scenario that had some leading roles in it. In retrospect, many of these connections turned out to be effects of IT, probably, allegedly. I also spotted her in Amsterdam a couple of times then, recently at a demonstration against discrimination. Almost as if she'd been following me and supporting me a little, along with others and more so then generic live and personalised messages in apps.

She'd become a constant presence in many confusing news hypes and social media articles that started to appear around the time of the election of Donald Trump and had created her own by decapitating his head.

The 'Harvey Weinstein' affair, about the innumerable amount of women that had been raped or molested by men had also been fishy to say the least while the tone of headlines became more and more trivial.

All with all, anyway, the thing is, it wasn't really her at all. In fact I did not see until I found a film poster at a nearby skating site with an actress it that was clearly her, albeit a bit younger and with a different name. Was she trying to erase herself from the public eye or is it just that it is this is the only is I am not in about yet. Somehow her presence had alluded me in recent years. The regime in which I myself am never commented on these kinds of questions.

I walked into the room and shook her hand. So it wasn't her, Kathy Griffin, but she almost was. Her character was different, much milder or so it seemed, stripped from that role she seems to play. The junkie knew her because he would regularly rent a room there. This was a bizarre situation that would only get weirder. "Melia," she introduced herself to me and it turned out that she also spoke Dutch. In her presence, "Mo," was an attractive man with a Moroccan appearance, and I was attracted to him too. We continued to talk as she was clumsily heating up a pipe on a messy stove with about five other empty meth pipes lying around. For some reason she was smoking ash and we shared some of it together, it was something at least.

The junkie suggested we'd go upstairs and I stepped up the stairs and passed some closed rooms. On the top floor there was an attic room. Mo and the junk were with me in the attic room and so was the junk. He kept asking for money. They just kept playing and exhibiting taunting, attractive and repulsive behavior. Meanwhile, another young man had walked into the room.They got me a drink. I was also attracted to this young fellow. He introduced himself as Tony. Tony had his 'wood,' a hard one on display in his sweatpants and seemed to be showing it off.Maybe that's just how guys dress these days. Mo was also still around and was asking me what I was in the mood for. I'd called these types traps before as they never seem to really go beyond being a cock-tease that ran into the room on all sides here. Mo had been back downstairs and in the meantime was walking back into the room. There were four of us there. I was the horny dog ​​again, wagging my tail and offering half my money. I didn't know how to approach them. The world of Ver -appen had escaped me. I don't know exactly about bait or traps or how to act around them. Did they actually ever do it? It had been a long time since I had dealt with all this teasing.

The junk had meanwhile run off with my wallet! My last money and I had nothing left to eat. And Mo was gone too. suddenly and shortly afterwards also Tony. And he really seemed to like me. I was finally in a room. I hadn't done it for too long. It was months ago. I planned my next steps, disappointed that my money had disappeared and my identity card too. But right now none of these things mattered that much, not yet. I even considered moving into the room. A sexual fantasy of being pimped or whatever took hold of me and I had nothing to loose at this moment. All my cards and also my key were gone as well as my jacket. I waited a long time in the dark. Could I really become a 'ho' now at last? I waited in the dark but no one came inside. I returned to the room where the Kathy clone was staying and then spent several hours with her. She sometimes referred to my life in her answers as if it were a shared life that we lead. And "Oh yes, reality check." I had to remember that she had to go to the police with me because they had clearly prepared this. This was a kind of Stockholm syndrome, after only a few hours. It was cold and dark outside and it would be hours before I could try to enter my house. While I was sitting next to her, something strange happened. I got feelings for her. Even proposed to her to marry me. As if... We spent hours together in the apartment and the night was not going to be over for a while. I'd lost everything. Too many thoughts at once to think rationally. "What if I try to do it with her ... Pukey hand ... Of course they cheated me .... She obviously has money… She's gone… Tomorrow she won't be here… Maybe she can pimp me… Where are those boys now… Why does she have such a strange phone that doesn't work… 'I asked her if she junk or one of the others, which is of course a strange question. While we were talking, she went to the kitchen every now and then where I saw her with about five six Crystal Meth pipes. She made me laugh. She smoked ashes. I do not know why. We sat in the living room and flirted. She spoke Dutch too. I just surrendered to the whole experience. I had no idea what time it was buit for the first time in weeks I had been around pleasant company. (And yes, this must have been a set-up and she was somehow involved in it too).

Later that night Mo came up with another one. He yelled at me. Eventually returned half of my passes. What was going on here|? I would keep fishing behind the net. I walked towards the door in the hallway and one of them gave me a jacket that happened to be hanging there. It was very cold outside and this jacket was much warmer. I walked in the direction of the skate park on Marnixstraat. I sat down on a job. That would be another week of no smoking. I didn't even have anything to eat today. They don't seem to understand that I really only had a few bucks. I looked behind me in the bushes where there was a large movie poster from a movie that played last year, "Hope," the poster said Kathy Griffin. A slightly different face and a different name "Braein Hovig" that no one could ever remember. Griffin can no longer be seen on the internet. There is always that hyperbole of overly insipidness to be seen and the clips I had once devoured were gone. That was just a little bit of GIN, you fools. For was it the money that had turned Griffin's forgotten allure into oblivion that made this night an indelible memory for me? Who can tell!