In the beginning…

Last Monday evening we drank three tripels and smoked three cigars in a brown cafe in Amsterdam. The next day the Netherlands banned smoking in public spaces. My first beer and cigar in Amsterdam was on the Zeedijk in 1965. Some shit went down in between, and so I thought I might bore you with a few of the highlights. We live in strange times when supermodels throw themselves off NYC skyscrapers, and their husbands feel the need to spend $2,000 a month on porn. I hate porn. It degrades women and bores me to death. Sex is sacred, at least the good sex is. It must be, after all it made me, and I’m still going strong. Some time ago the Cookiemouse died so I decided to tell our story to honour his memory. It is a story that is a bit of a muddle. A friend called me a drama queen the other day, so I hope the tale contains a bit of drama. There will be a lot about women, some drugs and alchohol, too much religion (we may have to skip over some of that) and maybe a few jokes, if we are lucky. I first saw the light of day in Chester, but left immediately and never went back. Instead I grew up in Cardiff, very close to the River Taff. So the Cheshire cat became a Taffy, a Welshman and a trickster, who morphed into a fool dancing on a tabula rasa at the end and the beginning of his adventure with life and death. My motto is sapere aude, dare to think. So you are welcome to join me as I think out loud, before I finally go crazy, or even worse, totally sane. It is a fine sunny day in Mokum today, so let’s start on an optimistic note. For what it is worth, I believe the journey of life is worth it, even when sometimes there seems to be no light at the end of the tunnel. My dearest friend died of cancer. She was far too young and had a fine mind and a big heart. In many ways this is Ceri’s story more than mine. She was my muse and I miss her every day of my life. My little Celtic goddess will never die. She just left her body for something better.

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