Another trip abroad, thirty days in the Nederlands. Landed with a mild fever. Ate some hash, drank some tea and smoked a joint before eating and crashing at my hostel. Woke to discover I was still high and that my traveling buddy, my posse, from 1999 was now managing the hostel. It was raining and forecast for more. I did the only sensible thing a feverish artist should do. I got high and painted until my hands went numb. I did seven small paintings before sleeping for another 18 hours. It was so inspiring to be back on the musky streets of Amsterdam. I worked small and fast between rain squalls. I had all the right equipment on this trip including a pack stool. This little tug drew me to it. I get weak knees around puppies, babies, and little boats. Within 20 minutes of leaving my hostel, I was putting paint on canvas.