[Mac]hinations

I feel like a father. Years spent waiting for a Macintosh and the day finally arrived. The anticipation was killing me. It became worse considering that the beautiful can-do-no-wrong 24-inch machine arrived on the same day that I left for Cape Town. As much as it hurt me, I escorted her home, dropped her off in the studio and proceeded to pack my bag.

I had just enough time to go through the lovely set-up procedure, rip a Shins CD and sync my cellphone before taking my leave. I have to admit that most of the excitement I had for getting home had to do with this beast. It was so easy setting up dsl, importing contacts, creating a birthday calendar and configuring my email client. This was all done with the standard software.

Enough with the geekiness...
Fairest Cape volume II to follow soon.

On the Fairest Cape: Redux

By-the-seat-of-your-pants-roadtrips have always turned out to be the most fun. This semester has been very difficult and I haven't been away since November. On Friday Ryk asked me along on the kidofdoom Cape Town Tour. A couple of phonecalls, a couple of shifts covered and I'm the official photographer for the tour. As Ryk would say, "Fuck yeah!"

On Waxing Lyrical Pt.IV: Nostalgia

Clearly my experience with music, like most peoples, is inherently emotional. This emotional connection inspires interesting behaviour. It was not exclusively my guy friends and myself that experienced the Feeder concert. I was in my first long term relationship at the time and it the concert coincided with my better-half's birthday week. I wanted her with me when I saw the band. I used my entire months allowance to gift her a ticket.

Nostalgia plays a rather important role in my collections and it has at times affected my judgement. The relationship came to somewhat of a close when my gap year began. Struggling with closure issues and being affected so much by the girl, I made a few unusual CD purchases. The girl was not only interested in rock and alternative, but she had an affinity for r 'n b and hip hop aswell.I found familiarity in Dido, Alicia Keys, N*E*R*D and, sadly, Ashanti.

This extended to my Pukkelpop experience aswell. It's interesting how some songs can only begin to mean something when my emotional state matches up with the themes of the song. In contrast to my experience with Feeder, Pukkelpop was slightly more sombre. Travelling alone seems to have that effect, but it was the fact that I needed to share the experience with someone that contributed to the melancholic sheen on the experience. So much so, that during Staind's performance of It's Been a While, I became vulnerable enough to let tears mingle with the raindrops that rolled down my face.

On Waxing Lyrical Pt.III: Aesthetics

There is a magic that happens when I relate to music. An overwhelming sensation. It trickles down my spine. It pulls at my skin. My breathing becomes shallow. My pulse races and eyes widen. It gets to a stage where it possesses me to such an extent that my roughly outlined monthly budget transforms petrol funds into disposable income and the collection grows.

Towards the end of Matric, my interests turned to the emerging garage-guitar rock bands. I explored the sounds of The Strokes, The Vines and The Hives before coming to rest on the bluesy grit of The White Stripes. I was in London for my gap year when I got White Blood Cells, their third album. And while two of their singles received somewhat limited airplay and somewhat better success, it was the rest of the tracks that broke me. We're Going to be Friends, This Protector, Hotel Yorba and Now Mary found their way into my heart. But it was the personal identification with the heartfelt and tragic beauty of The Same Boy you've always Known that convinced me to get their back catalogue.

I progressed from CD's to MP3's at this stage and I toured parts of Western Europe with my music. The first stop was, unsurprisingly, the 3 day Pukkelpop music festival. Before this, Feeder had been the only international act that I had seen. I missed Counting Crows', Collective Soul's and Live's first South African visits. So it was three days of Christmas for me. The most influential of the acts at the festival was the Foo Fighters. Prior to the set, I had heard a handful of their songs. Afterwards, I had been converted into an all out fanatic. The energy and raw power of their performance was too much to resist and I bought their first three albums all at once, of which The Colour and The Shape became my absolute favourite. Their fourth album and their live DVD followed soon after. Their latest album, In your Honor, had as profound an effect on me. The power of the rock disc and the stunning texture of the acoustic disc convinced me to start saving for another trip to Europe that would conveniently coincide with a Foo Fighters performance.

On Nordic Faux-Rock and Better Times

Nothing brings down a mood like waiting an hour in traffic, 40 minutes in line to get into a venue, another hour for drinks (non-alcoholic because the beer line was 3 hours long) and watching third-rate MC's talking up a mediocre musical event with average performers as though it were 1969 and we were in Woodstock.

Coca-cola really fucked-up the Colab on Saturday. Expecting 45 000 people and catering to maybe 20 000. I heard rumours that Green Day and The Foo Fighters won the bid to headline the "festival" but the organisers looked at the figures for CD sales and A Simple Plan, The Rasmus and Metallica outsold GD & The Foo's.

I would be far more angry about paying R400 for a ticket if I had only bought it this month. It turns out that I bought it a month ago and I'm over it already.

Highlights are as follows:

• Understanding why I hate H.I.M. after watching The Rasmus - both are pop posing as metal.
• The presence of Tuks FM at a 5FM event including a Tuks FM blimp and a banner that reads" 5FM reasons to listen to Tuks FM:
• Kevin not so Fine
• Nicole not so Foxy
• Zuraida Sardine
• Ian F*@#
• Gareth go-jump-off-a-Cliff
• The only good performances of the event: Seether and Collective Soul
• Collective Soul frontman Ed Roland screaming "Sing it Johannesburg" to People in Centurion... Pretoria
• Being approached by a guy at the Electronica stage who wanted to know if I knew "where to organise pills"
• Driving home to Zero 7

Disclaimer: Metallica probably do have talent when it comes to playing music but I just don't see the merit in how they do it. It's just not how I would classify "creativityoh". I did enjoy myself and I would have kicked myself if I had missed it but I would still have Pukkel-Pop 2003 to fall back on. Granted, I would have gone to see Zero 7 had I known they were there (listed as Lucky 7 on the programme).

Greatest View from Here

Half-priced Table Mountain.

OnMidafternoonInebriationBrusheswithPromiscuityandGoingAWOL

I arrived back in Pretoria a fortnight early and a set of headphones lighter. My sister picks me up and she says that she's late picking up her significant other. We pull into the shopping centre parking lot and I wait half an hour before the other party emerges from work instead of making a 5 minute detour to drop me off and in-so-doing making me late myself.

I pick up my car keys and my DVD collection and head out to a place that Steve's houseitting. Countless games of NHL later we fire up Army of Darkness. The next night is Tings an' Times where we stumble onto the idea of roadtripping. Drive out to Richards Bay take a swim in the Indian and drive back in time for Christmas. It's set for Thursday.

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heis"I'llcallyoubackwhenwegetbacktoPretoria"saysBjorn.

Interval III: Of the Bane that is the Automobile

Partly because the camels favourite straw has today landed on my back, and partly because it takes too much effort to make these things sound eloquent (as the previous post is testament to) I've decided to take a breather from the regularly scheduled update to bitch and whine about my privelleged, middle-class existence - along the lines of a Chuck Palahniuk quote: Things you own end up owning you.

My digital camera was eaten up by an A-class Mercedes that doubled as a B&B to four guys visiting the north coast (watch for the sequel to The Fairest Cape coming soon enough damn it!). Last week the Mazda's petrol cap mysteriously went missing and I used the ancient BMW until I bought a replacement later on the same day. I leave the headlights on at Varsity and have to wait for Campus Security's assistance - except the guy drives past me and I have to wait 20 minutes longer in the rain before I am helped on my way. I buy the petrol cap and forget the BMW outside in the driveway.

The Stepdad arrives home to tell me that the BMW's doors and boot are standing open. The radio, speakers and amp have all been jacked after the driverside doorlock has been damaged during the break in. Since the car has been put up for sale that day (I motion to refer to "Fate" as "that miserable bastard" from here on out) as that miserable bastard would have it, I need to have the lock repaired and replace the radio and speakers.

This week I decided to put that all behind me. I wake up after an eventful farewell for Andy (where a number of incidents occurred among a number of people that have no reason to think favourably of me) to find a substance - which could be alcohol but seems suspiciously like urine - splashed all over the bonnet of the Mazda. No problem, the gardener took care of that - again at my expense.

I get very good mileage (what is that in metric? kilometerage, meterage [your abstract prefix here]-age) and my petrol tank indicator is slightly suspect (there is no reserve light; when the tank is full the needle reads past the full indicator; when the car is switched off, the needle reads past the empty indicator) so that miserable bastard decides that today I run out of fuel on my way to work. My lovely mother brings me some fuel and the car won't start. I say "let's give it a minute to settle". She says "I'll call the AA". It turns out that a coil (don't ask me) seems to be misbehaving and needs to be replaced. If I had to work after the flatbed truck tow-in I think some disciplinary action would have been warranted.

Next hot-air expulsion likely to cause a warm front can be expected upon me receiving marks for the first varsity assignment that I absolutely know will be under-appreciated...
Rant concluded.

Fairest Cape Vol.I Pt.II: On Being Pale and Drinking Tea

Relief fills me as I leave the uneasy company of a person that has at a time meant more than comfort and safety to me. I let myself think about it and then choose to ignore the gloom it evokes. The commune of "hi-friends" is less awkward and I let myself be less aware.

Not used to being the first person awake, I make tea and bide my time before we find breakfast. The beach is the next stop and I buy a pair of slops. People put their sunglasses on as I take my shirt off on one of the Clifton's and we sit watching the women working on their full-body tans. The wind picks up and we move out to Beta beach. No-one is around to don their sunglasses this time around and the cold water begins to sting my feet. One visits the rocks on the waters edge, another sits in the shade and her brother loses himself in search of seashells. The sky absorbs me into the recurring erosion of clouds that erupt from it at violent regularity.

A stop for ginger beer and fireballs on the way to the bottle store before drinking games and a short walk to Green Man for dancing. Few people. Terrible music. Much fun. My feet sting again, but this time it's from fatigue and I find myself a seat to doze in. The brother wakes me for BP pies and the walk home. It's now that I learn that despite their appearance, Cape Town's street signs can support my weight.

More tea in the morning and more Vonnegut. Today is slow and quiet. Tonight is home-made Thai green curry. Tomorrow is the move to another bed.

Fairest Cape Vol.I Pt.I: On Plans, the Landscape and Unwelcome Sensations

My approaching trip to Cape Town only begins to touch on my emotions on the evening before my flight out. An SMS arrives to tell me that my free accommodation is no longer available. I arrange a place to stay for a couple of nights after one of the five phonecalls I make is answered. The conversation goes: "Sure, it's not a problem. I'm here until Thursday. I am secure in my current relationship and you can sleep in my sister's bed. She's away."

My Mother tells me that I don't look excited. She asks me if I'm going to mope around for the whole time that I'm away. She makes me go out and buy a cross for my neck-chain. I just want to load up my MP3's. Cape Town's runway has just been repaired and there are many delayed flights. I listen to Portishead while waiting in line, in the waiting line.

Through the gate is a bus that takes five minutes to load and drive us a distance that would take forty seconds to walk. My hand luggage is stowed and I look out the window while I add 727 to the list of aircraft that I've flown on and wonder if there is a 717. The land speeds away in the other direction and I imagine that I'm standing still and that the world is moving around me. The land begins to drop away beneath me and the sky comes closer. I look through the window and I see how the churning, paper-white rapids of the clouds absorb the sun and how a dozen arrows of sunshine shoot through the clouds to be eaten away by the smog caught below.

This year's flight is free of babies and of Heineken so I decide to appreciate a small victory and order another Amstel. The flight over the Free State is the same as the drive through it so I read more Kurt Vonnegut. As we approach Cape Town, I look out of the window. The Earth of the escarpment is hard boulder with clumps of trees deposited like patches of moss across it. As the ground rises and the sky floats away, the mossy growths of litter clings to the sides of the Guguletu roads and pathways until we're at eyelevel with the slum apartments that ooze colour from each window like a fly through a fly-swat.

After another five minute bus ride I arrive, hair wind-tossed, at my pick-up. My smile lasts ten minutes until it sinks into a guilty knot in my stomach. The conversation goes: "I don't understand. Why are you staying until Thursday? I thought I was only a back-up plan. You'll just have to tag along." There is dinner and then there are drinks and there is a chaperone that sleeps in the sister's bed.

On Last Minute Catastrophe, Scotland and a Local Girl.

My life functions in polar opposites. There is never anything happening until everything happens at once - like a cloud burst. "Gradually and then sunddenly".

We have an ADSL line at home. This is very helpful for downloading mindless amounts of data but since we have DSTV aswell, we were invited to try out the not-yet-released-to-market Multichoice and Telkom service of "Video-on-demand". Basically we stream videos across our ADSL line onto TV via a set-top-box. They contacted us months ago. Today they are installing the system and today I leave for Cape Town for a month.

My trip to Cape Town has been planned for at least a month and a half in advance - free accommodation, the only serious expenses being food and alcohol. Yesterday I am notified that Frank - who has been down for a week already - has been kicked out of the apartment. I am now homeless too. I make a few phonecalls and - one to an old girlfriend - and I managed to organise accommodation with hi-friends. Y'know, those acquaintances that you are friendly with but never seem to say much more than "hi" to each other.

One of my closest friends is leaving for Scotland today aswell. He and his girlfriend are working for Gas Electric and Telecommunication in Glasgow - for a year! His flight is two hours before mine and if I were to see him off from the airport I would either need to make a double trip or I would have to wait at the airport for four hours until my plane departs.

My season of dry-spells and flings seems to be ending now, but it's not all that simple either. The Scotland bound friend's girlfriend has a friend that I really get along with and that I'm attracted to. I'm told that she likes me alot but she is staying in Pretoria and I won't see her until I get back. It doesn't help that there is history there too. History between me and another friend of hers but it could get in the way nonetheless.

I wouldn't be going to Cape Town for so long had it not been for my Scotland bound friend. He and his girlfriend were set to come down with us. I was meant to drive down with them and they were going to leave before Christmas. I didn't want to be in Pretoria for New Years and so I opted to stay on with Frank until January 10. Two weeks before we're set to drive down, my friend is recruited to go overseas. By this time, I have already swapped out my shifts at Exclusive Books with some difficulty and I don't really want to cause any more trouble.

I'll be okay. I travelled Europe on my own, I think I'll do fine in the Western Cape.

I, SpaceMonkey

Soffy, this one's for you. While living abroad, I saw a handwritten notice in Waterstones that announced a visit to the branch by none other than the original Space Monkey himself, Chuck "don't-call-me-Charles" Palahniuk. I bunked work for a bit and headed off to Waterstones on the day in question.

This is from my copy of Fight Club which came free with DVD Magazine that featured the movie on the cover. I contemplated stealing it from CNA - which would have lent my owning it more authenticity in a way - but bought it instead.

Standing in line to meet him, we were asked to write down any personalized message to save time while he was signing our books. He was on tour to promote the newly released Diary. I took along Survivor (his poorest in my opinion) and Lullaby and after he signed the three I showed him what I wanted written in Fight Club. He was amused.

He was soft-spoken and gentle. I think it was more discomfort than shyness. I don't think he enjoyed this type of public obligation. We chatted and I asked if people greet him like they do Ed Norton in the film. I don't think I was all that clear because he seemed very confused about it. I changed the subject and asked him if he'd ever been to South Africa. He told me that he visited a number of times. It turns out that his brother lives/lived (can't remember which) in Durban because of his work.