”Eddie”, my mother used to say, “You’re better off being quiet than speaking this piffle. Just now people will recognise you for the monkey you are.”

I wanted to point out to her that “just now” was kinda, sorta, a literal translation from the language she tried so hard to distance herself from, and that things didn’t always work quite like that. For added snottiness, I toyed with pointing out to her how even more absurd it made her use of the word “piffle”. I decided against it, ‘cause what does a monkey now anyway.

grrrr.

Easy now... almost there...

Maybe it’s just me.

You’ve probably seen the new Kulula ads? The one with the groupie girl, the other one with the pool boy, singing those highly annoying songs. Yes. Kind of hurts to watch. And thanks to the songs, not only your eyes bleed, but your ears do, too. But hey, this is S.A. – can we really expect anything better? I guess we answer that question ourselves with every piece of substandard garbage we send out into the world. But that isn’t the main thing. The main thing is this:

thanks for going so easy on me, girls. I sure wouldn't have done the same...

- - - - - -

There’s still time to change the road you’re on; Led Zeppelin sang at me a few minutes ago.

In the last few days things became frantic. A red gloom coloured the skies permanently, and the humans turned back to their roots, like they so easily do when social rules no longer apply. Animals again. Millions of years of evolution count for little when it’s you or them.

So i just have to give a big ass shout-out to Ms Wrankles. Ma'am, your failure in the 100 word a day challenge was simply spectacular. It makes some very famous failures (think Titanic, think an All-Black rugby world cup campaign) seem like little oopsies.

And you made me feel a little less alone in my own failure. So thank you, Wanky. You rock. Air kisses and ass slaps all around.

i’m writing my novel
what novel?

Sometimes he just cannot fucking shake it. No matter how hard he tries. He’d feel the darkness rising up his spine and settle at the base of his skull. His eyes turn a shade or two deeper, a frown cuts his forehead, and the light and laughter leaves him. All he wants is something to claw and punch and tear apart. Because nothing is good anyway.

i is the drunkest guy i know. Not the cleverest either. Mercy, goodnight?

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i was clearing the table and i wondered: isn’t this all there is?

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...

They had a sushi chef behind the bar, and we were having a drink and watching this young man work with his blade in a such a meticulous and skilful way, i could hardly believe it.

What if you wake up dead? Obviously I don’t mean physically - although (I hope) that would still mean that you wake up, just someplace else. I mean what if the pains and strains and the things you suppress just somehow gang up on you while you sleep, severing those silver strings between body and brain that make you feel.

And you wake up... dead.