Vapour's blog

It is true that there are few places more desirable to die in than Africa. Of late though I am sure you often catch yourself quietly wondering whether there are better places to live.

The snow is thicker than usual. But Cry-key Moses King of the wanderers club, I get back to this site and it's like a fucking conversation at a Friday nights knitting class. (I know this as I've dropped a stitch or two in my time) Keep it real, no pink drinks you bunch of pussy whipped protesting muff divers.

I love those that snort and chuckle at their own outlandishness. They give me hope that sanity prevails and their lives offer a small and fleeting argument to those who would have us believe that human nature is at best a frail character reference for god.

I was thinking about tearing my ANC card up and joining a new party. Then it struck me that there really hasn’t been a good party around here for a while. Sure we’ve had a couple of grand evenings and a good conference or two, but there hasn’t been a really kick ass party for a while.

Why do men touch themselves in public? Is it that when they feel a little unconfident the need for a bit of cock fondling reassurance is too great? I know that when some people are confused or worried they stick their fingers up their noses but for god sakes squeezing your Quazimodo whilst standing at the top of the escalator waiting for your girlfriend really isn’t cool.

Placid she sits, watches the world going on. With or without her. She extends a hand into its reality, on occasion, but withdraws mostly from boredom.

Interesting. This is who she beat.

AFRICA
• Omar El Bahraoui, Rabat, Morocco
• Amos Masondo, Johannesburg, South Africa

NORTH AMERICA
• Stephen Mandel, Edmonton, Canada
• Sam Katz, Winnipeg, Canada
• Martin Chavez, Albuquerque, USA
• Michael B Coleman, Columbus, USA
• Mufi Hannemann, Honolulu, USA
• Antonio Villaraigosa, Los Angeles, USA
• Willie W Herenton, Memphis, USA

After spending four or so days in and around Cape Town I was amazed at just how much the standards have dropped since I left there in '65. Okay so I don't remember much but I am almost sure there was less traffic!

Sometimes I feel the insanity of prejudice burns too deeply in our society rendering the few reasonable citizens one comes across into questioning and apologetic children. It's a condition that I once witnesses before, displayed through the expressions of indoctrinated white children (who knew better) of the Afrikaans nationalists I used to observe here in the 70's when SABC ‘s first television broadcasts became a reality.

It felt wonderful. I was deep in a sleep, a sleep that has for whatever reason escaped me for most of my nights this time round. I could see my dream appearing starting to take shape like one of the credits from the original Superman movie except my credit didn’t swoosh past, it flickered refocused and then became. As dreams are apt to do.

They say that you become beautiful to yourselves and others in the twilight of your time. That the soul the mind inoculates our fleshy cocoons with a scent that leaves our opposite sex dripping with desire. Last night when the Moscovite pole dancer couldn’t keep her hands off me, after I paid the lying bitch to leave my family jewels alone, I thought that perhaps it wasn’t her fault.

Age defines the subject of conversations. It’s truly dismal when your mates start talking about real exciting stuff like how their pensions are performing followed by the threat by this or that element to their retirement plans. Quite frankly my china’s have more than enough put away to last them through to the ripe old age of 250.

There are of course moments when you wonder if you know anything about the profession you have spent so many hours, days, months and years discrediting.
It’s a natural process. (I revert to that stake when ever I don’t have an answer)

You ask me about life.

On Life:

Spring my ass. If this be spring then give me last weeks winter. Blue blistering barnacles its cold. I even had hot porridge this morning. Even thought it brings back memories of boarding school and never quite had the same effect on me as it did on Jet Jungle.

I’ve taken to tempering my uneasiness by following the usual capital dispensed prescription. Work eighteen hours a day and call me if you make 65”

I will admit that even though I have been involved in the world of Information technology since the outbreak of the Rindepest I for one still enjoy the basics of life as much as any lucky Zimbabwean President incumbent lotto winner.

After lunch we, now far more rotund than when we arrived, decided to go for a stroll around the farm to work off what we had an hour before taken such delight in working on. My god my family is gifted at working food on. Unfortunately this uncanny gift is sadly lacking when it comes to our proficiency of working food off.

It’s true. When I’m away from my life I cannot wait to wake up early, to catch the sun, suck in its warmth and bid the day a good morning.

Don’t you love it when the child in you returns? When it rears its giggling head, excited at just being alive? (Yes before you look in the mirror)

I’ve been thinking about how to fix things. Sometimes I look at perfectly working pieces of something and think, “I should fix that.”