Posts Tagged ‘kommetjie

14
Mar
10

Sunday Post – 5pm and still haven’t made the bed

When you wake up, it is a firm belief of mine that you shouldn’t fuck around at all. You should jump right up and make the bed and make it well so when you get home later you can collapse on it and feel good because even if your day sucked, at least you don’t have to climb into an unmade bed at the end of it.

Well, it’s 5pm and I still haven’t made the bed.

 

 

Instead, I’ve spent the day writing. Hammering as many words as possible out of this poor laptop while its sticky-coffee keys squeak and protest under my relentless fingers.

And still, I feel unfulfilled. Like I’ve wasted the day completely. It’s frustrating how on some days you’ll pour every bit of effort into your writing and come out with something that’s only mediocre at best and on others you’ll plonk out a few words that are sheer genius and have hundreds of people commenting and sending the link to their friends.

This definitely won’t be one of those posts.

All I really wanted to do with this post was write about yesterday and what an amazing day I had at the beach in Kommetjie with J-Rab, my cousin Sub-Human and his wife and kids.

It was the kind of day where the beach is the last thing on your mind. It was overcast and had rained that morning, but we had nothing to do after lunch, so we took the kids to the beach and it actually turned out to be a really beautiful day.

Sitting on Kommetjie beach, you are flanked on either side by beautiful mountain ranges with nothing but the sea and all its majesty in front of you. It’s amazing how relaxing it is to just sit there like that with hardly anyone around, thinking of nothing really and just enjoying living in the moment.

 

 

I call him Sub-Human because I don’t have any other nickname for him and it’s what some of his friends called him back in the day because he was wild and free in ways you and I can only imagine.

He has an incredibly big heart, the biggest of anyone I know and is fiercely intelligent, but most people when they meet him think he’s beneath them.

My ex-girlfriend thought that. She thought he was white trash and even made that comment about him one evening when we were on holiday a few years back in Cape Town. All I can say is it didn’t go down well with me at all.

She hated me doing this one thing, it upset her more than anything in the world and so, the second she made the ‘white trash’ comment I did that thing, right in her face, to piss her off as much as possible and surprise, surprise, it worked.

Nothing quite like instant revenge to spice an evening up.

Sub-Human is a philosopher and a poet who can strip an engine and put it back together in record time and who is a loving father and husband to his wife and two boys.

But more than that, he’s the best cousin in the world.

Back when I was a teenager, he was my hero. He must have been in his mid twenties, and I loved the way he was so honestly unconcerned with what the world thought about him and completely unafraid to say what he thought and fight for what he believed was right.

There was integrity in the way he lived and I respected that. The trappings of this world have never meant a damn thing to him and he’s always had this way of seeing straight through people’s bullshit that never fails to crack me up.

 

 

He freaks a lot of people out, they don’t take him seriously, they think he’s a clown, a buffoon, but if you could have sat on that beach with us, looking out over the oceans and the mountains and heard him speak about the Albatross and how much he loves watching those colossal and magnificent birds glide over the ocean, you’d swear he was the single most fascinating person you had ever met.

‘Act like a pauper, think like a King’ he always used to tell me and I’ll remember those words as long as I live because they take on a new significance for me with every situation I find myself in.

I don’t think Sub-Human is a fitting name for him and I’m almost embarrassed to use it to describe such an amazing person.

Instead, I’ll call him Albatross, that’s much more fitting.

And also, I’ll make the bed 😉

-ST

10
Feb
10

Porn saved my life

What’s pretty rad about living in the modern world is there’s not really any stigma attached to porn anymore, provided it’s regular porn and not 2Girls1Cup porn or 1Man1Jar porn (hadn’t heard of that one had ya? Google it! Do it now!).

This means that as long as you’re not at work and you’re a single guy or have an open-minded girlfriend, you can pretty much watch porn to your heart’s content and no one’s going to think any worse of you… except your parents. They might be a little creeped out by the copy of ‘Weapons of Ass Destruction 5’ you keep stashed under your pillow and come to think of it, so am I.

 

 

Ask any guy and they’ll probably tell you they’ve learnt a lot of valuable lessons from porn, like the perks of being a TV repair man for example or how to make light of an awkward situation like walking in on your wife and the babysitter dressed in leathers and lubing up a cucumber.

But how many guys can say that porn has saved their lives?

Well, porn saved my life. I did a solo road trip about three years ago from Joburg to Colesburg to Storms River to Cape Town then to Colesburg again and finally back to Joeys.

It was an epic trip and I had all kinds of cool adventures along the way, well at least I think I had all kinds of cool adventures because to be honest, I don’t remember much of what went down.

One minute I’m having a sokkie-jol with the locals at The Blue Moon in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, next I’m arm wrestling one pasty Brit after the next at Djembe Backpackers Lodge, next I’m dislocating my arm in a swimming pool (long story) and popping it back in myself in Kommetjie, next I’m wandering around Vortex somewhere in Paarl with a giant pink sombrero listening to a total stranger rattle on about how the entire story of Christmas evolved from people eating too many magic mushrooms in the forest and staring at reindeer.

 

 

It was a holiday so badass I needed a holiday after it just to recover and actually ended up taking two day’s sick leave when I got back because I had bronchitis and felt like hell.

Thing about the trip was that I did every leg of serious driving more hungover than the last and all I can say is never, never subject yourself to that kind of torture. It got so bad that unless I’d swallowed three packets of McNabs Energy Tabs and downed two Red Bulls before hitting the road, I was about as useful behind the wheel as a blind monkey with one arm.

Once I’d taken the edge off my hangovers all that was left to do was keep my eyes on the road, concentrate and drive. Then drive some more. Then drive some more. Then after that, you guessed it, lunch at Wimpy, yum!

Bottom line is I was dead tired for the last couple of trips I did and tried everything to stay awake – winding the windows down, playing music loud, biting my cheeks really hard, slapping my face really hard, having a conversation with myself in numerous different voices, drinking lots of orange juice, singing the theme songs of every old TV show I ever saw (‘Come and knock on our dooooooor, we’ve been waiting for yoooooouuuuu”) and eventually pulling all my nose hairs out, one every 15 minutes.

 

 

It’s all bullshit. None of it fucking worked. All that happened was I got funny looks at the petrol stations I stopped at because my hair was a bird’s nest, my face was bright red, my nose was bleeding and I kept chewing my cheeks and singing the A-Team theme song under my breath.

I knew I’d hit rock bottom when, whilst driving between Cape Town and Colesburg I looked up to see an entire family of cute little dassies crossing the road and mowed down everyone of them.

I had to find a way to stay awake, those dassies never did a damn thing to me and there I was, smearing them across the road like lumpy jam.

 

 

Suddenly God, or some kind of divine entity, parted the clouds above me and in a epiphanic moment, an infinite reel of every porn movie I’ve ever seen started playing in my head.

It was everything from the classics like “Bang Hur”, “King Dong” and “Laurence of a Labia” to modern day titles such as “Position Impossible”, “In Diana Jones And The Temple Of Poon” and “How Stella Got Her Tube Packed” (don’t ask).

I’ve never been so alert whilst driving in my entire life. My only regret is that I didn’t figure this miracle cure for drowsiness sooner!

So the next time your parents / landlord / boss / the police walk in on you appreciating some fine pornographic material and try to evict / fire / arrest you tell ‘em straight up, “Hey, do you mind! I’m fucking saving countless lives here ok?! Christ, knock next time!”

Hey presto! Problem solved 😉

-ST