An Extended Holiday
Its a funny world.
I've been thinking about True Love since I got my new cd's from James. He imported them on Amazon and dropped them off last saturday. I got 2 Ikara Colt albums, Life Without Buildings, and a double album by Daniel Johnston.
For anyone who doesn't know Daniel Johnston he's like the down syndrome brother of Jack. I always hover between cringing and adoration when i listen to him. The first cd on his latest album is a tribute by other musicians doing covers of his old stuff, guys like Beck, the Eels, the Flaming Lips, Radiohead tipping their hat. Its beautiful stuff, and fills my car so snugly that I don't even notice the BMW's driving up my rear any more. They're all songs about True Love, and they take you back a long way. They remind you of the times when you where living what he was singing.
Ahh.. sigh.. Where was I?
Oh yes, An Extended Holiday.
But before I start, turns out work installed some Surf Protection software to monitor/prevent our web usage while I was away on An Extended Holiday. It took a day to find the database and create a back door. Mission Impossible stuff*..
So An Extended Holiday started last month some time, me and Ian jumped a plane down to George and hooked up with Quint for the Nelson Mandela concert. It was magic, and Annie Lennox is now my new female hero. Either her or Queens new singer, Roger Waters, what a nana.. But yeh, we stayed in a mansion, lived in excess, loved from afar, and I read some killer chapters from Bill Bryson on the loo. We had passes for the sound check the day before, and sat in the sun watching our own private performance. It was just an honour. Hangovers, empty stomache's and sunburn faded away in the angelic magnificence that is Katie Melua, a voice from heaven tightly bottled in a body from the lustier levels of hell. Well, South East London actually, but close. Ahh, Katie.. I loved you, pure and chaste, from afar. And sorry for calling you Katy Manure, it wasn't that funny in retrospect. That night we had a party for Queen and their crew at our mansion, and me, Quint and Ian braaied for like twenty people. Queens sound engineer wanted my mum's boeboetie recipe, ..yeh, wha-eva.. i made a joke and kind of ignored him.. (as if?!)
The next day me, Ian, Lara and Vicky cruised down to Vic Bay, which now stands at #3 on my top five kiffest spots. Warm water, good surf, surrounded by hills and good vibes. Fantastic, despite the disturbing photo of Bertie from Egoli at the take away joint. Lara and Vicky came up from Cape Town for the weekend, and they are top girls to hang out with. I realised later I may have loved Vicky from afar too, though I may have confused it with pure admiration and perhaps.. a crush?? It may be my demise though, the fear of embarrassing someone I have feelings for..? sigh..
Nevertheless, that night the concert cooked and life was good. I felt better than I have in years. And standing next to Quint and Ian I felt a part of something bigger than myself. Life was limitless. Quint organised us backstage passes and we pilfered the open bar in hopes of calming our nerves. Well, me and Ian did, Quint was slapping Brian May on the back like they where army buddies. After a few glasses of red we tried to mingle without looking like tits, very hard i thought in those circles. The after party was rocking though. I made friends with Roger Taylors PA, Justine, and we stole a golf cart and ripped up Fancourt at three in the morning sipping Long Islands. If you have ever thought that the life of a rock star is superficial, empty and lonely, you are, in a word, wrong.
We flew back sunday night to Joburg, the armpit of South Africa, and with it slid slowly back into the predictable mediocrity of salary-men. A week later though my mate Kate arrived from London and we took a two week road trip around the country, Mpumalanga, the Kruger, Drakensburg, Ballito, Cape Town and an inbred hive of carn-folk called 'Bergville'.. So my Holiday kinda became An Extended Holiday, ending on the Camps Bay terrace of new friends house at dusk, sipping good shiraz. It was so hospitable of them to take us in, and I felt so bad for snapping their bed in two. But more of that some other time maybe.
for now, wise words from Daniel Johnston. easy to read, hard to live :
"true love will find you in the end. there is one catch though. you have to be looking for it, because true love is looking for you too"
later skaters
I've been thinking about True Love since I got my new cd's from James. He imported them on Amazon and dropped them off last saturday. I got 2 Ikara Colt albums, Life Without Buildings, and a double album by Daniel Johnston.
For anyone who doesn't know Daniel Johnston he's like the down syndrome brother of Jack. I always hover between cringing and adoration when i listen to him. The first cd on his latest album is a tribute by other musicians doing covers of his old stuff, guys like Beck, the Eels, the Flaming Lips, Radiohead tipping their hat. Its beautiful stuff, and fills my car so snugly that I don't even notice the BMW's driving up my rear any more. They're all songs about True Love, and they take you back a long way. They remind you of the times when you where living what he was singing.
Ahh.. sigh.. Where was I?
Oh yes, An Extended Holiday.
But before I start, turns out work installed some Surf Protection software to monitor/prevent our web usage while I was away on An Extended Holiday. It took a day to find the database and create a back door. Mission Impossible stuff*..
So An Extended Holiday started last month some time, me and Ian jumped a plane down to George and hooked up with Quint for the Nelson Mandela concert. It was magic, and Annie Lennox is now my new female hero. Either her or Queens new singer, Roger Waters, what a nana.. But yeh, we stayed in a mansion, lived in excess, loved from afar, and I read some killer chapters from Bill Bryson on the loo. We had passes for the sound check the day before, and sat in the sun watching our own private performance. It was just an honour. Hangovers, empty stomache's and sunburn faded away in the angelic magnificence that is Katie Melua, a voice from heaven tightly bottled in a body from the lustier levels of hell. Well, South East London actually, but close. Ahh, Katie.. I loved you, pure and chaste, from afar. And sorry for calling you Katy Manure, it wasn't that funny in retrospect. That night we had a party for Queen and their crew at our mansion, and me, Quint and Ian braaied for like twenty people. Queens sound engineer wanted my mum's boeboetie recipe, ..yeh, wha-eva.. i made a joke and kind of ignored him.. (as if?!)
The next day me, Ian, Lara and Vicky cruised down to Vic Bay, which now stands at #3 on my top five kiffest spots. Warm water, good surf, surrounded by hills and good vibes. Fantastic, despite the disturbing photo of Bertie from Egoli at the take away joint. Lara and Vicky came up from Cape Town for the weekend, and they are top girls to hang out with. I realised later I may have loved Vicky from afar too, though I may have confused it with pure admiration and perhaps.. a crush?? It may be my demise though, the fear of embarrassing someone I have feelings for..? sigh..
Nevertheless, that night the concert cooked and life was good. I felt better than I have in years. And standing next to Quint and Ian I felt a part of something bigger than myself. Life was limitless. Quint organised us backstage passes and we pilfered the open bar in hopes of calming our nerves. Well, me and Ian did, Quint was slapping Brian May on the back like they where army buddies. After a few glasses of red we tried to mingle without looking like tits, very hard i thought in those circles. The after party was rocking though. I made friends with Roger Taylors PA, Justine, and we stole a golf cart and ripped up Fancourt at three in the morning sipping Long Islands. If you have ever thought that the life of a rock star is superficial, empty and lonely, you are, in a word, wrong.
We flew back sunday night to Joburg, the armpit of South Africa, and with it slid slowly back into the predictable mediocrity of salary-men. A week later though my mate Kate arrived from London and we took a two week road trip around the country, Mpumalanga, the Kruger, Drakensburg, Ballito, Cape Town and an inbred hive of carn-folk called 'Bergville'.. So my Holiday kinda became An Extended Holiday, ending on the Camps Bay terrace of new friends house at dusk, sipping good shiraz. It was so hospitable of them to take us in, and I felt so bad for snapping their bed in two. But more of that some other time maybe.
for now, wise words from Daniel Johnston. easy to read, hard to live :
"true love will find you in the end. there is one catch though. you have to be looking for it, because true love is looking for you too"
later skaters
posted by OnRee | 7:09 AM
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