bafana bafana

"buy the ticket, take the ride."

- hunter s thompson

it’s good to be home. great to be back in a first world country again. with decent fast food. and an advanced non-violent unprejudiced multi-racial society. and world cup fever. it sure is exciting. i went out today (friday) and all the okes were wearing their yellow bafana bafana soccer tops. apparently it’s world cup friday. every friday. for the rest of time. jussis. it’s lekker.

eish... so anyway. i flew from aus to bangkok. the start of my trip home. it sure did get a bit hairy on the ground the wend we were there. but we managed to pull thru. the important thing was not to panic. we just focussed on the beer and the go-go bars. and left all the trivial stuff to the riff raff.

a quick summary of the issues in bangkok: a few years ago thaskin was the prime minister of thailand. he either nationalised a private telecommunications company and sold it for personal profit. or he privatised a state telecommunications company and sold it for personal profit. either way he made a lot of cash. it was a smart move. he then invested this money in manchester city football club. this was not a smart move. the yellow shirts (bourgeoisie) went to work. they mobilised the army and staged a military coup. justifiably so. everyone knows you don’t give money to dirty manc bastards. the red shirts (proletariat) decided they wanted a democratically elected government. so they barricaded central bangkok and staged a protest. eventually the army shot most of them dead (mowed the fuckers down) in a carefully planned and successfully executed military operation designed to maximise innocent civilian casualties. yay for dictatorships. fuck the people. and that, in a nutshell, is it. use it. don’t use it.

anyway, enough of the bullshit. i love bangkok. it’s got an edge. a vibe. it’s happening. but the greatest thing about it is the gender relations. i’m all for chicks rights. i’m a big fan of plastic surgery. but i’m also a traditionalist. a romantic. so, for me, it’s lekker to check punda in their natural habitat. performing on poles. mastering the use of ping pong balls. practising naked yoga. doing all the things that god made them for. getting back to nature. you can see they are happy. a destiny fulfilled. and when they finish up in the sex trade at the age of nineteen after a long ten year career, they head back to the farm and produce the next generation of pole dancers. of course, if some of them show ambition or potential, there is room to move. they can become air-hostesses. on a budget airline. doing safety demonstrations. and selling cheap airline memorabilia and shit.

eish... so the first night we stuck to khao-san road. backpacker mecca. we consumed beers. picked up a fat canadian chick. who was a bit of a laugh. the fat one’s always are. what else have they got? then we downed fuck-buckets. and ate crickets. that’s when i lost consciousness. i woke up in the morning curled round the toilet bowl. a first ever for me. believe it or not. chunks of dry kotch on my shirt. which could have been mine. or neil’s. considering he had to chunder over me into the toilet. was defo the crickets. they’re indigestible. totally devoid of nutritional value.

spent the day in the roof-top pool. charfing the hot scando chicks. and that night we hit soi cowboy. a place where dreams come true. heaven in a strip joint. and lady-boy proof. the chicks dance and wiggle around above you. on a glass ceiling. with no underpants on. and you don’t even have to look up. no need to strain the neck. the tables and bar counters are mirrors. convenience. easy to spot a huge wanga waving around up there. gives one peace of mind.

one night in bangkok and the world's your oyster
the bars are temples but the pearls ain't free
you'll find a god in every golden cloister
and if you're lucky then the god's a she
i can feel an angel sliding up to me

after that headed back to singapore for a week. caught up with all the okes. got stuck into some chicken rice. shweated like a beast. got smashed over the head with a bottle. on a friday night. at attica. a place where previously i had had a hundred percent record. how times have changed. eish.

we were dancing. and some local chick got a bit excited. so i turned around to check what was happening. and she smoked me on the head with a bottle. there was no matrix moment for me. i didn’t sway out the way in s-l-o-w m-o-t-i-o-n. no mr miyagi wax-on wax-off bottle avoidance procedure. i didn’t even see it coming. i just took it full on the forehead. luckily, the last and previously only other time i had been violently assaulted (in a backward town called empangeni), a dude smashed me in the face with a bottle. hence the flat shnoz. so i was experienced. the important thing was to remain calm. i considered the c*nt punt. but settled for a rant. and some finger pointing. then the bouncers escorted me outside.

there was blood all over the show. but they fixed me up. called the police. took statements. and bundled me into an ambulance. with another oke. who looked real unhappy. he was just back from six months in iraq. came thru without a scratch. he was letting his hair down at attica. dancing behind me. the bottle bounced off my head. flew thru the air. and smashed his front teeth out. haha. he had the teeth in his hand. poor bastard. reckons the assault weapon was a chivas regal bottle.

eish... so i have this big purple 3cm scar on my forehead. it is central though. symmetrical. hopefully it will complete me. like that smoking hot chick in the michael buble “haven’t met you yet” video. she has a mole on her chin. an imperfection that makes her even more perfect.

now the sky could be blue
i don’t mind
without you it’s a waste of time

avatar

"we are being made aware that the organisation of society on the principle of private profit, as well as public destruction, is leading both to the deformation of humanity by unregulated industrialism, and to the exhaustion of natural resources, and that a great deal of our material progress is progress for which succeeding generations may have to pay dearly. i need only mention... the exploitation of the earth, on a vast scale for two generations, for commercial profit: immediate benefits leading to dearth and desert. i would not have it thought that i condemn a society because of its material ruin, for that would be to make its material success a sufficient test of its excellence; i mean only that a wrong attitude towards nature implies, somewhere, a wrong attitude towards god, and that the consequence is an inevitable doom. for a long enough time we have believed in nothing but the values arising in a mechanised, commercialised, urbanised way of life: it would be as well for us to face the permanent conditions upon which god allows us to live upon this planet. and without sentimentalising the life of the savage, we might practise the humility to observe, in some of the societies upon which we look down as primitive or backward, the operation of a social-religious-artistic complex which we should emulate upon a higher plane. we have been accustomed to regard 'progress' as always integral; and have yet to learn that it is only by an effort and a discipline, greater than society has yet seen the need of imposing upon itself, that material knowledge and power is gained without the loss of spiritual knowledge and power."

- ts eliot (1939)

decent flick. but not the greatest in the whole history of the world ever. the chick is pretty hot tho. if you dig big chicks. with man hands. and four fingers.

so leaving the farm tomo. it sure has been a rough last week. mower broke. so had to get out the hoe. man oh man. nearly killed me. proper physical labour. brutal. at one point my hands started bleeding. and then one of the trees whipped me in the face. and then i fell on the hoe and it stabbed my spine off. i swore. and then kicked the tree. i shed a tear. and wished i was back home. with my garden boy. australia sure is an undeveloped country. they desperately need a slave class. cheap labour. white folks shouldn't be doing this shit. we weren't born for it. its genetics.

so heading back to sydney for a few days. and then onto bangkok for the wend. hopefully the reds and yellows have sorted out their issues. goddamn the third world. these people shouldn't have power; shouldn't have a voice. its dangerous. this is the sort of thing that fucked australia up. they should tazer the fuckers. or mow them down with that high-pressured water gun. drown one of the bastards. make an example. really do some damage. and then put them in their place. send them back to their huts. to tend the rice paddies. and sell their teenage daughters to the sex trade.

get. the. fuck. in. harry redknapp's blue and white army.

grapes of wrath

"i aint gonna baptise. im gonna work in the fiel's, in the green fiel's, an' im gonna be near to folks. i aint gonna try to teach em nothin'. im gonna try to learn. gonna learn why the folks walks in the grass, gonna hear em talk, gonna hear em sing. gonna listen to kids eatin' mush. gonna hear husban' and wife a-poundin' the matress in the night. gonna eat with em an' learn." his eyes were wet and shining. "gonna lay in the grass, open an' honest with anybody that'll have me. gonna cuss an' swear an' hear the poetry of folks talkin'. all that's holy, all thats what i didn' understan'. all them things is the good things."

- grapes of wrath, steinbeck

jussis. so the last two weeks have been about work. manual work. down and dirty. like christina aguilera. hand-to-mouth. like jemma jameson. mixing with the proletariat in the fields. on the building sights. in the pub. talking their language. eating their food. drinking their beer. breathing their goddamn filthy air. life experience.

eish. so it started off in townsville. north of brisbane. south of cairns. a backward town. laying insulation in roofs. shweaty job. gets friggin hot up there. stuffy. and toight. like a toiger. not conducive to claustrophobia. or wet beer farts. we started each day at 2am. kitted out in dirty singlets. and short rugby shorts. and bundy trucker caps. unshaven and mean. hard ripped bodies. charging around in a construction bakkie. flashing orange light on top. swigging xxxx gold. charfing the abo chicks with inappropriately bad language. we owned that building site. was peasant heaven. but after a week i had to move on. no pay. one big fuck in the ass. such is life below the poverty line. god hates poor people.

so i moved onto a farm. a few hours west of sydney. just over the blue mountains. hazel nut crop. the email invitation sounded perfect:

"I hear you might be interested in some hard labour on the farm.
We can offer you $10/hour and board for two weeks.
Most of the work to be done is hand mowing and cleaning weeds from the nursery."

sounds all rainbows and butterflies. but its not. friggin hell. i feel like ive hand-mowed the whole entire fuckin world. that nursery... eish... its not small. seven rows of hazel nut bushes. each row is half a kilometer long. and 2m wide. with knee high grass (shoulder high if you're wiggy). on a steep rocky incline. full of extremely dangerous animals. spiders and snakes. all to be negotiated with a small petrol-powered handheld lawn-mower. i was clumsy at first. ploughing down nut bushes. ripping up irrigation piping. now i am lawn mower master jedi.

on the plus side my hands are all hard and shiny. dirty finger nails. no more soft manicured office hands. labourer's hands. value-adding hands. hands that hot chicks love. hands that gays hate. a metrosexual's worst nightmare.

one unrelated point: the nude girls are one of the top 10 greatest bands in the whole world ever. just for the song genie alone.

hey now with the fist of a man
now with the fist of a god
now with the fist of my oh my
i heard my daddy said
no more, no more, no more, no more
uh oh now a little bit of money
yeah yeah from a little bit of hurry
genie genie genie GENIE

fruit donkey

"thus the hero of the odyssey is a great fighter, a wily schemer, a ready speaker, a man of stout heart and broad wisdom who knows that he must endure without too much complaining what the gods send; and he can both build and sail a boat, drive a furrow as straight as anyone, beat a young braggart at throwing the discus, challenge the phaecian youth at boxing, wrestling or running; flay, skin, cut up and cook an ox, and be moved to tears by a song. he is in fact an excellent all-rounder; he has surpassing arete.

arete implies a respect for the wholeness or oneness of life, and a consequent dislike of specialisation. it implies a contempt for efficiency - or rather a much higher level of efficiency, an efficiency which exists not in one department of life but in life itself."

- zen

hold the phone. jeepers creepers. and you thought queenstown was a lekker town. freak me out. two words. byron. fuckin. bay. pure quality. hippy heaven. on the beach. with awesome swells. and hot young chicks. with pert boobs. and vintage stores. and real live hippies. left over from the 60's. still living the dream. and smoking the weed. god bless them. eish. the whole place is so vibey. (aussies like to do this. i have noticed. take nouns and make them adjectives by adding a "y". hence the sea becomes sharky. and err... cant think of any other examples at the mo. dammit.)

lets back the truck up a bit. i've raced ahead. i left kiwi for aus sometime in early march. the first thing the bastards did was confiscate my love beads. fuckers. as if my mojo wasnt low enough already. apparently my love beads were seeds. of course they're seeds!!! they're fuckin love beads. fertile. virile. full of life. the goddamn border-nazi burned them. still... the aussie chicks must be relieved.

anyway. so... sydney. its ok. i guess. would have been better if simple guy little hadnt got us kicked out of the first pub. a hole on george street where the locals generally end the evening. we started there. so it was all downhill after that. dont remember much. sorry. selective memory. but it got real messy.

then headed off to canberra for the weekend. okes in sydney were shaking their heads. and muttering under their breath. canberra is seen as backward. but i had a mate there. a bogan. named jon. lekker oke. so... canberra!!! super surprised. very progressive. only really had one day there in between the hangovers and the sharks brumbies game. but in that time got to an awesome vintage market. joined in a gay rights protest. breezed thru an awesome arts gallery. and sipped wino to live music in the park. hundreds.

straight, gay, black, white
marriage is a civil right

eish i then had a week back in sydney. stayed with some of my folks mates kids (tedious link) in manly. people are so welcoming. i have no idea why people would choose to spend their time accomodating me. after all. time is all we have. very philosophical.

alrighty. enough of the bullshit. managed to catch up with george in bondi. what a night. what a place. what a chick. swedish. tongue ring. pity she was all over george. the oke is one good looking bastard. and he has a friggin awesome apartment. defo a step up from the burra.

headed up to the farm near mudgee to hook up with some long lost family. was hoping for a detox. no chance. goddamn dutchmen. and branderwijn. but the bonfire was kiff. if a little dangerous. being two stories high. and tended by two brandy-retarded sweaty-palmed gung-hos. (see that? i reversed aussie convetion. i converted an adjective into a noun. fuckin aussies. fuck em.)

they say the nile used to run
from east to west

then headed down to forster to catch up with another long lost cuz named dave. always puzzled me as to why i was named dave when my only other male cousin was already named dave. makes for a lot of confusion. such are the mysteries of the universe. like why german couples always look like brother and sister. and the name dave. the experience of which cannot be explained rationally any more than a piece of music. or a poem. but it was awesome to catch up after so long. spent a lot of time on the beach.

and then it was on to byron. the beast. and now brisbane. brisbane freaks me out a bit. there's a discomforting peacefulness here. like the quiet you expect to find in a peado's house. unsettling. and just last night (saturday 11pm) i was walking around the main pedestrian area in town looking for a place to watch the football when there, in the middle of the street, was a bible club. arguing loudly. "in 88AD the followers of christ...". eish. i shook my head. when i got back to the dorm (12.30pm) a fat chinese bastard was evidently having great trouble breathing in his sleep. the fucker sounded like he was violently choking. when things went quiet for 30 secs i hoped that he had finally been asphyxiated and slipped into unconscieniousness. but he then started neighing like a horse. at regular 3 minute intervals. i slept in the fire exit stairwell.

so heaps of folks have been asking me how aus is. and i hate to say it. but its friggin awesome (except brisbane - fuckin freaky). like a first world saffa. everything home should be. but... and here's the thing... its not africa. the people are nice. and the chicks are hot. and logically you cant argue saffa over aus. but aus doesnt make your chest puff up with pride. your eyes well up with tears. the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. it doesnt have that african spirit. you know? the waaahhhh. fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. passion. hold on your heart. TIA. no words can describe it. so im still confused. oh for a place to call my own. a home.

theres a highway of stars across the heavens
theres a whispering song of the wind in the grass
theres a rolling thunder across the savannah
a hope of the dream at the edge of the sky
and your life is a story like the wind

so whats been happening in a personal capacity? well... in the interests of becoming a more well-rounded individual and in the persuit of possessing a general life excellence, and because i have no money and i cant eat, i have decided that i want to pick fruit. or work in a factory packing shit. be value adding. tangible results rock!!! fuck yeah. oh... and i keep meeting the right girl at the wrong time.

wherefore art thou derick
in this fit of spilt maths
and keg of fruit donkeys?

- frederick von beanstein

a poem about durban

crash in the late 90's
by caide and stevo

It was back in the day
And good were the times
You could get drunk as fuk
On some nickels and dimes
There were many of us
And none were slack
When you called one wolf
you invited the pack
but true to nature there’s always a freak
the wolves from the burra
had a black sheep
he came with one eye brow
and black belt Karate
he fell off a bukkie at some ou’s house party
This one’s from the burra
you may as well save it
give it gave it - don’t tell David

On the way to CRASH on a Wednesday night
The sneakers were dirty and the money was tight
Out came the rubber and a ball point pen
Tired of getting bounced again and again
With box wine courage we approach the rope
Got my jumper and my mojo and I’m feeling dope
The stamp on my wrist you know I had to fake it
It was time to give it gave it - don’t tell David

And when we got in, the chicks were a plenty
The way we were cruising, we needed a Bentley
Mickey mouse shirts and the ballies leather jacket
Cyprus hill songs “pick it, pack it……..”

So we order some dops, and we feeling free
Here they come, 6 times Espree
We pay with cash from handing out pizza phamphlets all day
We look to the right, there’s anri, he looks gay!
Next to him is George, trying to dance
He wasn’t on the dance floor but we’ll give him a chance
With a look that could make the poor female preggers
He organizes Guava’s Cousin in her cat suit and feathers

Meanwhile at the bar I check Dave’s on a mission
Searching through his pockets with faulty indecision
But then he see’s his chance, the freezer is ajar
With Rubber man skills he quietly rapped the bar!
So there we were, one Butterscotch richer
We downed that puppy fu#*t, wish I had a picture
Butterscotch buzzing my head like a mofo
As we watched two Lesbos rubbing Ka – ka – Camel toe

Feeling quite horney we head to the back
Of the rave section side, to start our attacked
Chicks are everywhere, but lazers they shining
Right in our eyes, and davo starts wining
That his luck is running dry and about all his rejection
We think “fok this” lets hit the Alternate side Section

Then out of nowhere, like a voice from a choir
“Genie” starts playing, and we start jumping higher
5 okes in a circle, we seem kinda daunting
But we know we cool, when the chicks start their flaunting
Like lion hunting buck, we make our selection
hen it is dog eat dog to get that affection!

Caide is zoned, caught up in the nights shinnanigins
If Dave comes right then by 2 points he wins
The pressure was mounting
Caide was unaware
Dave see’s a loose one pouting
And choonz her,”welcome to my under ground lair”
Caide see’s whats happening
And he has to react
o he goes to Dave and starts jamming
Caide snookers him, what a brat!
Dave lost his mojo
nd starts getting bleek
Caide choonz, Rule no. 27
Don’t be a Geek
Anri’s got his shirt off
Gilberts spraying beer
Steve’s looking desperate
No surprises here

But all of a sudden the tables start turning
Not sure why, probably cos of the yearning
Georgie has got one, with a kiss and a thrust
Stevo is in there with a squeeze of a bust
Gilbert is out cos he is with Brenda
Anri is BLACK and gets a “return to sender"

Davo is a struggling, clutching at straws
Battling at this stage, he would opt for a draw
He looks to the right, the sight is absurd
Can it be true, Caide is on his THIRD
He mutters under his breath and heads back to the bar
If he can’t scores the chicks, he’ll cotch by the car
He orders a double, it’s vodka, it’s neat
And as he downs it, he accepts his defeat

So the night is over and some share the stoke
a few of the others, are on the end of bad jokes
we look a watch it is twenty past three
it is time for a muffin at the berea BP
we eat and are happy and tell stories of the night
about okes coming left, and others coming right
we jump in the cab this night was insane
can't wait for next week so we can go it again!

It’s 4 in the morning so we head to the beach
We race each other there, we made the tires screech
Nude body surfing wasn’t a crime
But roof surfing was… that sh1t was sublime

Stump said it first
It’s time for a Jonny’s
We get the hunger burst
And bust it in our under roddies
we put our change together, it comes to 14,40
“two chip double cheese –mutton gravy don’t be naughty"
We choon each others mothers while in rotti heaven
But we’re bummed cause tech starts at half past seven.

like a rolling stone

"the masses think that the power and providence are most clearly demonstrated by events that are extraordinary, and contrary to the conception which they have formed of nature... they suppose, indeed, that god is inactive so long as nature works in her accustomed order; and vice versa, that the power of nature, and natural causes, are idle so long as god is acting; thus they imagine two powers distinct from one another, the power of god and the power of nature."

- spinoza

jeepers. i was starting to feel underwhelmed by nz. couldnt see what all the fuss was about. then i was picked up by two asian ladies at the fox glacier. and together we breezed into queenstown. wind in our hair. smiles on our dials. kooks on the stereo. and 40 gigs worth of low quality photos on their memory cards. its quantity that counts. its the asian genes.

im not saying it was your fault
altho you could have done more
you're so naive yet so

queenstown is pure quality. one of the true greats. up there with must-go places like cuzco, barca, and queensburgh. the buzz is immense. like a brand new vibrator. running off a car battery. there's so much crazy shit going on there. like frisbee golf. its friggin unreal. and the scenery is worldclass. fronted by a lake. backed by mountains. middled by libido. and the ferg burgers are super kiff.

eish. so we had to hit the party. and we duely did. it was a saturday night. had a few drinks at the base bar. base is defo the slut of the hostel world. tempting you in with cheap booze and naked women. i love sluts. its whores i dont like. anyway. hooked up with an irishman who took us boozing. then hopped onto a pub-crawl with an american. (just an aside - the last time i was on a pub-crawl dopey cursed god after dropping his tequila shot. he beat his fists on the bar in pure frustration. he then ranted at the barman. later we ended up being escourted off the premisis by mall security having exposed ourselves to the bouncers and nightclub patrons.)

my mojo is gone. not sure if its temporary. but i just dont feel the beat of the party anymore. so i was just parking cheesy. remembering the days when we used to own clubs like this. absolutely dominate them. when some chicks started chatting to me. they were cool girls. three of them. an englishman, an irishman, and an englishman. pretty friggin hot as well. i wasnt in the mood. but they bought me drinks. and it was awesome. they bounced other dudes. but took me under their collective wing. and when the club closed they moved on somewhere else and pulled me along. when the bouncer didnt want to let me in. they had words. and dragged me in.

it was a quaint little upstairs bar. outside under the stars. fake gas fire burning in the middle of the table. they sat down. i went to get drinks. came back and they were seated around the fire. i went to sit down. but the fart i'd been holding in the whole night sneaked out (my stomach has been horrendus lately). silent. but violent. like a typhoon of propane gas. the fire momentarily flitted out. like the spirits of the dead had briefly passed over us. but then exploded in a fireball and rose into the night sky. there was an awkward silence. i quickly assessed my options and decided upon the "act like nothing happened" approach. my "so... its kinda cosy out here" line didnt really receive a response. the night ended fairly soon afterwards. we didnt exchange contact details.

the next morning the asian girls woke me up early. i was ruff. but their skydiving had been cancelled. so we were off to milford sound. wow. you gotta see this place. as far as natural wonders go - this is at least on a par with camilla. it was however raining heavily again. but honestly. cool place. wish i could have seen it without cloud cover. oh and a learning. a fiord is a valley cut by a glacier that is filled with body of water (this body of water is for some reason called a sound).

anyway. so my kiwi trip continued as usual. activity day, it poured down with rain. as soon as i spent a day travelling on a bus or in a car, bright sunshine. in this way wanaka and mount cook were blurred and blunted by the weather. christchurch also poured down so that i spent my only afternoon there in the hostel dorm. a 38 man dorm. WTF!!!!!! do you know what its like sleeping in a room with 38 strangers. freak me out. anything could be lurking in there. french. jews.

so im winding down my kiwiland tour. heading back to auckland to fly out on monday. i've dropped weight. big time. i blame it on the budget. i've also learned that everyone in the world can play better guitar than me (except frank). even if they only picked up a guit for the first time yesterday.

ps. oh ja. sorry about lack of pics. i forgot to bring the piece of wire camera computer attachment thing with me on tour.

fush and chups

so the south island. its not all rainbows and butterflies. like they would have you believe. its more like rainfall and sandflies. i've been trying to detox. staying off beer and doing long hikes. but every time i put a toe on a track the heavans open. why does it always rain on me? is it because i lied when i was seventeen? great lyrics. and when the sun does flicker, the sandflies suck me dry.

kiwiland has more german tourists than kallis has ducks. the place is friggin packed with them. not sure what it is with german girls tho. there was a whole troup of them staying in the one hostel i was at. i was having breakfast in the common area. and the one comes in. plugs in her hi velocity high power leg razor and starts shaving her legs on the couch. the next one comes in and does the same thing. but then shaves her toes as well. and then her armpits. i choked a little bit on my yoghurt. but then the next chick comes in. giant of a women. brushing her teeth. takes the razor to the bikini line. brought back memories of porto slurping his cereal.

my finances are a little stretched at the mo. so have taken to hitch hiking. on my second journey was picked up by these two smoking young german girls (not the chicks with the razor issues). jussis bru. they were hot. like friggin awesome. but i had just come back from a two day walk in the jungle. no showers. smelling a bit ripe. so they kept having to open the windows. hahaha. was a little embarrassing. they didnt ask me up for a threesome.

yeah anyway. so south island round-up. picton was awesome. very picturesque. queen charlotte track boring. motueka nice and chilled. abel tasman track miserable. raining. sandflies. nelson cool. fox glacier was cooler. some awesome views. the copland track was friggin quality. hot pools and the hot chicks in the hot pools definitely scored some extra points. off to queenstown next.

wus gunna try talk un kuwi. but runnung out of time. wull guve ut u go nuxt time.