Riding the Slipstream

For a guy who whines about the inherent difficulties of taking life too seriously, I think too much on things that are of little value to me. Lately I’m always spacing out. In the middle of doing something, or nothing for that matter, I mentally trail off and start thinking about random things. I could muse over how to make the perfect hamburger, consider the pros and cons of being stuck on a desert island with Paris Hilton, and why it is that breathing does not burn more calories. I’m constantly trying to figure out how little things fit into big pictures and why I am living my life the way I do. Sometimes I actually manage to come up with something worthwhile that gives others a new insight into something else. Lately, people just look at me with a vague expression on their faces, as I walk up to them and share my thoughts. “Yep, there is a loose screw in there somewhere”, I can almost hear them saying. Things like wondering if it is because I was nasty to the guy downstairs with the bad haircut, that’s why the gf said she is thinking perhaps we should have baby? Huh? At which point I stop and think, “Does she think I am not serious about the relationship? Or am I just imagining that because I am guilty of having extremely lustfull thoughts about someone I met recently. Is there such a thing as bad karma when it comes to one’s thoughts? And just like that, I am lost in an internal debate on the correlation between universal karma and my own fantasies. Time was when I used to thrive on these kind of internal debates. I thought it set me apart from others. Cogito, ergo sum - I think, therefore I am. Descartes had no friggin idea, when he said that. Lately I think, over–analysis is a fanged bitch with a pointy tail and I wish I could lobotomize myself and not think of anything at all. Should I act on my thoughts or musings? Will it take me further away from my life’s path? If I do this thing that I don’t really like, will I lose the chance to be all that I could be? Why did she call me out of the blue and for no reason? Does it matter that she did? Should I buy that gadget I’ saw in that magazine, knowing well that I will tire of it in no time. Would the money be better spent on something worthwhile, such as alleviating the stress of my fellow man? It seems like almost anything nowadays can send me into overthink. What’s worse is that I’m sure that I’m making up half the connections I think I observe. It seems that my life-long propensity to withdraw into personal reflection only causes me to go into a temporary catatonic state. I go around in circles and I feel incapacitated. It is also turning me into a wishy-washy conspiracy theorist. I’m just glad I don’t know enough about politics to postulate that the rise in the petrol price is government is trying to hide the fact that at they intend to nuke the rest of the world before my next birthday. It may seem strange, but I am going to make a concerted effort to think less on the little things in life. I don’t know if I can do that. GRRR.. Maybe I should just go about my business like "normal" people do, and make the best of what I currently have. Suck it in when things go wrong, and apologize when I do wrongful things to others. Maybe it is not for me to contemplate what my place is in the bigger scheme of things. I used to think that people who just go about their daily lives are clueless (dumb) and that they do not know what is important. They may actually be onto something. Perhaps it is because winter has come to my part of the world and I cannot be out there, doing the things I’d rather be doing? Yeah, that has to be it! Now… back to Paris Hilton and that desert island… do you think Tara Reid would make a better companion? (PS: NO… I am not at the start of a premature mid-life crisis!)

Let's rant, shall we? For no particular reason, other than I feel "it is time". Over the next few weeks as World Cup Ebola builds to epidemic proportions, it will prove to be almost impossible not to be assaulted by wave after wave of unrelenting mass hysteria. Yep, World Cup 2006 is here and you can try and run, but you won’t be able to hide from it. Football has always been a popular game and I am myself a HUGE fan, but recently it seems that unless you have football and the history of football running though your veins, you may as well have the words "social pariah" tattooed on your forehead. We are bombarded with newspaper and magazine pull-outs, match schedules, competitions, images of football heroes, flags and bumper stickers, television ads and god-knows-what-else! You can't even go to the garage to refuel without being assaulted by something football-related. I would really like to know how football has come to be viewed with this level of seriousness. I can't help thinking that a lot of this mania are due to people who are playing catch up, people who protest just a little too loudly about how much they love the game. People who feel that they are supposed to love football; and that admitting disinterest in the game is tantamount to admitting that you are a Jacob Zuma-supporter in the town of Witbank. If I have to listen to one more gushing bimbette saying,” My boyfriend and I are such big football fans!”, I swear I am going to pop a Viagra and poke her in the eye with my penis! The truth is, I am not fooled by these spontaneous non sequitur outbursts. These women, and many other people for that matter, probably hate football. Yes, they do! But right now, this is what they feel they have to do in order to belong on Planet Football. I actually like it these days when I sit down and are introduced to people who have absolutely no interest in the game of football. It means I don’t have to sit through hours of tedious, competitive repartee or being patronized by people who carry on as if they had attended or watched very football match ever played. Everyone is suddenly a friggin expert, re-hashing discussions they watched on one of the many Supersport channels or read on the sports' pages of the Sunday Times. And it is these posers, the jackasses with the replica football shirts, who always talk about Brazil and the "beautiful game", who will be sipping Brandy and Coke or tossing down yet another Castle Lager, and who has about as much insight as a lamp post on a highway, that will spoil the Football World Cup for me. The World Cup has become yet another marketing exercise making us believe that football is better with Coke Cola, Budweiser, Hyundai, MacDonalds and MasterCard, and that Adidas made the players what they are today. And to the recently converted, this is what the game has become. For me however, the single-most compelling reason to fear the World Cup 2006 has to be the fact that aging German singer Herman Grönemeyer will sing the official anthem on 9 June 2006. (Yeah I know I am over the top. Sorry... but I couldn't resist.. hehe!)

Yesterday, I was in Johannesburg’s northern suburbs, driving up and down Rivonia Road trying to find a place called Rivonia Square. I finally stopped and asked someone and they told me, Rivonia Square is on the corner of Rivonia Boulevard and 9th avenue… NOT Rivonia Road, as I had thought. Fuck me… it was a perfectly honest mistake, but I couldn’t help feeling pissed off. I hate being lost! So here is where the fun starts. I was late and in a hurry. I managed to find a parking spot opposite the mall. As I walked to cross the road to the entrance, I accidentally, cut in front of a BMW, travelling in the same direction. The street is basically a pedestrian zone and cars are travelling at speeds less than 30km/h due to the numerous speed humps in the road. I waved apologetically at the driver, smiled and continued walking. The driver of the car was however not content with my actions. I guess he was having a bad too? He rolled down his window and said to me "You really should look where you're going. I could have run you down". His tone was condescending and patronizing, but I was in a hurry and really did not have time to talk, so I said, ”Look, I am sorry about earlier, but I am in a hurry… so please, can we drop this?” He mumbled something about me being rude and an inconsiderate idiot. Even though I was late for my meeting, I turned to him and said… “You have got to be fucking kidding me, right? Are you really serious about taking this up with me, now?" I could see the guy was angry and my come-back just made it worse. His face turned red like a cartoon character and I expected stream to come out of his ears at any minute. He stopped his car on the side of the road and got out. Now we had a game on our hands! He then gave me a friggin earful about how I should be grateful that he did not run me over, and how idiots like me should not be allowed to roam the streets unsupervised. "Wait a minute here", I thought to myself! How, in God’s name, did we get to the point where he treats me like I am no longer a person? Can the guy be for real? He is also much older than I am, but more importantly, much bigger in built. Normally, I am quite good at coming up with a witty response, but this time my brain froze. I looked him in the eye and said in my most confident (arrogant) macho voice, “Oh shut the fuck up... right now! Where do you get off talking to me like that? I will rip your fucking head off!” I was hoping that my offensive tactic would scare him into letting the whole thing go. Surely, this would be the last thing he’d expect from a smaller guy like me? Hehe… yeah I am the smuggest fucker in Smugtown, so let’s see what you have to say to that, Mr. BMW!? Boy, did that one back-fire on me?! Mr. BMW looked at me for a second, and said, “Oh, so that’s the way you want to play it, huh? Just let me park my car and I will be with you in minute” When he walked away, I stood there thinking to myself, "this guy is crazy if he thinks I am going to stand here and wait for him to park his car so that he can come back and beat the shit out of me with a tire wrench. I may be an asshole, but I am not stupid!" Besides, I had a meeting to get to and I was not walking in there covered in blood and torn to pieces. What a way to spend a Thursday! So when he walked off, I briskly walked into the shopping mall and took the escalator up to the first floor. As I looked down from the first floor window, I could see him walking around the front of the building, looking for me. I almost felt I should wave at him and give him the finger, but given how angry he had to be at that moment, I reckoned it would not be a good idea. When he realized that I had gone, he'd walk back to his car and hopefully drive off. Was I a coward? Definitely… there is no doubt! I can find all sorts of clever excuses for scampering away… I had a meeting… violence does not solve anything… I was afraid I might hurt him, etc. Did I do the smart thing... I definitely think so! Truth is, I have not been in a fight since I was at university, and even back then, I was mostly drunk and had very little recollection of what had happened. I don’t know how well I can fight and I am not willing to risk a broken nose to try and find out. I knew for a fact I could not have taken him. I gave it my best shot when I told him that I will rip his head off. Unfortunately, he called my bluff and sometimes, one just has quit while you are ahead. Keep an eye out for me at the gym… I am the one taking the self-defense class. And from now on I go under the assumption that everyone suffers from rage! [PS: I await the inevitable evolution of the blog alias]

I had an interesting discussion with my friend, Jeannette, over drinks the other day. Jeanette firmly believes, and as much as I tried, I could persuade her to think otherwise, that if a woman flirts with a man long enough, she will eventually get him into bed. My argument was, you don’t have to flirt with a guy to get him in bed with you… all you need to do is ask! Or perhaps I was referring to myself? Ha ha... However, I must admit I found her viewpoint somewhat disturbing for three reasons, or perhaps I just loathe to admit that we men are that easy to read and manipulate.

• It says that men are incapable of being faithful
• Men represent only a limited challenge to women, and
• All sexual relationships are inevitably doomed to fail

It is disheartening, don’t you think? It kind of makes me want to slit my wrists and give up on the notion of ever trying to impress a woman. . OK... so i I know a few guys who think that mere eye contact with a woman, or a smile is an invitation to have sex, which kind of endorses the “limited challenge” theory. On the other hand, I know that not all men are like that and that there are guys out there who search for more in a woman than just a beautiful smile or a sexy look. A major point to consider is that men and woman have completely differing ideas of what flirting is about and what we hope to get out of it. Not all flirting is with intent: it is a universal and essential aspect of human interaction, and more often than not, it is just for fun. And admittedly, there are times when it is merely a ploy to get a hearty shag. So what, I am guilty of that too! We will consciously flirt with people of the opposite sex (or even same sex...) whose company we enjoy, and this probably why so many friendships eventually turn into something more. Friendships are based on an attraction of some sorts and it does not have to be a physical one. If there is however a physical attraction, and when it is left unchecked, it is a foregone conclusion that sooner or later you will do the tango between the bed-sheets. In that case you either fall madly in love, have a horrible fall out, or leap out of bed the next morning and pretend nothing happened. Either way, things will never be the same again.

My fascination with superheroes, action films and sci-fi are well documented. So, when I came across these pics on the Web this morning… I kind of went numb for a few seconds, which was quickly followed by… “this is waayyy fucking cool!” (and yeah… I will grow up some time in the next ten years... I hope)

X-Men: The Last Stand opens in theatres in South Africa on 26 May 2006. Anyone want to go to the movies with me? I'll buy the popcorn!

I always thought that when you reach a certain age, let’s say 30, everything will become clear. Things would make sense and fall into place in some sort of logical order. I mean that would the whole point of growing up, learning and maturing… would it not? Wisdom comes with age, that is what they say! I have however found that as I grow older, I seem to know less and that life around me becomes more and more complicated. The distinction between what is right and wrong has become blurred and things that were taboo yesterday, seems to be ok today, depending of course of who you speak to and who you associate with. Or perhaps I am just an exceptional fuckwit who ponders too much on the little things in life! Shit happens to all of us all the time… especially when you least expect it. And even though you do the right thing the time, there is always a niggling thought at the back of your head that says, “but what if...” About a month ago… I flirted rather recklessly with a co-worker at a company braai (BBQ). Do not ask me why a bunch of people, who see one another every day from Monday to Friday, also think that spending time together on a Saturday afternoon is a great idea. It is just sick, I tell you. And yes, I was there! The flirty conversation came to an abrupt conclusion when we both realized that we were teetering dangerously on the brink of what could be the end of a perfectly good professional relationship. Anyway, nervous apologies were made and we both felt horribly foolish and avoided one another for the rest of the afternoon. Here is the dilemma: I am torn between knowing that I have done the right thing and wondering what it would have been like. I know this probably seems like a typical male dilemma and that I really should just get over myself. Yet, I find that I now find her even more attractive than I did before the flirting and the rebuff took place. Somehow I cannot stop myself from thinking of her naked breasts (I have a vivid imagination, dammit!) every time she walks past me, now that I have spurned the chance to see them. What is it with this urge to do a test-run with someone else, even though the person we are currently with, is probably as good as it will get? Why do we always feel, speaking for myself, the need to be on the look-out for the perfect woman? Truth is, I should realise that perfect partners do not exist and that lust, in whatever form, has very little substance.

I’ve been tagged and reminded by Celéste… twice ("Chitty: Yes you are tagged and don’t make a promise you cant keep" & "By the way, I'm still waiting for you to do your tag") that I had committed to participate in the “4-things” meme. Memes kind of remind me of doing a strip-tease in front of a group of complete strangers... you just never know if the audience will find it captivating. So here goes… (start the music)

• Four jobs I have had in my life:

1. Selling ice-cream in an ice-cream parlour 2. Video store clerk 4. Cinema usher 3. Laboratory assistant

• Four films I would watch over and over:

( I love action movies, but I will list a few others I like) 1. The Sixth Sense 2. Bram Stoker’s Dracula 3. Before Sunset 4. Fall

• Four Places I have lived:

1. Stellenbosch 2. Newlands 3. Durban 4. Rosebank

• Four TV shows I LOVE to watch:

1. Prison Break 2. House 3. Buffy the Vampire slayer (re-runs) 4. Alias

• Four places I've been on vacation:

1. Compiègne - France 2. London 3. Buenos Aires 4. Cairo (and Barcelona)

• Four websites I visit often: (other than the porno… hehe?)

1. News24 2. Wikipedia 3. IMDb 4. I visit all the sites on my blogroll… so I am not going to name anyone in particular.

• Four of my favourite foods: (so many to choose from)

1. Steers Burger & Chips 2. Italian Food (pizza & pasta) 3. Texan Steak 4. Crème Brulée:

• Four places I would rather be right now:

1. On a train travelling across Europe 2. On a wine farm in the Cape 3. Cycling in Barcelona 4. On a beach in Southern Italy

• People who I have tagged:

1. He 2. She 3. It 4. And you! (hiding behind the your PC)

Someone at work reminded me that Cinco De Mayo will be celebrated on Friday. “Really?” was all I could muster at such short notice. Then as she walked away, I asked, “Wait… cinco de Mayo is Spanish for the 5th of May, right?” “Yes, it is” “So you just told me that Friday will the 5th of May... in Spanish?” “Yeah, I guess I did”, she said. “It has however much more significance than that. Cinco de Mayo celebrates the American and Mexican's joint victory over French Napoleon III on May 5, 1862. It is a celebration of Mexican and American cooperation and the role that Hispanic Americans have played in shaping the United States.” “Oh cool”, I said, “then we should celebrate!” "Oh [K], you can be so ignorant" So at lunch time, I will walk to the convenience store across the road, and buy a large jar of mayonnaise(?) I am so ready for Cinco de Mayo, baby! I wonder if I should throw in a bottle of tequila as well? It is absolutely appalling how oblivious I am of cultures other than my own! It must be because I live at the southern point of nowhere.

[My apologies to any Hipanic/Mexican readers – my ignorance really shows]