Cyber Hobo

That’s right, the time has come for me to write about all of the funny, strange, dangerous things my friends and I got up to when we were younger. It’s gonna be a long one. Oh, also, after reading this, you might find yourself wondering why we’re still alive, don’t worry, we ask ourselves that all the time.

The Fire Pit.
Lots of stories revolve around this fire pit that I dug in my old back garden. It took me a while, the ground was as hard as rock and I’ve never been the most fit person in the world. In case you’ve ever asked yourself how difficult it is to dig a hole in the ground, the answer is VERY. Anyway, back in the day, when we were still in school, a lot of our time was spent around this fire pit, we made fires in it, usually huge bonfire like things with huge masses of wood. We got drunk around that fire pit, we smoked pot around that fire pit, we had birthday parties and parties in general around that fire pit. We sat around that fire pit and talked shit until the sun actually came up. It was good times. We had plastic chairs and a hammock, that was about it, but man, good stories. See, Richard and I were going through a pyromaniac phase just then, so any time we found something even remotely flammable, into the fire it went. Sometimes it had less than exciting results, other times… it was like Armageddon.

We put everything into that damn fire. Petrol, cans of deodorant, methylated spirits, turpentine, most provided a nice big rush of flames, but the time that comes to mind in particular was when we found a bottle of some hair product my mother had lying around. It wasn’t a pressurised bottle. just an unassuming little plastic bottle with a twist off top. It didn’t say that it was flammable, but when we threw it onto the fire, this huge black mushroom cloud erupted, I shit you not, the flames were twenty feet high, more than high enough to set the tree above the fire pit ablaze. Should have thought about the time of year before experimenting like that. Massive Flames + Dry Leaves = Flaming Tree. We put it out, of course. That tree was important to us too, after all.

What else can I think of that happened around the fire pit? Oh, one time we had about twenty people over and sat around it listening to someone tell a story about Bluegum gum in an apricot jam bottle. It was fucking hilarious. Of course, it’s not funny if you’re sober, but when you’re high or drunk, man, what a story.

Another one was hearing a lot of very drunk voices raised in unison, or as close to unison as you can get when most of said voices are one drink away from alcohol poisoning. The song? What shall we do with a drunken sailor. I’ve never felt more like a pirate in all my life.

I had my first puff of really, really expensive weed around that fire pit.

The Tree
Ah, the tree. It was next to the fire pit. If that tree could talk it would probably sound like a crazy person. Some of the things that tree saw probably scarred it for life. We did a lot of things in that tree, from getting dressed in camo and scouting out the neighborhood for good houses to prank, hiding from irate residents we HAD pranked and the most memorable incident involving the tree (Apart from the fire incident) is the night Richard got stinking drunk and decided that he was going to climb right to the top. Of course, the rest of us being equally drunk, didn’t really pay much attention to him, we just went on drinking. Until we heard a drunken shout and the sound of a seven foot something man falling and hitting every branch on the way down. Not only that, but when he got close to the bottom, he hit our wall, fell off of that, and hit the yellow plastic water meter cover on the pavement outside. He was very angry when none of us rushed to his aid, but peered over the wall and laughed our arses off instead.

The Garage
The garage in my house at the time was a very poorly constructed affair. It was old, the plaster AND the bricks were crumbly and honestly, I’m surprised it never collapsed on anyone. Well, for one of my birthdays, it may have been my seventeenth or my eighteenth I’m not sure, we were given permission to spraypaint the walls with whatever we wanted as it was being repainted soon after.  So we did. Symbols, many of them highly offensive and crude, words, likewise highly offensive and crude and little crappy drawings. We did a passable job of making it look like a crack house. That party was… unbelievable. We got a keg, a big fucking one and set it up in the garage, then ensued a long night of drinking and debauchery. Someone had sex in my bed and it wasn’t me. I spent most of the later part of the evening firmly attached to a toilet. It went really well, everyone enjoyed themselves, of course, we found out the next morning that someone had enjoyed themself a little TOO much and had left the tap on the keg running, flooding the place with beer. It was terrible, what a bloody waste. For about six months after that incident the garage smelled like a brewery. Stale beer and crumbling, soggy bricks, not a good mixture.

My Sixteenth With Suzie
Ah yes, my sixteenth birthday, that one was a doozy. Now, apart from the usual suspects, my mother had this wonderful idea to invite some of her friends to the house. Her boss came, he’s filthy rich, he brought a metric fuckton of booze with him.  So, after getting thoroughly wasted, we were all sitting in a circle talking shit when the boss and his girlfriend (*Shudders* The things I imagined doing with her.) said they had gotten me a present. They whipped it out and watched me unwrap it. I held, in my very drunk hands, a blowup doll, for practice they said. Of course, I was far too drunk to be embarrassed at that point so I eagerly held aloft the gift and happily proclaimed that she was my bitch. They then decided to name her suzie and much laughter was had by all.

Now fast forward a few hours and a whole bottle of some purple booze that I can’t quite remember the name of right now and we find Nicholas, with his cock in one hand and Suzie in the other, trying to take a piss. I believe I asked Vito’s sister if she would like to give me head since my pants were down already. Then, with Richard laughing his arse off behind me, I proceeded to climb over my wall, still pissing, Suzie still under my arm and then ran down the street, my pants down and Suzie flapping in the wind, proclaimed for all the neighbors to hear, that Suzie was, in fact, my bitch and that I was going to fuck her. I woke up with Suzie next to me in the morning, to this day, I don’t remember if anything happened between the two of us, but breakfast was very awkward. I got a Playstation 2 aswell, good times. Suzie eventually ended up nailed to my wall, and it’s really not what you think, Richard and I actually nailed her to my wall, with a hammer, and nails. I was asked to take her down a few months later when my grandparents were coming for a visit.

Oh right, before the half naked run around the block, I also had the good sense to stand up and inform my mother that I smoked cigarettes, Hubbly, and pot too. Not the smartest thing I’ve ever done. I remember the ringing silence that flowed out around me as I said that. It still makes me facepalm.

The Video
Okay, so Jackass was really, really big when we were in highschool, so naturally, we decided to make our own video. It was really all that bad, but there was some very memorable moments in it. I let Richard throw darts into my legs, several times, he missed one time and it hit my stomach, embedding itself quite deeply, not that the ones in my leg weren’t equally as deep, but I digress. We also playing with fire, using so much Ego Deodorant that my dining room was all but engulfed in a massive, barely visible fireball. I also whacked one of our friends in the testicles with a branch from our bottle bush. (The succulent aloe we used to hide all our booze bottles in.) We also have the delightful image of me sucking milk up into my nose and squirting it out of my eye. Gross, stupid, but so much fun at the time.

Random Events In My House
Yes, there are a lot of random events that don’t really fit into a larger grouping.

Like the time a bunch of us watched two of our friends hooking up on the grass outside of my mother’s bedroom window. It was hilarious from that position, watching that naked arse going up and down while we all tried to stifle our giggles and stop ourselves from shouting out advice and critique from the darkness of the window above.

Another fond memory was sitting in my room late into the night playing Tony Hawk’s Proskater (Yes, the very first one.) with Richard, smoking like chimneys and stupidly thinking that my mother wouldn’t realise that we were, even though it was actually hard to see through the fog wafting around the room. We did that a lot Skelm Smoking around corners, before heading out to paintball in the mornings. Thinking back on it now, it’s blatantly obvious to me how thick we really were. Anyone with half a brain could figure out that we were smoking, fortunately, my mother pretended that she didn’t know.

Breaking into my mother’s liquor cabinet when she wasn’t home. And by breaking in, I don’t mean finding the key and unlocking it, I mean literally breaking boards on the back of the drawer and sneaking out the booze that way.

Sitting around the diningroom table smoking hubbly. I once watched Richard blow 64 smoke rings in a row from one hubbly hit, it would have been much cooler if he’d gotten another five.

Sitting around the same table, getting two underclassmen so stinking drunk on cheep brandy that one’s mother thought he was high and sent him to rehab.

Watching Vito throw up in my garden and fart at the same time, something he still catches flak about.

Okay, so, we’ve gone over the fact that Richard and I REALLY liked fire, well, once day we were playing with deodorant in my postbox, spraying it full and then tossing a lit piece of tissue into it to make it go boom. Well, through some poor communication, or poor planning, Richard’s head was directly in line with it when it went off. I was standing to the side, watching Richard in profile and saw this massive fireball blow out of the postbox and utterly engulf his head. It lasted no more than a split second and when it was over he was rolling on the ground, his hair and eyebrows all singed and curly. He was very angry at me for laughing at him, but it was damn funny.

Shooting at the icecream men with my paintball gun, both the ones on the bikes and the ones in the trucks, good times, until one pulled out a shotgun and started looking for us, not fun then, but damn funny now… alright, still a little scary, I did tell you that it was a wonder we’re still alive.

During an afternoon of heaving drinking, finding Richard in his underwear in a full bath, asleep. On the same day, a very drunk Craig and Nicholas ran down the street exposing both our posteriors and our genitalia to the maids that were walking home. Yes, we were flashers for a brief hour. Not my finest moment.

So, one night, after getting back to my house in the wee hours of the morning, tripping balls and drunk as fuck, a few of us talked and talked, then when the drugs wore of, three of us, Craig, Toffee and I, decided we wanted some more, so into Craig’s car we got and off we went, finally locating a drug dealer at H2O. This is where it gets interesting, Richard had left his wallet in the car, and in the wallet he had two fake two hundred rand notes, and not counterfeit, no, no, nothing like that, these had been fucking photocopied, one side was completely blank. Now, high and drunk as we were, we decided to use them instead of real money, knowing full well that this dude was Nigerian drug dealer. So, we asked for four pills, which came to four hundred rand, Craig handed over the phony money, the guy spreads them between thumb and forefinger, white flashes in the moonlight, and at that moment, I though, “This is it, we’re going to be shot, he’s going to kill us.” But amazingly, he flips it back and gives us our pills, letting us go on our merry way. See! Why are we still alive!?

Craig’s House
Okay, so, like my house, Craig’s house was usually the place to go for a party and many a party we had there, many memorable events took place there.

On his eighteenth birthday, I witnessed Craig stumble out of the back of a Hyundai truck, leaving a girl inside, walk outside and attempt to throw a used condom onto the roof. Of course, in his drunken state, he missed, it was thrown all over the place for a while, but eventually landed in the fire. To this day, Craig claims that he was raped in the back of that truck, he seemed pretty happy when he came out though, so I’m conflicted as to whether I believe him or not.

One time, two of us decided that we were drinking Jedi and proclaimed that Craig was our Padawan. We mixed drinks for him and “Instructed” Him in the art of booze. This went on for a long, long time, until finally we left him to sleep it off in a caravan. Sometime later, while the rest of us were sitting around the fire talking crap, we saw Craig stumble out of the caravan to take a piss. He rounded the corner then we hear this almighty crash that shakes the whole caravan and watch Craig topple bonelessly back around the corner, we rush over to him and it soon becomes clear that he had walked right into the open window of the caravan, cutting his head very deeply. We got him back into the thing and decided that no, he doesn’t need a doctor, he just needs some booze to sterilise the wound. So you think, Vodka, Gin, some clear liquid, right? Nope, not use, we pour Spiced Gold over his head, making him howl and slap his hand to his head. We left him like that and the next morning his hand was stuck to his head with blood.

Another time, we stayed up really late on a Sunday night, really, really late. Eventually were were sitting in his living room making up new shots, mostly with heated up spices. They were all truly foul. And singing a song about “The Ganga Man” It was like, two hours long, just going around the room with people adding their own verses whenever they thought of some. Eventually his mother came and chased us to bed. I think most of us got about two hours sleep. In the morning, Craig was curled around the toilet, his cousin James was still singing, and I was delusional, apparently thinking I was in the army and ordering everyone to get into the tank. I don’t remember that at all. Of course, by this time I had already been kicked out of school so I went home and slept, Craig was sick so he stayed home too, only Richard and Toffee actually went to school, the poor bastards.

There are many, many more stories, I’m just having trouble thinking of them now, so I’ll make another post when I remember some. That’s all for now, folks, much love, hope you enjoyed the read!

Tonight was a bad night. Terrible in fact.

I had dream after dream of that special person. Holding her in my arms, kissing her, stroking her hair as she lay in my lap. It went on and on and on, like my brain was trying to remind me of my utter stupidity. I woke up shaking like an epilepsy sufferer, my limbs not fully under my control. Once again, I felt the full force of my mistakes pressing down on me. I honestly thought I had moved past this… uncontrollable, overwhelming, crippling sorrow. But I was wrong.

I’ve realised that I still love her more than life itself and I don’t think that will ever change. After I quieted my shaking limbs and managed to sit up, I wandered around the house in a daze, remembering all the good times we shared while she was here. Sitting outside under the porch, chatting. In my room proper, playing Resident Evil 5 in co-op mode. Snuggling up on my couch. Making love in my bed. Sitting and talking shit in the back of a bakkie while being bounced around mercilessly on a very bad dirt road. All of those things… they made my life. I suppose that in the end, it was a blessing to have her in my life at all. If I died today, that’s what I would be thinking about until the very end. How lucky I was to have her in my life at all.

The touch of her lips, her fingers running through my hair, I miss it so much. I know that there was a lot of bad that happened… mostly my fault, but there was also a hell of a lot of good. They say that it’s easier to find the bad in a situation than the good, but I will have to disagree on that, it’s easy to find the good in those two years when I think about her. About how amazing she is. I’m just not sure she realises how much I changed for her, or how much I love her. I’m crazy about this woman, she still holds my heart in her hands, whether she realises that or not.

I know this blog has taken a turn for the morose lately, so I’d like to apologise to anyone that’s actually taking the time to read it for that. I would very much like to report on happy things that happen to me, but right now, my life is pretty much up the creek. You know the one, you go down it in a crude aquatic device and lose your means of propulsion, the one that is running deep with fecal matter. Yeah, that’s the one. I know that there are people out there that are having a worse time of it than I am, I don’t think I’m the most put upon person in the world, but for me this is a very trying time.

My heart is broken into a million pieces and I am totally and utterly lost. I don’t know what to do anymore. Life seemed very simple a few months ago. I had this amazing woman on my arm. Smart, funny, silly, nerdy, geeky, she was all of the things I love. I fucked that up, drove her into someone Else’s arms.

I still love her though, I don’t think I will ever be able to stop loving her. As far as I’m concerned, I found my soul mate, my happiness. She was the one for me. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the one for her. I wanted to be her knight in shining armour, I wanted that desperately, but in the end, all I did was hurt her.

Yes, I want her back, I want her back with every cell in my body, every fiber of my being, but that being said, she deserves to be happy. I am… devastated that I wasn’t the one to make her happy, but if she’s found someone that does… what right do I have to be selfish and desire her return? Love is meant to be selfless. If you love someone with all your heart, then you should be able to let them go, let them leave your life in order to find their happiness.

And yet… I still want her back. I want the chance to show her that I can make her happy now. I want the chance to show her that I’ve grown up, that I’m not afraid to express my feelings anymore. I want to show her that I’ve let go of all that stupid, blind anger. I want to hold her in my arms and protect her from anything that could possibly hurt her.

She’ll never give me that chance though, I fucked up too badly… and she’s with someone that DOES make her happy. I guess I’m just a fool, a blind idiot that believes in miracles. A dreamer that can’t let go of hope. A romantic that believes in the power of the heart. It’s… useless to think like that, but I just can’t help it.

If the US embassy would give me a visa, I’d probably be down there in a flash, doing everything in my power to win her back. I’ve even considered stowing away on a ship bound for there, sneaking into the country and living in a fucking box on the street to prove my devotion to her.  Yes, I am that much of an idiot.

What can I say? I love her. Love can make people do crazy things, stupid things… hurtful things. Am I stupid for hoping that one day we’ll be back together? Probably. Am I stupid for holding onto someone that doesn’t want me anymore? Probably. I am a fool of the highest caliber. And I bet you’re thinking that I’m pretty pathetic too. Well, I know I am, but I don’t really care. If you love someone as much as I live her, then you’ve got to be willing to drag yourself over broken glass to make that happen. You’ve got to be willing to bare the brunt of all the pain that will follow.

I love her still. And I want nobody else. I will accept nobody else. Call me stupid, call me pathetic, tell me I’m wasting my time, I don’t fucking care. I love this woman and I will do anything for her. I cannot fathom anyone loving her more than I do… and I just have to keep hope alive, that one day she will realise that and agree to let me prove my love.

Yes, I will endure this wrenching pain, this eternally lonely life, if it means that I have even the slightest sliver of a chance of making this happen. I love her with all my heart and soul and I need to believe that that is evident to her and to everyone.

Something new for you guys, hope you enjoy it.

A sharp pain on the back of his head brought Nick to the brink of awakening, several more eventually got him to open his eyes. The room was dark and silent save for the hum of the AC unit behind him. As usual, the first thing he noticed was the tearing sensation in his chest and the fact that he was hugging a pillow. With a pained groan he rolled over, untangling his legs from the duvet in the process. He fully intended to go back to sleep, the only thing that seemed to make the pain go away. There was something movie next to his head though, a small figure, little more than silhouette thanks to the light behind it and his abominable eyesight. Thinking that somehow the pain had found a way to follow him into his dreams, he fumbled on the shelf behind him for his glasses. Confusion reigned as he got them onto his face.

Before him, well, before his head, stood a tiny replica of himself, looking smug and annoyed at the same time. “Damn, you sleep like a rock…” The tiny replica said with a scowl. “Took five kicks in the head before you even realised that something was happening.” Nick sat up and shook his head, wondering again if he was still asleep. “What the fuck…” The miniature shook his own head. “Isn’t it obvious?” When the taller Nick shook his head the smaller one sighed in a defeated way. “Okay, let me explain. You’ve had a nervous breakdown and I am the result, simple, right?” Nick groaned and flopped back down. “It’s too early to even think about dealing with this right now.” The miniature growled and kicked him again. “Early!? Early!? Are you fucking kidding me!? It’s seven in the evening, arsewipe!” The figment jumped off of the bed and onto the side table, stamping hard on the light switch to turn it on. “Up and at em, soldier, we have personal revelations to get to and very little time in which to do it.” Nick groaned and rolled over. “This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening… I’m not crazy… I promise…” The figment jumped back onto the bed, using the springy mattress to bounce him up onto his unwitting creator’s head. “Look, buddy, I’m only going to ask nicely one more time… I’m you, so I’m guessing you can figure out what’s going to happen after that…”

Nick sat up, dislodging the figment as he did. “Look, fuck off, I’ve got enough problems right now without my mind going all wonky… so just… go back to wherever you came from.” He slid off of the bed and got up, slipping into the bathroom to take care of his morning ablutions. “Ugh, if feels like something small and furry took up residence in my mouth last night… and used the facilities before leaving…” The figment rolled his eyes from his newfound perch on the sink. “That’s hardly surprising considering the amount you drank last night, hells, I can feel the hangover from here… stupid sot.”

Nick swiped at him and proceeded to brush his teeth. Of course this had no effect whatsoever and the figment just snickered at him as it hid behind the tap. Spitting some toothpaste into the sink, Nick looked at the annoying little pest and resisted the urge to poke him with the toothbrush. “It’s one of the few things that dull the pain in any way…” He stopped frowned. “Why the hell am I talking to you? I thought I told you get out of here… shoo… piss off… seriously, this is the last thing I need.” The figment chuckled softly, well, your mind has broken and I’m the… thing that’s been created in an attempt to fix whatever caused this break.” Nick scowled and pushed out of the bathroom, heading back to bed. “What caused this… “Break” can’t be fixed. If you’re me then you know this.  So bugger off and leave me alone…” He was about to flop back into bed when he noticed his cell sitting on the side table, so instead he sat on the edge of the bed and opened it.

A pained sigh escaped his lips as his background sent a fresh wave of pain coursing through his body. A pretty young woman smiled up at him from the screen, crouched in front of some sort of museum display, smiling happily. It took all he had not to hurl the phone across the room. He wasn’t sure why he kept it, maybe a sense of connection to something lost. The figment hopped onto his leg and looked at the screen. “Man, you’ve got it bad… Why do you keep torturing yourself like this?” Nick sighed again and put down the phone, picking up a smoke instead. Lighting it, he sucked in a deep breath then blew out a long streamer of smoke. For a second he twitched guiltily and looked back at the bed, expecting to find someone very angry there. There was no one. Once again a fresh wave of pain rolled over him. “Well, I guess that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about anymore…”  The figment had similarly lit a tiny smoke. “Yeah, maybe, but the fact remains that you WANT to worry about it…”

Nick couldn’t dispute that fact so he just nodded glumly. “Yeah, I’d give if up in a heartbeat if it meant getting her back…” He fell back onto the bed and looked at the ceiling. The figment made himself comfortable on a pillow. “You know, you’re gonna have to get over her sometime… You fucked that up badly, nothing you ever do is gonna make her come back to you.” Nick tried to hold back the tears but there was no way that was going to happen, so he just let them flow for a time before wiping them away and sitting up. “I feel like such a girl when this happens… But I guess I’m getting exactly what I deserve, right?” He looked at the figment who just shrugged. “Can’t say one way or the other, you were a complete and utter dick to her, so on one hand I guess you do, on the other hand, you changed a lot in the shirt time since then so… ” He shrugged helplessly. “Look, just get up, put some clothes on and get back to work, that book isn’t going to write itself…”

Nick nodded, having no idea as to why he was following the orders of this made up little creature, still if he thought about it… it was nice to have someone to talk to, even if it was himself. He got up and pulled on some clothes before stepping out into his work room. For a second he expected a smiling face to look up from the laptop at him, but the room was empty and dead. He was expecting it when it came but the force of the ripping sensation in his chest nearly knocked him to the floor. He veered to the left and opened the fridge, taking out a beer and opening it in one swift motion, nearly downing the entire thing in one long pull.

He got out a few more before sitting down at the laptop, the figment appearing on the desk next to him and sitting on the carelessly dropped cell. “You know, this wasn’t your liver’s fault… just saying.” Nick growled and swatted at him again before opening another beer and giving it a taste of what he’d done to the first one. “No, but maybe if I drink enough I’ll be able to function for a while… at least long enough to get a few pages done without starting to craft characters around her…” The figment watched him nervously, unsure of what to do. This was going to be a lot harder than he thought. “Man… you are… broken in just about every single way, arn’t you…”

Nick didn’t answer, just opened Word and began typing as if he could somehow bleed the pain in his chest out onto the page through his fingers.

And that’s it for now, hope it was a good read. Later.

You heard me. No season brings out as much contempt in me.

Sure, I like the fact that everything gets nice and green, flowers bloom, everything is alive and shit…But you’d think this could all happen without it getting so fucking hot.

For those of you who don’t know this, I’m a big guy, lots  of padding, as one comedian put it I’m Fluffy. So yeah, I can hear you thinking it, Lose some weight Nick. Well, I am, but that’s another story for another time, but, but, the fact is, I know of lots of guys that are as big, if not bigger than I am that have no problem with the heat. Due to this strange anomaly, I’m forced to conclude that I actually have a latent super power. I’m thinking, Human Torch-like power. Yeah, laugh it up, one day, POW Flame on mother fuckers, then we’ll see who’s laughing when I’m setting your shoes on fire. But, my… grand delusions aside, I do seem to have a higher body temperature than most of the general population.

Anyway, as I’m sure you can imagine, this abnormal body temperature makes summer a very uncomfortable time for me. I sweat like a stuck hog, and get pretty surly because of it. Of course, this leads me to keep the AC going on full blast most days. And the AC being on all the time leads my friends to bitch that it’s too cold in my room like little girly girls, you know who you are.

I LOVE the cold, I adore it, that crisp feeling in the air, like it’s made up of tiny icicles that you can’t see but you feel it when you breath in. Skies so blue they seem to go on forever. Watching everyone walk around wearing millions of layers of clothing and still being cold while you’re wearing a t-shirt and shorts and laughing your arse off. (That’s a personal pleasure, my little “Fuck You All” in payment for enduring summer’s vile wrath).

*Sighs pathetically and wipes sweat off of his brow*
While I’m writing this, Spring is on in full and it’s already too hot. This summer is going to be a bitch. I’m wondering if I shouldn’t become like an opposite bird or something, fly north, FOR the winter, see what I did there? That was comedy gold my friends. Well, maybe not gold… but a bronze at the very least. Okay, fine it was a shitty pun that hardly deserves your attention.

So, lets go over the finer points of this post. I hate summer. I am either a flame powered super hero, or somewhere in my family tree, someone got diddled by a crafty little in Inuit who then passed his love of the winter to me. If this is true it must skip several generations because my mother and my grandmother are both girly girls like Vito and Richard when it comes to the cold.

Summer does have one thing going for it though. Rain, man I love rain. All types of rain. Drizzles, sunny showers, full blown thunder storms, that kind of freezing rain that’s just short of hail. Storms are the best, the sky going black and dangerous, sometimes the clouds turn orange or purple for some reason, lightning arcing through the sky, thunder roaring so loudly that you can feel it in every cell of your body. Man, day or night, those are times I live for.

Sometimes the nicest thing in the world is standing out in the rain, letting those cold drops of water run over your body, like the world is crying on you. It’s a very cathartic experience and I recommend that this summer everyone try it at least once. If you’re too chicken to try that and risk and angry bolt of lightning from whatever god you’ve angered in the last few years, then the next best thing is to sit by a window and watch the rain pouring off of it, streaming down the glass (Did you know that glass isn’t actually considered a solid? Yeah, it’s really a supercooled liquid, over the years, panes of glass actually become thicker at the bottom than at the top because they gradually ooze downward, Fuck I love the Discovery Channel).

What else is good about summer? Not a lot… maybe I’m trying to build up a sufficiently large Pro list for summer not being that bad, for personal use, obviously. Hmm, Ah, Swimming! I love swimming. Well, I used to love swimming when I was a kind, couldn’t get me out of the water back then. These days… eh… I mean, unless you’ve got one of those fancy saltwater chlorinators, then you have to worry about red eye from the chemicals, which also makes your skin all manky eventually. Still, swimming can be pretty cool, but only if you have people to horse about with. Swimming by yourself isn’t really fun.

What else? Um, oooh, lovely ladies in bikinis. Yeah, that’s a perk and a half. Of course, I’m never really in a position to observe this fascinating behaviour… mainly because I don’t like the beach (Sharks, you understand, once, when I was young, I was snorkeling and came face to face with one of the fuckers, I turned into Jesus and ran out of that water, I shit you not. Also, I know that eventually the bastards are gonna develop either wings or legs and then the people on the beaches will be the first to go… *Shudders*).

Our water parks here are pretty grotty as a whole, I mean, back in the day The Lost City was fucking epic, but I went there a year or two ago and it was terrible, water was filthy and gross. Oh! And then Oprah Winfrey and Julia Roberts closed the entire Valley of Waves for some private party or something and kicked us poor regular folk out… That sucked and I’m still angry with them.

Ooh, Mozzies and flies definitely need to go on the cons list of summer. Now, I’m not really bothered by mosquitoes. I guess I don’t have sweet blood or something, either that or my room is too cold for them to survive. Anyway, Flies are the real pests, buzzing around, laying eggs on my food, annoying the crap out of people. Little flying disease factories.

Hmm, I think I’ve run out of stuff to talk about.

So, in closing, FUCK SUMMER! That is all.

Just a little update today. Added some pictures here, will be adding more as time goes by. Feel free to look through them. That’s about it for now. Maybe I’ll think of something more interesting to add later.

Today was a bad day, a bad, bad day.

Today I felt the cold winds of chaos and entropy swirling around me with renewed vigor. Today I felt the shadows creeping up my back to strangle me. Today, I felt the weight of my mistakes pressing down on my shoulders like never before.

Yes, I’m in a very maudlin mood today, so I hope you all will forgive me if my post is a touch… airy.

As I sit here writing, well, I say writing, I mean, typing occasionally as my mind wanders. What was I saying? Ah, yes, as I sit here… doing that, I’m watching my cigarette burning down, sending a thin streamer of blueish smoke drifting into the air, tumbling gently over itself, creating beautiful patterns as it drifts through the random sunbeams that lance through my blinds.

As each little line on… gunpowder, or whatever it is… flares into life, it ignites my own curiousity. Where did I got wrong? Can I track it down to one specific memory? Or have I always been… “Wrong”?

I suppose… if I think about it, I’ve always been aware of my… odd nature. I adore that word… Odd. It’s one of those words that sound… exactly like what they describe. Like, Moist, say it with me… Moist… it just sounds… Moist. Odd, is the same, a discordant thunk in the music of the world. A word that is bestowed upon those individuals that swim… upstream.

I have never really… followed popular trends or even given two shits about what anyone thinks about anything. Of course, this has made me… vastly unpopular with the majority of people I’ve ever met. There are, of course, some notable exceptions, and two exceptional exceptions. You both know who you are, so don’t make me get all mushy.

Of course, even those exceptions, as few and far between as they may be, would probably describe me as… decidedly odd.

I was either born in the wrong time, as I’ve said in a previous post. Or, more likely, in the wrong country. Yes, South Africa does have a healthy, if very small population of nerds and geeks. Yet it seems that even amongst my social peers I am somewhat of an oddball.

It seems that our geek culture in this country is slightly… stunted. We have gamers, but they just game, which isn’t a bad thing, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that that’s sort of where it stops. Where are the comic book nerds? The Sci-fi geeks? Why, in all my years, have I yet to find an honest to goodness comic book shop in this country!? Action figures, tabletop RPG’s, anime, costumes! Why do we have all the shitty american trends (From my perspective, mind) but none of the cool ones!

Why do we have so many fucking McDonalds but no comfy net friendly coffee shops!? I’m not suggesting that we see an influx of the godsforsaken Starbucks, but damn it! I want somewhere where I can sit down, hook up my fucking laptop, write my book and get a decent cup of coffee too, while being surrounded by the intelligent, interesting people that would no doubt flock to such a place! Is that really so much to ask?

I want Sci-fi conventions, I want comic book conventions, I want to see grand gatherings of geeks! But… nothing, the biggest thing we’ve got that’s even remotely like that is R@ge… or whatever it’s called these days… And that’s good times, don’t get me wrong. NAG has really been a huge, huge driving force behind the growth of the gaming culture in this country, I applaud them loudly. I’ve been reading that wonderful little magazine since the first issue for Pete’s sake! I’m not trying to detract from what they’re doing… but… damn we need more!

Maybe this is all just a pipe dream, maybe it will never happen here… I just have a hard time accepting it. I see so many smart, fun, crazy people in this country that would be perfectly at home in all that mayhem and I despair because they have never had the opportunity to dive in! Just like me. Of course, I had someone wonderful that… let me in on the wonders of these things, that showed me just how amazing all this geek culture could be. If you’ve been reading my blog then you know who this incredible little American chika is. I won’t go into that for fear of bursting into tears and electrocuting myself with my keyboard.

I don’t know, perhaps I really was born in the wrong country. If I was born in America, I don’t doubt that my life would be a little easier. Don’t get me wrong, I love South Africa, I really do. It’s the most beautiful country in the world as far as I’m concerned, I just… don’t really fit in here.

Well, that’s my ramble for today, hope you enjoyed that little insight into the meanderings of my mind. Later.

That’s right, I’ve declared my penis a holy artifact. And here are the reasons why:

1. Few have seen it
2. There is some debate as to whether it actually exists
3. Only a select few individuals have been allowed to handle it
4. It is keep tightly secured at all times
5. It is rumoured to have the miraculous ability to create life

Okay, let me set the scene for you.

I live in Boksburg (Harhar, get the jokes over now please) and a week ago we had a power outage. It started in the afternoon and carried on until the next day. Now, my house is pretty dark as it is, big garden, lots of open space, it was quite cloudy that night, so not even the moonlight was there to bring a little bit of comfort.

I’m a night owl so the dark doesn’t usually bother me, sure I was pissed that I couldn’t play games or Twitter or anything like that, but after Eleven PM rolled around with still no lights on, I decided to head to bed and read my book. Anyway, Richard Coote and another friend of mine had visited earlier in the evening and since there were no lights, we’d ordered some pizza’s. We’d polished most of it off, but there were still a few slices left so I took those with me when I headed to bed.

Things are fine, got some candles, a good book, some cold pizza, it could have been a nice, peaceful night, except he came… (Imagine a boom of thunder and a the windows blazing as lightning strikes outside. It didn’t, but it should have.) I had dozed off, hot, sweaty and wearing nothing but my boxers. I’m awakened by a skittering sound, very loud considering none of my usual electronics were working. Skitter, Scratch, Nibble. I shoot straight up in bed and look around, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. I hear something scratching on the cardboard of the pizza box, which was right next to my fucking head. The room was pitch black, having blown the candles out when I started dozing.

I can’t see my fucking hand in front of my face, but something is messing with the pizza box RIGHT NEXT TO MY FUCKING HEAD! I scramble for my lighter, pressing my back against the wall, desperately trying to find a candle to light in the darkness. As I move I hear more skittering, I’m imagining alien facehuggers about to rape my mouth and lay eggs in my stomach. I was half asleep still, give me a break.

I finally find a candle and light it with trembling hands, fully expecting some beast from the nether regions of hell to be staring into my eyes when I could see. Light spreads out across the room and I find… nothing, not a damn thing. The room is quiet and empty. My heart calms down to the point that I can feel actual separate beats instead of just a dull humming in my chest.

I stupidly wonder if I had been dreaming it all. As I shake my head to clear the abject terror, I hear something moving near my curtains. Swallowing my poor abused heart once again, I get up, still wearing no more protection than my boxers, I slowly move towards the curtains and grab a handful, quickly ripping them aside and jumping backwards. I see nothing at first, and then, when my eyes focus, I see the hugest fucking rat I’ve ever seen clinging to my burglar bars, staring at me, his evil little eyes following every movement, his whiskers twitching angrily, no doubt trying to locate my jugular vein, his huge, black balls bouncing up and down every time he moves, slapping against the bars.

Needless to say, I scream like a little girl and run out of the room, leaving him him to whatever nefarious deeds he was no doubt planning. I grab a torch and run out into the dark night, heading from the flat to the main house, expecting every second to feel giant rat teeth sinking into the back of my legs in an attempt to hamstring me. I fumble with the keys to the house, praying that I wouldn’t feel sharp little ratty claws digging into my shoulder. I finally get the door open, rush inside and close the door behind me.

Alright, I think, I’m safe! But then I realise that I was just chased out of my room by a rodent and I feel the chest hairs busy shrinking into my flesh with shame. I know that I can’t go back and face the little beast in the dark by myself, so I run to our dogs and grab myself a loaded Jack Russel. Of course, waking up a flighty dog is never a good idea, grabbing it and running is an even worse idea. As she dug her claws into my tender flesh, I whimpered and dashed back to my room. I set her down near the curtain and quickly realised that if this monstrous rat somehow ate my dog, I’d need something to defend myself with.

I grabbed an old baseball bat and stood ready, waiting for the screaming, screeching ball of fur, teeth and claws to launch itself out of the curtains at me. I waited, and waited, hoping the dog would get the hint and savagely attack the curtains… she lay down and went back to sleep. Injured by her lack of concern for my well being, I crept forward and poked the curtains. A black ball of hell dropped out onto the floor and ran, not towards the dog, oh no, but towards me. I screamed and tried to get out of the way, but I had stupidly positioned myself in the doorway. It jumped and latched onto my naked leg, for about one tenth of a millisecond before I screamed louder and kicked it off. It disappeared into the darkness and I felt a little better.

Then I realised that now, instead of knowing where the little hellspawn was, I was in a dark room, with lots of cupboards and shelves where he could ambush me from. I nearly blacked out at this point and quickly jumped up onto my bed, bat in hand, jumping at every little noise. Needless to say, the dog had realised that there was something small and furry in the room and quickly began hyperventilating with excitement. She looked everywhere, but, being the slightly slow creature she is, she had very little success in locating this rodent genius. Clearly, this was the rodent world’s Moriarty. I swear I even saw his whiskers curling a bit at the ends. No doubt he sat and curled them around his little ratty fingers while chuckling evilly.

We dueled for hours there in the dark, him and me. I would catch a flash of evil ratty eyes and then nothing for minutes and then another flash, appearing as if by magic on the other side of the room. I whimpered and shuddered a lot during this time, the dog and I rushing about in a desperate attempt to catch the little bastard to no avail. Eventually, he got up amongst my computers and began playing hell with the cables, even, and I swear this is the most malicious thing I’ve ever seen and animal do, pushing my favourite ashtray off of the table to shatter on the floor.

Incensed by his evil deeds, I took up the chase in a rage, finally cornering him against the bars of my Trellidoor. We stared at each other then, the useless dog sniffing around excitedly on the other side of the room, certain that the rat was there and not in front of me. I think in that moment we came to respect each other as adversaries, we had both fought well this night, neither giving ground to the other. My heart softened as I recognised his noble nature and opened the door so that he could escape into the yard.

He made a break for it, saluting me like a true villain and I knew then that he would be back for the sequel… until the stupid dog rushed over and ended his noble existence with a snap of her jaws, shaking my foe back and forth until his limp form came to rest on the tiles.

As the battle ended, a flash of blazing light over the trees signaled the dawn and I felt the need to sink to my knees and proclaim my anger at the unwanted victory.

I would like to imagine that I did that, perhaps even screamed, RAAAAAAAAT!! while shaking my bat in the air as I faced the rising sun…

But I didn’t I got a plastic bag, picked him up and threw him away before going to back to bed.

You fought well, little adversary, you fought well, I salute you for your courage and your daring, but curse you because I found little rat turds on my pizza…

I need to take a moment to tell you all about a sad, sad state of affairs that is prevalent in our country at the moment.

Yes, it’s a very serious problem and I would thank you all to listen carefully.

We, that is South Africa, have a sad lack of Girl Gamers. Granted, the gaming community in South Africa is not quite as large as it is in the US, but then, South Africa itself is not as large as the US. But still! Damnit, I can count the number of South African gamer girls I’ve met on the hand of a blind butcher!

Enough is enough I say! We need more female gamers in this country! We are seriously in need of fun, interesting women to brighten our lives! For my money there is nothing nicer in the entire world than a gamer girl. A vested interest in those wonderful things called video games, a little couch chub from sitting in front of the PC or Computer for hours, a general lack of interest in things like clothes or cleaning up, no constant pestering to go out to noisy clubs or parties, more than two braincells to rub together, usually an interest in other geeky things as well, like anime and comics.

Another thing, gamers in general are usually a helluva lot more sexually liberated then other people, more kinks in this club than you can shake a rooster at.

Also, girl gamers are generally more willing to put on a gold bikini and call you Han than other girls… *Coughs*

I’ve gotten off track again.

Girl Gamers are awesome I say, the most amazing type of girl out there, but, and I say this with a tear in my eye, almost completely unheard of in this boerewors and rugby mad country (Because there’s nothing more interesting than watching a bunch of sweaty men groping each other over a ball, you barbarians)

On the topic of sports in general, I think that most, if not all, sports could be improved with the simple addition of allowing the players to carry weapons. Just imagine it, some groaning, sweaty mountain of muscle dashes across a field with a ball under his arm… only to have his legs hacked off at the knees by an opposing player with a claymore. I would watch that game. Maybe we could make convicted murderers play it… Damn, I need to send some of these ideas to the government…

And once again I went off track… where was I?

Oh, right, Girl Gamers! Please, please, all you ladies out there, consider getting out of those high heals, into some sweat pants and onto a couch sometimes. Play some games! Stop worrying about your looks so much! I, for one, am much more attracted to a woman that can kick my arse in mortal combat than a woman with perfect skin and hair. Yeah, that’s right, all you women out there that complain about guys only caring about your looks, try dating a gamer sometime, they’ll care about you much more if your WoW character is a raid geared priest… *Coughs*

I digress, again…

Ah, fuck it, words fail me at this point. I’m just ranting impotently about the lack of cool girls like these in the country.

Post over.

I often wonder why I’m not more spontaneous. Why I don’t follow through with all the strange, wonderful things that pop into my head. It’s a simple answer to a rather simple question. Fear. I don’t do all those things because I fear the consequences of my actions.

Now, every rational, sane person fears the consequences of their actions, but… sometimes we can make the fear of these mysterious consequences far greater than the consequences themselves should warrant.

Let’s take a look at some of the things that I’ve had pop into my head recently, things I could have done rather easily but didn’t because of that fear.

First, and this one pops into my head quite often, getting in my car and driving down to Durban, or Capetown, or even just climbing into my car and driving until I find something interesting and decide to stop. There are a lot of terrible things that could happen in this little venture. Mugged, Hijacked, run out of petrol on a lonely stretch of road with no help for miles and miles, getting lost and not being able to find my way back, but… what about the good that could come out of it? I could take some amazing photographs, I could meet some incredible people, I could meet the woman of my dreams, I could find my dream job, I could find somewhere that I really want to settle down. Both of the sides, bad and good, are just as likely but for some reason I let the negative side outweigh the good when I decide whether or not to do it.

Are we all this controlled by fear? Or is it just me? Do our fears dictate the direction our life takes? Now, not all fear is bad, I’m not trying to say this. Fear keeps us alive, keeps us alert, but it also inhibits our actions to a monumental degree, at least I think it does. Staying alive is all well and good, but is life worth living if we live it surrounded by the bars of our own fear?

This brings me to another point. Is life worth living if it contains nothing but living? Is it worth living just for the sake of living? Or do we need more than that? I think we do. Sure, life, from a purely scientific perspective is all about passing on our genes, about creating more life, but is that enough for us as sentient, free willed beings? My answer to that is no. Life, to my eyes, is about finding happiness, about creating happiness, about filling the space around you with happiness.

Someone locked in a windowless room, fed and watered twice a day with nourishing but tasteless gruel, would, survive, they would “Live” but they wouldn’t be alive. Even if they were given the chance to procreate, but without sight, sound or the ability to feel a deeper connection with their mate, yes, they would be fulfilling their genetic role, but would it be enough for that person? Would it even be right to call such a creature a person?

Once again, from my perspective, the answer is no, perhaps even Hell No. Our sentience makes that sort of half-life unacceptable. Hells, even the creatures that we call, “non-sentient” would rage against such an existence.

Okay, I’ve gone way off topic already, but that’s why this will be posted under Ramblings. This blog isn’t about making a precise, specific point, it’s about following the strange course my twisted mind lays out for me (And I think that might be it’s most interesting aspect).

Anyway, now that I’ve reminded myself what I was talking about when I started, let’s get back to that.

I think I am going to make a concerted effort to let more of those random acts bypass my internal fears. I’m tired of living a life that is ruled by “If onlys” and “What ifs”

Dance in the rain, swim in the winter, drive to nowhere, take photographs of your genitals and send them to all the contacts in your phonebook, sleep on the other side of the bed, try a different type of soft drink, take a fucking walk instead of driving, read a women’s magazine if you’re a man, read a men’s magazine if you’re a woman, high five a total stranger, break into song in the middle of the shopping mall, build a pillow fort and attack the cat, buy a colouring book and use it, play with some toys, fuck what everyone thinks! If you’re having fun and you’re not hurting anyone then just go for it! Molest a cactus, jack off on a chicken, I don’t care! Just do something today that is completely out of the ordinary, something you would never have thought of doing on any other day and then tell me if it feels great or not.

Life is for the living, if you want to go through it being ordinary, accepted, then good for you, but I’m going to spend more time doing all those weird, silly things my mind suggests at three in the morning.