Archive for May, 2012

If you’re wondering why I’m skulking it’s probably because I don’t want anyone to eavesdrop on our conversation. You see *looks furtively over shoulder* my company (i.e. the people who pay me money so I can afford to buy bacon sandwiches) have recently started monitoring our internet usage. In other words they’re stalking me. I would say it’s a lot like George Orwell’s novel 1984 except I haven’t read it. But on the plus side I have read Twilight.

Needless to say this has put the skids on my blogging antics. I’m a one legged man and they’ve taken away my crutch. Now I limp from one day to the next like a ship marooned in listless waters. That might be overstating the status quo but if there’s melodrama to be had, I’m certainly not going to say no to seconds.

Ironically enough though this unforeseen hiatus has triggered a renaissance in my writing. A match has been lit, the letters are being burned into my mind, and I’m getting high on the smoke of creativity. As you can see from that last ineloquent hodgepodge I’ve got an itch and I’m trying to scratch it with my keyboard.

There’s a lot to be said for blogging. For starters it rhymes with snogging. But more importantly it can be insidiously addictive. It even gets to a stage where you feel obligated to do a post every day even though the only people who read your blog are a seeing eye dog called Randall and a florist from Cape Town named Daffodil Dave. Needless to say this state of affairs is destined to end with tears and a tub of ice-cream.

In my case, I started to beat myself up about the fact that I couldn’t come up with sparkling and erudite material on a daily basis. I was worried that all my best writing was behind me and all that lay before me was a barren landscape littered with the corpses of clichés being picked clean by plagiaristic vultures. I was still writing but the words were merely whispers on a page.

Then there was silence. No grandiose gesture. No horse riding into the sunset. No long lingering goodbye as my last breath catches in my throat. In the depths of a manic depressive state I would wonder what life would be like without blogging. Would it be like a Coca-cola light version of reality? Would it be like Rice Krispies without the snap, crackle, and pop?

The truth is it’s me minus the words. My imagination is still painting the canvas but I’m the only one admiring the abstract art. That of course isn’t the whole truth. It’s the official statement issued to the press, the radio friendly version without the expletives. A part of me has also been lying dormant like a seedling anticipating the summer rains that never come. Writing is my guilty pleasure. A sin tattooed on my back that can’t be scrubbed away with a loofah.

I haven’t given up blogging. I’m behind the wheel, looking through the windscreen at my future, and occasionally checking the rear-view mirror as my words sputter out the exhaust pipe and dissipate into the blogosphere.



Posted: May 10, 2012 in Random
Tags: , , , , ,


That seems to be the most appropriate first word to use after my long hiatus in the wilderness. I wasn’t literally in the wild of course. I start to break out into a cold sweat if I’m not within 20 metres of a flat screen TV at any given moment.

Needless to say you’re all probably dying to know where I disappeared to. Some of you no doubt imagined that I cruelly met my fate in a tragic farming accident. There I was feeding the chickens geckos for breakfast (Okay I admit it I don’t know what chickens eat. But I once saw my cat eat a gecko so I’m assuming what’s good for the goose is good for the gander) when suddenly I tripped over a rooster and impaled myself on a pitchfork.

Obviously since I am writing this blog I am pleased to report that I’m very much alive. I’m older perhaps, but still alive and happily still wrinkle free. To those of you who thought I was dead, shame on you! I curse you and hope that all your future children have webbed feet. Technically I’m actually doing you a favour. How awesome would it be to have webbed feet? Why if I had webbed feet I’m pretty confident that I’d almost be able to do two whole laps in the pool.

I generally tend to avoid swimming at all costs. I don’t spend 30 minutes on my shimmering silky soft hair in the mornings just to mess it up by randomly jumping into a pool. Also I don’t have gills so I’m assuming that must be some kind of sign.

I could come up with some long convoluted excuse for why I haven’t been on WordPress lately. For example I could say that I decided to adopt 17 Somali children while I was on holiday and as result I haven’t had a moment’s peace. But that would be a lie because Madonna beat me to it. The truth is reality has had my undivided attention of late and consequently my storytelling has had to take a backseat. On the plus side at least I’m using the backseat for something other than sex for a change. I guess I did say that out loud. Oh well.

But enough about me, for now at least, what have I missed?