Tilt Republic. Johannesburg. New York. Cape Town. London.

A little gallavant

Another day spent in this tilted republic. You know when you have shit to do, but the other shit you need to do is getting in the way. I have that problem, but in reverse, and occasionally on acid, which makes the whole thing unnecessarily interesting. Comedy is getting in the way of writing. I find myself in that disgusting state of privilege where the only things you have to do are the things you want to and that’s not the point of this piece but it’s an amazingly kief development in my life so bare with it.

And don’t forget, some of our citizens resort to smuggling hard drugs into the heart of militarised pinko-dom and some of us get to stay alive. What a weird situation. Count yourself lucky and while we’re at it; FUCK CHINA, those uptight bastards had no right to touch one of our own. When will the Zuma administration man up and stick it to the rooi gevaar?  Probably never, fags (used as a term of weakness and not sexual orientation).

I digress, tonight(Wednesday) I attended the Cape Town Club’s Christmas party, as  the entertainment. If you wondered where the 1% hang out.

My second corporate ever, all within a week and a half. I think it went pretty well. There was a disgusting amount of retired excellence scattered about the room, not going to name drop and not just because I didn’t really know who any of those people were. I was assured that they were very very important and I should probably not associate them with this uncouth penmanship so let’s move on.

From this upper middle class Mecca I sauntered towards the lower middle class mesh of well spent retirement annuities. This is what the new generation is doing with their dead’s money, pissing it away. Why not, apartheid had a point to make and so do we. Ill gains equal ill concerns about wrongfully accumulated cashish. We are a collective shit stain on the oranje blanje blou’s legacy and yes, I’m not sure what that means.

The room I played was receptive, a bit tricksy near the middle, who would have thought a shit load of socially sensitive Germans were waiting patiently to get offended. I don’t mind the Germans at all, in fact I find their race amazing, they have put so much effort in after all. It’s not German people I have a problem with, just their food, language, clothing, history and culture I tend to dislike- other than that I find them rather fascinating. Not to mention all that German precision, really impressive, nothing like a straight line to kick start infinite wonder.

My stay there was short, I was off to see Shadow Club at &Union. That blue grass filth speaks straight to my soul. I saw them some time back at The Kimberely Hotel and can still taste the backdrop. You don’t get much better in way of a soundtrack for dirty trooping than the fucking Shadow Club. Delightful. Well I missed them, by five minutes and decided to drag my wounded expectation off to the other end of Long in search of alternative meaninglessness.

Dave Ferguson was playing at Julep, his local, when he’s local. We spoke briefly about an album he’s busy recording and Jesus, you know when a beautiful woman borrows an item of clothing- sleeps in it and then returns it. Smitten. Fuck. I’m done. Wait, let me change this top.

RIGHT where was I. Comedy, Long Street. OKAY. Shared a few ideas with the ever solid Dylan Skews tonight. Off the record shit about our industry’s big cunts. It’s never nice to air dirty in house laundry publicly, well it can be but let’s get on with what matters. A new show. We were thinking about where the best spot to hook a one man venture would be. There are a few but it seems so very tricksy. At the moment we’re thinking it might be Obz Cafe. Dylan Skews, directed by Christopher Steenkamp, I can handle that. He’s a beyond kief performer and we have a good enough understanding to tell each other to fuck off. I do remember us wrestling each other to the ground some time back in the middle of Ragazzi and there really isn’t much else needed for such a venture. That should be enough man bonding to string a choice selection of bits together.

Right lets recap, the Cape Town Club is somewhere I could find myself in again, a beauteous backdrop filled with inspiring people, the Shadow Club need all the love we can give them and Dylan Skews’ next one man show will be beyond kief. All covered, all well- I’m going for a drink at Stones in Obs now.

One Comment

Tags: ,

December 16, 2011 Early Tilt