It's always about me.....


Fence tagged me, apparently for no reason other than that she could.

  • I am thinking about… whether the ease with which it is possible to make and record music, has left us in a decade where there will never be a band that shakes the foundation of the music it's built upon, as has occurred for the past 60 years.
  • I said… "Not today, thanks." On being asked if I wanted to play indoor soccer with some colleagues during lunch on one of the vacant floors in our building.
  • I want to… actually read all 6 of the books I borrowed from the library before the return date. This would be a substantial change from the norm.
  • I wish… for R20,000. Hey, winning the lotto would be great, but I figure if I wish for something a little less grandiose, there's a better chance it might happen. Besides, I wouldn't know what to do with millions, whereas R20,000..........
  • I hear… The Duke Spirit - Cuts Across The Land
  • I wonder… what we're going to deal with in antenatal classes tonight. And whether the instructor will break her current record of using the word 'f**k' 12 times in a session.
  • I regret… having eaten my last banana. I'm still hungry, it's an age until supper and the guy who sells junk food on the 7th floor must be putting 12 children through college for the amount he charges for a chocolate.
  • I am… trying to spend as much time possible answering this meme in the hope that the rather alarming pile of work to my left will somehow magically disappear.
  • I dance… rarely. To my wife's despair.
  • I sing… in the car. And sometimes backing vocals. But not in ages.
  • I cry… more than likely in about 6 weeks time.
  • I am not always… this good-looking.
  • I make with my hands… shadow creatures on the bedroom ceiling. Again, despairing wife.
  • I write… in the shower. Not with a water-proof pen or anything, but in my head. The idea for the novel I'm working on, the idea for Icarus Falls (hangs head in shame) and much of what makes an appearance here. Until the hot water runs out. Yep, you guessed it. Despairing wife.
  • I confuse… socks, rarely. Right from left, never. But pretty much everything else.
  • I need… A banana. Or R20,000. Or something to bribe the junk-food guy with. Like maybe a banana, or R20,000.
  • And finally… when you find yourself in the kitchen, with one foot on a counter, pregnancy guide in your left hand and your right hand attempting to indicate to your wife how one would massage the perineum, always ensure that the kitchen curtains are closed. This would negate all awkwardness the next time you bump in to your neighbour. And just for the record, I was clothed at the time. You bunch of sickos.
And I think I've done enough embarrassing for one day, so I won't tag anyone else.

Be careful what you wish for.....


Do not read this book. It is a dangerous book. One that requires a steel gut and at least a lifetime's flirtation with the kind of humour that got Lenny locked up.
It flows in that particularly wicked way, like an anonymous look in a crowded bar that has your mind dragging on a post-coital cigarette before your eyes can even contemplate infidelity. You've read his previous novels, you think you know what to expect, but by page ten the waters are closing in over your head, and you've resigned yourself to the cool detachment that can only come with death. The words on the page, however, are clearly alive. They feed off the darkness inside of you, amplify your growing distrust for humanity. What love you may once have had is now only of the kind laced with pity. Like a child with 3rd degree burns. Everyone feels sorry for it, but no one wants anything to do with it.
A voice from the back of your mind keeps trying to convince you that this is satirical. These events are hyperbole in the extreme, a carefully fashioned blade to cut us from the depths of our slumber. This is hyper-real, it whispers. Nothing like this actually happens. These are urban myths, as dictated by a malevolent reincarnation of Poe. So you close the book and switch on the tv, desperately needing that brand of mindless respite that only television can bring.
And after only 20 minutes, you realise that the book is right. Its stories may not have happened yet, but they will. The absurdity of celebrity will create gods, pop will eat itself. The most quickly evolving human accomplishments originate not from technology or art, but from the depths of our perversion and depravity. Suddenly it's as if the only truth is staring up at you from where you left it on the floor. You start reading it again, and the hallucinations start. You see these characters embodied in those around you, and worse, embodied in yourself. You try to stop yourself from thinking, lest you betray that last notion of righteousness you cling to so tightly. You are a seal in an oil slick, a dolphin in a shark net. The more you struggle, the more entangled you become. The truth will not set you free, it will imprison you.
There is nothing clever about this book. No inspiring conclusion, no bright horizon, no triumph of the human spirit. No twist ending, nor break-through idea or debatable philosophy. It simply gives us a window through which to watch our own autopsy. Our bodies sliced expertly down the middle, every organ tagged and bagged. Can't you feel that? The cold from the slab reaching tendrils through your bones?
No, friends, this author is a madman. He is sick and twisted and must surely be alone. That must be it. And so I cannot reveal his indentity or his works. Should his words spread to any more eyes and ears, we run the risk of finding him sane.

Do not adjust your set ...


People, I have been exhorting one FM for most of this week to write summat. I don't know about you lot but I'm tired of 'refreshing the page'. Anyway, hopefully this wee post will give him the impetus he so needs. (note: and ... I so needed an excuse to raid his space/blog) :) The ever-confused Luke

25 lines


Saw Ninemoons, cursed for missing Fence's, and lastly saw that Alan had too. So I thought I might. Rules are as follows. Put your iPod (or variant thereof) on random play, then post the first line of the first 25 songs that pop up (discarding any really obvious ones where the title is in the first line, and only using the first one by each different artist), then everyone gets to guess what songs (and artists) they are. List is slightly edited, as there wouldn't be much point of listing completely obscure artists. The whole point is that you're supposed to get them, isn't it? So, here goes: 1. I hope that our few remaining friends give up on trying to save us 2. Who are you to wave your finger? 3. You are my sweetest downfall 4. Never stop the car on a drive in the dark 5. Everyone gather round now, sing us a song, just in case by tomorrow, it happens he's gone 6. Every time we do this, I fall for her 7. No one has said what the truth should be, and no one decided that I'd feel this way 8. Look at slow motion, asleep at the door 9. Why do I sense, benevolence (Alan's out of the blocks, with Skunk Anansie's Charity 10. We're rotten fruit, we're damaged goods (Alan again, Radiohead and Backdrifts 11. (love) love is a verb (Fence got Massive Attack's Teardrop 12. Hung up and bent on a stranger, just trying to swing a full-time ride 13. I felt the earth on Monday, it moved beneath my feet 14. She came all the way from America, she had a blind date with Destiny 15. With a wink from a starlet's eye, a string of pearls come to life 16. I'm gonna drink my whiskey, I'm gonna have my man, I know you got nothing to say 17. I hate to do this, but you're a pain in the neck (Cardboardjudas is right, Beck's Cancelled Cheque) 18. Do you recall its name as it suggested beck and call 19. [spoken] "Now let's you just drop them pants....." 20. My dewy-eyed Disney bride, what has tried swapping your blood with formaldehyde 21. Always looking for attention, always needs to be mentioned 22. Found a way to rid myself clean of pain and the fever that's been haunting me 23. Well it's about time, it's beginning to hurt 24. Are you, my lady, are you? 25. The more that we take, the paler we get Well then, have a go! (0h, and I've enabled comment moderation. Spam was becoming ridiculous)



If you have never visited Drawn! before, please do. And you can sample such delicacies as this, famous movies drawn as Russian folk art (how many can you indentify?), or these chuckle-inducing cartoons, or this simple yet very cool idea, or this delightfully dark and surreal imagery or........ Well, you get the point. Carl, you might like this and this.

Reversals of Fortune


This has been a hard week for me. Work has been punctured by mini-upheavals and a sudden influx of business that has seen me burning the midnight oil, a feeling of claustrophobia only exacerbated by the equally sudden illness of a very close friend. Fortunately, he was moved from ICU to the general ward yesterday afternoon, but he will more than likely be on medication now for the rest of his life. We're hoping that the hospital releases him tomorrow, but there are still a few worrying factors, so I would appreciate your keeping him in mind. The fact that his wife is almost 20 weeks pregnant didn't help matters, but she truly is an immensely strong person. I don't know many people who would have coped as well as she has, although she says it was the baby who really helped her. Yet things could have been so much worse, and that relief is accompanied by the slow restoration of sanity in the workplace and the not too distant sound of the weekend approaching at full steam. And then yesterday, the fickle forces of chance led me toward a new and unexpected musical discovery, something which always changes my mood for the better. So this morning I thought it may further improve my disposition to have a question answered, if you feel so inclined. What happy accidents have you experienced lately? Oh, and if you're curious as to the band, well, that's my happy accident. You go find your own. ;~) Or you could just email me........

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  • I'm forgottenmachine
  • From Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
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