A Conversation With A Scottish Hippie

Does the title say everything? A scruffy drunk man that makes one think of William Wallace when he opens his mouth? Yes, well almost.

This past Saturday I attended a music workshop presented by David Chislett. It all took place at the Mystic Boer club in Bloemfontein and towards the end of the afternoon locals started getting their Saturday night moods warmed up. On my way out I sat down to talk to some old friends and meet some new people, some general socialising before heading home. After about twenty minutes of proverbial conversation we were joined by a bizarre looking man with an accent that stuck out like a sore thumb.

I would judge him to have been in his late 40's. He had medium length black hair, which I presume he had dyed because of the grey poking out at the roots. His face was shadowed with a two day old beard which seemed to compliment the rest of his attire; a loose fitted denim shirt, green cargo trousers, and a number of charm bracelets on his wrist. He introduced himself as Shaun, "the same as Connery but different".

Being someone who finds an interest to things foreign I asked whether or not, based on his accent, he was Scottish. His response set the tone for the rest of the evening. "What gave you that idea?", he said with sour bite of sarcasm.

Shortly after that I found myself wanting to leave after everyone but Shaun and myself were sitting across from each other. He persuaded me to stay as I had no real excuse to leave at the time. I found myself staying, basking in the awkwardness of an hour long conversation with this self proclaimed hippie who painted for a living. Unfortunately I don't take kindly to sarcasm and bad wit, and this man was spewing it all over the place. I wasn't in the mood for deep and intellectual conversations about life and humanity, he was. This means that whenever I tried to speak I couldn't put my words together properly and stumbled over myself awkwardly, looking like a blithering simpleton. Paraphrasing a long story short, this is mostly what he had to say:

• Humans are alive to destroy each other
• If you come to realise it, you are the most important person of your 'maker'.
• My ideas for writing are fairly pointless and have been done before. 

He has obviously had a lot of time to put his thoughts in order and can back up whatever he says with intellectual philosophy and experience. I found the experience as a whole a bit patronising and degrading, not the most comfortable place to be in on what should have been a relaxing weekend. Although his arguments had some good nihilistic grounding (which he felt was purely realism), I really don't see the point of such a fatalistic view of life. Negativity spreads like wild wire, and I believe existence needs meaning which you create.

I will however quote him with something a little more hopeful, which he somehow threw into his twisted view of life:
"Love absolutely, and care continuously."

Still unsure about this situation, I guess you never know what types of people will spark off a dull moment of intellectual sterilty...

The Bucket List...A Start

I would consider myself a hypocrite. Why? Five days ago I wrote about how I would only choose to follow one new years resolution for 2011 (Avoiding Health Care). At the same time I described how much I disliked the idea of new years resolutions which do a lot of premeditated disappointment; an illusion for motivation. Unfortunately the hypocrisy continues today as I have taken the idea to a new level: a bucket list.

You may have seen the movie starring Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson:

Two terminally ill men set out to complete a list of goals that they draw up in hospital; touching, clever, simple. I can imagine that the movie would have had teary eyed men and women drawing up their own 'to-do before I kick the bucket list'. My motivation has been brewing for years now. A bucket list - a list and/or schedule of activities which one creates with the hope to have completed before death. Now with all politically correct definitions aside, here I go:
 1.) Stare into the eye of a blue whale 

Laugh and shake your head all you want but no other idea has fascinated me more. As unrealistic and 'soppy-romantic' as it sounds, I dream of swimming next to and looking into the eye of one of these majestic and peaceful ocean giants.


2.) Play my guitar somewhere on the streets of Spain:
The culture and life (at least what I have been fed in the media) of the Spanish people interests me. A deep love for Flamenco has drawn me to pick up a guitar and (attemp to) bring a taste of this into my life: 

 

Unfortunately reaching the likes of Lawson Rollins (trust me, you want to check him out!) is a bit far fetched right now, but nothing stops me from having a good old jam on my Yamaha 6 string every now and then! Believe me I would love to tell you that one of these men above, so graciously  having a 'fiery finger dance' on their guitars was me, but this video was taken on May the 25th, 2007 outside a cathedral in Barcelona.  Which brings me to my next point:   

3.) Attend a football game here:

Any 'foreign' fan of La Liga will dream of watching the beautiful game played most majestically in La Furia Roya (Red Fury - Spain). FC Barcelona has been a particular interest of mine for quite some time now - not only evident from the view of the majestic 98 000 seater - Camp Nou above (which takes my breath away), but also an appreciation for the creative and beautiful displays of football in the way the club plays the game. 


4.) Attend the Kokua Festival in Honolulu

Does one really need a reason to go to Hawaii? Well the Kokua festival, if any, is mine! Jack Johnson, my all time favorite musician, co-founded the Kokua Hawaii Foundation (doing some good for the Earth) with his wife in 2003. Since then six concerts of the finest in folk and soft rock have graced the shores of Honolulu to raise funds for the Kokua Hawaii Foundation. The Kokua Festival has seen performances from Jack Johnson, Matt Costa, Ziggy Marley, Eddie Vedder, Ben Harper, Willie Nelson & The Planetary Bandits, Ozomatli, and Anuhea (look out for her), to name a few. If a day full of smooth and funky music is not enough motivation; I know that supporting a good cause is to get myself to Honolulu sometime soon!


5.) ...
?
(There's still time)
Perhaps running a marathon or climbing Mount. Kilimanjaro is an option? Maybe, but as you may have noticed I put years of thought into my (growing) list and as soon as something pops up that I feel the need to do, I will start dreaming again. Hopefully (with some 'monetary boosting') one day I can start ticking these off. For now, like most young and aspiring writers, I dream on...

Avoiding health care – My only 2011 resolution

I have always been an anti-fan of New Year’s resolutions. In short, I define them as false pretences that temporarily motivate productivity; ultimately leading to disappointment…Okay in a broad South African context I see New Year’s resolutions as “tjajarag”! I have avoided talking about these overplayed party topics until now because I cannot bear to hear or read about them myself.  After nine days into a new year I must confess my intensions of staying true to one particular goal: avoiding health care.

Now as the hypochondriacs and medical experts shake their heads it must be said that I have had nine days to think this through. 2010 was a year in which I spent more time following through with hospital visitations than I had leisure time to begin with. The medical aid company (whose name I will keep anonymous) were thankful for my “hospital hell ride” of last year. In the past twelve months I had doctor visitations for colds and flu; allergy checkups; cortisone injections for allergies; right hand tendonitis checkups; right hand tendonitis x-rays; hepatitis scares; and multiple digestive infections with migraines, dehydration, antibiotics, specialist consultations, colonoscopies (not for the faint hearted), more antibiotics, probiotics, and dietary restrictions. The embarrassing health cherry on top hit me towards the end of December 2010. I was told that with all the antibiotics, probiotics, toxins, and chemicals I was on, some type of infection had ironically developed in me as a result.

Thankful as I am that I can afford and obtain good health care, I can’t help but deliberate on the capitalist influence involved. With thousands of rands spent on visitations and medicine it must asked if the health care system puts one in a loop to exploit their willingness to pay? Understanding that health care workers have an ethical code to seek the best interests of their patients, I cannot help but point out a subtle flaw in the process of health care. Without a G.P. one is moved around in a hospital system from one location and doctor to the next without adequate information, in what seems to be a race with efficiency and productivity. At times I felt like an animal on a conveyor belt being tested by several doctors. All the while the medical fees were piling up with my medical aid company delighted with the progress. The entire system’s capitalist interests seem to out-weigh the personal interests of those that fall into it.

And so I declare that in the year of 2011 I shall avoid (as much as possible) being part of a cattle system in the health care industry. I refuse to be labelled a hypochondriac and genuinely felt that way last year.

P88                                                                                                                                                                                  

P.S. My family doctor – Sorry. All doctors contributing to ethical health care in South Africa (include my family doctor) – Thank you. 

Kurt Cobain's Suicide Note

I found this online; the text of Kurt Cobain's suicide note. You may find it interesting to see this as a bit of a reflection of the mind of the late great grunge rock pioneer. I don't intend to harm his memory but honour it. The original analyses can be found here.   

"To Boddah 

Speaking from the tongue of an experienced simpleton who obviously would rather be an emasculated, infantile complain-ee. This note should be pretty easy to understand.

All the warnings from the punk rock 101 courses over the years, since my first introduction to the, shall we say, ethics involved with independence and the embracement of your community has proven to be very true. I haven't felt the excitement of listening to as well as creating music along with reading and writing for too many years now. I feel guilty beyond words about these things.

For example when we're back stage and the lights go out and the manic roar of the crowds begins., it doesn't affect me the way in which it did for Freddie Mercury, who seemed to love, relish in the love and adoration from the crowd which is something I totally admire and envy. The fact is, I can't fool you, any one of you. It simply isn't fair to you or me. The worst crime I can think of would be to rip people off by faking it and pretending as if I'm having 100% fun. Sometimes I feel as if I should have a punch-in time clock before I walk out on stage. I've tried everything within my power to appreciate it (and I do, God, believe me I do, but it's not enough). I appreciate the fact that I and we have affected and entertained a lot of people. It must be one of those narcissists who only appreciate things when they're gone.
I'm too sensitive. I need to be slightly numb in order to regain the enthusiasms I once had as a child.
On our last 3 tours, I've had a much better appreciation for all the people I've known personally, and as fans of our music, but I still can't get over the frustration, the guilt and empathy I have for everyone. There's good in all of us and I think I simply love people too much, so much that it makes me feel too fucking sad. The sad little, sensitive, unappreciative, Pisces, Jesus man. Why don't you just enjoy it? I don't know!

I have a goddess of a wife who sweats ambition and empathy and a daughter who reminds me too much of what i used to be, full of love and joy, kissing every person she meets because everyone is good and will do her no harm. And that terrifies me to the point to where I can barely function. I can't stand the thought of Frances becoming the miserable, self-destructive, death rocker that I've become.

I have it good, very good, and I'm grateful, but since the age of seven, I've become hateful towards all humans in general. Only because it seems so easy for people to get along that have empathy. Only because I love and feel sorry for people too much I guess.

Thank you all from the pit of my burning, nauseous stomach for your letters and concern during the past years. I'm too much of an erratic, moody baby!  I don't have the passion anymore, and so remember, it's better to burn out than to fade away.

Peace, love, empathy. Kurt Cobain

Frances and Courtney, I'll be at your alter.

Please keep going Courtney, for Frances.

For her life, which will be so much happier without me. I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU!"

- Kurt Donald Cobain: 1967 - 1994

A Mask of Comfort

 Hiding behind a comfort mask of a cartoon image will NOT save a helpless child or woman against violence and abuse.

A recent Facebook trend has become more popular than I thought it would. Thousands of online users have changed their profile pictures to that of a favourite childhood cartoon with the idea that this will somehow curb violence against women and children. While this seems to be a 'cute' and fun idea for Facebook user's who feel the need to speak up, let me be the first to tell you how futile and pathetic this is. 

The "16 Days of Activism Against Abuse Campaign" is a great initiative and effective, why? Because it actually does something proactive. If you follow the link you will find an abundance of information and helpful guides as to how one can actually become involved in the initiative. Making an alteration to your profile on a social networking website does anything but involve one in any way, shape, or form of a campaign against abuse. The word "social" does not exactly say "I am saving a child every time I log on to Facebook"; it says "I  will feel better about myself by changing my picture to childhood related symbol". After all, some pictures remain the same.

Sheep and A Million Dollar Question

Watch them, white fluffy balls of wool on legs, floating around like grounded clouds grazing about without a care in the world. Ovis aries, a fairly narrow minded creature infamous for its ‘conformist’ tendencies; a reputation which has given rise to popular metaphorical jokes and societal critique. Believe me, this is no different. The content in this piece of emotion has been brewing in my head for months, held back by the lack of inspiration and the hesitation to put it all into words.

Ancient Sumerians may have seen sheep in some form of a divine existence. This was probably interpreted through their reliance on meat, wool, and milk, which came in abundance from the woolly mammal. Strangely enough this fallacy seems abundant in modern beliefs with the exception of a slight role change. Someone may just find comfort in knowing that they are part of a larger purpose, creating a blindfold of security to the eternal mystery of the universe. Just as a sheep will at random follow a flock of ignorant wanderers, humans will conform to sub-culture in the name of myth, morality, and superstition. Conformists, rolling their eyes in light of thought patterns like this, have often debated the existence of an afterlife with me. Tied into this deliberation is the condemnation I have experienced by those who seem to experience some divine right of judgement. I have had countless conversations that started with “you could die tomorrow…” which brings me to my million dollar question: what gives anyone the right to create a pedestal above another based on a fictitious understanding of life?

It doesn’t matter what you believe, just as long as your understanding of another person is never spiritually motivated to a point of superiority. Its well after midnight so I guess a case of caffeine induced insomnia spurred on this painting of emotion. Some sleep will do me good. Shall we count some sheep then?    

To Click or Not To Click

Unfortunately my cell number, being an old one, has somehow and somewhere been added to some miser’s marketing database, or so I assume. I have recently been bombarded with some really provocative advertising sms messages, just to give you an example:

“re: Sophias filthy vids attached.” Web-link attached

“Got a new showerhead, the detachable kind. The pressures awesome” Web-link attached

Honestly I cannot help but smile. Who needs to search for ‘nothing mom’ videos when they come knocking at my door! According to an American internet security company, Optenet, almost 40% of the internet is occupied by pornography. Here’s a little experiment: Google the word “porn”. After doing so you should come up with at least 185 000 000 results in under a second, now that’s a lot of skin!

Excuse the pun in my asking, but what drives us to become so lustfully involved with raunchy fantasies and wild thoughts of perversion? Before answering that let’s probe (excuse the pun once again) a few considerations:
• We are all part of a sexual nature; don’t try to run away from it.
• Human autonomy does mean that people have different ‘interests’.
• Curiosity killed the cat but it got little boys in trouble, despite it being a normal human emotion.
• Pornography isn’t going anywhere so stop avoiding the topic, there’s nothing wrong with discussion.

Perhaps the primitive instincts that parallel evolution feed our curiosity to explore an otherwise ‘darker side’ of the Self. Perhaps our drive to even create pornography resulted from eons of suppression of sexual instinct, considering the need for certain social status and acceptability. Perhaps so called ‘sins of the flesh’ entice us more because of its growing abundance.

So I bring you back to my old dilemma; to click or not to click. “Sophias filthy vids” are a simple web-link away after all, but something holds a person back. Despite my lack of interest I think I am informed enough to know that spam = viruses (once again, excuse the pun) and more spam. Not to mention a severe possibility of embarrassment, nobody likes getting caught with their pants down…shall I ask for another excuse?