Monday, March 25, 2013


...Lost in Langebaan.

No seriously.

In the dream I had last night, I was in Langebaan on some sort of fucked up family holiday (in a house which I'd been to before, eerily... and with my late grandparents no less), when I accidentally found Paradise Lost playing a little school hall gig. I was really happy when they allowed me to hug them. We hung out and it was all very nice.

I'm back. Well, I've been online for a bit, but am only now writing to you, my dear beloved readers, for myriad reasons, none of which I'm going to go into, but not least of which was my own laziness. How the fuck have you all been? Miss me much? Let's see, what have I been up to?

The abridged Ramfest Review goes as follows:

  • It was wet.
  • Then it was dry.
  • The campsite was a roaring success, especially the portion set aside for the more metal minded and much appreciation should go out to Metal Krishna.
  • The international bands were very professional and judging by the crowd response, very popular choices.
  • The local metal acts put on some savage performances, but suffered from having to compete.
  • The Monster Stage was really awesome though, supreme sound and lighting.
  • Atmospheric Black Metal looks good in thrift store pullovers.
  • People respond well to witty tshirt slogans, but not so much to the put down follow ups.
  • Location is everything with food stalls.
  • Tina Sex knows the fuck how to camp.
  • Sippy Cups involve a lot of walking.
  • Apparently, in order to be hip and trendy, one has to forget about the fashion abominations inflicted upon humanity in the late 70s. Now, the Perplexed Poodle look is all the rage.
  • Jack Parow is, and always has been, nothing more than a novelty act, and once again - rather painfully - reminded us of this fact.
  • The winner of "band of the festival" goes to Future Primitives. Bravo lads! Poodle fashion notwithstanding.
  • "Moment of the festival" goes to the Metal Sex God (he tastes good as well...) for his performance with Strident coming on for that song - the smile threatened to lift the top off his head.

Another observation I've made in the last while is this. Cyclists are dicks. I know everyone who's allowed to blog has already covered this, but I have finally caught up. The Argus made it abundantly clear that a lot of the two-wheeled road users we share our roads with are just inconsiderate wankers. And this morning when the Kamakazi on the Kawasaki attempted spectacular suicide by jumping into my lane in front of me while my very large, very safe box of steel was doing about 80km an hour, necessitating me to test the stopping power of my brakes to squealing point, I kind of figured out that a Think Bike Sticker doesn't magically make you invincible. Don't make it difficult for other bikers because you're a doos. And if the difference between potential life and death is apparently a berth of 1.5m, then for fuck's sake don't cycle in the middle of the road 2m from the curb. Abreast. Asshats.

Let's see, what else happened in my prolonged absence. I'm glad to announce the latest D'Aaaaw Win Award goes to none other than Lord Doom and his beautiful FaceBook-official partner, the lovely Real Life Smiley Face. Now I know many of you will wonder what the hell I'm on about, but that's for me to know and you to find out.

As for the rest, been enjoying some time off. Been sight seeing in and around Cape Town. It does the soul the world of good to refresh one's perspective on one's home town. Especially when one's home town is Cape Town. The real Paradise...
Also, I watched a lot of cricket.
And braaing - I did a LOT of braaing.
I also celebrated being with The Hot Girlfriend for a year and a half. Ja ja, I know all the relationship veterans out there pooh-pooh anything short of full year anniversaries, but I don't care.

Anyway, back to life, back to reality, he cries while beating you out of his shop with a broom.

NGDG: One could queue all round the back of the warehouse, in the sun, or one could take the barging and shoving so characteristic of the sale to its logical conclusion, treating the till point like an undiscovered Bolano and saving much time and sanity.

Spread The Love. It's Good To Be Back.

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