Friday, December 19, 2008

Ready in 2 minutes (no added MSG)

Waterval-Boven: A perfect almost mid-summer's evening. I'm lying alone on the couch after a week over full with people, noise and endless activity. No sound at all but for my 'chilled classics' cd playing faintly in the background, the summer night racket of crickets, the odd car.A cool, slight breeze ghosts down the mountain, unexpectedly carrying the scent of the Lowveld and the full moon on it. A dog barks on the other side of 'Hopeville' as I eat smoked mussels - crackling with almost-crushed black pepper - straight from the bronze coloured tin that reminds me of an ashtray. My summer holiday started yesterday at precisely 15h11: that's when I wrote my last work words of the year, pushed send on the final email. Peace, utter peace in my little house that's on the edge of the village that's on the edge of the escarpment. Four roasted, salted almonds crunch in my mouth, are washed down with an ice cold glass of milk. Now to make my favourite curry flavour Woolworths instant noodles. Then a luke warm bath, some more pages of Peter Parker's monumental 'Isherwood', tantalising paragraphs from my 'Rough Guide to Morocco' for the hell of it, also to launch into our local version of 'National Geographic Traveller' and it's cover story: 'Pure Paris'. Tonight I wouldn't want to be anywhere but here. I think, often, of Wynand and Serra. Anton's cat had three kittens today; I wish I had a photo.Despite some initial insecurity, my inspiration (and Words) WILL come from God, not from the December issue (# 68) of 'Dazed & Confused' that was hand-picked at an anonymous Heathrow news agent.

Stream of consciousness. Full stop.

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