Blog pressure is another form of peer pressure. I did a blog last week detailing all the stuff I was going to get up to and now I am constantly being asked about how it was, what did I do and when am I going to write about it. Seemingly once you start something you need to keep it up. Insert wisecrack about bishops and actresses here… I know you already have.
To be honest I can barely remember exactly what I did. Thankfully not much photographic evidence. I hope. I do know that I possibly outdid myself. Especially as people I don’t remember seeing have asked how the rest of my weekend was…
Friday started with the usual after-work-drinks. The dop system is alive and well here. Being in a supremely cheerful state of mind and possibly looking for trouble, I got started early. Before I knew it I was no longer going home before the gig. Monster and The Young One were despatched to fetch me for a “before party” at Rose Thorn’s. Like I needed a before-party. Mine had started at 4.30pm! So in my work clothes and armed with about 4 bags I arrived on Rose Thorn’s doorstep, giving her neighbour (who I have never met in my life) a great big kiss goodbye as he was leaving for another party with RT’s other half. A few more drinks and some supper and then we were walking down the road to Mercury. Good thing I don’t live there, Mercury would’ve made a killing out of me by now. Met up with the Porksta and The Rock Star at the bar and discovered Sailor Jerry was on special. Uh oh…
What ensued was a rocking night with one of the greatest bands to ever come out of South Africa. Ok, I stole that from a magazine. I hardly knew Fetish, apart from a few songs. I was living in the UK while they were reigning on the South African alternative stage. But I sure know them now. I also know their feet really well. For some absurd reason I have a lot of photographs of their feet. Have I developed a foot Fetish? Personally I blame it on the fact that I can barely see over the stage when my face is pressed up against it. But their music was damn good and I had a great time. Too great a time. The Viking and TenMil arrived in the wee hours and the party continued until we were kicked out.
The Swift arrived bright and breezy at about 11am on Saturday and I could barely get it together after 5 hours sleep. At about noon we set off for the Lumberjack Festival. We spent the day ogling at men with chainsaws and axes. And checked shirts. And facial hair. You could literally smell the raw testosterone mingling with the sweet smell of sawdust. Beers, axe throwing, burgers, chainsawing, tree climbing, tree planting and music were the order of the day. Some damn fine eye candy too. The Swift even managed to sit on a lumberjack’s face. Ha! I can see your raised eyebrows from here. Ask her about it sometime. Am so going back next year. With a lasso and without a hangover.
After a much-needed nap it was time for the symphony of doom. I have to admit my heart wasn’t really in it when I arrived, but I had agreed to help out Monster by taking a video so put my big girl panties on and dealt with it. Half the faces from the night before were there (and they certainly remembered me from the night before) and I knew everyone on the stage so it wasn’t so bad. The music wasn’t so bad either. In fact the only depressing thing was not the doom metal, but the serious lack of leathers. Gasp! What a disappointment! But by 11pm I was ordering my first round of tequila’s (compliments of the band members) completely having forgotten how rotten I felt 12 hours before. I got to bed an hour earlier than Friday night. Seemingly I never learn.
Needless to say a quiet week has ensued. But got a nice surprise on Wednesday when Monster took me as his plus one to the Shannon Hope gig at the Fugard Theatre. Gig is actually not quite the right word. More like an intense performance in a hauntingly beautiful venue. Monster has spent the past year warbling on about Ms Hope’s talent and I have turned a deaf ear. But I have to admit, the man is onto something. Something incredible. So it’s my turn to warble. I don’t know all the fancy music lingo (base/bass guitar remember) so let me just say that I quite simply blown away. And not just by her fabulous red heels. Her music and her lyrics took me back to places that I thought I had tucked neatly away behind a well-built wall. The pain, the anguish and the reality of love, heartbreak and life. By the end of the evening I felt like I had been on a journey to my inner core and all my old wounds felt raw and exposed. I was exhausted and had a headache. Quite fitting that it was held in an old church, it was almost a religious experience. She was so good that a girl from Joburg who had never heard of Shannon Hope before that night was impressed enough to go and buy both her cd’s straight after the show. I am definitely going to do the same and am going to drag every one of my friends to her next show. Which shouldn’t be far off as she’s moved to Cape Town indefinitely.
So what’s next? Well this weekend is seemingly one of gay abandon in the streets of the De Waterkant. All in the name of work. 24 hours in gay bars, gay restaurants and overnight in a gay guesthouse with my trusty sidekick and “assistant”, Vuvuzella. Am considering trading my Gay Street sign for a couple of tequilas whilst I am there. By the way, have you seen the bodies of those men in Beefcakes? Poor bastards have no idea what they are in for…
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