Kennisgewing

"...the right thing at the right time."

Aan die hand van ‘n ooreenkoms wat ek bereik het met die gesamentlike regsverteenwoordiger van 5 van my gewese klante, het ek onderneem om die bekendmaking van my meer bekende gewese klante te staak.

Ek is via e-pos gekontak deur die regsverteenwoordiger wat 2 klante (reeds gelys) en 3 klante (ongelys) verteenwoordiger. Ek het onderneem om alle inligting wat reeds verskyn het te verwyder, enige verdere inligting terug te hou en te vervang met hierdie kennisgewing, waarvan die bewoording in orde gevind is.

In ruil vir die nie-bekendmaking van my identiteit deur die betrokke regsverteenwoordiger, onttrek ek alle inligting privaat en in die publiek, weerhou ek my om met alle vorme van die media in verbinding te tree, weerhou ek my van deelname aan enige internet debatte aangaande die onderwerp en onderneem ek om geen alternatiewe webtuistes en/of blogs te registreer/namens my te registreer.

Ek bied verskoning aan die gay gemeenskap in Suid Afrika, lede van die GLA, lede van Crime Expo SA.net asook die familie van klante wat reeds genoem was vir enige leed wat ek hul onwetend aangedoen het.

My intensies om my gewese klante te verewig op ‘n webblad was eerlik naamlik dat ek die selfsugtige behandeling deur bekendes jeens manlike en ander sekswerkers wou kelder. Ek het geen gelde of enige ander winste gemaak uit die bekendmaking van my gewese klante nie. Ek het onntrek aan die kontrak en verfilming van ‘n tv program aangesien die ooreenkoms met die betrokke regsverteenwoordiger my verdere deelname daaraan nie moontlik maak nie.

Ek is oortuig dat baie met tyd sal besef dat wat ek begin doen het die regte ding was op die regte tyd. Ek het geen wrok teen my gewese klante nie. Ek wou my gemoed verlos van die medewete dat bekendes ‘n dubbele lewe lei. Dat dit nie die mees etiese ding was om te doen nie is debateerbaar.

sa male prostitute

My Afrikaans is up to shit, but here goes:

"As a result of an agreement reached between the joint legal representative of five of my former clients, I've undertaken to desist from naming my more famous former clients. I was contacted by e-mail by the legal representative of two already listed and three unlisted clients. I undertook to destroy all information published to now, to hold back any further information, and to replace it with this notice, the wording of which was found to be in order.

"Contingent on the said legal representative maintaining my anonymity, I withdraw all public and private information, undertake not to contact any form of media, undertake not to participate in any 'internet' debate pertaining to the subject, and undertake not to register any Web sites and / or blogs in my or any other name.

"I apologise to the South African gay community, members of the GLA, members of Crime Expo SA.net and the families of clients already named for any pain I've unintentionally caused them. My intent in naming my former clients on a Web site was honourable in that I wished to put an end to the selfish behaviour meted out by celebrities to male and other sex workers. I made no money out of making known the names of my former clients. I have withdrawn from the filming of a TV programme because the agreement reached with the relevant legal representative makes my participation impossible.

"I'm convinced that, over time, many will realise that what I began was the right thing at the right time. I hold no grudges against my former clients. I merely wanted to speak out against the hypocrisy that governs the lives of well-known people. That it was perhaps not the best thing to do is debatable."


"I hold no grudges..."

Ja well no fine, as the old saying goes. I'm banking on it being a shrewd move by a cunning and conniving mind hell-bent on leaving the fray while he's still ahead or has to swap his newfound notoriety for a jail cell. Whichever way you look at it, either our well-connected gay blogger is dumb or his alleged former clients' lawyer has been snorting that shit far too long.

If sa male prostitute (who, in all likelihood, will one day be identified as Juan Uys) is acting on an e-mailed threat of legal action — perhaps sent out to several rent boys of ill-repute, he's tearing down his blog for fear of something other than the law. Besides, if contactable by e-mail, to believe his identity will remain a secret stretches naivety to new limits.

Moreover, most lawyers do not threaten high-profile gossips or libellers electronically. They flatten them with paperwork, ensure they remain exactly where they are, and set about making themselves a fortune convincing magistrates and judges their victims should not be exposed to natural light for years to come.

If Action Man is acting under threat of legal action, he has decided to flee the fray unscathed, unwilling to test his allegations in court or have five or six bullets pumped into him from an unmarked car at 02:00 while navigating some insalubrious neighbourhood. He'd rather go out as 'the guy who tried', the blogging gay activist who pushed free speech to the limits and was quashed by the system.

Most local Web heads and chat room trolls will probably take his 'Notice' as a tacit admission of guilt. By bowing to legal pressure, it could be said that he is admitting himself to be a fraud, a liar, a libeller and a criminal. He has therefore done nothing to upset 'the system'. He is the system and his is the way of the world. It always was and always will be.


"...I wanted to speak out."

Then again, if his allegations are true — I'm inclined to believe them — and he has been contacted by attorneys, he is far smarter than they or any of his alleged former clients. The above 'Notice' was allegedly agreed to. Superficially, it reads as an act of contrition. On second reading, it serves only our blogger's interests and purposes.

The 'Notice' refers to "my former clients" five or six times. If our happy hooker is telling the truth, he was contacted by a legal representative of five of them, two of whom have already been named. Their lawyer, in agreeing to the above wording, has admitted his clients' 'guilt' — and his clients could be any of those whose names are now forever engraved on the memory of the Web.

The lawyer, by representing the so-called interests of a further three unnamed gay whoremongers, has as much as admitted that more felt themselves threatened with exposure.

I'm willing to bet most South African media celebrities will now nervously claim to have not visited a lawyer at any time during May 2007. The so-called information cannot be retracted. It lives. And it will continue to do so. Such is the nature of the Web.

If sa male prostitute has been knocked off his blog by whoring high-lifers, they have resorted to silencing him — not by way of the courts — but through intimidation and threat. In short, they've compounded their crimes. If I were in their shoes, I'd probably do the same, but so much for freedom of speech.

It now carries a hefty price tag.


"...perhaps not the best thing to do."

Of course, most of these suppositions are generalisations. Each alleged former consumer of our high-flying rent boy’s services has probably reacted in his own way to the news of the week. A couple might have come to terms with the notion that it does not matter whether the allegations fit fact. Their lives, because they touched that of sa male prostitute and they made certain choices — be it in local politics, business, or anything else, have been irredeemably fucked up.

One or two might realise that having their lives trashed need not be an altogether bad thing. They might learn something from it. Most won't. A few might think they've nailed the bastard, a couple might still be out to get him, and most will probably carry on as before. And, no doubt, some of them — dripping sleaze and oozing an obsequious insincerity, will again slither into public focus at some time in the future.

And make a killing. sa male prostitute most certainly will. He's a survivor. Albeit as predictable as an addict.

Silent Witness

"Move your shadow..."

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn | Suicide remarks are torn | From the fool's gold mouthpiece | The hollow horn plays wasted words | Proves to warn | That he not busy being born | Is busy dying.

Bob Dylan | It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)

Wena azi lo golof? Mina hayifuna lo mampara mfan.
Have you caddied before? I don't want a useless boy.

Tata lo saka gamina.
Take my bag of clubs.

Tata ma bol, yena doti. Susa yena nga lo mansi.
These balls are dirty. Clean them with water.

Note: All puns are either coincidental or unintented.

There are some good comments over at sa male prostitute's blog — ultimately, something useful might be learned by local bloggers now following or investigating the scrofulous side of their art. Our intrepid blogger denies he is Juan Uys — naming in his latest client-book discharge said Uys with Vic Shimali, a Bloemfoentein land baron; Ruben, editor of a gay magazine; and Kleinschmidt, an SABC news interpreter for deaf viewers.

He will probably continue to deny being Uys — or whatever or whomever he chooses and will continue to pick off his alleged former customers at leisure. I don't blame him. He's lifting the lid on South African white mischief in a new and novel way.

Conflicting views about linking to this extraordinary site abound — further evidence of SA Web naiveté. The press have had their lawyers advise them not to give the blogger or his alleged patrons the publicity they so richly deserve. Yup, they deserve it. In a circumlocuitous comment posted to the blog, one Johan Swart makes a couple of telling points. One way or another, we are all guilty. It doesn't matter that we might have done nothing — the thing is, having done either something or nothing might well be our crime.

Credit goes to WordPress for not pulling down the blog and Google for tracking it.

I live in a country where scabrous people without scruples rip off others with impunity. To cope, most close their eyes to the deviant nature of The South African Way. But, hey, it's right outside my front gate. The whores are giving it to the cops, the car wrecks are being towed away, the masked gunmen are emptying the corner restaurant, the paramedics are packing away their drips and syringes, and the boer with the 9mm pistol is fucking up the taxi driver who cut in front of him on Main Road. Behind the walls, Joe Soap the local pastor is beating his wife, his son is raping the family dog, and his daughter is batting rocks.

And sa male prostitute is our latter-day bantu boy.

Trust me.

A lifetime ago to some, Republican Party Reptile P.J. O'Rourke wrote a book, Holidays in Hell. We featured prominently. Back in 1988, and to his mind, any white South African not out shooting his black compatriots was blind drunk. Joe Lelyveld captured us perfectly in Move Your Shadow. Welcome to the other side of South Africa.

Now, instead of whining, do something about it.

Muhle wena tula loskati lo-mlungu ena beta lo bol.
You must be quiet when my partner plays a shot.

Tula!
Be quiet.

Noko wena lahlenga lo futi bol, hayikona mali.
If you lose another ball, there will be no tip for you.

Susa lo-mtunzi gawena. Hayikona shukumisa lo saka.
Move your shadow. Don't rattle the bag.

J.D. Bold Fanagalo Phrase book, Grammar and Dictionary, the Lingua Franca of Southern Africa 10th edition, 1977

We sit here stranded, though we're all doin' our best to deny it.

Bob Dylan | Visions of Johanna

Prostitute teases prey...

Dawn in the city of red light...

Volledige inligting word binne 24 uur opgelaai...

sa male prostitute | Jacques du Preez — SABC TV aanbieder en joernalis

Die Wit Rus will be glad to hear it.

SABC music presenter and host of Geraas and SaterdagNag Jacques du Preez will fall to the increasingly menacing sa male prostitute some time tonight or tomorrow.

Du Preez's Web presence is miniscule, but ugly. Die Wit Rus has had it in for him for some time. Du Preez spoilt his enjoyment of the Aardklop music festival and, in 2003, stiffed Durban band Lilo, getting up Alexander Sudheim's nose. I can only imagine what more dubious publicity will do for Du Preez and, I assume, his probable wife, actress Yvonne van den Berg.

I don't condone what sa male prostitute is doing by either outing or libelling minor celebrities but, given that he might have few resources with which to take on some decidedly hard-hitting and vicious opponents in an extraordinarily twisted world, I refuse to condemn him.

Last year, six-term Republican congressman and respectable-looking feller Mark Foley was hounded out of office following his exchange of sexually explicit e-mails with a 16-year old congressional page boy. Is the South African media silence on our local skandaal expedience or do they believe we are merely more 'tolerant' than the Americans?

Self-interest and fear are writ large on the walls of silence surrounding a print, broadcast, and entertainment industry failing to ask why a self-described prostitute has to resort to anonymous, ad hominem attacks on clients who, no matter their alleged sexual preferences, must feel a betrayal of confidentiality.

South Africans, by and large, are conservative. Our media, which has freely spewed the hypocrisy of De Lille, seems to have done precious little to track down a person who can only be described as a serial character assassin without conscience.

And, to now, they have not dared suggest he might well be broadcasting cold, hard fact and that his alleged former clients might well be a shade short of hunting down page boys.

Or are there journalists out there prising open the doors of sexual duplicity in places where people get high?

For my money, sa male prostitute's take down of South African institutional sacred cows has done more good than bad. Let's see how he goes. Because he will... trust me. As low as he might go, he'll not match those who pay him for his services. And he'll not last on the blogs.

Note: Some time ago, I posted an entry entitled Fuck Off, Neil Watson in response to a purported crime-fighting website, CrimeExpoSouthAfrica (since torn down). Reportedly initiated by a Camps Bay insurance salesman, it turns out — through an untraceable comment left on Vincent Maher's media in transition — Neil Watson turned out to be one Juan Uys, a paedophile and former head of the Gay and Lesbian Alliance (GLA) (strangely, all these aliases threaten to leave or speak of having left the country). And Juan Uys, alleges the anonymous commenter at Maher's site (with a probable axe to grind), is sa male prostitute.

Violet Range

African Violet

I was drawn into it by the likes of Shelley, Jeff, Farrago and many of the motley crew who tote cameras wherever they go. There was something special about these people's shots and I wanted in. So I've done my damndest with a digital (Canon Powershot A520 and S3 IS) since April last year...

I've noted before: you cannot take decent pictures of birds and surf with a digital camera, and that's probably why I've spent so much time trying to do so.

Close on 2,500 snaps later, along comes Johnno and, within weeks, he's whacking out wonderful shots and, before long, delivering weird effects with High Dynamic Range (HDR) imagery.

Bastard.

I'll give him this much, though...he shared the results with us and tried to set me up with the necessary tools. (I am extremly grateful, Johnno; I just don't express myself very well.)

It's been nagging... I like the effects you can get with Photomatix but, at $99.00...forget it. I was reduced to doing private work on CS3 and the effects, to put it politely, were not pleasing. Johnno came in for a beating. "Fucking over-privileged First World white trash," I muttered, surveying the muddy results littering my hard drive.

I was trying to take seascapes using three images (the S3 doesn't do RAW), so I guess I had only myself to blame. The sea just won't stand still, no matter your willing it to do so.

But as I forgive Johnno and all other over-moneyed, neo-liberal, consumer-crazy globalists their imperfections, I trust they will forgive me mine. The above's a first attempt at HDR taken with a mini-tripod and some sunlight. It's an African violet grown in the kitchen. Wendy reared it from a leaf.

The composition's lousy, but so what? You can forgive me that. HDR seems to give it a depth and tonality the single-shot, 8-bit jpeg lacks. I used an aperture of 4 to get depth of field and focus, and used the delayed timer to ensure no shake.

I'm a'gonna stick with this awhile. It seems worthwhile. Thanks to the likes of Shell, Jeff, Farrago, Johnno, et al.

Not to mention Loren Webster. I have it in for Loren. Look at this and you'll understand why.

One day, Loren... One day I too will make such photographs.

Note: I have picked up the yellow cast of the reduced image, the blurring up front, and the need to soften highlights. Hindsight's a great teacher.

sa male prostitute unplugged

"We are the hollow men, the stuffed men..."

This guy, sa male prostitute, has it in for his alleged former clients and, boy, were I in their shoes (or socks), I'd be running scared. The male prostitute and blogger Independent Democrat (ID) leader Patricia de Lille just happened to be reading when she developed a desire to regulate bloggers names — would you believe it, a luxury German sedan-driving Simon Grindrod (see post below), Afrikaans singer Andre Schwartz, fashion designers Dion Chang and Henja Schaap, Gospel singer and theologian Dominee Jan de Wet, SABC producer, presenter and writer Leon van Nierop, Media24 journalist Peet Bothma, actor Chris van Niekerk, Springbok rugby player James Small, Sunday Times correspondent and SABC producer Barry Ronge, and Nataniel le Roux, the enormously talented and wickedly humourous Afrikaans singer and one-man show ('cept this time it was, according to sa male prostitute, a two-man act).

I don't know whether this is a good thing or not, but you can thank your lucky stars you probably don't understand Afrikaans. The upside is that nobody's going to be calling Simon Grindrod a big dick from now on...

No thanks to the mainstream South African media for links to this sordid, somewhat sad blog. Self-purported paragons of virtue quick to name and shame those not of their liking, the lack of a connection to sa male prostitute was conspicuous by its absence and denied the public access to information about which they can make up their own minds.

Yup, they're supposedly the journalists... De Lille, wannabe leader of a meaningful opposition and desperate to shield herself rather than Grindrod, comes out smelling as hypocritical as all hell, and any alleged client of the prostitute who has belittled gays while cowering in the closet deserves everything coming to him.

What can sa male prostitute do to prove his allegations? Either have one of those named make a definitive statement supporting his reports, have a third party issue statements corroborating his claims, or keep on dishing the dirt. If one or more public figures have put themselves in a compromising position, it's difficult to believe sa male prostitute cannot prove it.

If he can't...he (or she) has given us all pause for thought.

Addendum: Ek is ‘n voormalige manlike prostituut wat na 10 jaar besluit het om die eeuoue bedryf vaarwel te roep. Ek het in die 10 jaar ongeveer 50 bekende Suid Afrikaanse klante getrakteer. Ek het besluit om vanaf 23 April 2007 te begin ommy klante bekend te maak. Ek is tans besig met die eerste 10 name op my lys van klante. Baie van hierdie klante is ook deur ander manlike sekswerkers in Suid Afrika en oorsee getrakteer.

Ek het besluit om uit te praat, aangesien die publiek nie hoegenaamd bewus is van die tweeledige lewe wat hierdie mense voer nie. Die meeste van hulle plaas hulself in ‘n "glaskas" terwyl dit woekker tussen die lakens met verbode vrugte.

sa male prostitute

In some ways, whether this guy's genuine or not (and why should he not be given De Lille's ham-fisted response?) is beside the point. He points to the hypocrisy inherent in the double lives lived by many of those he's named.

Many are openly gay and so are not hypocrites, but De Lille has obviously seen Grindrod's alleged sexual proclivities as a potential embarrassment to her. And she is a hypocrite.

The Independent Democrats site shows them to be far from tech savvy webheads. It is a gesture at a site, containing outdated press releases and meaningless galleries of equally irrelevant photographs. These people know nothing of the Web or of blogging.

Pat's hypocrisy is nowhere more evident than on her internationally accessible site:

ID President Patricia de Lille has called on Government to look into ‘urgently implementing legislation that will regulate MXIT and Internet blogging, where members of the public can with impunity slander and defame individuals and organisations they do not like.’

De Lille’s comments follow a surge in activity among young children on MXIT, which makes them vulnerable to sexual predators and paedophiles.

The ID leader says she has been ‘horrified to hear daily stories from people whose marriages have been destroyed and about children who are led into situations where they are molested by grown men, who use MXIT to lure these girls and boys into their traps.

‘We are already struggling to repair the social fabric of our society, and to tolerate a platform for this kind of sexual predation and deviance against our young children is inexcusable,’ De Lille says.

The most recent MXIT crises is the circulation of pornographic images of young girls.

‘This has gone too far and it is time for Government to intervene to protect our most vulnerable. The right to freedom of expression is not absolute,’ says De Lille.

Another worrying development in cyberspace is the abuse of blogging, which allows anonymous individuals to post slanderous and defamatory comments with impunity about anyone they choose, without the legal consequences they would face in other more reputable print and electronic media.

‘We recently came across a blog with slanderous comments about a famous rugby player, a respected reverend in the church and a prominent entertainer.

‘This blog also included one of our senior politicians, Councillor Simon Grindrod. He reported this matter to the Caledon Square police on Tuesday 15 May and they are currently investigating it,’ De Lille says.

It's all about the kids, innit Patricia. Bullshit. It's about saving your own sorry ass as you irreversibly slide to irrelevance.

Slander is spoken defamation; libel is published. It is oral. Defamation is false. If this blogger did defame Grindrod, why the hell did you ensure his purported sexual antics found a global audience? Do you want your councillor out (politically, I mean)?

To those who matter, i.e. most South African voters, homosexuality is an aberration. Does Grindrod embarrass you? I ask because you sure as hell have gone a long way to ensuring the end of his political career.

And you then blame bloggers. In the name of "the children." Sies.

As ethekwinigirl comments below: "That's politics."

Added: It seems, and I've heard independent circumstantial or anecdotal corroboration of this, there are people that want sa male prostitute shut down and are willing to go to any lengths to do it. He writes Sunday:

Information pertaining to three alternative active blogs (mirrors) will soon be made available. This blog will be duplicated. Certain people on my client list want to destroy it because it contains information connecting them to male sex workers.

My interest in this story? See the Kathy Sierra debacle below. It's a particularly intriguing free-speech issue as much as it is about familiarizing generally clueless South Africans in Web use and how their seemingly unrelated social lives might come to haunt them from this enormously powerful medium.

Nothing you say or do is anonymous. The Web is as much a part of our lives as Final Fantasy. Could the blogger be identified? As was pointed out in the Sierra case, sure. In that case, the villain of the piece, a 30-something British expat living in Spain, turned himself in.

Happy Birthday Bob

Bob Dylan flies back to Budokan

Yeah, I know... one too many mornings and a thousand miles behind. So what? I've never been one to post birthday wishes to celebrities, but things have changed. Besides, my youngest daughter found a great article on the life of Bob Dylan, born Abraham Hershel Rosenthal yesterday 76 years ago.

Didn't have time to make a card either, so the old snap above will have to do. Pinched it from the post below. It's from his last Cape Town concert.

One thing about Wikipedia — you can take it as Gospel. Uncyclopedia, from which these remarkable facts about His Bobness originate, ain't half bad either. Dylan's apparently well over 3,900 years old, killed Davey Moore, framed Rueben Carter and wrote every single song ever. Ever. Ever ever. Ever. Forever. Even songs from before he was born. So shut up and quit asking.

"I've never seen a happier man in my life. I couldn't get him to stop smiling and laughing."

Barbara Walters of her interviews with Bob Dylan.

In related news, BBC2 will air a new documentary on The Traveling Wilburys tomorrow night.

Boy! I can't wait.

This is the radio station that's just realised John Wayne is dead.

Note: For those not in the know — as we in the music industry like to say, Bob Dylan turned 66 yesterday. Just one more 6 and ya'll know what that means.

Addendum: For those unable to appreciate the synchronistic nature of blogging and the relationships it fosters, I visited Bruce to find him honouring the 30th anniversary of Star Wars with his customary incisive commentary and pithy insight. Also, a good punt for Hayao Miyazaki's 1984 Nausicca of The Valley of the Wind. Given the time of his post, he blogged it eight hours before me. Given our time zones, it's pretty much a together thing.

Now, I have had occasion to suggest to Bruce that he and I should quiz our mothers more closely on their pasts as I believe us to be brothers both in thought and, probably (knowing him as a somewhat bent and twisted youth) deed. Neither of us have, as far as I know, but I again — on stumbling across (in his entry) phrases used above, marvel at the way the Web works. It just ain't something that can be regulated.

Scorpions Bust ID Leadership

"I've not been intimate with any High Court judges." De Lille

An anonymous former male prostitute is threatening to name all 50 men he claims to have had sex with over the past 10 years. He mentions the names of 10 prominent South Africans on his blog. They are, among others, a well-known dominee, a former Springbok wing, two entertainment critics, a famous entertainer, an actor, two fashion gurus and a member of the Independent Democrats.

"Following a raid late last night by the Scorpions and the Assets Forfeiture Unit's pre-dawn seizure of three houses, four SUVs, three luxury German sedans and a pair of moth-eaten green underpants, Independent Democrat (ID) leader Patricia de Lille and her live-in lover, Simon Grindrod, were arrested earlier today and charged by the SAPS with child pornography, assault, attempted murder, rape, theft, and defeating the ends of justice.

"We've been following De Lille's criminal activities for a long time," South African Police Commissioner Jackie Selebi told a packed media briefing at Caledon Square in Cape Town late this afternoon. "We have evidence to suggest she is linked to international gun-running, drug-smuggling, blood diamonds, anthrax production, stock manipulation, forex fraud, and Thai sex rings."

"Not to mention farm murders, child rape, carjacking, creative accounting, and smoking in a public place," he added absentmindedly.

A lack of evidence, the untimely deaths of witnesses, a retinue of high-powered attorneys, and intimate friendships with several High Court judges have frustrated previous attempts to have De Lille and Grindrod convicted of any major crimes.

Editor's note: "I've not been intimate with any High Court judges," screamed the harridan at me from the back of the van. "Not you, you dumb bitch" I muttered. "Grindrod. He's been cheating on you for years."

"With the assistance of Interpol, the FBI, and Pieter Jantjies (a petty thief and police informant from Lavender Hill) to whom the South African public and I extend our deepest gratitude, we pretty much have her on the lesser charges for which we have arrested her," the South African police commissioner told local and international journalists packing the press office at the South African Police Service headquarters, about a quarter mile from South Africa's parliament."

Sunday Times | Top Cop Nails De Lille


De Lille and Grindrod taken into custody…

The ID member's name was seen by ID leader Patricia de Lille, who saw his name on the blog. The prostitute describes in his blog how they allegedly had sex.

News24.com | Sex blog could expose 50 celebs

Indeed. This is South Africa, a harsh and unforgiving country peopled by drunks with fast cars and an exotic array of sexually transmitted diseases. Despite a life expectancy of only 45, we seldom leave good-looking corpses. De Lille is one of us and she is not long for this world. She is a criminal and she will be put down like a mange-infested dog.

Who cares? Not I. And what of the veracity of the reports now flooding the local and international media? Nobody knows. The article from the Sunday Times is probably but one example of the new lows to which our MSM will rise. De Lille, most recently the darling of white South Africans opposed to ANC two-thirds majority rule, is now painted evil, twisted and extremely bent.

"She is, after all, a politician," the editor of the Times breathed airily into the phone when I called to check on their lead for tomorrow. "Circulation's down. It's those damned bloggers. We have to do something."

Unlike the local scandal rag and being a journalist of note, renown and repute, I have no axe to grind with De Lille or her Toy Boy and will report only the facts. Like good bloggers everywhere, I will entrust the miserable woman to her fate and the even-handed Jackie Selebi, a man of unquestionable integrity and honour.

And, need I add, a Great Son of Africa.

On the blog, its author describes himself as a former male prostitute who decided to quit the industry after 10 years in which he had about 50 well-known South African clients. He says he decided to speak out about these clients because "the public is not aware of the double lives these people live".

"I serviced well-known news editors, SABC [South African Broadcasting Corporation] editors, television presenters, politicians, sportsmen, singers, actors and more ... It was rough sex and I will reveal it ALL," he writes.

Mail & Guardian | Tell-all sex blog targets SA celebrities

Well, there we go then... I didn't know of the blog till now — hence its quotation in maroon. I must say, having done fuck all for a long time and facing re-election woes, De Lille's attempt at shill is more a John Dean scream. And her hastily mustered blog conscience is exposed for what is is. They say any publicity is good publicity, but we all know that ain't so.

Riders On The Storm

"...not only rivers of water but of air."

"The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness. ... I went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in."

Whiskey River quotes John Muir and 3375537 finds a Little Ghost.

It's all a bit much for me, I must say. Muir, that is. He's no Jack London. Or Winer for that matter. Too twee. But so what? He got it. Better still...

"Every one of the crossing energies operating in a forest has its own timescale. From the ant to the oak tree. From the process of photosynthesis to the process of fermentation. In this intricate conglomeration of times, energies and exchanges there occur "incidents" that are recalcitrant incidents, unaccommodated in any timescale and therefore (temporarily?) waiting between. These are what Jitka photographs.

The longer one looks at Jitka Hanzlová’s pictures of a forest, the clearer it becomes that a breakout from the prison of modern time is possible. The dryads beckon. You may slip between — but unaccompanied."

John Berger | Into the woods

Found that at wood s lot. In February. I've a selective memory. So what?

David tells us everything is miscellaneous. I understand (ehem...) where he's coming from and going to, but I don't like his language — yeah, okay, that's a bit rich, coming from me but you know what I mean.

I take the Google definition of "miscellaneous", lifted from Wikipedia: "...etcetera is a continuation of a set of things while this word deals with the incategorization of things."

We're all little ghosts but somehow, some ghosts have more substance than others. Yesterday, Whiskey River related the story of the monk who asks his master to show him who he — the monk — is. The teacher ignores him. The student eventually leaves. His master calls out his name and he turns on heairng it. "There it is!" exclaimed the master.

The first time I heard that story, the monk asked his master the same question. His master gave him an almighty smack about the head. The monk got it. Right away. And that's the version I prefer.



The irony of a global miscellany is its incategorization. The miscellanous nature of everything (and if we're not to take titles seriously, how are we to take them?) precludes passion — a love of the meeting of rocks, hard places and absolutes. When the tree, alone in the forest, falls — it tears and shrieks and cracks and roars and groans and whistles and whooomphs! to the soft forest floor.

Period.

If it does not, we become nothing but flesh and bone, hanging inside skin. The last Roman on our collective purple couch. In the forest, Jitka might remember time as an abstraction coined by us to explain one of our greatest mental muddlefucks. But it doesn't matter. In the forest as in the world, everything has its time and its season.

That said, I do not disagree one iota with David's thesis. While nothing, we are everything. And when going out, as I've found, we're really going in. And, to really flog a fast-fading horse, life's no journey — it's a fucking quest.

Yeah. As John Muir might have said: "We're not only rivers of water but of air."

We all have reasons for moving. I move to keep things whole.

Whiskey River quotes Mark Strand

The Bassoonists

The Sopranos

"'A little bassoon', he says? Oy yoy yoy yoy yoy! How can a good Catholic boy insult the pretty lady so? For Frankie, I want a nice big hat."

The Krautrocker

Fuck all that we've got to get on with these | Got to compete with the wily Japanese | There's too many home fires burning | And not enough trees | So fuck all that | We've got to get on with these

So there I was, fleeing the west coast in search of a storm when SAFM hosted a discussion on advertising. Jeremy Maggs spoke to some guy who sounded like he'd had a heavy night, needed a drink, and would have preferred to be anywhere but on radio. He's the chief creative director of some hot-shot ad house. I don't remember what he said. Nor do I remember what the woman following him said. I know they both spoke of the 'new media' in glowing terms — South Africa is light years behind when it comes to using digital media. I know they both used the word 'forward' a lot; as in "our strategy going forward" ... well, that's actually about it. I think they learn it at college. Inject 'going forward' into whatever it is you're saying and you'll...umm...go forward. Drive a shitty Porsche. Or something.

The Catholic Encylopedia tells me:

"The primitive condition of man in the New World was a problem which European culture four centuries ago was not yet capable of solving."

Not any more, eh? Problem solved. Democracy (global pseudo-liberal facism) rules. We go forward.

Can't stop lose job mind gone silicon | What bomb get away pay day make hay | Break down need fix big six | Clickity click hold on oh no brrrrrrrrrring bingo!

But this is all beside the point. I'm not really quite sure what the point is beyond Jeff Ward's essay that's not on blogging and Tom's righteous beef with the JSTOR gravy train's UNISA marketing model. Jeff's not sure his article's up to scratch.

Clueless bastard.

Jeff carries a big camera and wields a heavy intellect, but I know what he did last summer and fear no reprisals. Besides, I mean it in the nicest possible way.

It was Benjamin’s aim to uncover the source of "modern myths." His method was to store and comment on a diverse range of quotes, about 850 of them, sorted in folders. The several attempts at conceptual apparatus, beginning with the mechanism of "dream interpretation," remain unrealized. The hazard of this method, as identified by James Elkins, is that it presents the text as a commodity snatched from the circumstances of its production. But the real danger, in my estimation, is the obliteration of the past by superimposition of the contemporary. In a strong sense, this is the root of Benjamin’s melancholy: the present is always an unfolding catastrophe.

The expose of 1939 closes on this note: novelty is the attribute of all that is under sentence of damnation.

That's the one side of it. The other side? "...money changes everything."

Make em laugh make em cry make em dance in the aisles | Make em pay make em stay make em feel ok

Pink Floyd | Not Now John

Who among us does not know it? "Everything is nothing; nothing everything" formed the basis of my teenaged angst. But it's the first time since Niek Hockx defined blogging as a way of putting stuff up on the Web that somebody's really nailed it to the wall.

Or to the spaces between bloggers.

But fuck all that...

By the time we got to the eastern side of the peninsula and Kalk Bay, I'd turned off the radio. We weren't going forward any longer. The rain squalled across a bay partially covered by ill-tempered cloud. The sun, fleeing the storm, shone increasingly weakly on the advancing front. Sitting the other side of the railway line, trying to get some shots of crazed bodyboarders making merry in the icy slurry, the wind burned my face. Rain...no rain...rain...pale memory of sun...click (Achtung! imagery). And so on. For three hours. The result. Aching limbs and a greater appreciation of Jonathon's essay, Travelling on Foot. As Loren observes: "I’ve ... discovered that the only time I can write poetry is when I’m walking."

Filling those spaces between spaces, we all play a little bassoon now and then.


"I too play a little bassoon."

We shall prevail! To begin with, we shall destroy the civilization you set such store by, and in which you are petrified like fossils in schist. The western world is condemned to death. We are the defeatists....Laugh if you like, but we are the ones who will always offer our hand to the enemy.

Louis Aragon

Capping my day, Tom Shugart makes a sustained return, riffing off Frank's allusion to Bill Graham, the promoter who started the Third World War with the unlikely likes of Country Joe McDonald's Country Joe and the Fish, Jefferson Airplane, Janis Joplin, the Grateful Dead and an electric array of eclectic others. With Tom tipping his cap to Jeneane, Denise, and Dervala, it remains for me to ponder where we'd all be without our Shelley.

Next up, HDR imaging by and for blind bassoonists...

Either Way...

Lightining over Kenilworth...

"There was a young actor there," Donleavy told me, recounting a table of drinks he shared with "Hollywood gentlemen" on a recent, but rare trip to New York. The actor had laughed uproariously at Donleavy’s tale about the dog in the high-rise. This, combined with the author’s impression that Depp is the sort of man who "could find his way out of a deep remote forest landscape with just a penknife" convinced him that Dangerfield had found his worthy player.

I wondered at Donleavy’s characterization of Depp’s strength. And also why such talents would be important for a character whose more immediate objectives tend to be escaping a narrow alley blocked on one end by angry creditors and on the other by a woman or two scorned and disgraced.

Elizabeth Kiem | J.P. Donleavy at Levington Park

Words held no security with Hanwell Snr, served as no anchor, bore no relation to the things of the world. A darker shade of this same tendency is called "psychopathy." He took out a few filthy photos from the Far East and told amusing, believable anecdotes set in Kerry. This, to a stranger, would appear to fit well with the copper-wire hair and the close eyes. Hanwell wished himself more of a stranger. As it stood, he could only wince inwardly at this second, false personality, while making a good show of laughing along as Bill made a friend of all the young soldiers whom Hanwell himself had not yet managed to befriend. "Good sort, your old man! Lively, good for a laugh!" Said approvingly, and probably true (Hanwell tried hard to be generous in his interpretations), if you happened not to be his son. If you happened not to be his son. Bill walked out two hours later, merry as Christmas. Wasn’t seen again by Hanwell for twelve years.

Zadie Smith | Hanwell Senior

Leslie links to amazing shit. Sometimes, she doesn't link. But if you read her blog, you'll get there anyway.

Or maybe you won't.

She's kinda like Mark Woods. BlownAPart.

Chris Locke pointed me to her some years back. You'll find Frank, Tom, Peter, Brian, and a host of heavy hitters in the comments feature.

Need I say more? No. But these two links — they reminded me of a post Leslie put up God knows when. About when she was fifteen.

That's why I used the lightning shot.

Stormy Weather...

Things to do in Kalk Bay...

We were expecting our first big storm of the winter this weekend...


...when it's dead.

It got rained out.

Bummer. So I started redoing all the surfing shots I screwed up with Picasa. It's an ugly job.

Somebody has to do it.