No, it’s not the Dr. Alban song, it’s the more and more frequent phenomena of shops not having Coke (as in Coca-Cola).
I cannot remember a time ever when there was no Coke. December 2006 I think it was when South Africa’s producers of carbon dioxide ran into problems and we had a shortage of soft drinks altogether.
But since then it has become all too familiar that there’s no Coke. The Woolies in Parkwood had no Coke cans the other day. Our canteen frequently has no Coke whatsoever. Pizza delivery places like Scooters and Debonairs in Sunninghill regularly has no 2 litre Coke available.
I don’t like it.
PS The proper response to this entry is NOT to tell me to stop drinking Coke
why does one failure beat all achievements hands down
why does turmoil reign over peace
why is hurt more buoyant than joy
always rising to the surface faster
how do I calm the water in this wake
what good is instinct in these hot waters
of what use is a glimmer of hope in this darkness
how can emptiness be this devastating
silence this destructive
why if surrendering is the best choice do I fight like a mad man
but when I need to, I surrender
what good is a pre-emptive strike when I’m the threat
why do I not retaliate when my happiness is impeded
why do I keep fighting the invisible
how can I say what I want without luring an apocalypse
how can I escape this if I’m stranded
how do I change direction while caught in the slipstream
why in some races is the goal unattainable
why in this race may no one win
Why should you write to me
Yet I expect you to
Why should I get mad when you cannot attend
Yet I’m fuming
Why should I get irritated if you don’t have time
Yet I’m outraged
Why should I care if you go out of your way
Yet I would like you to
Why should you think about me
Yet I’m obsessing
Why should you call on my birthday
Yet I’m anticipating
Why should you reply to my SMS
Yet I cannot put my phone done
Why should I care if you like me
Yet I want you to
Why should I be your best friend
Yet I’m deflated
Why should I need compliments
Yet I’m fishing
Why should I crave attention
Yet I feel empty
Why should I expect a thank you
Yet I’m holding my grudges
Why should I envy your happiness
Yet I’m green with jealousy
Why should I feel intimidated by your success in life
Yet I feel inferior
Why should I be jealous of your other friends
Yet I have mine
Why should I be in your life
Yet I feel isolated
Why does it matter that you’re younger than me
Yet I feel old
Why should you not have issues
Yet I’m buckling
Why should your life be perfect
Yet I’m depressed
Why should you not have flaws
Yet I’m blind
Why should I let you rob me of my happiness
Yet I’m freely giving it away
They say one does absolutely nothing if one doesn’t expect something in return - whether on a conscious or subconscious level.
So why do I listen to sad and depressing songs when I am sad and depressed?
Through that very rough patch in my life a few years ago, I listened to Annie Lennox’s Diva CD/DVD over and over and over again. This song in particular did something for me but I cannot quite put my finger on it. I just know that it stirs things in me. Not really the words of the song, but the song/video in its entirety.
Darling don’t you understand, I feel so ill at ease
The room is full of silence and it’s getting hard to breathe
Take this guilded cage of pain and set me free
Take this overcoat of shame, it never did belong to me
It never did belong to me…
I need to go outside, I need to leave the smoke
‘Cause I can’t go on living in this same sick joke
It seems our lives have taken on a different kind of twist
Now that you have given me the perfect gift
You have given me the gift…
And we have fallen from our shelves
To face the truth about ourselves
And we have tumbled from our trees
Tumbled from our trees…
And I can almost…
I can almost hear the rain falling
Don’t you know it feels so good
It feels so good…
So let’s go out into the rain again
Just like we said we always would
This is an English translation of the poem Muere Lentamente by Pablo Neruda.
He who becomes the slave of habit,
who follows the same routes every day,
who never changes pace,
who does not risk and change the color of his clothes,
who does not speak and does not experience, dies slowly.
He or she who shuns passion,
who prefers black on white,
dotting ones “is” rather than a bundle of emotions,
the kind that make your eyes glimmer,
that turn a yawn into a smile,
that make the heart pound in the face of mistakes and feelings, dies slowly.
He or she who does not turn things topsy-turvy,
who is unhappy at work,
who does not risk certainty for uncertainty,
to thus follow a dream,
those who do not forego sound advice at least once in their lives, die slowly.
He who does not travel,
who does not read,
who does not listen to music,
who does not find grace in himself, dies slowly.
He who slowly destroys his own self-esteem,
who does not allow himself to be helped,
who spends days on end complaining about his own bad luck,
about the rain that never stops, dies slowly.
He or she who abandon a project before starting it,
who fail to ask questions on subjects he doesn’t know,
he or she who don’t reply when they are asked something they do know, die slowly.
Let’s try and avoid death in small doses,
always reminding oneself that being alive requires an effort by far
greater than the simple fact of breathing.
Only a burning patience will lead to the attainment of a splendid happiness.
Sometimes I think I had a little obsessive compulsive streak in me. I liked to rank things. If you would ask me what my favourite books, or movies, or CDs or songs were I would tell you the Top 5 in order. Sometimes 10, but that was stretching it a little. Too much brain CPU to keep those lists up to date.
Luckily I’m better now. I don’t rank things as vigorously as I did before. But for many many years this was my all time favourite #1 song in the whole wide world.
They say music is the soundtrack to our lives. I heard this song for the first time I think in Naboomspruit or Nylstroom at some athletics meeting we had there when I was in high school. It was the best thing I’ve ever heard, yet no one could tell me the name of the song. For a couple of years I didn’t know what the title of the song or the artist was, until this video was broadcasted on Tekkies, a very cool Afrikaans TV program for teenagers. It is not the easiest of song or artist names to remember, but I managed to.
I see I bought the Rendez-vous CD by Jean Michel Jarre in 1990. But the rest of the CD is a waste of money. I became somewhat of a fan of Jean Michel Jarre. He’s music is weird sometimes but I went through a phase where I liked weird.
He became famous for his extravagant, elaborate concerts using lasers, fireworks, projections etc. and at one stage had the record for the biggest attendance - 6 million if I remember correctly for a concert in Paris (he is French).
So when he was invited to open the Lost City at Sun City I was there. With Renier of course. That must have been 1992 I imagine.
In later years I still supported him but I’ve given up. It’s just not worth the money. If you must have a Jean Michel Jarre CD, let it be Revolutions or Zoolook or of course his Best Of.
When I was very small, I loved Glenys Lynne - an English South African singer who was also part of the band Four Jacks and a Jill.
They had an Afrikaans ‘hit’ song - Ramaja. I loved that song. Must have listened to it more than any of my other Liewe Heksie records.
To this day my parents think Fernando is one of my favourite songs. The truth is that on one of their Springbok Hit Parade records, Fernando was the first track and Ramaja second. They wanted me to use the turntable’s automatic function that would start any record from the first song - otherwise I might scratch the record by manually putting the needle on the second track.
So whenever I had to listen to Ramaja, I had to endure the entire Fernando (which I called ‘Nando’ at the time).
I never gave much thought or had an opinion my ABBA. It’s only much later in life, maybe even after university, that I came to appreciate them for the musical geniuses they must have been at their time.
I never heard this particular song until I visited Renier one weekend out in the bush somewhere where he stayed when he was working for ZZ2 in the Duiwelskloof/Tzaneen area. He showed me this song on video. We always pondered the meaning of music videos and this video is definitely strange in some ways. Since then this song really fascinated me and I think it has brilliant lyrics that describe how dull and senseless life can be. The entire song is one masterpiece.
I am inclined to like songs that tell stories or where lyrics are not repeated. Not even in choruses. That’s one of the reasons Alanis Morissette appeals so much to me. One can certainly not accuse her of boring lyrics. Her songs are like essays.
I’m also a sucker for nostalgia. Songs that remind me of days gone by or the reflects on the past. And this song is riddled with nostalgia.
When I decided to visit Sweden and Norway last year I wished that the huge train bridge in the video was in Stockholm (since ABBA is from Sweden) - but I didn’t see it when I was over there in January. Maybe Gothenburg, I don’t know.
Sometimes other people and I have issues with YouTube where it says the video is no longer available. Well, here is the link to the YouTube page: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SYqYYnxhtgo.
Must have left my house at eight, because I always do
My train, I’m certain, left the station just when it was due
I must have read the morning paper going into town
And having gotten through the editorial, no doubt I must have frowned
I must have made my desk around a quarter after nine
With letters to be read, and heaps of papers waiting to be signed
I must have gone to lunch at half past twelve or so
The usual place, the usual bunch
And still on top of this I’m pretty sure it must have rained
The day before you came
I must have lit my seventh cigarette at half past two
And at the time I never even noticed I was blue
I must have kept on dragging through the business of the day
Without really knowing anything, I hid a part of me away
At five I must have left, theres no exception to the rule
A matter of routine, I’ve done it ever since I finished school
The train back home again
Undoubtedly I must have read the evening paper then
Oh yes, Im sure my life was well within its usual frame
The day before you came
Must have opened my front door at eight o’clock or so
And stopped along the way to buy some chinese food to go
Im sure I had my dinner watching something on tv
Theres not, I think, a single episode of dallas that I didnt see
I must have gone to bed around a quarter after ten
I need a lot of sleep, and so I like to be in bed by then I must have read a while
The latest one by marilyn french or something in that style
Its funny, but I had no sense of living without aim
The day before you came
And turning out the light
I must have yawned and cuddled up for yet another night
And rattling on the roof I must have heard the sound of rain
The day before you came
A little bit before my interest in pop music, but nonetheless one of my all time favourites. Hazell Dean caught my attention with her Stock-Aitken-Waterman hit Who’s Leaving Who.
She’s currently trying to make a comeback. I listened to her latest single but don’t like it.
Officially the very first song on my very first CD on my very own CD Player.
The year is 1989. I’m in standard 8. We’ve heard about CDs but haven’t actually had the experience of listening to one. We see them in TV Rama - the one stop electronic store in Pietersburg at that stage, costing a whopping R54.99! That was a lot of money back then. LPs cost around R21.99.
Try convincing your parents that there are things called compact disks which are far superior to records, and it works with lasers… Yeah right! I should rather be grateful for having a record player - there are millions of starving children in China.
Luckily, being the only child had its advantages.
There was this store in Louis Trichardt called Sollys. It was by far cheaper than any other store in the Northern Transvaal. I bought a little Kasparov chess computer and eventually my Akai hi-fi there (how dare Renier have a better hi-fi than me!?).
Every now and then my father had to work in Louis Trichardt and when I got home on 11 September 1989 (09/11?!) there was a surprise under my bed. A CD player.
Now if anyone has seen A Christmas Story, you would remember how feverishly the little boy opened his little orphan Annie mail. That’s how I went about it.
Of course now we just had to go to town immediately to actually buy a CD (my parents told me that I would never be able to afford CDs - R54 was I guess almost twice my monthly pocket money). But I did save and very proudly bought my first CD - The Hit Factory - The Best of Stock Aitken Waterman Volume 2. Had my eye on it for some time now. Even dreamt about it. It also proved the whole world that it not just classical music on CD, how dare they.
Hooked up the CD Player, pressed the nifty little button and the tray pops out automatically (hey, quite cool then), put the disk in (had to figure out which side up) and close the tray. Hi-fi on Aux and press play.
Nearly got the fright of my life. Obviously CDs was a bit louder than LPs. (Listen to how the song starts). I figured just my luck - I get the broken one. My father already had his hands full teaching me patience. (Why did the toy store had to sell their very last Rubic’s Cube just before we got there?) Luckily I realised that that was the way the song was supposed to go. Immense relief.
Now about the small matter of listening to the same CD day in and day out, every hour and every second for one week. Don’t get me wrong, I was seriously delirious about this piece of modern technology, but it didn’t take a CA to figure out that my parents after all knew better and that it would be my only CD for a very long time.
Broke my piggy bank, withdrawn all money in my account with my Trust Bank Teller 16 card and off to TV Rama I go the next week. With a little help from my parents who had to admit it does sound better than records after all, I got myself The Best of Laura Branigan.
I might not have been patient then, but stubborn I already was. I just had to prove to my parents that I will buy as many CDs as I want. And so it happened that I started working in WP Kelders (a liquor store - those who know me will immediately be struck by the irony) in the Checkers mall. Friday afternoons and Saturday mornings for R50.
