Joburg diary.

I've been making notes on the journey as I've went along and as a small experiment I've decided to type them out here as they are. Whether they make sense or not is a different matter.

note #1
Kicking up dust in an African scene, Gineafowl scamper, skitter and skat. Kerouac invades my mind. I dig that cat. That real gone kid. The sage of the road calls to my soul and my heart is captured by the Moment, the Momentum and the Movement. All is good, all is Gone, but all is God.

Note #2
A small bird with Brest of red
Welcomes me as I rise from bed
Chipper, chip and chirp it cries
As I start to realize
All of time is but a blink
All I do is sit and think.

Note #3
Sun City.
Blackpool on acid. Las Vegas on Lithium.
There are lion heads and elephant busts carved into walls of solid rock. But the rock is not solid and It's only well sculpted concrete. The casino is more crooked than a carneys wet dream. Buy the ticket and take the ride? More like buy a ticket and be taken for a ride. Gimme a kiss, I feel like I just got fucked. Spectacular if only for the look of the place.

Note #4
The long straight highways pass by shanty's and shacks. Roadside sellers of fruit, sunglasses and all manner of trinkets and baubles. "Masta wan' buy Ray bans?" "Masta wan' buy Radio?" inside I feel I could offer him 100rand for his wife. Just like Belushi in Blues Brothers, "Sell me your wife, how much for your children?" I fight the urge as I realize these guys have guns. Or can get them...

note #5
Drunk in pilanesburg.
The stars above my head shine and twinkle like a million candles on a hillside that is in the middle distance. Discussing alien life with Steve while wandering through the camp with a 12 year old scotch, and then going to play on the swings and the trampoline. Steal a sunflower for Tami. I think she appreciated it. It certainly made her laugh when I told her it was plastic and wouldn't ever need watering. I'm fighting the urge to scream at the top of my lungs because it is so quiet. It's the devil in me.

note #6
Long straight roads do not make for fun on a motorcycle. There are no curves to get you giggling, No switchback for the soul. Big Country plays on the radio as we drive through The Big Country. Pulling in for gas at a gas station is like watching a 50's movie. Guys in uniform buzz around the car checking oil and tyre pressure. They even clean the windscreen.

Note #7
I have sunburned my lips.

Note #8
At the roadside, shops sell Everything from fruit and battery operated fans and carved heads to life sized Giraffes and elephants. Perhaps mum would like an elephant for the back garden. It'd certainly keep the cats out...

Note #9
I've been reading "On the road" by Jack Kerouac. It fills my soul with longing for The Road. Sal Paradise is taking me to places unknown and experiences unlived.
The Wild Jazz of the writing makes me wonder if I could Go, Just Go, Sell up and fuck off. Screw the gas on and slide along the spiral of life on the Road.

And that is what is written in my notebook.

tomorrow we are having sushi and will be going into joburg to see the musical Chicago. It should be fun. I'll also be topping up my suntan sitting at poolside and sipping my way through some more beers. I may even have a bacardi or six. Damn it's tough.