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Artificial articulation with anthropomorphic dexterity
Monday, November 17, 2003
This weekend I saw the most brilliant movie ever. I exaggerate of course, but this is the way movies should be made. No holding back. No compromise. A hero is a hero. When he kicks a soccer ball, it becomes a fire ball of death which kills everything in its path. I laughed, I cried, I lived on the edge of my seat.
More walks on the mountain this weekend. Next weekend I must make the summit. All this walking around the paths is bullshit. I say walk straight to the top and paths be damned!
On Saturday morning I watched the rugby. I hate rugby. But I watched the game anyway, on TV. I had a choice, and I chose rugby. Hmmm. Go figure.
On Sunday morning I watched golf. More accurately, I prostituted myself to the gods of celebrity consumerism. I am whom famous people chose to hate. I feed the paperazzi. I went only to see Samuel L Jackson. And Jodie Kidd. But golf estates are nice - they have grass and they have trees. It's all so pretty. Pity about the game.
On Saturday morning I watched the rugby. I hate rugby. But I watched the game anyway, on TV. I had a choice, and I chose rugby. Hmmm. Go figure.
On Sunday morning I watched golf. More accurately, I prostituted myself to the gods of celebrity consumerism. I am whom famous people chose to hate. I feed the paperazzi. I went only to see Samuel L Jackson. And Jodie Kidd. But golf estates are nice - they have grass and they have trees. It's all so pretty. Pity about the game.
Marc is too good at table tennis. It makes me so mad.
Friday, November 14, 2003
At least this time I did an epic walk I did not cut a massive hole in my leg, I did not spend R1500 on fixing it, and I did not meet an Englishman named Dave.
But we did have drinks.
On Saturday I walked up the mountain at around 3pm and ended up at the cable station at about 9pm. I always do this. I cannot go up the mountain myself or I will continue to walk until I die. I found a plaque to commemorate the efforts of one Frank Jarman (?-1904), a forrester who planted lots of beautiful trees on Table Mountain.
I admire the man, and he had a brilliant view, as did I on Saturday. I looked him up on the internet. The only reference I could find was some crap article on IOL. I hate bleeding heart indigenous plant lovin' nancies. "Ooh, we have to save the fynbos."
Fuck off! Fynbos is scratchy, smelly and ugly. Survival of the fittest. Let it die, die, die. Extinction is as natural a process as evolution, or creation if that's your kick.
On Saturday I walked up the mountain at around 3pm and ended up at the cable station at about 9pm. I always do this. I cannot go up the mountain myself or I will continue to walk until I die. I found a plaque to commemorate the efforts of one Frank Jarman (?-1904), a forrester who planted lots of beautiful trees on Table Mountain.
I admire the man, and he had a brilliant view, as did I on Saturday. I looked him up on the internet. The only reference I could find was some crap article on IOL. I hate bleeding heart indigenous plant lovin' nancies. "Ooh, we have to save the fynbos."
Fuck off! Fynbos is scratchy, smelly and ugly. Survival of the fittest. Let it die, die, die. Extinction is as natural a process as evolution, or creation if that's your kick.
Oh, I had a birthday. I am now 27. There were no crackers or bonfires here in SA. Lament.
Friday again. Stuff moves fast.
