Sentience in a seed-pod

Local couple split

CAPE TOWN - Geoff and Tracy will no longer be associated in a romantic context, Tracy announced Tuesday. Tracy sited irreconcilable differences, but stated that Geoff is "still a really amazing guy".

When asked for comment, Geoff admitted that he was taken aback, and described the move as "sudden". Despite this, Geoff stated that it was a neat resolution and that he was relieved that they could remain friends. "I'm glad I didn't have to come up with the breakup speech," he said.

A friend close to the couple said Wednesday that he was aware of some differences the couple have had with regard to spirituality. "Tracy has an open mind about alternative healing and the existence of a higher plane," he said, whereas "Geoff doesn't give a shit about things like that."

Both parties later issued statements that they had enjoyed their time together, but that it was time to move on.

I'm calling this entry: why can't I?

Ok, people, whiney Geoff is about to throw down and bitch with the best of them because for the purposes of this post we'll pretend like my life is not all wine and roses.

Why can't I get in sync with my toiletries? (Yes, this is the best I can come up with. My issues are important too possums!) No, ok, it's not a big thing, but I think there's something wrong with the way I buy stuff or organise stuff. In fact, my laundry falls into the same category. I'm always buying new toiletries and getting more laundry done. It's as if I'm using shampoo and facewash and wearing all my clothes! Goddamn it!

Why can't I get a haircut? I need a haircut. I want a haircut. It's not like I don't walk past a hairdresser every single day of my life! Why do I not go in? What is this invisible force field that keeps me away?

Why can't I organise stuff at the bank? It would take like half an hour. I could go in at 12 and be sipping a milkshake by 12:40. What is my goddamn problem?

Curious George asks #23:

Is it ironic when people misspell disappointment?

I went to circus school last night. Near to Hartleyvale hockey stadium in Observatory, where I live, is an outdoor collection of equipment starring a trapese. Tracy decided she wanted to go and so dragged me along. It was so cool though. A trip back to childhood, not because I liked the circus (I've always been freaked out by clowns), but because it was just like playing in the park trying to see who could go highest on the swings. So today I'm sore all over. If I keep this up I'll be all hot and muscley.

Why do bad things happen to good people? And more importantly, why do bad things happen to me? Doesn't the devil look after his own? This morning someone drove their car into my car. I was stopped at a stop sign, and a girl named Haylie Hart drove into my ass. I got out, and I got her number. What I did not get was her registration number. This is because I am a moron. She drove off, I drove off, and so obviously the number and the name are fake. I will never hear from her again.

So it should be pretty clear to all you folks that I have no idea what I'm doing here. There's no craft, no master plan - just me nattering on about whatever pops into my head moment to moment. Well, here's an article which tells me I am fucking things up bigtime. I should pay more attention, they say. I should take more time, they say. I have a responsibility to my readers, they say. Fair enough. I have an implicit agreement with you lot that I will try to be entertaining and if I fail you will go away and not listen anymore.

What I don't agree with is this bollocks about not writing about me. "No one cares about you or the things you do (unless you are Paris Hilton, Bazima, or Bennifer)." That's not true. I care, and I'm writing the blog. Frankly, I wouldn't read a blog about Paris Hilton if she wrote it herself. I really could care less about someone's opinion of Paris Hilton. I would read a personal blog of, say, Zach Braff, but that's because I suspect Zach is not vacuous. I'm not vacuous, and if you agree with me, read my blog. If you don't, read a better one.

What I really hate to see in a blog, not to be contrary, is someone posting a link followed by their half-assed opinion. Oh, wait. That's what I'm doing now. But seriously, people: if I want to know the news I go to CNN or Al Jazeera or preferably the Daily Show. When I read a blog I want to reassure myself that there are real, cool, mad people out there that aren't ass-boring. I want to hear about them and what they think of q-tips. That is all.

Ever looked at someone and decided what their voice sounds like, and then when they speak, they don't sound anything like that?

I'm always the last one to know. This is because I don't read newspapers or watch the news. Somehow I'll hear about the big stuff, like 500 gazillion people dying in a freak sewing accident. I'll be flicking past CNN or Mark will mention it or something. But the little things - the important things - I'm always last to know. I found out on Friday that Hunter S. Thompson killed himself last Sunday.

Now, I wasn't really a fan. I read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and liked it, but I wasn't rushing out to buy the rest of his stuff. But the thing is, he was an original thinker, which is the most valuable thing in the world. All the creativity, all the next best things come from people thinking at a tangent. They derail other people's thoughts and there's an acceleration of synaptic connections - a tide of the new wave.

So I'm sorry he's gone.