kagablog

i’m at the bo again. i’ve stopped drinking aiming juice so my pool is up to kak. everybody around me is talking about the bokke. even president thabo mbeki’s weekly news briefing is headed “go bokke go!”

politicians have no shame. but then again i have no shame either. i should be at home with my wife. or in bed with a good book. or behind the computer trying to make a living by writing funny little stories that are entertaining enough for other people to want to buy them. instead i’m hanging around my local like a reprobate on ricoffy. before i stopped drinking i used to blame my rudeness and lack of tact on the alcohol. now there’s nothing to blame. it’s a nightmare. none of my bad character aspects disappeared when i did away with the alcoholic imbibations. i just became even more neurotic.

there’s no booze to blame if i commit an infidelity. i watch all these sweet little noembies bounce around me on their way to the jazz. i know i could show them a few tricks or two. but i’m stone cold sober. there’s a voice in my head whispering “you can cause shit but you can’t cause shit everywhere”. in other words, never shit on your own doorstep. and anyway who am i kidding, these little girls don’t see anything other than boep when they walk past me. i’m not a man anymore. a globular belly on legs. at best i’m good for a wisecrack.

the band starts playing. “the next song is our first single. no actually it’s our second single.” well which single is it you numb nut? how stupid are these guys? you see how tense i am without that sweet elixir of dop to soothe me. everything irritates me. everyone aggravates me. i want to retire to some place inside my head and write about art but i can’t afford to write about art anymore. there’s no money in art writing, not in bokke land anyway. and that baby must be fed. regularly. not to mention astronomical fees that they charge in places called hospitals where the birthing gets done.

why can’t the kid live on mother’s milk until it’s time to leave home? Come for dinkies. Do you want some hmmm? Is that against the law? Breast feeding well into puberty might be considered a particularly perverted form of incest. I’ll have to check with the wife. What we could save in food bills.

it’s my turn at the challenge table. ah fuck this no drinking shit. Can I have a double tequila in a champagne glass with no ice please?