Why do you build me up butterfuckup?

Heart broken again, but it's to be expected. Never look for love over the internet, you're bound to bump into some of the most heartless in the world. JPEGs and p tags can be deceiving.

Right now I'm thinking of Jayesh, and him saying something like: "Told you so". That really grates my cheese. Telling me I'm wrong, and telling me again. It's like putting salt in a wound. It's sadistic.

Foundations aside, it's now time for Franz Ferdinand. Twisted guitars, totally out of key. It's great.

"I say... take me out!" Is he talking about getting shot? Or is he talking about a potential date? Maybe both?

"I know I won't be leaving here, with you" If your attacker shoots you, you go to heaven or hell or that void. Or is he setting himself up with low expectations and go for the loose girl getting drunk with your friends?

Free - All right now, innocent love. Sassy, confidence in there too. 5FM, all those guys and one girl on parade, just like any girl who knows she's got what it takes. She's out there at the window, strutting her stuff, all the guys think she's doing it just for him, but it's not for them, it's for her own delight. Selfish bitch!

Full circle now. 5FM adverts. 5fmdating.co.za. Why don't they just call it: www.getfuckedhere.co.za. So many helpless souls, so many people looking for their own definition of love, whether it includes a condom or not. Sickness. Why the fuck am I looking for love in such a place? I could be like every other jock out there, drinking it up, pressing iron inbetween. Go to clubs, cos that's what "normal" people do. Pick up loose and drunk girls, cos that's what "normal" people do. Shag cos you need to. Roll on AIDS.

"What do I do, with all these feelings tearing me up inside." Freshly ground. Such a beautiful song. Placid yet sombre. Tempo relaxed and voice subdued but lucid. Violin crescendo, something is building up, flute to dance. And that voice emerges, glorifying, not a word is said but so much is heard. It's a precious moment.

"What would you do if I kissed you" Cheeky confidence. A smile there too, maybe even naughty. This song, is how I'd like to feel about someone, and them to feel about me. If feelings could be recorded, it would be through a song. Words don't count, where are the rising background instruments, the uplifting tinkering of a voice in words? Imagination is only as powerful as a solitary thought. Music is sharing that thought.

Bradley stomped on the brakes inches in front of the porch of the lone farmstead. It was a traditional design for a farmhouse, a huge open porch covering the perimeter of the house. Wiltering flowers in pots suspended from the tops of the pilars supporting the hot-tin roof. I opened my door to the bakkie, hot karoo dust caught in the inertia swarmed into the cabin.

A ridgeback with wonderful temprement greeted us at the bottom of the steps to the front door. She barked, not out of alarm, but just to say: "Hey Baas, we got visitors!" 2 arbitrary pats to the head from Bradley, sufficient enough? I thought not, so I gave her a scratch under her collar. Doesn't it feel great when you scratch the itchy spot for someone else.

"Blitz, down!" came a voice from within the farmhouse. It was neither commandingly stern nor care free. It was somewhere inbetween. It was a woman's voice, which sort of caught me off guard. Most of the farmers in these parts are crusty old ex-colonialists, all male, save for this farm it seems. Blitz, with tail wagging, ascended the stairs to introduce us visitors to the baas. "Her name is Debbie" Bradley whispered to me as we neared the front door.

"Well well, look what happens when you call the eco-police!" Debbie swung the door open and greeted us with a smile. "Bradley! It's been too long! Come on in..." motioning to the kitchen.

"Debbie, this is Shaun, Shaun, this is the baas, Debbie." Debbie instantly grinned when Bradley called her the baas. Old friends perhaps? She shook my hand with a frim grasp as we interchanged formalities. I guess it takes a tough girl to run a wheat farm. "Come on through boys, I just made some iced-tea."

Nothing to write about while I wait to feel sleepy

Closing eyes, drifting away. Bring on the subconcious, check my visa and stamp my passport, I'm on the way to Peacefulla'blivion. Subconcious leads the way, a good guide. In a strange land where the locals speak in no known language, yet are totally understandable. They're telling me things of importance, and things of absolutely no consequence. Some are warnings, warnings I maybe refused to heed the first time. Warnings being re-told. Subconcious leads on, grabbing me by my hand and pulling me off my legs. I'm floating, I can see far below, there are people down there who can't see me. They're so busy with their lives, their treadmills of lives. I want to wake them up so they can dream. I want to shake them from their production lines and their predefined routes. I want to put a roadblock up on their usual highway so that they can travel down the lanes where the leafy trees grow, where the houses are open and children play in the front gardens. Where there are no stop streets or traffic lights, just you, your journey and time to look around and soak up all the saturated colours.

Is it up to me though? Is it right to break someone away from what they're familiar to? Is it their choice to remain oblivious? Would they appreciate birdsong in a world filled with carhorn? I'd like to think so. Maybe they're all sleepers like me, but just don't know how to dream. Zzzz.

...or is there? My routine shifts into a different gear tomorrow. No more late nights, no more oversleeping. It's going to be... difficult.

My trip to the Karoo has been delayed by a fortnight. Poor Timing, Babysitting and their unlikely accomplice: Flu conspired to keep me in Cape Town. I'm not complaining, it feels like home here! I've got a week and a bit now to sort out a few odds and ends, maybe even meet a few people.

Shit, I look like I just got washed in with the last wave. My hair is in dire need of a cut, before I get mistaken for a werewolf in the middle of beastial metamorphosis. I need to shave too. But then, who cares? :D

This weekend I get to spend some quality time with my youngest brother Patrick, something the two of us never end up trying. Besides a busy Saturday it should be quite chilled. Can't wait to try some inline-skating with him, I suspect I've been skating a little more recently than him now, so we should be equally skilled. Maybe it's time to try skating backwards or jumping!

Next week Monday I'll be in Middleburg.

Mom got me a magnificent pair of binoculars for my birthday, Bushnell H20 10x42, completely waterproof. They're fantastic. I thought of omens, and dreams and how these binos are almost like the ticket across the Gibraltar for little Santiago. Something used to follow a dream. Looking forward. Zzzz.

Hey! Horizon! Come here!

Constantly changing. Cliches aside, it's time for a change, again.

Sorry for the lack of updates, I hope this entry will suffice. Tomorrow I set off for Cape Town in the Scooby, with a flu. Maybe I should start at the beginning.

How bad work can kill

Remember Shaun the flashy-international-traveller, and Shaun the hotshot-UI-goon? Well, he's gone for now. With all the excellent opportunities overseas, there came a price I didn't really want to pay: The Soul Destruction Tax.

I hear you asking: "Surely, when you're travelling, you enrich your soul?", and I'd have to nod and agree but that wasn't the case. When you're spending 6 out of 7 days working, and the seventh you're resting, it's hardly soul-enriching. My office had just been teleported to some fucked up island on the other side of the world. I was the solution to a problem I didn't really have the desire to solve. I was far from home, in a selfish and uncaring country feeling so lonely it even showed in my work. Most would bury themselves in their work, but I rebelled instead.

"I want to go home, I've had enough of this!"

"OK Shaun, we'll see what we can do."

2 weeks pass - nothing. A month passes, I'm finally back home. A well-deserved holiday in Cape Town, sprinkled with more work - whilst on holiday. Back to the UK. Rinse-repeat. No Bleach.

It eventually came down to me playing truant. I was sick and tired of meeting the demands of a pompous hive-watcher and his cohort of relentless beareaucrats. So I started skipping work. Not the most tactful thing to do, I admit. My bosses back home didn't really care either, as long as I was raking in the dosh, they were happy. When the dosh was missing and reputation had been thrown down the well, alarm bells rang.

One well-deserved disciplinary warning later, I was set on a new course on a new local project. But something was wrong. It was the same old shit, just back home in SA. My attitude, discipline and outlook had been riddled with bullets, Care was a wounded soldier in an unneccesary war.

I think I need some time off. And that is really starting tomorrow. Enough of this MMO crack and Same-Old-Routine™, I need big skies and fresh air.

[VNW] Where to?

A weekend in Cape Town to see Mom and Mike and possibly even go mountain biking in Stellenbosch. Then I'm back in the Scooby on Monday to find Middleburg in the Eastern Cape.

There, the co-ordinator for the Blue Cranes research project (funded by the Endangered Wildlife Trust) is waiting for me. I'm to spend 1-3 months in the Karoo, chasing Blue Cranes over farmland and grassland. Inspecting habitant and possibly even doing something about it. Meet the farmers, promote conservation efforts.

My first week will be spent inspecting and evaluating the effect of power-lines on the Cranes' habitat. After that, it's down to raw census and flock identification. You see, the Eastern Cape is like the Mecca for Blue Cranes.

Inbetween all this, I'll be staying with the Co-ordinator, Bradley and his family. I think it's an excellent opportunity to crack open the writing pad, watch the stars whizz by or just go for a spin on the Mountain Bike through farmlands.

It's all so intriguing, a chance to take myself out of the hurtful cycle and explore. I know a few people who could do with such a change too, but you can only lead a horse to water, you can't make it swim.

Au revoir!

Cosmic significance

The stars were out tonight, but the night was drawing to a close. Daniels did one last perimeter check before dropping his guard and slung gear, being extra careful with his Carbine. "These things have a nasty tendency to think for themselves", Daniels muttered to himself.

For a border-patrol scout on this hostile planet, Daniels displayed a minimal sense of responsibility. The war had been ravaging this planet for many moons, many lives were forced into early termination on both sides. Daniels was a fresh recruit, with a penchant for independence and an attitude to match. It wasn't independence that brought this newblood to the surface of an alien world, it was conscription veiled by the threat of silent execution.

Rumours whispered in the barracks and mess-halls of the makeshift outpost that the republic was not here for wiping the enemy off this stepping stone to Earth, but for a more clandestine reason: Intelligence.
After the first few artifacts were found on Mars, and the invaders appeared out of the planetary shadows, it became public knowledge that there was more to this invasion than just taking over one's house. What a coincidence that as you turn over a few pebbles on Mars, the death-hungry spiders crawl out from underneath and feast on your plump toes.

Daniels groaned as the clutches sprung away from the inertial-drives deep within his augmented thighs, opening with a snap. The headpiece, arm and torso units already lying in a heap next to the biggest boulder he could find. Pressing iron on a regular basis had certainly paid off as he effortlessly lifted himself out of the still standing but lifeless legs.
Foot covers cast aside, it wasn't long before the long-johns and sweat-shirt followed suit. The warm dry wind that had been simmering all night felt amazingly good against his moist skin. "Convection" Daniels thought to himself as he turned to face the reason he abandoned his post, a massive, pristine lake, as far as his cyborg-like eyes could see. With the starlight above, the water looked just like quicksilver. Ominous, yet engrossingly beautiful. It was 35 degrees celcius in the dark, but the water was refreshingly cool as Daniels dipped his right foot into the wavelets. Caution abandoned, Daniels crashed into the water in leaps and finally a dive, submerging his head.

Childhood memories flooded back, memories of spending countless hours in the family pool, till the fingers were like prunes and mom had abandoned the boys to make supper.
Peace.

The waves soon turned to ripples, and soon too the ripples faded as Daniels lay floating in his half-naked glory, face to the stars and ears listening to the careful tunes the water had to play.
Peace.

Peace was not something the Republic was accustomed to, Daniels thought to himself, interrupting the serene kingdom he was now ruling.
Mom always said evil begets evil. How long before Daniels too abandoned reason for maliciousness.

The free minutes window was closing and the LZ was still a while away. Daniels lifted his head and dropped his legs below the surface.

The sight before Daniels made him gasp, water flooding into his gaping mouth. There she was, in all her virgin glory, Alpha Primary, rising to the east. Daniels had seen many star rises on his sorties, but nothing could prepare him for this cosmic co-incidence. For there hovered the lone moon, just high enough off the horizon for the virgin star to reveal herself.

A silvery chalice with a glowing red stem. The water reflecting the spectacle in abstract perfection.

"That's it!" Daniels roared as he made a bee-line for his gear.
"That's fucking it!"
"That's why were here! I can't fucking believe it! I better tell the guys!"

Daniels' mood snapped into high-realism gear as he became aware of 2 figures crouched by his abandoned power-armour.
Peace had gone.

For the wannabe king of pickled and dried plums

Dukey, thanks for the birthday wish. You rock! :) As for your meme, it's reached a Cul-de-sac unfortunately. So, here are my answers...

Seven Songs that Say Something to Shaun

1. Tool - Vicarious
2. Vast - Pretty When You Cry
3. Audioslave - Be Yourself
4. Mylo - Paris Four Hundred
5. The Crystal Method - Wild, Sweet and Cool.
6. Royksopp - So Easy
7. Freshly Ground - I'd like

Strange that most of these songs remind me of someone or something special.