DAF

Deutsch-Amerikanische Freundschaft

During my High-school years weekends were spent mostly club-hopping in the Hillbrow area.

My buddies and our girls would meet at someone's house at round about 7pm, after which we'd go to a pub or restaurant and chat away till about 10pm or so. Then it's off to Hillbrow where we'd start our evening off by going to the Chelsea hotel to listen to live bands and warm-up for the night ahead.

One club stood out amongst the rest and that was San Lorenzo in Kotze street, Hillbrow. During the period, the music we listened to was combination of Depeche Mode, Human League, Soft cell and so forth. It was not long after a trip of mine to Durban that I returned having heard some awesome music being played in the clubs at the coast. One of the bands that transformed our thinking from disco to 'club music' was to be DAF(Deutsch-Amerikanische Freundschaft). A five-piece band playing Electro punk music which Depeche played in a more subdued form in later years. The music is recognisable by strong metalic-type sounds created with synthesizers. DAF were arguably the grandfathers of techno, and had a huge influence on the music of the later Soft Cell and Pet Shop boys.

So during an off period here at work I did some searching and managed to download some of their music from the 80's. I was immediately transformed back in time, and realised how timeless the music of the era was. DAF could easily re-emerge on the music scene at this time and be equally as popular as they were then.

Listen to 'Der Mussolini' and 'Kebabtraume'. Excellent shit!

Thursday chic flic nite.. no more

Under normal circumstances I'm not one for what I call 'lame movies' or 'chic flics', but occasionally I watch one by accident. I say by accident, because I will never deliberately put myself through two hours of torture, watching something I don't enjoy as a norm.

This has nothing to do with crying in a movie at all. Or your buddies finding out you watch chic flics with your grilfriend, Thursday nights on E. I've cried in many movies, or at the very least had a lump in my throat on more than ten occasions. I simply don't give a shit whether or not my buddies care what I do with my girlfriend on any given day, nevermind a Thursday.

I've been single for almost 4 months now, and with the pointless chic flics a thing of the past, I've made up for the void by getting a dvd or two to watch on Thursday nights.

I wasn't to keen at first, but with a 'whatever' attitude I got hold of Slumdog Millionaire and popped it into the machine last Thursday.

It's a mini epic in the life of a young Indian boy who grows up in the slums of Mumbai and becomes a winner on the "Who wants to be a millionaire" Tv show.

I enjoyed it, and it is actually quite watchable without the need for crying, even during the sadder parts. And of course it helps that the little mud-splattered girl-friend, turns into a really hot number as they all grow up.


Worthwhile watching, with or without the girlfriend.

I also revisited some Coen-brother oldies like Fargo(excellent!) and Big Lobowski?(Hillarious) recently. Tonight it's back to a classic from 1955 - 'Bad Day At Black Rock' starring Lee Marvin, Ernst Borgnine and Spencer Tracy. Should be fun.

Film noir

Film noir (meaning 'black film') is a distinct branch of the crime/gangster sagas from the 1930s. Strictly speaking, film noir is not a genre, but rather the mood, style or tone of various American films that evolved in the 1940s, and lasted in a classic period until about 1960. However, film noir has not been exclusively confined to this era, and has re-occurred in cyclical form in other years in various neo-noirs. Noirs are usually black and white films with primary moods of melancholy, alienation, bleakness, disillusionment, disenchantment, pessimism, ambiguity, moral corruption, evil, guilt and paranoia. And they often feature a cynical, loner hero (anti-hero) and femme fatale, in a seedy big city.

During the evenings of the past two weeks or so, I made myself comfortable in front of the television after supper, and slipped in a dvd or two to watch until the late hours.

My choice of movie was pre-determined, and featured the Film noir classics of the 40's and 50's. I was mostly dissapointed, partly because I viewed the films from a modern perspective, which was the wrong thing to do. I was overly critical, as many of the scenes seemed unrealistic and amateurish in the context of modern film-making.

So I changed my attitude and rather tried to watch the movies for their enjoyment and entertainment value. I was more impressed the second time around. What the critics of the time viewed as dark and risque came to the fore if one understood the moral thinking of the time.


After watching Sunset Boulevard again, I moved on to The Killers, and enjoyed it immensely. Then came Out of the Past, with Robert Mitchum and Jane Greer, with it's twists and turns and my first view of a very young Kirk Douglas(father of Michael Douglas). The plot twisted and turned with every loop of film, and although the ending was a tad predictable, I thoroughly enjoyed it.


Tonight I move to the darker - The Night of the Hunter - , again with Robert Mitchum, but this time as the darker figure of a preacher(self-proclaimed) who searches for the hidden loot of a cell-mate waiting for the gallows.


'Lord, you sure knowed what You was doin' when You put me in this very cell at this very time. A man with $10,000 hid somewhere and a widow in the makin'.

And what would Film noir be without the Hitchcock classics; Vertigo, Psycho and Shadow of a doubt.

Once the classic roots have been planted, I may find myself critical of modern film-making, who knows. I do know I'm itching to start the modern era with a bit of the Coen brothers.

Cheers!

“Yes, this is Sunset Boulevard, Los Angeles, California. It's about five o'clock in the morning. That's the Homicide Squad - complete with detectives and newspapermen. A murder has been reported from one of those great big houses in the ten thousand block. You'll read about it in the late editions, I'm sure...”

“The poor dope - he always wanted a pool. Well, in the end, he got himself a pool.”

This was the third film I saw from the bygone era of movie-making. The first being ‘The man who knew to much’, and then from a later era, the more enjoyable ‘Paris Texas’.

I’m sorry to say it(Sunset) bored me to near death. Honestly, I held on by the thinnest of threads, hoping a scene would come along and save me from falling asleep in front of the tv.

There were only two memorable scenes, and the cause of me watching the entire thing: The opening scene with the camera panning, from the street name along the asphalt while the opening credits role; and the excellent shot from the bottom of the pool while flashing cameras probe the water past the floating body. I was stumped how they managed such a good shot, and I'm not gonna spoil it. Read up if you want to know how they did it.

And of course the machinegun-fast one liners.

Apart from that, the only other thing I remember was the amazing quality. The black and whites were crisp and clear, as if it was made just yesterday.

Max Burdett: Give me a Jack on the rocks. It doesn't have a fancy name, but if it was good enough for Frank, it's good enough for me.
Luc: Frank? Who's Frank?
Max Burdett: Sinatra.
Luc: Did Frank take an umbrella?
Max Burdett: [laughing] Not even when it was raining.

Sleepless in Daleside..

Hanging in there..

Shit, but this is soo difficult. I hardly slept last night. My thoughts mill around smoking and cigarettes all the time. Every minute is a fight against the urge.

I got home last night and removed the last traces of my habit in the house. Ashtrays out, lighter packed into the Survival camping kit and trash thrown out. Then watched tv and chewed tooth-picks till 2am this morning. Finally fell asleep around 2:30 or so. Back up with the alarm at 04:30. I've got the recovery time table up in front of me in the office, and so far I've reached two milestones:

Within..

20 minutes - Your blood pressure, pulse rate, and the temeperature of your hands and feet(don't ask?) will all return to normal.

True - I'm less out of breath, and even though I am relatively fit, I can breathe deeper than I use to.

12 hours - Your blood oxygen level will have increased to normal and carbon monoxide levels will have dropped to normal.

True - I feel less "toxic" Really! It's difficult for me to explain, but my sinuses feel better, I no longer sniff all the time and although I still have an occational cough it's less bronchital. I'm also not as tired as I used to be either. Normally by 8 or 9pm I'm dead on my feet. I hardly ever finished watching a movie with B in the past.

Fuck! The crucial milestone only occurs around the two week mark when(they say); your body will have rid itself of the 3500 or so chemical particals and 500 gases present in each and every puff. Your body can again function without nicotine.

I will do this.

Dying..

for a smoke.

18 January 2009 11:00am cat - Stopped smoking today.

Yesterday morning at about 11am I ran out of cigarettes. So I grabbed my helmet and jumped on the bike, but just before reaching the gate I realized I had forgotten my bank card. Back in the house I searched high and low, but couldn't find it. I remembered then that It was lying on my desk at work.

You cannot imagine what angst went through my mind. I've been a smoker for 27years and the thought of going without a cigarette till Monday morning was impossible to comprehend. I racked my brain, even considered making a sigarette from the loose butts in the ashtray(if you're not a smoker, you cannot understand addiction).

Then an idea struck me; I'd just phone B down the road, explain my situation and ask her to buy me smokes till I can replace them on Monday, which I promptly did(phone, that is). B said that she was parked in by guests at that moment, but would get to it soon enough. Eventually I phoned her again, but she said she had to go somewhere else first. I told her to leave it.

By that time a weird thought had entered my mind; what if I stopped right now? It was late afternoon, and I had already stopped for longer than I had ever before, whilst not sleeping.

It is now Monday morning and I still haven't smoked. The fact that cigarettes are easily available here in the office is not helping, nor the fact that our cleaning lady sells loose cigarettes and keeps a lighter handy for a quick light-up.

To those of you who know what I'm going through, wish me luck, I'm gonna need it.

Ad infinitum

Black again..

My bed an empty canvas, an untouched sheet of emptiness
I love the aura your soul leaves behind when you leave.

Now all I tasted and breathed has left.

I know you gave me all that you had,
and now my bitter hands shake from your absence.

All the pictures have been washed in black, tattooed in shades of dark grey.
In my dream I walk outside, I'm surrounded by your kids that play.
I can feel their laughter, and still I fear.
These picket-fence thoughts that spin round my head...

How quick the sun can drop away...
And now my bitter hands cradle broken glass
of what was everything?

All the pictures had been washed in black, I covered everything.
All the love gone bad, turned my world to black.
Black is all that I see, all that I am, all I'll ever be

I know someday you'll have a beautiful life, maybe you'll be a star
in somebody else's sky..

This time.. I don't mind.