We stay at home on Friday nights

For months now (ever since I returned to Cape Town from my travels) my best mate and I (he is me, but a dude, and probably smarter and definitely more attractive) have had Friday night stay ins. We are over the crowds, the parties, the orgy of “we have to do something cause it is the weekend and I spend my whole week in a job that I hate so now I am free and have to get drunk”. Or something like that. Sometimes we are just lazy / anti-social / I just don’t want to wear real pants.

Instead we cook something (usually experimental, with whatever is in the fridge from the week and lately vegetarian – no one can say I am not a good influence), drink some wine (also experimental as I try to use my reasonable wine knowledge and tight budget to find a few good, cheap bottle of red) and philosophize.

Last night we read Da Vinci’s Prophecies after dinner and talked #bookstoread vs #bookstohave vs #whatthehellwasShakespearon. As native Afrikaners we were all at some stage during our high school career forced to read Shakespear… and we still do not know what the hell happened in most of his stories.

fri night 0401131

Above: Da Vinci prophecies. Bodies without souls = celebrities? reality TV showing us how to die?

I love: the untamed cannot be constrained.

fri night 0401132

Above: Books to a. finish in the case of Tuesdays with Morrie / b. find somewhere in one of my boxes and finish reading as is the case with LoTF / c. borrow when A is done – Catch 22 / d. read – Mr Nice and Bid Springkaan / e. own – 10 000 Gems…

Other topics of conversation included (and THAT is why I make notes):

Blame it on Saturn (Saturn returns, as we turn 28 / have a 10 year reunion this year and wonder what the hell we are doing with our lives)

My 2003 oral entitled Operation Brainwash – where my 18 year old self delivered a 5min sermon condemning mainstream radio / fast food / government interference with our water / and other conspiracy theories to my bewildered small town classmates.

The possibility that cats might be our ultimate gods, perhaps even aliens placed here to spy on us.

The fact that none of us received any xmas / new years sms’ – in previous years the phone would not stop beeping all day long.

 

Random but true.

I still wake up with a dry mouth and a throbbing head on the couch in his living room, but I feel like it was constructive, and I never got that feeling after a Friday night on Long Street.

Happy Saturday…

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