Ferrari Envy

Here's a memory of England that I dredged up tonight...

In late 2004 there was a break in the weather and I though it would be a good time to start the long and painstaking "wash and Zymöl" process on my Ferrari 328 GTS. I washed the car down at my local "jet wash" bay and then drove back to the driveway leading into our complex where I spent a couple of hours polishing the back-right-hand quarter of the car. My wife came out to bring me a cold drink and to check on progress.

While she was there, two guys in an old 5-series BMW drove into the driveway, heading to the apartment complex next door to ours. The two developments share a common driveway, and where the road leaves "our" section and goes into "their" section, it ramps up at a fairly sharp angle. To give you an idea of how steep it is, I would not be able to drive up there with the Ferrari as the car is too low to the ground.

So there I was, leaning over the back of the car polishing the right rear fender, when the 5-series pulls up next to my car. I look up and take in some of the details of the car - full "aero kit", spoilers, big mags, low-profile tyres, drain-pipes for exhausts, "bubbles" on the windows, sound system taking up the entire rear of the car, sub-woofers strong enough to start a tsunami, aero skirts around the sides of the car, tinted glass windows, metallic flake paint job, lowered suspension....the works! You get the picture....a real pair of British Gentlemen in a really "classy" car!

They looked at the Ferrari and looked at me. I looked at them. The driver glared back, the Beemer's RPM started rising dangerously, and the next thing I knew he had dropped the clutch in a cloud of spinning tyres. This kid was determined to show me who had the meanest car in town. The hip-hop blaring from the car's tortured speakers was drowned our by the injured scream of the mutant engine that had apparently escaped quality control at the factory in Bavaria!

The car leaped violently towards the ramp and I watched an incredible scene unfold in front of me, almost in slow motion. The front spoiler and air splitter contacted first, crumpling into the asphalt. It buckled under the car, the glass-fibre ripped under the pressure and the whole nasty contraption broke off and disappeared under the vehicle. The left tyre kicked it up and, as it came out from under the car, it tore off one of the cars side aprons!

The charming occupants didn't stop, didn't look back and sheepishly parked their car. The driver obviously did not want to show his face, and sent his friend back to pick up the ravaged pieces of the once noble BMW! I have seen neither them nor the 5-series again.

Sad but true...

Cheers MAlfaRK ©

Li(fe)bido

Driving my car down a suburban road
I didn't know where I was going.
Looking so far down this well driven track
I thought there's no way of knowing
How my life has got me this far
With luck and with pain and with anguish.
Now with wife, a kid and three cats
My libido I no longer brandish.

Life's only fun was sex and drink
Throughout my wild adolescence.
Wife's only son now pains my butt
I no longer can sow my essence.
"She's a bitch too" I say to myself
How the hell did I get here?
A rich paramour is all that I need
But damn this retrovirus I fear.

Today I suffer through pre-middle age
Battling pyrosis and weight.
I pray and offer psalms to non-Gods
That I will still be able to mate
With the beautiful bimbos sent to torment
The Pavlovian dog that I harbour.
Mythical erection soon dispelled
Oh Harry why can't I get harder?

All said and done at the end of the day
My lifebido is ebbing and waning.
Fall onto manus in wild fantasy
Judah's second stops me insaning
My whole existence and image of self
And pushing it into hiatus.
Fly off resistance I still feel young
In my mind a virtual Priapus.

This was written in Pretoria, South Africa on January 30, March 31, April 19 and July 1, 1993 (a full year before the country's first democratic election) and polished a bit tonight. The writing was on the wall for the Apartheid regime, but the vision for the future was still cloudy. Stressful times. I was not married with children, but was clearly starting to think along those lines...and about what it must be like! So there I was, holding down a relatively new job, projecting myself 15 years into the future (if there was going to be one) and writing pretty crap verse. Best you ignore this one!

Cheers MAlfaRK ©

Monday Mourning Meeting

Looking at you I must declare,
You set my loins a-tremble.
A rounded beauty of rare delight,
The Lord truly did assemble.

Looking at you I must confess,
Your innocent charm moves me.
Your translucent skin and flowing blonde hair,
Laughing and smiling so carefree.

Looking at you I feel myself,
Getting quite weak in the knees.
Your glasses, black hair, and compact form,
Are certainly built to please.

Looking at you I can't decide,
Exactly what you are.
I know you know you're a stunning girl,
But too conceited by far.

Looking at you I clearly see,
You're short and tight and ugly.
But your impish wit and sense of fun,
Definitely do amuse me.

Looking at you I again confirm,
Your toothy buck smile is repulsive.
Your inane laugh and podgy nose,
Make me a depressive compulsive.

Looking at you all I now realise,
We all have distinguishing features.
But at the end of the day, all I can say,
Is that you're just upwardly mobile bitches.

I was in a technical tax meeting back on January 25, 1993...and it was as boring as hell. I just looked around the meeting room (in a hotel in Johannesburg, South Africa) and jotted down these superficial observations. Politically incorrect by 21st century standards, but really just an exercise in rhyming and a footnote on the ruthlessness of corporate survival. Damn - I think I'm a closet gangsta rapper! ;-)

Cheers MAlfaRK ©

WW1 Experiences of an English Soldier

I discovered a great blog today, after seeing a piece on it on Sky News.

It's the war correspondence of William Henry Bonser Lamin. The blog is made up of transcripts of Harry's letters from the first World War, and they are being posted exactly 90 years after they were written.

Note to self: Consider doing something similar with the collections of Austro-Hungarian prisoner of war postcards you have. They have already been transcribed into Czech and translated into English...and just need to be posted!

Cheers, MAlfaRK

Indoctrination Days

7 South African Infantry Battalion - Bourke's Luck (and later Phalaborwa), South Africa.

I searched the internet to find the lyric of the 7 SAI "Unit Song", but it's not out there. I think it needs to be recorded somewhere, so here goes. Scary stuff (but you have to read the language of the racist oppressor to understand!)...

7 SAI MARS

Waar waters van Treur en Blyde kolk
Ontstaan 'n vesting van onse volk
Hard en stewig net soos beton
Die tuiste van ons eie Bataljon

Donker strome waroor kranse toon
Bruis deur klowe waar die Rooikat woon
Soos hy vreesloos waaksaam listig slu
Ons manne van die Sewe SAI

Draers van die Burgerskruis van goud
Bewakers van onse lands behoud
In berg en veld is ons opgelei waar
Ons vir onse volk se toekoms stry

Mortier en granaat sal andwoord gee
Teen bedreigers van ons land se vree
Veg met kruit en vuur en strategie
Stry ons saam as die SA Infanterie

Tenacuter die roep ons luid
Volhardned teen heel die wereld uit
In ons volk en land en God te glo
Ons land Suid-Afrika se credo

To call this dross would be too kind. It reminds me of the kind of nationalistic dogma that flourished behind the Iron Curtain during the Soviet era (and that is still the staple diet in China and North Korea). We conscripts were compelled to sing the Unit Song, the apartheid era National Anthem and other "patriotic" clap-trap.

I apologise...

MAlfaRK

The Commandant's Ghost

The image below is the insignia of the 7th South African Infantry Battalion (7 SAI) where I was conscripted between 1979 and 1981. It depicts a lynx ("rooikat" in Afrikaans) head super-imposed on the gold "Burgers Cross" on a black background.



According to the propaganda we received when we joined the unit, the Burgers Cross refers to the geographical and historical background of the area where our unit was situated, namely Bourke's Luck in the Eastern Transvaal of South Africa. President T.F. Burgers (June 1872 - April 1877) commissioned two crosses to be made in Germany from gold mined in the area. The crosses were awarded to Mrs. Emma McLachlan (nee Shires) and Mrs. Maria Austin (nee Espach). The former for nursing mine workers in the Pilgrim's Rest district in the fight against malaria and black-water fever, and the latter for nursing members of the Boer Kommandos injured in the Sekukuni War. When presenting the crosses, the following words of honour were expressed by President Burgers: "May God reward you for your noble self-denial".

The lynx head relates to the immediate environment, for it is in the Bourke's Luck area that this member of the cat family thrives in its natural habitat. According to our military overlords, "the lynx is well known for its aggressiveness, fearlessness, cunning, watchfulness and preparedness. These characteristics make the lynx a dauntless fighter. These too are the characteristics of a good Infantry man which are developed and promoted in members of 7 SA Infantry Battalion". The indoctrination ended with the words: "Thus the motto of the unit: TENACUTER (Tenacity)".

In the final quarter of 1980 I was casevaced from 53 Bn (Sector 10) in Nam to 1 Military Hospital in Pretoria. During my recuperation (and before returning to the Operational Area) I was applied in an administrative role in the Light Workshop Troop (LWT) in Phalaborwa.

One fine afternoon, Commandant H.J. Schultz's jeep came in for a "preventative maintenance" service. On the front of the "garry" (note: why did they use this stupid name?) was the customary military car plate bearing the unit insignia. I could resist neither the near spotless image mounted on a steel plate nor the opportunity to desecrate the commanding officer's vehicle! I removed the insignia plate from the car and it has been in my possession ever since. I recently found it while digging through some old boxes and took the opportunity to scan it.

I have done a little Photoshopping to clean it up a bit, but this is the real thing in near mint condition - THE original insignia from the front of Commandant Schultz's jeep! Ahhh...that name flashes me back a quarter of a century and reminds me that Commandant still rhymes with "Common C..."!

MAlfaRK

Executive Decision

Meddlethwaite had tasted success. It mantled him with warmth and awe. The dammed thing worked!

Hurriedly he cast around for something to try in it. The ashtray! He pushed it into the transmitter and hit the go button. The computer tapes started hunting and the power indicators swung over as the ashtray disappeared in a burst of pale blue light to re-assemble instantaneously in the receiver receptacle at the other and of the room.

He was still staring at the ashtray when the woman came in. Small, dark-haired, she was not beautiful but possessed an indefinable presence that made her the envy of others.

"Evelyn", he said. "It works. Look, I've just transported the ashtray and that tea cup across the room." Meddlethwaite was excited. His face was flushed. "I wired in the fujitron chamber you brought this morning - and I couldn't resist it. I gave it a go - and look." He pointed dramatically to the receiver. "We'll be famous" he cried.

Evelyn smiled slowly, warmly. "I'm glad", she said.

"Is that all you can say", cried Meddlethwaite. "It's stupendous."

With a quick movement she brushed aside a strand of hair hanging over an eye. "Look" she said. "I have no time to waste. I want you to disconnect the transmitter portal from the transmitter itself and hook it up to that cable lying on the floor. Do it quickly", she said peremptorily, "and then come next door." The door swung closed behind her. Meddlethwaite was confused - and silent. The woman had been totally unaffected by success. She had worked like the devil and had finally come up with the answer to the problem. The machine worked - and she hadn't turned a hair.

Savagely he attacked the wiring and an hour later he had the new cable attached.

"Come here", she said as he entered the room next door. Meddlethwaite stopped in his tracks. She was adjusting a stainless steel cabinet and in an intuitive flash he recognised it for what it was - a transmitter - much bigger than the experimental model he had used next door.

Silently he approached the cabinet. "Get in", she commanded. "What the..." cried Meddlethwaite, far too late, as she pushed him suddenly into the cabinet - and the door clicked shut behind him.

Meddlethwaite was still screaming when the blue light enveloped him.

But he stopped when he felt his body slammed together and he looked out through the porthole at the grassy plain and the distant forest. He felt fine, except that he was frightened - more frightened than he had ever been. He fought to control his panic. The door would not open. And then he saw her.

It was Evelyn. She darted into his restricted field of vision. He blinked because she was clothed in a silver metallic overall. Her dark hair swung as she suddenly stopped, turned in her tracks and fired the thing she carried in her hand. The two horrible creatures chasing her, half man half ape, fell to the ground. Meddlethwaite heard nothing until she opened the door of the cabinet.

He stared at her wordless. "Come on out of there" she said carelessly. Meddlethwaite was overcome by a great sense of calmness. "Why should I?" he asked.

She stared back at him and started tugging at a zip on her coverall, "Because you've got work to do," she said, her eyes suddenly dancing. "The Galactic Executive have decided for a reason I really cannot discern that you, friend Adam, are the first of the Homo Saps."

PENNED BY BGP (Late 1950's or early 1960's)

One of my father's short stories, found among his papers after his untimely death in 1990. Click on the images below to see scans of the original typed pages:





Regards, MAlfaRK

SADF Insights : 1979 to 1981

In June 1981 I completed my two years of compulsory "National Service" in the South African Defense Force (SADF). I had been conscripted into the 7 SA Infantry Battalion and spent nine months in training (at Bourkes Luck and at Phalaborwa) and over a year in the South West African (Namibian) "operational area" commonly known as "The Border". For most of that time I was a "Grunt" - Rifleman 2, Section 2, Platoon 2, Alpha Company.

In April 2000 I found a piece of paper in the back of a drawer in my room at my mother's house in Pretoria. Nineteen years earlier, on a scrap of military stationery, I had scribbled down the insights I gained during my 24 months as an unwilling conscript in Apartheid's war machine. Interesting reading. What a waste:

• I have learned the meaning of love and respect, and how to hate.
• I have learned endurance and now know what I can take.
• I have learned the value of life and experienced the loss of death.
• I have been elated by true happiness and crushed by unyielding despair.
• I have learned to handle people and situations.
• I have seen the other side of life.
• I have learned to despise war and treasure peace.
• I have acquired some self discipline, but not army discipline.
• I now know that I must have freedom and am revolted by tyrannical oppression.
• I enjoy the tranquility of solitude and the excitement of a chosen group of friends.
• I have learned to never follow blindly and to reason carefully.
• I now know that nothing is impossible.
• I have discovered that true friendship is a scarce and valuable commodity.
• I despise the Racist Afrikaner for his contorted beliefs, his lack of culture, upbringing, etiquette and manners, his warped and twisted view of life and people, the way he resorts to violence when he knows he has not got a foot to stand on, for what he has done to me, my family and my freedom and finally for the way he is destroying this beautiful country. The Afrikaner's Apartheid-based nationalist political standpoint is deplorable.
  

With hindsight the fact that I was able to find any positive learning points at all is amazing to me. I suffered during those two years, but it appears that the glass was half full as opposed to being half empty. Yes. With my sweat, blood and tears.

MAlfaRK ©

Frank Black

I had always known Frank Black as the song writer and front man of the Pixies, the immediate forebearer of the alternative rock boom of the early 1990s. They folded in acrimonious circumstances in 1993.

Early in the new millennium I bought a Ferrari and drove from Prague to Germany to take ownership and to move it into short-term storage there. On my MP3 player I had a number of tracks that I had downloaded but not listened to. On the road, three tracks made an impression - Tenacious-D's "Tribute", Murder Dolls "Dead In Hollywood" and "Los Angeles" by Frank Black and the Catholics.



I drove back from Munich to Prague with Gerhard & Liana Schröder...and "Los Angeles" was playing as we went through a speed trap at high speed just inside the Czech border at Rosvadov. But that's another story! Since then I've delved deeper into Black's cryptic lyrics and unconventional subjects (eg. incest, collapsing dams, surrealism, Biblical violence, science fiction and surf culture) but have not had the opportunity to see him live. I was up to my ears in work when he toured passed through London on July 15, 2007, but here's his concert at the Paradiso in Amsterdam two weeks earlier on July 4.



"Los Angeles" is the third track from the end. Also take a listen to the brilliant "Robert Onion" right after that. I hope you enjoy.

Cheers, MAlfaRK

Outercourse

Come with me to places of pleasure,
Value for money, measure for measure.

Treasured virginity the first frontier,
Having a great time, wish you were here.

Fear disappears as emotion increases,
Smiles all around, the friction that pleases.

Jesus saves all the souls that he can,
Out of the frying fire, into the pan.

Fan the fire of wild emotion,
Lust and passion, undying devotion.

Motion rhythmic the passion heightens,
Saccharin sensations so sweet that it frightens.

Lightens the dawn the shape so sensual,
The taste and the feel, you know it so well.

Swell the emotions physically erect,
Remnant juices, a sign of respect.

Reflect on performance we all seem to tend,
Slipping through afterglow, oblivious the end.


Musing on freedom in the context of the permissive society, the religion of free love and the joy of one-night-stand orgasms. I clearly remember writing this piece on the fly (and late at night) on July 8, 1992...fueled by red wine. I was visiting with Ulrike Cowan and her sister Kati in the commune in which Ulrike was living at the time. The house in Hatfield, Pretoria, South Africa has subsequently been demolished and replaced by a shopping mall. Such is progress. I polished the piece a little on October 12, 1992 and have not touched it since then.

Cheers MAlfaRK ©