sun setting in the middle-of-nowhere

The nice thing about sunsets here is that there are no skyscrapers anywhere to block my view.

Illiterate skills @ Zula on Long Str

Compromise.

That is what this night was all about for me. I really really wanted to go and see the Illiterate Skills performance on this night and as you can see from the pictures, I managed to get there. But the problem was I had two wonderful guests (for the purposes of this piece i shall call them "the Joburgers")that I needed to entertain. While we may be old friends and share everything, music was not one of our shared past-times.

I love hip hop (and it loves me back hahahhaha) and they do not. So we had to compromise. Or rather they had to compromise. So I took them to Long str which is rather dead on a Wednesday night and we eventually landed at Zula, because it was open (what are the chances?)

There was an open mic poetry gig called Voices. The atmosphere was great and we had money for drinks and a cab home, so really things were looking up for us that night. After Voices, Illeterate Skills came on and the party continued. The Joburgers were having fun. All was good with the world again.

Good advice

FW:FW....delete

I'm sure you have seen the above in your e-mail inbox before. If you are anything like me, then you immediately press the "delete" button. I really don't like receiving forwarded mail. Especially the ones with graphics of flying angels or jokes (they are never funny). I always hesitate to give out my e-mail address to people I just met because more often that not, they will forward me something. My sister (bless her pretty face) had a penchant for sending me forwarded mail, until I admitted to her that I did not read any of them. A couple of friends are still sending me, but I haven't told them that i do not actually read it, I don't have the heart. So I reply with the mandotory "thanks" or send out a fresh email telling then something useful they need to know (I think that is why e-mails were invented). It's bad enough that women do it, but what possesses a grown man to forward all these fruity chain-mail of the "if u don't send this within two minutes, you will run of luck" variety? What is this world coming to?