Cape Town is just going into Autumn, but you almost can't tell. It's just the odd slight chill in the evening and the changing glare of the afternoon sun on the city that gives it away. If you look closely you'll see sun is slipping behind the mountain earlier and earlier. But the days are still beautiful and the days are still warm.
I'm still sleeping on my friends floor. They live just below the university which is on the slopes of the mountain. I spend most of my days drifting around, either in the city or in my mind. When the mood strikes I catch a taxi into town and amble around the little shops and coffee shops in the older parts. I look for other drifting strangers an talk for hours about politics and women, trying to get a little good advice about both.
Other days I spend sleeping and at night sit outside and plan to write or occasionally write down my plans. I can do this all night, tracing the progression of the Southern Cross through the sky, using it to tell how much time has passed while the coal on my shisha slowly burns down. When I feel morose I listen to Nina Simone and reminisce about old lovers and past chances.
If I can gather a small group we go to the beach and smoke while talking and catching up on each other. If we stay long enough we can watch the sun set over the ocean with a glass of wine.
When motivation strikes , which it rarely does, or my anxiety about motivation becomes great enough to urge me to action, I'll spend a bit of time looking for an apartment or lining up the odd job interview.But motivation never strikes for that long so I end up achieving very little.
Everyone else is very busy so I spend allot of time looking for company. This can end up as lunch with an old friend or tea, cake and conversation with a new friend.
Friday afternoons I spend in the university pub with my old classmates, we talk about old shared troubles and I get a chance to find out about there current ideas and lives. Every second Thursday I meet a group of guys for Whiskey Club. We all dress up in suits and sit in armchairs while drinking some good, expensive whiskey. This goes until late while we revel in our approaching manhood. We make outrageous plans to buy boats and swap advice on the economy and jobs. As the night goes on we end up swapping more bad jokes than good advice.
Everyday I end up hoping tomorrow will be a little more exciting, unless today was particularly perfect in which case I hope tomorrow will be just as enjoyable.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
This was a letter to an Italian friend, But I liked it enough to post.