I haven’t had any carbohydrates, refined sugar or dairy in almost a week now. *Joey sticks a gold star to his ample forehead* Yay me!
I’m through the worst part, which is always the withdrawal and the keto-guts… which… well let’s not get into the… darkness that gets perpetrated from the porcelain throne…
I’m feeling quite good. Hale and hearty… and other words that I only have a dim understanding of.
Ha! I can hear baboons somewhere on the mountain behind our house. I’m sitting outside in the ‘back’ garden… ostensibly pretending to work so that my mother doesn’t come and co-opt me into some or other chore. They are… I want to say ‘barking’ at one another… but I’m sure they come with their own specific… eh… verb (I had to think about that for a second). It’s very aggressive sounding.
The baboons’ vocal repertoire included grunts, barks, copulation calls (made only by females), distress calls known as yaks, and wahoos, long-distance contact calls most often made by males.
Gone are the days where you had to wonder about stuff.
They are up there somewhere. It’s difficult to gauge how close though… I’ve mentioned this loads of times but I really dislike baboons, having been gored by one when I was little. I’m overdramatizing it, gored sounds like it gripped and shook me and there was some form of altercation involved where I heroically freed myself, when really he just sunk his fangs into my calf while I was fleeing in terror which resulted in four neat holes in the back of my leg where you could look into my insides.
If that happened to my daughter I’d take her to ER and get shots and stitches. My folks were, ‘meh, walk it off…’. Parenting in the eighties was a little more hands off than it is today. Maybe my mom dabbed something orange (which was probably later discovered to to be highly toxic and basically liquid mercury) on it… but I’m sure that was the extent of it.
Check out this cool looking guy.
There is one thing I’ll miss when I move down here, Jo’burg has the most amazing bird life. The Cape has like… six endemic species and not much else. I mean they make up for it other ways with lots of interesting bugs… and simians I guess… and the whole ocean larder. Oh… and at least five species of snake that are really poisonous…. *counts on his fingers*… puff adder, cape cobra, berg adder, rinkhals, and boomslang… I think that’s it.
My cousins kid got bitten by a Berg Adder near here, not a full load of venom… but jeez it fucked that kid up, he very nearly slipped into a coma and he’s still not fully recovered (and may eventually go blind). Berg Adders are a mean tempered and neuro-toxic which affects breathing and also the vision and the facial muscles in a bite victim.
Personally Puff Adders are my pet phobia because they are lazy ass snakes that won’t move away when you’re smashing your way through the fynbos. Their venom is cytotoxic…. which is nasty…I mean fatalities are rare… but google cytotoxic venom bite… *shudder* or don’t. Actually don’t.
Lol. Which reminds me of my ex-Girlfriend who was hiking down to the beach at Rooiels which is about… a 30 minute drive from here… and coming up the path was a strapping Afrikaans lad, shirtless in his short shorts and barefoot with a puff adder he’d caught with a pair of barbecue tongs… heading up the path to go release the snake somewhere away from where they were burning their meat. She was ready apparently, ‘to drop her panties right there and then’.
To be fair, I’d probably also be inclined to drop my panties.
That ‘breed’ of male I think is dying out though. Although maybe I’m just out of the loop now… once you hit a certain age you aren’t exposed to the ‘young, dumb and full of… eh rum’ anymore. Anecdotally though… it feels like the ‘alpha’ male has seen his sunset. That… Ernest Hemingway… Theordore Roosevelt genre of dude I mean… someone who would grab a snake with a pair of barbeque tongs and walk up the path with it.
Maybe I’m romantizing it somewhat, having grown up on Willard Price Adventure books, Magnum PI, Boy scouts and parenting that was more catch and release than helicopter. Kids these days got Harry Potter… who never once solved a problem with a bout of fisticuffs (as far as I can remember). Although isn’t JK Rowling, anti-trans, alt-right now? Ha ha.
To be clear I am not even close to that level of aspirational old school cool… but I think I might like to be. You know, one day, when I’m big. Although I probably have to give up some of the things I really love to get there. Like Playstation and comic books and high end supermarkets where your steaks come (almost) bloodless and individually wrapped…
… fluffy slippers are probably also on the ‘verboten’ list.
Being a hardcore male sounds like a lot of hard work. I see why its on the decline. Ha ha. But having said that… I do think there is some… I don’t know… space for it in our society. Or at least there should be. I worry sometimes that we’re trying to sanitize our lives to the point of no rough edges and anything at right-angles gets padded up with foam and bubble-wrap. (there may be a hidden metaphor in there).
Anyways. Here’s to the Heyday ™. *raises his nespresso* (pinky finger pointing out at a suspicious angle)