Wednesday, August 4, 2010

One Person's Story of Saturday's at the Biscuit Mill...

So, in the Realm of Writing you get 'The Story', and then you the the STORY behind the Story'. You know. The Real Sh*t. The sh%t you won't find on Google...I guess, until it is blogged. I find in depth subject matter research highly important before I behind an article. I always do it, but sometimes never even print it (I can only work with pen and paper), let alone read it. It depends, you see, on what the story is really all about. And this story, well if you want the facts -here's a link to them - I'm giving you my experience.

Cape Town, like most major cities, provides it's citizens with a selection of comfort zones for the range of "crowds" it plays host to. The buccaneer wearing kids can tap tap streets away from the old school Reebok high-tops, a welcomed segregation of harmony...oh how the New South Africa has changed.

But, on a Saturday morning, The Neighborhood Market in Woodstock at the Old Biscuit Mill - situated near the once highly political zone District 6 - Cape Town is no longer a place that, at times, resembles a type of modern Lord of the Flies hierarchy. The peeps all hang out together, meandering amongst the chili plants and morning Bloody Mary's, mindful, I suppose, but in a pleasant way, of each others unique attributes. I feel a beautiful transcendent-like ambiance that crushes any type of social-city-trend-phobia. 

This - my - opinion could all be bullshit though. I start drinking my Bloody Mary's at 10am, usually have had an all-nighter before - so it could, to some, be a place of obnoxious freaks....all on a leash and licking their lamb chops feeding their fat German bellies burping beer burps in between loud, obnoxious conversations.

I doubt it though. I might always be a little tipsy. But the smiles I see....the smile on the little children (who do not drink)...on old grannies..on pregnant ladies...on a kaleidoscope of human differences, well, those smiles are real. And the lamb burgers with rocket are made with love and are so good I wish the Greek guy had a little stand next to my flat...and then another by my work. The fashion area is filled with love for buttons, and details, stitches and vintage brought back to life. The graceful, exquisite designs are truly a testament to the talent coming out of our CT fashion designers. I had a really significant point to tell you, but, found myself lost in thought and now that significant point has found a comfy spot amongst all the other one's I've temporarily (I hope) lost over my life time. Just like socks. All chillin' together. Maybe each thought sleeps in a sock, that way it can stay warm until I remember it.

Anyway, losing yourself in thoughts and dreams, escaping reality for a few hours is actually, for me, what Saturday's at the Market are all about. It's usually just myself and my Bloody Mary's. We roam around, and from above must look strange as I feel I am the only person not in a rush to get through to "the other side". It's those lamb burgers, I bet the Greek guy has some type of Japanese-like hand fan that he uses to transcend all those juicy little lamb smells across the

I love to roam alone, as a free agent I find clarity and peace. My intense, difficult, spontaneous, impulsive vices (to some) gifts (to others), are difficult for some to understand.

But at the market, as in life, I love walking around; internalizing, analyzing, questioning, blanking, sitting on the floor and having a smoke....just indulging in everything I possibly can. Being greedy with my senses. Feeding my heart, my intellect, humbling myself. It's good to realize that I am just another pea in the pod.

The Market, seen through my eyes; is a place that is everything a Saturday should really be about - music - in the form of chords, laughter, conversation, pancakes flipping, cameras snapping or draught spillage....of new vintage bright cotton red buttons and Lomo cameras, lucky beans for R5 and garden plants...

At the end of the day, this report has been written through my speckled blue eyes, and, albeit many arguing otherwise, I believe that every person has their own story. Everything is always subjective. Facts, and "truths", ideologies, trends, 'cool', whatever you like to call it is all really there to make life a collective price tag accessible product. It's up to you to make it real. And understand what integrity really means.

I hope one day you guys can come meander with me.


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