I’d waited anxiously for this the 28th of July, upon which the 26th 27 dinner would take place. Anxious only because that is the feeling I get when I know that I’m going to have to subject my evening to the abject horror of “socializing”. Nope I’m kidding, I was just excited to hear Charl Norman gloat about his own success - which he sadly never did.

The evening started off with a little haggling with the waiter, he wanted to give me two filter coffees and a Windhoek Lager, and I man of simple tastes just wanted my bloody coffee without all the extras. Don’t let me get started on something which is inconsequential; I have a poor habit of prevaricating when the moment calls for lucid clarity and precise thought. Shut up, I’m saying to myself!

Yes we were there, at table Cerebra, with the cool cats who are at the forefront of enterprise 2.0. I knew the line up; but the sudden appearance of Roy Blumenthal and his drawing tablet - which I couldn’t help but gaze at like a magpie might at a golden tooth in the Cape Flats caught me off guard. Definitely great to have someone who could translate the oft complex right - brained theoretical musings of the speakers into something for the lefties.

Lets get to the gist of this observational review; I was a little let down by Kate Elphick who I thought could have made her points a little clearer, as my ex lecturer would have said “a little too much on the slides I’m afraid - I couldn’t help but read ahead of you”. I guess if I wanted to know how to bathe in pools of my own dosh I’d have studied something else, so kudos to Kate for attempting to school us in the art of web 2.0 entrepreneurship. Lets just hope she doesn’t end off her next presentation with the “e-funeral” idea, as it left our table mourning the loss of a great idea..

Jason was up next; and as I’d read a little about user experience sort of had some idea of what he might pitch to us. I was wrong on most accounts and whilst I think his theoretical approach is vital, I think he could have grounded it more in real world user-experience application. Furthermore the bridge between market research (which he alluded to) and user-experience isn’t a bridge at all, we are one and the same and perhaps instead of re-branding techniques / methodologies of basic qualitative market research we should endeavour to do a little co-branding and unify the two fields..Food for thought I hope.

Charl; who I could tell was a little tired was interrupted by the constant whoops and interjections of a certain American man,who made me irate and as he stomped “aboot” our table demanding service from the manager and thus I was perhaps a little distracted. Charl, whilst focusing on what appeared to be a presentation on BlueWorld’s offerings threw out some very poignant tips on luring consumer’s eyeballs; I loved the “free sms” campaign as this is sharp marketing and excellent use of available and cheap resources to attract users. What I found most fascinating was his “can do attitude” which sounds hopelessly cliché; but his suggestion that the “blue-world engine” could be applied to whatever social - network required it was something I found startling realistic. Why re-invent the wheel? He’s talking business and not web 2.0 crazy talk like so many others. Well done Charl, I wish you all the best.

Lastly there was me; I entertained myself with my witty sarcastic reppertoir, and I listened intently to my commentary and I commented on my own mental-blog and said a few hail-mary’s because I knew that my genius was almost peverse.

Mike thank you for putting this event together; I’m sure those of us who might always consider themselves “still learning” appreciate your efforts to gather together such a quirk-e bunch. It is incredible opportunity to bump minds with some fascinating individuals; even if this time I was vicariously socializing whilst sitting in my chair pretty damned tired and ready to go on leave..Your next whiskey / coffee or combo cofskey is on me!

Peace out julle.

Having your own name before the name of two country greats, namely Townes (van Zandt) and (Steve) Earle would be quite intimidating for any young songwriter, I’m sure – especially if you’re expected to live up to the standards of either of those legendary songwriters.

Justin Townes Earle is the son of hardcore troubadour and Nashville rebel Steve Earle, and named for Steve Earle’s mentor, the late great Townes van Zandt. However, these names would probably be unheard of to someone not familiar with country music – which is understandable, as van Zandt never had a major hit from any of his own songs, despite being heralded as “the best songwriter on earth” and “a songwriter’s songwriter” by fellow musicians such as Kris Kristofferson. However, despite the somewhat unrealistic expectations set forth for Earle (Jr) to even remotely reach the level of songwriting attained by both van Zandt and Earle, nevertheless on a debut album, he has managed to craft an album that sets him apart stylistically from both of his namesakes – which I’m sure was quite a challenge for the 25 year old songwriter to break from these pressures and to create something that is entirely his own. While Steve Earle’s sound is somewhat rock n roll country, and van Zandt’s leans more towards blues and folk, Justin Townes Earle has created an album that is reminiscent of classic, classy old-time country. Upbeat and quirky at points, while solemn and introspective at others.

Musically, the album is rich, with layers of slide guitar, piano, fiddle and guitar, all incorporated to give the album a full sound, despite some songs being more sparse, with subtle textural additions. All songs tend to carry a very catchy melody, with classic country incorporations such as multi-vocal harmonies, slide guitar licks etc. There is a definite sense of maturity to this album, due in part to Earle’s crooning, which far exceeds his years, as his vocals sound like that of an old, wise man. Earle’s lyrics deal with normal country music topics such as love, loneliness, heartbreak etc; but he also includes a bit of his own feel with songs such as “The Good Life” which glorifies being homeless and carefree, in a quirky, vibrant manner.

Overall, this album far exceeded my expectations, and Earle delivered an excellent debut of very classy, traditional country, executed professionally and with promise of great things to come, if this album is any indication of that.

… Is a walking stick!

Now, before you start sending flowers, no I´m not with broken legs and crutches. The legs are serving me mighty fine these days, but, as any builder, carpenter, or firekeeper will tell you, a piece of wood can change everything. And nowadays its a good thing to carry Useful Objects of a Possibly Defensive Nature with you. You never know what might come at you.

My love of the walking stick started, like many things, in the desert.
The mission: to make my way to a remote nature reserve in the Mexico and camp for a week or two. I arrived in the late afternoon in a creaky, dusty settlement nearby, with structures made of adobe, the smell of goats in the air and the sound of dogs barking. I asked a boy playing football where to get water, and he says they only sell Fanta there (I later discovered his family has a tap drawing water directly from a spring underground). His mother gave me the Fanta and when seeing a picture of some kind of Good Samaritan scene on the wall, and understood that this was going to be my resting place for the night. I was happy, not being ready to face the coyotes just yet. After putting my backpack in the room I go and meet The Grandmother. An old Mexican woman with a very hooked nose and chin sits on the stoep next to her blind husband who doesn´t say much. She is wielding a mighty stick which she uses to whoosh away flies, shoo away the dogs, tap on the ground to make her point, and help herself up when she goes to feed the chickens. The lady is frankly terrifying.

As I went to bed, I pondered this image of the woman and stick. They really seemed to belong together. Clearly a matriarch; the stick was her magic wand. The plot thickened when I looked up at the wall and saw a calender with a picture of the dear Pope. Guess what? The man was holding a very large Religious Stick With a Cross On (whatever it´s called). It seems the stick or staff is a very old, very wise thing, used by witches, and by those who burned them.

The next day in the desert I find the most beautiful dried out cactus tree branch, full of holes and patterns. I want to decorate it with feathers and leaves, I feel like Gandalf. Then I forget all about this magical symbolism, and discover the stick is an absolute necessity when walking in a garden of cacti with sandals on, parting the thorny bushes and then walking through. Other practical uses: drawing arrows in the soil so you don´t lose your way; tying your sweater in a bundle and attaching it to the stick so you don´t have to carry something heavy around your waist; and most importantly, scratching your back.

I left the desert but the stick never left me. I moved to a green, well-to-do town far away, with cobbled streets and not a lizard or thorn tree for miles, but let me tell you, the stick has stuck. When walking my friend´s young dog in town it came in handy when a group of strays started growling and chasing us. And as a woman, walking alone at night is much more fun with my stick to hand. I can walk and enjoy rather than worry. I met my match in a Swiss girl who came to darkest Mexico, well-armed with a beloved and enormously heavy odd-shaped walking stick from a lake near her house. Apparently Swissair didn´t bat an eyelid at the check-in.

I don´t care if its old-fashioned or strange. It´s far nicer than the machetes you see sticking out of some people´s trousers around here. In fact, I´d like to see more people carrying sticks instead of knives and guns. In our modern world we have lost some very sensible forms of protecting ourselves, and picked up some alarming defense tactics in exchange. There´s something very fair and true about a stick, what you see is what you get.