About Advertise
Culture
Fly Me to the Loon

Fly Me To The Loon

by Dylan Muhlenberg / 23.12.2009

There’s a Zimbabwean working at Fly On The Wall Productions (the same people who brought us the Fokof documentary) who hasn’t been home in five years. When the rest of his colleagues heard this they also heard violins and decided that they needed to intervene. Collectively they pocketed their hands, but withdrew nothing more than pocket lining. They opened up their wallets and some moths flittered out. FOTW’s shoulders were up next to their ears, their brows heavily furrowed and the palms of their hands turned upward when a lightbulb illuminated above their huddled heads. Shazam! The magic had come.

We can only use these pics as long as there are no snarky comments underneath...

We can only use these pics as long as there are no snarky comments underneath...

They had got to thinking, and when they get thinking we get the type of things that they’ve given us in the past, which this time took the form of a party-slash-auction-slash-fundraiser at their offices. The big open plan studio with a balcony overlooking Roeland Street has swings and a bar and a trampoline and it’s a space that they’ll almost certainly lose their deposit on. Miss PE 2002 had recently won a years supply of beer, which she kindly donated along with cases of Red Bull, who she’s worked for since handing back her tiara, and that meant that all drinks went straight towards a seat on Air Zimbabwe. But even with Chippy and Laura in attendance, drinking wasn’t going to get the Zimbabwean back home, so a whole lot of artists donated art works to be auctioned off: photography by Sean Metelerkamp and photography by Faith and illustration by Love Hate and illustration by Libby and Tyler’s son, who, if you ask me, is the artist to invest in as he has no other option but to grow up into a high return investment.

We're biting our tongues.

We're biting our tongues.

I didn’t register who the other artists were because by then I was very busy watching a fight, which was over before it had even really started. Still, it made me paranoid, a hangover I’ve been suffering from since posting that last piece, which should’ve been titled “How To Lose Friends And Alienate People”, and I kept on looking over my shoulder waiting for Catwalk Trash to brain me with a stiletto. Then I realised that it was all the cheese chronic that I’d been self-medicating with. Like a lactose intolerant, it did me no favours. In fact it must’ve been a Swiss strain the way it put holes in the part of my brain that helps me to relate to people.

This is too good. Wish we could say something funny here.

This is too good. Wish we could say something funny here.

I was socially inept, crippled with shyness, awkward as group sex in a smartcar. I was Brian Little. Which is why it was so difficult to accept Markus Wormstorm’s compliments when he was telling me how my street cred with him had risen to a whole other level after he read A-Is-For-Aging. I reminded him that it could’ve just as easily had been him in the story and that he shouldn’t heap praise too soon. He just laughed, because after being in a band with Waddy Jones, Markus is obviously the type of guy who can take a joke. I don’t care if Brian Little has a sense of humour or not, and think that he deserves everything he gets, being all friendly with my daughter’s step dad like that. How would you feel walking into a strange room and bumping into the guy who tucks your daughter in at night? I tried not to cause a scene. I didn’t do what everyone thought that I was going to do. I didn’t freak out. I just grimaced, rubbed my temples, said my hellos and it was minutes later when I realised that nobody in the circle had said anything since I’d hijacked it and that I was now lurking and making everyone feel uncomfortable.

Aw shucks man...

Aw shucks man...

Someone said something about going to get drinks and I finally thought of something to say, having noticed that the man who my daughter shares a surname with was wearing a piece of fishing gut around his neck with a pinecone and a toy truck’s wheel on each end. I thought that it was some sort of granola-inspired parenting tool that comes with Rudolf Steiner’s school’s application forms. It wasn’t, it was his appendage and, this being an appendage party, it wasn’t the guy with a bunch of grapes hanging over his crotch or the guy with fake breasts or the guy with a turtle on his head that looked foolish – it was me.

However, it turned out that I did actually have an appendage that night, something that I’d amputated two years ago. It was the first time that I’d seen my ex, the Devilsnake, out since she showed up at my engagement party uninvited, and instead of freaking me out the cheese had my back, lining everything with silver. So when I turned around to see who was tapping me on the shoulder I just started laughing, hard, and couldn’t stop. She just smiled the type of smile that a Hyena would crack while using your fibula as a toothpick and walked off. I told my lift that I needed to leave immediately. He said no and then laughed and for the rest of the night it felt like my skin was made out of asbestos.

We not saying anything

We not saying anything

I’m glad I stayed though because the auction part of the evening only happened much later on and was actually a lot of fun. Especially with the camp drama student auctioneer saying things like, ‘Going once, going twice, sold to the guy with the… er, poes-face.’ Which isn’t that funny now that I’m writing it, but complimented the cheese like a fine wine. The best bit? The Zimbabwean got his ticket. Lets just hope that he’s able to use the return flight and that Fly On The Wall don’t have to throw another one of these parties to pay for a lawyer/ hospitalisation after Mugabe does whatever it is that he does to economic refugees.

Jeff scores a free ticket home!

Jeff scores a free ticket home!

Images © and courtesy Filipa Domingues

9   1
RESPONSES (9)
  1. Sara says:

    Howz about a photo of the Zimbabwean

    Thumb up0   Thumb down 0

  2. filipa says:

    here’s pics on fb of jeffman getting his ticket 🙂

    Thumb up0   Thumb down 0

  3. robert says:

    great PR move-yeah yeah yeah you say but the guy got home …well for a few hundred he could have bussed it like most people-whats that like one night out parting on long st -, and the remainder of his airfair could have bought much needed supplies-instead a few skinny hipsters get to feel good about themselves , punt their work,and feel like mini Bonos looking down at the poor little african…..well send yur skinny jeans too cause they really need em there

    Thumb up0   Thumb down 0

  4. MJG says:

    d-nyc

    Thumb up0   Thumb down 0

  5. sarah says:

    wow robert!
    why do you have to take a story like this and just piss all over it.
    you sound like a miserable fuck!
    you talk like you know the guy..(the zimbabwean)
    do you?
    you never know, but that could have been his long life dream to fly on a plane! by the look of the picture above he seems pretty fucking psyched! it doesn’t matter how he gets home, the point is that he gets there!
    oh and the skinny jeans comment is pretty fucking lame, it didn’t make you sound cooler or cleverer!
    hope you have a nice christmas with your family!
    don’t forget to think of those who weren’t as lucky as this zimbabwean!
    the ones who didn’t get a bus ticket home never mind a plane ticket!

    Thumb up0   Thumb down 0

  6. Roger Young says:

    Robert

    A:In some cases the plane is cheaper than the bus.

    B: If you have over a thousand rand (Ja, newsflash its not just a coupla hundred to bus to Zim) to spend in long street then you, friend, are a bit cut off from the people you seem to be attempting to speak for.

    C: How do you know they didn’t get him food and supplies as well.

    D: PR is when they write it themselves, not when an independent writer does it for an independent site.

    E: Asshole.

    Thumb up0   Thumb down 0

  7. filipa says:

    merry chistmas jeffrey 🙂

    Thanks sarah!

    Roger, you rule!
    Robert, you’re just a nay sayer! loser poo face!

    Thumb up0   Thumb down 0

  8. jezebel says:

    “some sort of granola-inspired parenting tool that comes with Rudolf Steiner’s school’s application forms”
    beautiful image! The irony, of course, is that you HAVE to have had some sort of inside experience to know this about the Walled Off ones…

    Thumb up0   Thumb down 0

LEAVE A REPLY

Loading...