There's something very personal about the rough glide of graphite on paper. In stark contrast to the manic dance of long fingers on plastic keyboard. Assuming anyone is reading this, the transfer to the digital realm eventually did take place, but these words were conceived in a lonely, insufficiently lit room, when 0.7mm cluch pencil made hurried love to A4 hard cover exercise book. The latter doesn't belong to me.
I write at a time when I feel creatively stifled. My guitars are two thousand kilometres away. I don't have a phone to share my twisted thoughts 140 characters at a time. My Blackberry Torch was a casualty of my overly enthusiastic exertions on the dancefloor of our local watering hole two weeks prior.
Release is important to me. I'm in constant need of an outlet. I wake up some afternoons with my mind racing, a million thoughts per second going through my head. Mostly sensible things, sometimes deeply philosophical thoughts. And of course lots of silly things, much of which I share with my Twitter followers. Mostly in-your-face, uncensored, I-can't-believe-he-just-tweeted-that kinda stuff. I know it makes some people uncomfortable and others find my tweets downright offensive. Some days I feel guilty. Most others, I don't. Truth is, I like to shock people. Its a bit of a perversion of mine. Another truth is, some people like it. Their retweets tell me so. The retweets and favourites are shouting loudly to me "Go, stretch, go!!" Their perverse enjoyment of my reckless tweets feeds my desire to come up with even more shocking material. Until we're in some depraved cyber orgy. A sick (and very, very fun) little Catch 22 on the world wide web.
99% of my tweets are gospel truth. The other 1% contain embellishmets. Dont act like youve never added spice to a story.
I word of advice though. Take my tweets cum grano salis. I always insist that my internet persona is not the same as my real personality. I'm a fairly introverted and soft-spoken being in person. I'm only loud and talkative when I'm drunk or in an uncomfortable situation. I sort of over-compensate for my shyness by being especially mouthy. My internet persona is an extension of my radio persona "stretch.dj". stretch is a douchebag who says risqué things on air, flirts with callers and gets drunk and thrown out of nightclubs. Nkandu Kataya on the other hand, pays his taxes, dotes on his mother and likes cats.
Oh and Banjo Wirez? He's dead. Long live Banjo.
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