John Stupart.com

… when, while playing in a hockey game, to think that your right half’s inability to mark their wing similar to the Wehrmacht’s break-through in the Ardennes in 1944? And if so, does that make the goalkeeper General Patton?

It all made sense to me then, but perhaps I’ve got something terribly terribly wrong.

Watching the black clouds gather over Johannesburg for another God’s-wrath-esque storm of doom – a daily occurrance in summer here – I noticed the ‘smell’ of Johannesburg more vividly than usual. I expect the sharp wind that kicks up just before the storms has something to do with it. More importantly, I noticed how different the smell was to Onishibetsu, Durban, Bangkok and even Johannesburg in winter. It would seem that each place I’ve been to in the world has a unique scent to it, and often characterises the area itself.

For example, Johannesburg smells of dry veld, faint hints of smoke and some miscellaneous city smells, coupled with a whole plethora of other things I can’t really describe. Onishibetsu smells of grass, cows and occasionally of salty sea breeze ( not to be confused with Hama-Onishibetsu, which smells of fish in non-winter months.) In winter it’s crisp, bracing and definitely very sharp. In Johannesburg’s winter, the dryness seems to encompass every aspect of life, smell included (there’s virtually no rainfall during winter here.)

Put simply, Joburg smells of harsh, dry natural things intertwined with urban concrete. I wonder if crime has a smell, in which case it’s probably there as well! Likewise Bangkok stinks of an over-populated Asian city, with the added disadvantage of having China’s smog waft over. It’s exhaust fumes, pollution, fish, river water, dirty sewerage and so on. It’s rather interesting how these smells can so affect my impression on a place as well. Coming back to Onishibetsu after a weekend away would always relax me; something to do with the pastoral existance I would assume. Touring Bangkok was crazy, hectic and always frenetic, with barely a minute to relax. Johannesburg implies an honest kind of tone, in the sense that the ever-crushing pressure of city life is there, but the city allows one time to sit and reflect on this.

In each location the smells offers very different sensory experiences, which always seem to lead to various non-sensory formations of conclusions. I would not particularly like to go back to Bangkok, for example, though I am glad for seeing it, while I voluntarily eschewed another year in the overly-relaxing rural Hokkaido/Onishibetsu to live in Johannesburg. Each one represents the content of the location’s character. I suppose there’d be an argument for it representing the people as well, but I’m not nearly well-trained in sociology and moonbat philosophy to be able to make that case! Nevertheless, the smells of the world remain unique, unparalleled in complexity, and always fascinating.

As a child I used to always try and identify the smells of different people (no, not those smells), and try and understand how or why one person has a very distinct smell from another. Growing into adulthood however, one finds that these are often masked by excessively strong perfume or deodrant, thus hiding the uniqueness. For those who happen to smell like Bangkok, I suppose this is a good thing, but there are some people who I know and knew in my life who I wished I could sort of smell uninhibited, so as best to understand just what it all entails. This because I suspect that people, just like places in the world, are characterised by their smell. Some places or people I can barely recall in terms of acquaintance, but I can remember their smell, and thus recall their personality and what made them unique.

That being said, if Johannesburg started to smell like a rotten fish dumpster, I think I’d be far less inclined to remember it, much less live in it.

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Music for the month: Deftones – Natalie Portman (or as I like to call it: “The Crush Song”)

Having just started my courses, I have decide to, over the course of my MA, strive to identify, understand, and consequently mock with all my ability. Starting the shebang this week: the Communist Fanboy.

Anyone who has ever done an undergrad humanities course would have encountered such a person. Every time discussion begins, or the floor opens for questions, the Communist Fanboy will proudly stand up and spout some typically nonsensical rubbish about how Marxism can fix said problem, or how the capitalists are corrupting the souls of our children, forcing them work hard for material gain, instead of being afforded all the luxurious trinkets of mass-welfare a la Sweden. They are the ones who seem to ignore whatever readings, lectures or speakers who might smell even faintly bourgeois. For them, university is nothing more than an uncomfortable training ground whereby they might hone their ridiculous dogma to a keen edge, so that they might enter the ranks of their given union/youth organisation/anarchist club with all the tools needed to ignore reason an logic for the rest of their unnatural lives.

And then, in my recent experience, there are those glorious comrades who pursue a masters education with this innocuous mindset that they are there to learn. Just as long as they’re not learning from a capitalist. Everything which might penetrate their dense proletariat filters is then quickly digested into something which fits their narrow ideology. Truly I weep for the future generation of political thought.

Some quick tips at identifying your potential Communist Fanboy:

• Narrow, beady eyes
• non-comprehending complexion when in class/lectures
• An unending eagerness to bring up the Marxist/Socialist solution to anything. Seriously. It could be a discussion on the effectiveness of Rommel’s African campaign. Anuthing.
• amnesia with regards to any discourse or information which might be contrary to their own thinly-substantiated rhetoric.

It’s important that this species be distinguished from that of the Religious Crusader; who shares many common traits, but holds no allegiance to the aforementioned buffoonery.

As a final note, the Resident Communist Fanboy will often emulate his or her heroes, which might include physical copy-cat tendencies such as shaggy hair, open-toed sandals and distincly ripe body odour, to habitual practices such as chronic failure to maintain punctuality, aloof and judging gazes, or the corollary: the blank and distant glazed look.

Finally, as a recommend prevention, I recommend the employment of Weber, Smith and related texts. As a last resort, a truncheon to the face is always effective.