A personal taste of Nelson de Gouveia

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Going Offline: Day 54 – Going Online

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going online

I know, I know, ironic huh? Nelson harped on for ages about his addiction to going online on Facebook and wanted to get off it as it was so time-consuming and affected his relationship with other people, his performance in work, and wrote a few short blog-posts bleeding his heart to the wide world of human beings about his fragile ego needing a rest from a virtual fashion show of people’s lives.

And then he’s back on it.

Well, if you haven’t seen by now, I’m in South Africa spending time with la familia, my dad having been ill for so long and me wanting to be around him before time runs out. But since 2 weeks ago, this I can see will impact greatly on my career in the videogames industry, fragile and precarious as it once was before.

And now, I need Facebook…to contact people.

For all my good intentions of shooting the proverbial shit with my dad and the rest of his brood, no one needs a producer in little ol’ Cape Town, and I found that out the hard way after 2 months of being strung along by someone. It’s time to step up, get off my bum-bum, rewrite my Curriculum Vitae and become a full-fledged rat-race chaser, doing whatever odds and ends necessary to pay for petroleum for a run-down ve-HIC-le that will take me places for work purposes AND for comedic endeavours.

In terms of Facebook, that means being exposed to people again, promoting comedy shows and varying my repertoire, talking to long-lost “pals” and convincing them that I’m a gorgeous good-looking, charming little piece of ass-et that you can’t do without.

AND THEN I’ll be offline, keeping my head down.

So, you can call me a hypocrite for being weak-minded…OR you can stand-up and say, “Nelson…there’s a guy that needs a handyman, I’ll send him your number.”

Yes, yes you can do that.

Cape Town Blog – Waking up to a brand-new world

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And a wonderful to you all from a finally overcast Cape Town, South Africa.
From my little room I share in my brother’s wonderful house in the suburbs, I woke up dazed and confused early this morning to find two things that perplexes even the most astute of single gentlemen that walk the earth as directionless as I am:
1. A phone call from my sister demonstrating a cheap car on Gumtree called a Ford Lazer (yes, I write this wishing I could show my fingers making the Dr. evil signature move)
2. A black cat called Peanut licking itself in area devoid of appropriate testicular contents.
It’s been a surreal week and a half getting to know my family once again, regaling them with wonderful anecdotes of stories from the colonial master land that is the United Kingdom, and wishing them health and love as best I can without sounding TOO droll. As yet, I have not had the chance to meet up with old friends due to a distinct lack of transport (public utilities usually consists of a man driving a van with a monkey-wrench for a steering wheel) but when I do, I hope it will be fun and interesting.
And yes, hun, I’m still waiting for you to answer.
Monday night saw me perform my first set for over a year at a lovely little bar in Rondebosch, expecting droves of UCT students eager to giggle their sides, and to be fair the 10 guys staring at me gave me the challenge I wanted most: a chance to test my mettle as a all-round entertainer.
And true to their word, they tested me.
Still, it was nice to walk off stage and blokes coming up afterwards saying, “China, you was ace, eh?” followed by a handshake and a shoulder-bump, a clear sign of me being accepted into the audience acumen of approval.
Ever been shoulder-bumped? It’s like an audience Jay Leno nodding and saying you’ll go far.
So today I’ll be setting up a portfolio of shots thanks to a wonderful photographer I know, looking for menial work, openings up the money-grubbing bank account and reading up on the day’s stories for new and exciting material, to mold and shape it into wonderful jokes that will leave them thinking that their lives can be for the better if they look past the errors of yesteryear and just accept that inside, we…are all…pink.
Cape Town, bring it on.
See me Thursday night at the Chilli Bar in Southfield where I’ll be sweating it yet again.

I don’t have a Title, you can call me “Sir”

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call me sir

I live without a title all my life, and I’m still looking for work. Yet you can call me sir.

I see a fresh new yellow-brick wall in front of me, a stark contrast of the life I’ve been living for many years now. I wrote in pieces of paper, “Beginning”, “Development” and “Conclusion” and I’ve stuck them to this very same wall, hoping that the words may empower me in some bizarre Ancient Egyptian incantation that encompasses my entire being.

I’m talking bullshit, this is my brother’s room in his house and the only thing encompassing me is a hug from my mother tomorrow.

I’ve laid out the photographs of all the important people in my life in front of me, my parents and nephews/niece, I’ve laid the iPad next to me like it’s going to spring out a great idea that only digital media gurus can conjure. A glass of mediocre red lays half-drunk and my tongue feels like its berry goodness has already stained it with the shame of self-defeat.

My breath stinks of smoke. It must be from all the rolled cigarettes I’ve forced myself to ingest. Poor me.

The soundtrack to “Scott Pilgrim vs the World” is playing through tinny speakers on the desk which, too, shares the space for my affections. You know what, I have tried and successfully “attempted” to write something creative, a bleak outline of my only year in CityVarsity, a city college I attended back in 1999 in Cape Town, which really opened my eyes to progressive society that lay beyond the walls of suburbia and all the racism I swam through.

I also found out that my dad is extremely funny and quick-witted, and I’m so glad I’ve spent time with him. He is a genuinely warm and funny man, and my mom is the same person that throws up jibes that, had you been in her company were you down in the dumps, could’ve encouraged you to jump in the lake for her lack of empathy but yet her warm embrace which melted many a chill.

Yes, people, I’m back with my family…and by golly gosh, I’m loving it so far.

Now, can that person please call me back so I can work, earn money, get a car and do f***cking comedy?!!!!!

Going Offline – Day 26: Sorry I forgot your birthday…

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Remember the days when you knew the birthday of your closest relatives and friends based solely on your relationship and proximity with them?

Like, your actual relatives and friends, not Facebook followers?

For years I spent wishing people “Merry Christmas” on friends’ Facebook walls as a constant parody of the blasé attitude people have towards the constant childhood need to be recognised as the lucky sperm that made it, thankfully not wiped away with a tissue or swallowed, which put me in a position not to offend anybody by relying on the social networks to remember those incredible moments in OTHER PEOPLE’S LIVES.

But I still do remember before we even had portable telephones in our pockets the important ones, the days we truly wished each other well on the day we realise we survived another year on this planet.

My mom’s, for example, I remember constantly growing up as she received phonecalls from people in the community, which to me was akin to a personal status update. Or my very very FIRST girlfriend’s just cos from age 8 to 12 I really liked her, to the lady that broke my heart as it soon before her 21st we got together.

I remember THOSE birthdays, but for the life of me I can’t recall anybody else’s, even my nephews (sorry boys and girl, I’m coming back to rectify that).

So today is both my sister-in-law’s and my housemate’s birthday, which I remember from last year where I quipped about it over the kitchen table and he went, “Oh yeah?” and returned to his conversation with a hot girl on Facebook chat, but as per usual I’d forgotten a card.

Or should I leave a card for a male housemate to a male housemate? Is that really appropriate to actually go out into a shop and pick up a birthday card for a male? Not a best friend, but a man sharing my house with me, that is a friend and a comedy colleague.

To me, I would say I’d have the same relationship as if I sent him a text message with an “x” at the end of it, and thankfully that is not what I do.

Nor would I do it…for he shall look at me like I’ve been painting “I love ####” all over my chalkboard with the door closed while listening to Celine Dion.

Celine specifically cos they’re both Canadian.

No, his day will be spent getting lurid messages from friends and colleagues and I’ll probably just come home with a few beers.

So, Merry Christmas from me. 😛

Going Offline – Day 13: 24 Hour Limits

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In other words, once you deactivate, you return to reactivate and THEN it says you have to wait a full day. Talk about waiting.

This is marvelous.

Not only do I ensure that no spammers keep sending me crappy mails telling me to join their group OR come to their show, but now I can literally limit the time I spend on the site itself.

It’s a mental hospital locking you up in a cell for drug abuse, and you’re left screaming.

It’s also…not working, as I’m now spending time on Twitter.

See? Addictive personalities need an addiction to cling on to, may it be substances (alcohol, cigarettes, drugs) or other forms of deprecation that hurts themselves or others…perhaps I can developer a sexual addiction where I just stop caring about rejection, approach every fanny I fall on and then tell them to bugger off.

Thankfully, my newest ones are Twitter, performing comedy shows and watching Star Trek. I swear, if I’m at least funny, I think I can do well being a loser twat with a currently-shaved making people giggle at my insecurities.

Have a happy and joyous weekend, people, and I’ll see you on Twitter (check the panel on the right for details on Twitter and gigs)

Nigerian Scam Email – Dissection

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In this day and age of personal wariness of solicitous emails from foreign nationals claiming to transfer money from African accounts to yours via a Nigeria scam, I’m still surprised that malicious scoundrels as yet have not given up on the possibility that I would comply with their complimentary correspondence.

So, without further ado, let’s poke fun:

Dear Friend,I am Mr. Diallo T.Alidu, Home Address: 15 kolughu naaba avenue, Age: 45years old. Marital status: married with 3 children. Occupation: banker. Working at the auditing and accounting department, BANK OF AFRICA (B .O. A) Ouagadougou Burkina-Faso West Africa, with due respects and regard I have decided to contact you on a business transaction that will be very beneficial to both of us at the end of the transaction.

With due respects and regard? Aww bless, thank you, I appreciate someone I’ve never met that wants to take my money regards me and respects me. And thanks for your address, I’m sending you a sample of my poo.

I know that a transaction of this magnitude will make any one apprehensive and worried, but I am assuring you that all will be well at the end of the day.

Phew, and there was me being apprehensive and worried.

I came to know you in my Private Search for a Reliable and Reputable Person to handle this Confidential Transaction, which involves the transfer of huge sum of Money to a Foreign Account requiring Maximum Confidence.

I’m more concerned you found me in a Private Search, considering I have a public blog and Twitter. But at least you’ve instilled maximum confidence in me by writing it with Capital Letters.

During an annual auditing of Account’s in this bank, my department came across a very huge sum of money belonging to a deceased person who died in a tragic plane crash on the Lenana Peak, Mount Kenya, Saturday, the 19th day of July, 2003 together with his wife Jean, three of their children and their spouses, and four grandchildren, since then his fund has been dormant in his account with this Bank without any claim of the fund in our custody either from his family or relation before discovery to this development.

Wow, a whole three generations of family wiped away in a plane crash over a mountain. Are you sure they weren’t wiped out when the raft got overturned in the ocean (yes, sounds racist, but in practical terms, this email is stupid, so please indulge me.)

The said amount was U.S $8.2M (Eight million, two hundred thousand United States dollars).In fact I could have done this transaction alone but because of my position in the country as a civil servant (A Banker), we are not allowed to operate a foreign account and would eventually raise an eye brow on my side during the time of transfer because I work in this bank.

“A Banker” is a civil cervant in Burkina-Faso? Ahh, the dictionary for criminals was slightly amended there too. Also, only ONE eye brow?????

This is the actual reason why it will require a second party or fellow who will forward claims as the next of kin with affidavits of trust of oath to the Bank and also present a foreign account where you will need the money to be transferred into on your request as it may be after due verification and clarification by the correspondent branch of the bank where the whole money will be remitted from, to your own designation bank account.

To be fair, I got bored after you called me “fellow”.

I will not fail to inform you that this transaction is 100% risk free. On smooth conclusion of this transaction, you will be entitled to 45% of the total sum as gratification, while 55% will be for me, also you have to understand that you and i will put hands together to make any expenses that will come up in this transaction and any expenses that you and I make will be deducted from the fund immediately the bank transfer the fund into your account before sharing.

In keeping with my training as a student of the English language, I would have to say that “transaction” and “smooth conclusion” makes you sound like a former extra in a Michael Jackson music video turned magnanimous fool.

Please, you have been advice to keep “top secret” as I am still in service and intend to retire from service after I have concluded this transaction with you.

I have been “advice”, people, you read it here first.

I will be monitoring the whole situation here in this bank until you confirm the money in your account and ask me to come down to your country for subsequent sharing of the fund according to percentages previously indicated and further investment, either in your country or any country you advice me to invest in. All other necessary, vital information will be sent to you when I hear from you.

I’m imagining a man in front of an array of monitors…naked and jerking off to all the “mail sent” messages you see. Twat.

I look forward to receive your reply urgently. Show your readiness to assist me in this transaction by replying this proposal as early as possible and I want you to assure me of your capability of handling this transfer with trust by giving me the following information’s about yourself:

Sir yes sir! You can count on your assurance of my capability in following your stupid commands, SIR!

1) Your age:………………………….2
2) Your occupation:…………………..Durr.
3) Are you married?:………………………….How many wives can I have?
4) Your mobile phone number.:………………………….0800 Durrr.
5) Your location and full address……As far away from you as possible.
6) Scan and send a copy of your identity card to me. :………………………….Google me.
7) Your Fax Number: :………………………….0800 Fax Durrr.
8) Sex:.:………………………….How many wives have you got?

I will tell you how you can apply to the bank as soon as i receive your response towards this mail. Extend my greetings to your family and we should please try and have trust on each other in this transaction so that we shall achieve our aim together.

My family would love to hear from you, although they understand if you can’t make it to the next annual “let’s fuck up a stupid person” barbeque meet-up.

Do not take this very transaction as a joke; I need your full co-operation to make this work fine. Because the management is ready to approve this payment to any foreigner who has correct information of this account, which I will give to you. Now I have been convinced that you are capable and will meet up with this transaction of B.O.A Bank of Africa .

I don’t take this transaction as a joke, I swear. Just your email. There’s a difference.

I need your strong assurance that you will never let me down in this transaction, so you reply and ask me how you can apply for the text of application form of claim of the deceased fund from the bank. It is the foreign remittance departments that are responsible for transference of fund into your account over there.

Really? I mean, of what form of when of what who now?


Have you not received a reply from me? My email is Nicolas_sarkozy_sexy_2009@ole.fr

Thanks yours,
Mr. Diallo T.Alidu.

You’re not welcome, yours
Mr Not Interested, QC

Going Offline – Day 3: Chewing at the Furniture

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Ok, so it’s getting harder now not to think about it. I’m coming across so many doubts in my mind about why I even deleted Facebook in the first place I’m chewing at the furniture, as I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying so many options before.

I could sit and chat to whomever I wanted, even though I never truly did, while on some occasions people just popped up a chat window and spoke to me instead.

Also, there’s a nagging fear in me that I’m closing doors on options that may come to me, from people that Iv’e networked with, and if they were to hear from me again maybe they may consider bringing me on for small bits of work that they’d need me.

It’s kind of like sitting in the corner of a pub and someone asking for your help to move a table. It’s not a big deal, but makes a guy feel useful.

But again, I’m not sure if I can implicitly accept that I should reconnect again. Should I? I’m putting myself in a precarious position. What if I need those same connections again? What if I return to London and find that I don’t have any other contact details apart from messaging them on Facebook? These past few days just trying to find anything to do that will add to my coffers has been pretty much fruitless.

I don’t just miss the friends I’ve made, I also miss the possible connections towards a better life.

12 more days till I regret my decision…

Going Offline – Day 2: Still have the option

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So it’s the second day of my account deletion, and I received a mail from Facebook stating that I still have 13 days left to reconsider my decision to reactivate my account. Nice to have an option.

So, what are the pros and cons of me heading back to the site?

Pro: I’ve created a base of 800+ connections that will allow me to communicate my thoughts and ideas to everyone, including marketing myself out as a friend, a comedian or, in the current state that I’m in, a viable employable option amongst all the contacts I’ve created over the years working in the videogames industry.

Con: My addiction will kick in again and I’ll just sit there watching as other people update on their lives about how happy they are with their loved ones (my family live in South Africa) and the places they are at (I’m in a tiny flat in North London

Sufficed to say, it’s tempting.

Still, I’m allowing myself the use of Twitter as it is a clean and quick method of being around for people to interact with should they desire it, while at the same time using it again for the same purposes of communicating those same thoughts, ideas and the projects I’m involving myself in to keep the time going.

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