Tristan Waterkeyn (R) and Ben Badenhorst (L) -- if you only heard them, you would understand.

Last night, I was the opening act for a handful of white guys with guitars, all of whom were invited to play at the Barleycorn Music Club. The Barleycorn is exactly what it sounds like: a bunch of beer-swilling barflies with cantankerous wives both absent and present, and perhaps a name or two proudly etched into the 'Drink Your Way Around This Pub' plaques lining the wooden columns. High-heeled, twenty-something singer/songwriter Julia Conradie, who organises the evenings, could have made a fortune if she'd charged R5 for hugs, impromptu dances and opportunistic grabs.

Anyone who believes the conveniently commercial truths of The Secret may vehemently claim I'm playing the victim card, but, my word, it's tough to make it as a musician or freelance writer in these parts. You could have eleven fingers -- which, I'm sure, some of the locals did -- and still have to plug away at it for years before getting the malnourished spirits of the average Capetonian to sit up and pay attention to original music.

Same goes for writing. The exact words of my friend Cathryn Reece were, "Hate to say it but I wouldn't hold your breath. News24 doesn't pay ANY freelancers for ANY content."

Bravo. So, what is this strange phenomenon?

I forcibly removed a bergie and claimed a bench by the Liesbeek River last night in steady meditation, and came up with the answer to the question, "why is live entertainment culture so much more...uh...alive over in Europe?"

I had it!

We got %*&@all money down here. And we smoke too much %*&@ing weed.

But regarding the too-familiar Obz Cafe, Zula Bar, Waiting Room and Barleycorn as 'the scene', I recoiled, is a very narrow point of view. After all, we have the townships. The fact that this guy can write an entire novel about being an umlungu in a township shows that we still regard the cheese-slicing M5 highway as a psychological boundary of sorts. But what if us whiteys took our trade to the shebeens? Man, it would kill. Maybe even literally.

Creativity, in my opinion, is not being able to play the G#m7 arpeggio on guitar or even recording a hot interview with upcoming alternative rockers Southpaw on your "day off". It is doing something that makes your parents say, 'why?'.

Catch you in Gugs, mfwethu.

Today's bragging:

• 

the latest blog on Amatomu, everyone.

• my self-bolstering blurb on Barleycorn.