Ghosts of Horatio Alger

(A good friend of mine, whom we’ll call Gentleman Jack, has been having a rough go of his job search and general direction in life. Our – usually late night – correspondence has developed and matured into a ranting and rambling nature, touching on topics such as Alexa Chung, The Devil Wears Prada, Health Care, Afghanistan, Media and Bored To Death. So, I decided to post some of his, at times, brilliant, eccentric and esoteric musings. Maybe you’ll learn something.  Enjoy: The Loxley Files)

So I have this strange obsession with South Africa. I don’t know why. It started when I read Winston Churchill’s partial autobiography My Early Life. I think what I need to do is get someone to stake me to go over and either film or write or something about his escape from a Boer prison camp in Pretoria. Basically just hang out check out that stuff, hang out some more. You know another one of those paid vacation schemes.

I’m listening to East Coast Radio (Durban’s No. 1) on the internet. They’re playing goofy goofy 80s stuff, they just played that one that’s like “he’s my Japanese boy” or whatever. It was in Grand Theft Auto Vice City…anyway it’s great I’m hearing their bizarre accents. I love it way too much.

You know what else would be cool about going there. Rent a car and pop into Lesotho. It’s completely surrounded by South Africa. As far as I know, other than micro states like San Marino, that’s the only country like that. In fact, the only others I can think of at all are San Marino and the Vatican. Cause Monaco has the sea. Andorra and Lichtenstein are on borders. So you can get an extra stamp in your passport just for taking a shortcut! [Editor's Note: It's called an "enclave."]

I need to get my writing career on track so maybe like a year from now I can get this going. I’m sure I can make that kind of progress in a year.

-Gentleman Jack

(Lesotho Map image courtesy Geology.com)