3 5 mins
All Over The Bar Shouting

By Keri-Ann Stanton

I want to talk about letting go.

Letting go of big plans in 2021.

My 2020, as you know, was a wild non-stop 14 months of huge projects rolling into each other that was an insane answer to the KAMuses offering: availability, delivery & me, hands on.

I thought my 2021 would start in Feb after the hand off of a big project in Jan. Take a breath. Recalibrate. Start again. Feb was a little chaotic. Then I thought March & now we are nearly April. Q2. And it still feels like it’s just a roll on of 2020 … except it’s harder to outsource, collaborate, commission, build cut through campaigns.  Why? Because people are not okay. The collective grief / exhaustion has run the adrenalin right out of them. And so these are the things I have let go of already this year:

  • A logo refresh: commissioned a designer in Jan – still waiting 🤷🏼‍♀️
  • A website – still waiting 🤷🏼‍♀️
  • A fully set up office – I may have it all in place April. I may not. 🤷🏼‍♀️
  • A support team that I can outsource too 🤷🏼‍♀️
  • Crafted, creative, disruptive campaigns 🤷🏼‍♀️

It’s a weird place for me to not have big plans, big vision boards, big statements out there.

But it’s also all a bit unnecessary I realise.

Because the work keeps coming (I just turn down a lot more of it), the money keeps coming (I just won’t outsource so much of it) and so you learn to let it go, let it go…

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All Over The Bar Shouting
News Jan 2, 2021

My brother, Barry, would have been 50 On December 18, the week before Christmas. He didn’t make it.

Many were surprised he made 46.

I wasn’t.

Barry was a rolling thunder storm of an accident in many ways, but he always seemed to come through.

He made me angry and sad and happy and frustrated and loved and wanting to know if we all had a curse on us. This step, where life, this trickery of a fuckery on us all, would take all the McCallum men in South Africa before middle age had had its way with us.

Barry fucked things up in spectacular ways. But he made life spectacular and made you see things in a way that you wished was true.

Because he stayed true to what he believed. He never strayed from what he thought he was right, no matter how squirrely and stroppy he got. He was a hard man that way.

We were probably more similar than we liked to admit. We would never let the other know that. Which was wrong and right.

He held me together when Brian died in , did all the stuff I couldn’t do.

Then he died.

In the most Barry way possible. So fucked up and extraordinary. I still shiver at how it must have been. The way I write, I try to step into the skin of the people I speak to.

Jesus.

Barry.

What you must have gone through that day and the days after the car blew up. Those days I can’t count and want to fight. You must have known…

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All Over The Bar Shouting

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I wasn’t.

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All Over The Bar Shouting

“Hello? Yes, it is. You have the right person. No, there is no code word. If you want wine, you just ask for wine. Or spirits. Hang on, I’ll WhatsApp you the price list and you tell me what you want.”

A conversation on a brisk Joburg afternoon between a bootlegger and a customer has become the new normal for many South Africans. Someone who knows someone who knows someone else who has a ready supply of alcohol. There are so many of those someone’s-someone around Joburg that it has become de rigueur to talk about “my booze guy” in company. If you bill it, they will come.

“Bobby Slo” (er, not his real name) is an urban bootlegger. He lives in a nice house in an upmarket suburb with his wife, who has a good job, and kids, who don’t. He drives a Japanese station wagon, has two dogs, but no work. He is in the entertainment industry, which has been decimated since the pandemic was first a whisper, before the storm set in and the world imploded itself to stop the virus exploding.

He has worked sporadically since January, bits and pieces, on and off. It hasn’t covered his bills. His credit cards are maxed out. He has debt. He has angst and worry. He is lucky as his wife has been able to carry the family through the lockdown. He wonders if anything will ever be the same again.

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WEEKLY EDITORIAL

By Keri-Ann Stanton

I want to talk about letting go.

Letting go of big plans in 2021.

My 2020, as you know, was a wild non-stop 14 months of huge projects rolling into each other that was an insane answer to the KAMuses offering: availability, delivery & me, hands on.

I thought my 2021 would start in Feb after the hand off of a big project in Jan. Take a breath. Recalibrate. Start again. Feb was a little chaotic. Then I thought March & now we are nearly April. Q2. And it still feels like it’s just a roll on of 2020 … except it’s harder to outsource, collaborate, commission, build cut through campaigns.  Why? Because people are not okay. The collective grief / exhaustion has run the adrenalin right out of them. And so these are the things I have let go of already this year:

  • A logo refresh: commissioned a designer in Jan – still waiting 🤷🏼‍♀️
  • A website – still waiting 🤷🏼‍♀️
  • A fully set up office – I may have it all in place April. I may not. 🤷🏼‍♀️
  • A support team that I can outsource too 🤷🏼‍♀️
  • Crafted, creative, disruptive campaigns 🤷🏼‍♀️

It’s a weird place for me to not have big plans, big vision boards, big statements out there.

But it’s also all a bit unnecessary I realise.

Because the work keeps coming (I just turn down a lot more of it), the money keeps coming (I just won’t outsource so much of it)…