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They say when you are in love you go a little mad - they say.

He said that thing a few nights ago - the thing I always tell boys when I have fallen for them. Hard.  That thing that sounds like a disclaimer - something along the lines of - please if you have a change of heart, tell me.

I use to do that - ask the other to be honest and just level with me when they hearts or minds change. When it comes to the crunch they never do. Nor do I. I cant actually tell the dude - hey buddy I just dont love you no more.  So I usually get on my worst behaviour and hope the other has the courage to do what I fear most. Walk.

Walking to towards something good is just as hard as walking away from something bad. Its worse when you cant really put your finger on the bad - or the reason why it feels so good for that matter.   Perhaps love is the thing we really cant describe and we use this word when no other can measure up to a feeling or lack of the same undescribable feeling.

If this makes any kind of sense you are probably a girl, like me, trying to figure this shit out. Hoping to hell that this time - I will be an adult about it.

 

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I think I am already in love but I am blind to it. I think I have been hurt and dissapointed by love so often that I am sceptical even when loves tingle is felt rippling through me. Where ever love touches - it burns. The pain is adictive and each time I think I might not make it through but here I go again. It makes me laugh to think how eager mouths search out eager tongues, how our fingers grapple in the dark to hold onto to something, onto anything and honestly the only thing that makes sense when loves clouds your brain. In that moment I feel myself forgetting about being a mother, a sister, an independent thinker, a home owner, a regular rounder, a greek twister - a normal brown girl just going about her business. The business of being a being.

It happened a few Saturdays ago.  I dont even remember.  I had just come back from the race track (my first ever trip there). Wow...but that story is for another time.

I sat with three other friends - I was the fourth wheel, one of those stories where two people love one person and the three of them, tangled up like that, is just way too boring to observe for someone like me. Especially since I know how its going to end. Girl will stick with boy and leave other girl in Lesbo agony! They are there in that space and they are burning.  I twiddled my thumbs and counted the calories on my plate. As if knowing how many I am going to consume is going to make any bloody difference! Then from accross the room - sitting with a bunch of guy friends I saw a light. I looked, then looked away. The light I saw came from his eyes.

He was looking too, pointing me out - I pretended not to see. Thats when I felt the first burn, it lit up my cheeks. I looked down. My eyes hidden behind a thick fringe. Could it be? I wrote many months ago of a secret conversation of my heart, it promised me that i would meet love, it whispered remember. It said that both our hearts will jump out to meet the other. Both of us will know, instantly. We will get it. Could this be it?

I looked up again and yes - he was staring at me. He edged off his seat and I nodded an acknowledgement.  He was about to come over and I nodded my head in the direction of the bar.  He got it, my heart started thumping. Thump thump. I looked at my fellow table mates and realised that over there, in those eyes, I could potentially have my own kind of fun. I went to the toilet and walked right past him, my legs were brown and golden - I had crisped them for just such an occasion. My denim mini and crisp white shirt gave me confidence and the strut was unmistakable.  The dance had begun, it took another few minutes for us to, with no words, meet up at the bar at exactly the same time.  We drank tequila. Abandoning our collective friends we spent the rest of the afternoon and early eveing together and danced and felt and moved.   His name is M. There is a twist. I want to spend the rest of the day figuring this out.

We have seen each other every second day since. It would have been every single day but I am stopping myself. I am edging towards an abyss, i am right now longing for his kiss.

Here I go again. Being Loves Fool.

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Why is it that one needs a weekend to recover from the weekend. 

Sometimes people make you believe they are more than what they really are, other times people lead you to think they are less. I have decided not to tell people anything for a while.  To keep things close to my chest.

Found that if you open your chest too often assholes elbow their way in and leave mud marks all over the place. Takes yonks to get out. Takes years to heal.

I see some close friends of mine are in a spot of trouble, add financial instability to the mix and I promise you right now, they feel like ants under a cruel magnifying glass. I wish I could do more. Give more, say more, please more. But I cant.  People are already stretched beyond belief, Ubuntu? You end up saying - dont worry things are going to be better. Just believe.  How do I say that with a straight face knowing the worst is yet to come, praying that they find the strenght in their emotional reserves to deal with hardship.

We know hardship, we know the taste of rice with milk and sugar for supper, of sunlight soap and the smell of cold tap water and mud, of R15 petrol and deciding between shirt or shoe...of being enerygy efficient.  Of rolling over and playing dead, of saying yes when we really mean no of not having even a choice to bandy about.

I have decided not to buy anything for a while - use what I have, get rid of my car, get a scooter, listen to all my old cd's and re read my old books. I must first occupy fully the space I have before I embark on any further expansions.  Won't you join me?

 

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  I live in a world where people are never satisfied, nothing is ever enough; not even sliced bread. In this world people eat more than they should, drink beyond their limits, fornicate indiscriminately pop pills, inject potions, pollute destroy and maim.

Here the clouds are green with envy and the seas are empty - wars have started over the limited resources and money is a thing of the past. We take what we want, not what we need and love died in the 60's. We have no more news, no writers no celebrities, no preachers and we don't play sport. The internet has become our home, our master our reminder of times when we thought we were happy - the internet has become the mass opiate, it stores our collected nostalgic consciousness. Bob Marley lives there. 

We have no time for game and gaiety, our fight for survival starts 1 year after birth when put through a series app tests to see where we fit into the system.  No one questions nothing, we don't think about Freedom - this word has died down. Its use outlawed in some regions.  There are no countries no borders no fences.  We have no government, we have a system. A New World System.

During the Age of Excess (2000 - 2110) the suits governed the land, then all hell broke loose and suits government fell. Then as now we are at the mercy of Gaia.  She from whom all things flow. Only know we now know. What we know now - you go know.

We have finally developed a communication tool that can slow down our speech and stretch them over millennia to make it audible for Gaia and her council of Eiders.  Generations are born and die between these painfully slow exchanges.  Our time is like that of a wasp to them.  They have not really considered us in their decision makings. We have lost entire continents and masses of people due to their decree's.  Cyclones are to them what a rinse cycle was to my foremothers.

 These communicators are mediums and channels; they spend their lives in isolation tanks. Weightless, senseless, free of the trappings of desire.   They must hold the message of Gaia for repeating it dilutes it and only the system managers are allowed to hear it and then only once. Gaia is not open to interpretation - we live in her shadow, some even worship her.

I can't imagine my life like that.  I can't imagine my life like this.  I have created another life online. I have brothers and a sister and I even have a child.  I got a job at government, have friends and boys who take me on dates at retro "clubs" with names like Katzy's and Casablanca but I have never been touched. I have never cried, tasted chocolate or the soft insides of an oyster.  We have sense receptors that can simulate taste smell and even touch but these are very expenses and the old trick of selling the hardware then cashing in on the expensive software still applies.  My simulator can only recall bits and bobs - snapshots, thumbnails, like free porn sites back in the day.

I don't know how old I am. Age is not even a number any more.

We the humans are orphaned.  We the humans are pissed off.  We the humans will not fight back. Whats the use.

 Right! I am going to go outside, rip off my mask walk over to someone and touch his or her face.  Or maybe I will just sit here and think about it. Write about it, dream about it.

 

 

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Brown eyes pink nipple clipped strides monochrome minty green mochito mean

Wanting waiting wailing weaning

Look up no, and then again down like so, flick hair, flutter eyes, come closer Miss Demise

Pill popping drug store hopping

Uppers downers lighters frowners

Dagga pipes and salsa bars

Broad back small feet

Damn baby

Looks good enough to eat

Another sip another crack another noose around my neck

Fritz Chrysler, Jim Jones, slim shady fragile bones

Curly hair pointed nose - hair any which way the wind blows

Arching back, scraping skin, mmm let ecstasy begin

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I read your emails again today. Slowly. I tried to hear your voice, I did clearly. I am so glad I had Lela with you. She is the most amazing person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. To think I delivered her to the world, after nurturing her in my womb for 38 weeks. 

I always knew I was strong but I had no idea how much until the morning I went into labour. I was alone you know, there was no one around. My grandpa had just died, so no family could come up to be with me. That's ok I kept whispering to myself.   I rubbed my belly and thought about the future, the future that was to come.

Then it did. Labour pains are unbelievable. Think of the worst stomach cramp you have ever had, now multiply it by a 1000 every 5-10 minutes! I pushed and pushed. Grunted and groaned. Breathed but not one scream left my throat.   Charles Mingus Ah Um CD was playing in the background I asked the nurse to turn it up. She did, they thought I was weird.  I even packed my own blanket. Lela was stubborn though, she was not ready to leave me, her heart rate dropped theyall panicked. Then prepped me for C-section. I was calm, tired but calm.  

Pushing me into the theatre I felt scared, my voice trembled and seemed to come from a place far far away. I forced myself to participate - I can get detached very quickly. I held onto the bed and could see them manipulating my body. I felt nothing though. I heard the skin being cut, sounds like meat I thought. I kept my eyes open the whole time, then out she came. I looked at her - she looked flat, her skin was wrinkly, she had gunk all over her. Still I felt nothing. My heart was beating normally. I did suddenly feel like a mommy.  

Thoughts of being alone mattered little now. She has arrived.  She was born at 5.14 pm on a Monday and I called a cab to collect us by noon the next Tuesday. I was still alone. You were not there. You know - i don't have to tell you. You have still not seen her. I am not mad anymore.  I have just realised that you gave me the greatest gift I have ever ever been given. How can I be mad at you for choosing not to be part of her life, thats your story. I am just grateful that I can share every cent I earn, every smile she flashes and if I could, spend every waking minute in her company.  

I think she will look a lot like you. I wonder about you all the time. I think our paths have been distorted. I am not even sure if you are alive or dead, hungry or fed. How is your life and work?  

I often imagine you being strong, standing on the stage with your fancy jacket on.   I think of the first time. How guilty? How utterly amazing! It happened there.   I believe - my heart broke when you left Kenya and as the plane took off so did my spirit - i went back to my hotel room and it smelt of you, when i walked in I found so many messages from you - saying that you love me, scribbled everywhere, the porter just kept bringing them to me - i ached with longing for you - a permanent smile on my face...  

I don't know how you feel, I don't want to know. Just know this. We are alive, I am happy and we are healthy. We are blessed. Soon the world will come to an end and everything that seems so important right now, everything, will be gone. Our routes to work, our phone bills, our rent and petrol, your headaches your pain and anguish will be over.  

Soon  

We only have a limited time on this planet. I probably have another 50 years in me. I will wait for you. Until you are ready to talk. My heart brims with appreciation for you. I will defend you. I will tell her how wonderful you are, I will read your love letters to her. She must know she came from love.  

Please be alive...

Even if just barely.  

Keep the whisper of that love we once shared alive in the crevice of your mouth. Let it roam in between your teeth in and out your throat. Summer breeze.  

I see you in the shower in the safari hotel in kenya. So tall brown and lean. Your knees slightly together just a little hunch forward.  You hated getting water on your face. 

It makes me laugh.  

Your belly button seemed a gaping hole like the indents made after meteors crash.   Ribs and stomach - again nest - the water trickling down your chest.

Your hand cupping your man hood.

Defensively. I remember sitting on the edge of the bath getting splashed by the droplets that fell off your body and watching you wash. Thinking the thoughts I always do...  

I was overwhelmed that morning - wish we did not have to leave the comfort under those cotton sheets but people things places always always get in the way.   

We cant exist in this crazy world. We is a place of fantasy. Us is the fortress of fairies and dwellings of giants with clubs and trees and golden geese.  

When we are together we make time stand still.

When were together time stood still.  

Thank you for giving me the meaning of my life. 

She is beautiful. She really is.

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To accept less than the all is unacceptable.

I do this thing where I get excited about the prospect of the future.

The future

Please don't be mad but I cant do this, I have needs and your life is full

Understandably - you are a light - moths like flame

Fires are bright

Go ahead brown man

Concentrate on your life - dont ask me to be a wife 

Go ahead brown man pull the cord, rip the hose, crack the heel, clink the clank

We could go on picking at a scabs, watch them dry then bleed

or

just stop it right now

Pull the plaster, cut the tie, slice

Its over - stop -

I cant ask you to stretch any further than you are and I am not prepared to accept less than your all

I also hope that we can try to foster a friendship regardless

Although you and I know it would be impossible the thoughts of maybe this or maybe that will overwhelm us. You and I. There I go again. Us...

 Am not very happy to do this but I am very realistic - I could love you a lot

You know, but i dont.

I believe people are drawn to people for a reason, the purpose unfolds over time I hope to see that purpose unfold another time

Many worlds from now

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So I thought cutting a cute fringe and blow drying my hair for a change would be nice, a very old English boss of mine loved saying - a change is as good as a rest Miss T. So with my new hairstyle came my new walk (more like a confident thirty year old strutt...try and stop me!) and I try to talk differently too (I really think about my vocabulary). I am trying to say less and think and feel more. These days I feel a lot less like that poor kid in a candy store. Desperate for someone to notice what a good girl she's been and reward her appropriately. 

I smoke even if you think it unpopular and will not accept offers of bad wine and shots irritate me. Dont send them over - I will pour them in the first empty glass and then still toast you.  I have resigned myself to knowing that I have an opinion but I am selective who I let in on it.

This thought makes my nose curl up a little and my eyes smile. When I looked at you like that last night I could feel your resolve crumble a little. Then I realised that it took you a little while to really see me. I am annoyed. I lost interest now. You see, he asked to read my personal blog, told him it might be a bad idea, since i write about him too. He saw something he didn't like and I was left feeling bad about what i wrote, something I swore I would never do. So last night at last I might add - he grabs me for a dance and we do, spin around ever so gently spinning and twirling soaked in Nederberg Barrone. Good clean and fresh tra la la. Pity I dont have a crush on him anymore. Feels good to say that! By the end of the dance he had transferred all of his power to me. Seems where we go from here is up to me....oh dancer, dont. I choose to go HOME.

 I have been thirty for five days now, my life has already changed. Lost in interest in house work (bound to happen-i aint to martha S), feeling very energetic (especially my mind), money is chasing me (nice since its been avoiding me for about 12 months!) Polly irritates me (plucking- worried-need shrink for him), miss my baby girl (she sounds as though she is having a whole lot of fun with mom), got 2 brand new job offers (1- at high high fash mag!!!!!!!!! and the other hundreds of k more), love radar - (red being hot hot hot and blue ice ice ice) yellow (i love- thats it, myself the planet and people), weight - happy, boure - dik, wardrobe plus two new additions, stress 4/10 (good!!!), new president and health minister (Yeah!!!) , new hat (green bowl D&G) and new gay friend. His name is J. Loves celebrities and has a body as hard as a rock (oooh - I know - what a waste). Will go to a church dinner and dance tonight. Promise to be on my berry vessst behaviour! Will they have booze or should I sneak some in??? (I know just how to do it!) I dont think I have ever done anything like this ever. Very adult. Must wear heels and hat.

Enjoy your day. It might be your last - why not live like its your first. 

I promise if you do 3 of the 5 things on my list today you will feel great:

1. If near ocean - stand on beach arms outstreched, lift to the sky and exhale loudly (i love to scream actually - but if you shy - exhaling will do)

If near mountain or lake, modify - go to the quietest spot - try not to see any sign of mankind...bottles wires cell phone littler, sit there for a few moments and listen. You will hear something wonderful. Promise.

2. Nibble someones ear!

3. Let someone nibble your ear...

4. Have saki today! I swear there is nothing like it. If not saki ( you dont drink - then start!)just kidding, i love frulata (blend of ice cream and cocktail fruit juice).....or lassi....mmmm. Drink this with bare feet - toes in the sun.

5. Give someone new a bear hug. Squeeze with all your might. Exchange energy - give and take...

These are some of the things I will do today. Now wheres that ear...

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Ek is klaar met die politiek in die country. Hulle kan almal gaan k**k. Ek het ook 1986 gelees, they are insulting my intel if they think we dont see what the boogie board is going on! I know everybody had their 2 cent to contribute to the pot so I will spare you mine. Suffice to say it sucks. Balls, you know the kind.  Ok, so on top of rising food prices, people not having any disposable income for silly incidentals like buying new tooth brush if naugthy brush falls in toilet water....shhh dont tell him, we now have all this trash to worry about.

 Where the hell the other 4 million go? Who the hell cares!

Not in my bloody bollocksy pocket for sure.

Ek sou kon doen met n triljoen! Million is too little these day.

So, pampered stay at luxury escape at penisberg get away was cancelled! I was a little sad but then vodka has a great effect on me. My heritage day was braaing with some crazy ass Lebanese folks who love dancing and buring themselves to a crisp. Letterlik.  She is very very Loud and has a bat named klaar-ge-praat in her car for just, well, i dont know know. In case a baseball comes flying out of nowhere - she might just like being prepared. Nice people though.  Went to Trans-kei (not sure bout spelling) Melville - lots of people very drunk big haired people- stayed behind cause i was waiting for a friend (i DONT drink and drive) and watched a waiter sweeping up the mess of the night before. Bottles busted, ciggie butts...condom wrappers! I was transfixed. I wonder what it would have weighed and that the weight of their mess measured up against the weight of fun they had.  What about the liters of urine?  More mess more fun right.

What was also fascinating was the young man sweeping it up - he was so angry, throwing around the tables and chairs and making the filth spread! Funny as hell.

He looked dirtier than the floor when he was through...it reminds me of you.

You must never be as evil and the evil you are fighting - then you just fighting yourself. Feel incredible today. Just incredible.

 

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This morning the date and time setting on my phone was completely wrong, the date was set to 1980 (Jan 15). The time was ahead by at least 23 minutes. For a moment I wished it really were so. I hoped that time had, during my hours of slumber, somehow slowed down. Things are moving too fast.

They say its normal to feel like this, I dont want to see or be seen. Friends and family phone, they seem so happy, I am faking interest in their lives today. I could not care, to be perfectly honest. I find myself holding my breathe and my shoulders are aching. Today I am on this planet a whole 30 years! Dertig blooming years. Can you get over that.

My step dad called and said: Jy moet terug kom na die meester toe! Terug. Because I left. They sound sorted out. I am happy they seem happy. Mbeki is out, found a grey pube, wonder what the mascot will look like. So many BIG things to worry about then then 30. Boom just like that. Want to crawl under a blanket and be fed jelly and custard until I explode. Tried to get drunk yesterday, some celebrity came and joined our table and I found myself having to speak to this (sexy) woman. The more we drank the more she told me. The owner of the establishment then came over and whispered he would give us drinks on the house if I gave her number to him...i told him to get stuffed! What is it with men in their early 30's.

 Woosh dude with the screamer girl is out of my life, thank dog, i deserve more. I demand more. I kissed and made up with moneky ball md...he apologised. So did I. My daughter is well. She is in CT, my heart is going to break that she has not been moaning after me - she is breaking my heart. But I have been invited to the Pilanesberg for Tuesday/Wednesday (massages, champaign, cheese, sunsets, books, books..well you know...) I said yes - i have driver picking me up tomorrow. Me alone in the penisberg...lol. Nice gift for a 30 year old. (wretch vomit....) A 30 year old, with one child, one absent baby daddy, one house. one flat, 1 car, 1 shrink doctor lawyer dentist hairstylist, 1 head and heart full of holes , 1 job, 8 paintings, hundreds of books and millions of thoughts each more difficult to bring to life than the other.  Yeah!

 

 

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So this is how it happened, after months and months of flirting, one disastrous date turned great, some wine and whining it finally happened. It was great.  Slap bang in the middle of the day, can you believe it, sneaking away from work, a little lunch time fornication in my ex boss's house!  Yes I know what you're thinking and yeah you are right but it had to happen - it was another one of those sticky JHB afternoons, where you wish for the relief of a wet winter wind.

It was fab, it was great and dare I say finally worth the wait. But wait there is more. A little birdie mentioned to me that a night or two before our daring deed he had apparently entertained a girl up in the same spot and to top it all - she is a screamer!  Note I say is and not was. I was devastated but I pretended not to care.

So what, right, we made no promises I said to the vindictive little birdie with her big ass and bigger mouth. She snarled at me, so I straightened my back and launched into a scathing attack on her for blabbing out, hoping to make it clear to her that I am not interested in such news plus that I will never and have no intentions on this boy of dubious principles. I tried to walk away back straight but felt weighed down by the news of his betrayal.  So I slumped back to my office, my desk faced his. All the signs were there man; he could not keep his hands off me? He called me regularly; this was coming on for a while? What is it with me? What do I want? I am getting too old for this shit right?

What did you think he is only with you? Do you think he was waiting only for you? I told you - you will crush, don't trust, don't! - overbearing often right inner dialogue.

Now I lay in my double bed- a single girl still, it's another hot afternoon and my mind wanders - thoughts of him and the screamer, how often did it happen? I cant bring myself to ask him (I said to him once that we are either walking away from something or towards it- people our age - he said its complicated and left it there) Torture me now why don't you. Plus he is a Libra boy, hulle is die regte players of the Z. Bet Hugh Hef is a L. Has 3 women fighting for his approval and attention. He died and went to heaven in the 70's!

Does he like it when she screams?  He said once that he doesn't have good conversations with her, vindictive little birdie said she was a looker, a screaming creaming looker that has little to say.  Is that what he wants, I talk so much. At what point do I throw in the towel here. I wait for the phone to ring, hear his voice in my head mull over conversation and yes, check his phone when he is not looking. I don't mind admitting it. I know its bad but hey, I cant loose my heart again to a smooth talking brown skin who will gobble up my affection and straw out his - This girl is not throwing her pearls to the swines no more, not even for a little lunch time rendezvous, there is too much at stake.

Straightening my back, strengthening my resolve, putting my records on, cooking meals for one! Content, happy.  Switching off my phone, hold the image of the boy of my dreams in my mind, breath in, breath out. 5...4...3...2...1...whoosh, he is gone!

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So the reason I've been silent for so long is simply because so much has happened in such a short space of time, I needed time to process it all. I have and here goes. This revolution has not been televised.

Its Sunday afternoon, I am swimming in box wine, red, my flat is silent.  The eerie stillness unnerves me; I look at myself in the mirror for some company. "I have grown so accustomed to her face".  Everything from where I work to that I am having sex has changed. Things seem certain now; I signed a contract and am now working in Pretoria. Pretoria.  I am a permanent employee, pension, medical aid the works.  Sent my little girl and nanny to CT for a two week break and so that I may adjust to the new environment, I am going to move here. I like the trees, they are colorful.

This last time has been tough; I got by on a (chicken) wing and a prayer! I handled my business though, after being told I would be retrenched from company run by monkey ball mad MD (who incidentally is now called Aero - long story) with bad suits and worse ideas to being employed in semi kushy kinda government ish job...last day at monkey house was Friday.  First day new job Monday - that's today.  I handled my business.

After sharing with you the fact that I hated my new MD so, at the time I wrote this entry (Saturday morning) I wanted to report that he had significantly dropped off my YUCK radar.  I was going to tell you that I have had a real conversation with him. That he has great taste in wine and that I was happy to consider him as an acquaintance.  That was until Sunday morning around 3.40am. You see that was the time I arrived home with his very tipsy fiancé, very petit, wears glasses, sexy in a naughty teacher or PA way.  We trawled the street of JHB in search of that elusive GLG (good looking guy) that would curl our toes and make us loose our very loose (thank the wine) resolve.  Everything about us screamed we are available - we want to have fun.

He probably smelt it at the door, he arrived a few moments after we did and I was already in my panties and one of his giant shirts. Sipping the good wine from the cellar when he plonked an Aero in front of me. Already giddy with wine, feeling super sexy and unfulfilled as the night produced nothing more than numbers from boys - who I could easily forget I latched onto the Aero with expert precision.  I waited until he left, to check on his monkey balls stash probably and by the time he returned I had nibbled the edge off the slim brown chocolate!

He came into the kitchen, said - who ate my choc, I said it was me with a what are you going to do about it grin, he stormed out of the house and returned shortly after with a new Aero, I started getting the feeling that shit was going to happen and prepared my waif-ish friend, I told her that he will probably over react and that she must not be afraid.  I know how to deal with bullies.  I was really not afraid. He came back and started swearing at me, I stopped him in his tracks and told him that he is not allowed to speak to me or any other woman like that, to which he jumped up and rushed over to me, he said get out of my house right now, I said, you over sensitive petty prick, I don't need to be told twice, you may have dominion in this house prick face but you have none out there.  I then took off his shirt and threw it at him. Stood in my panties and bra while I told him that tomorrow he will regret this but that I understand he is not all there (saw him taking a batch of about 7 pills - for depression just moments before - sore point) I said that once the pills set in, he will realize the error of his ways but that it would be too late.  I said: Fu**k you and the horse you rode on you overbearing pile of puke and left.   Perhaps it's a good thing that he is not my boss anymore!

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There is this feeling I get, hard to explain but the other morning in made me smile. It was such a familiar feeling it felt like an old friend popping by to say hello, disappearing before we had the time for a real chat. Poignant feeling. I say feeling but it actually was an image made up of only words, go with me here, the image is of my thumb and forefinger pinching together. As if I am holding onto something, a thin thread, on the other end (invisible to me) is something so big and the part I am holding onto is so very small that it feels like an orange on a tooth pick. I woke up with the feeling in the corner of my right eye. I focussed in on it; half awake half asleep and smiled. It felt good, yes disconcerting but familiar and funny, like funny money. 

The harder I pinched the more ludicrous the gesture, but it was held in imbalance. Me pinching an invisible lump that could at any minute flop over but somehow I knew it would not. At that moment, the only thing that kept the perfect imbalance was my inconsequential pinch.

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Rich was on the road to destruction. He had done so much he was proud of and even more he was not proud of. Those things ate at him, chomped away his dignity little by little.

He started out his journey to grandma's house as we all do with a big smile, lots of energy and a basket packed with delectable goodies and great ideas. En route he met the wolf. Suffice to say towards the tail end of the journey Richard exchanged his good ideas and ambitious ideals for salacious exchanges with this wolf he had fallen for. This wolf drove him to drink and fuck and hurt and howl at the moon and shy away from the sun. I saw him sometimes, using the shadow of dark alleys as a veil. He would take comfort in the ridiculous. The more he exchanged himself for the wolf the more he found himself alone.  Alienated.

Until the morning his flat mate found him shivering beneath filthy duvets and soiled sheets. The rest of the dank den was not unusually untidy; his friend saw a pool of blood near the basin in the bathroom. There was no bath only bloody finger prints on the wall, which his elderly aunt had to later remove whilst they were dealing with the preparations.  The metalic smell of blood mixed with handy andy tickled the back of her throat.  His flat mate yelled something at Rich, something usual, something like, why is this place looking like a pigsty and we cant live like this.  Thenhe decided to take a nap, thinking Rich too intoxicated to respond. Irritated that his life had come to this. Having to shack up with a friend that leaves pools of blood in front of the basin, that can't be bothered to pick up the chairs and pieces of glass. Irritated that this was a reflection of himself, a visualisation of all that must change. Of his mind. He left Rich to sleep. Rich never woke again. His friend did though, he woke up still angry at Rich but a little concern was creeping into the corners of his mind. He went over to the bed. Shook Rich and pulled off the blankets when he felt Richard's temperature. He was ice cold. Like the beer he loved to drink. Ice cold but the shivering had stopped. That's when he noticed the tear in his shirt and then in his skin. A small incision no bigger than the tip of a blade. Panicked he called another friend. At this point we all wondered, why not call the police?

His elderly aunt wondered later why not be shocked to see all this blood?

The other friend told friend number 1 to come over and have a cup of tea. Tea?

Could it have been the cup of tea, the shower he had, the fact that he first went home to his parents' house for some food, all this time Rich too weak to ask for help lies covered in filth and muck bleeding to death.

Could that time wasted have killed Rich, or this vicious tip of the blade wedged into his innards? Surely a little stab wound could not have caused that much damage. Sure.

All the while Rich is floating in and out of consciousness. Wrestling with his wolf. Begging him to leave this hollowed out den and let the light in one last time.

Some lair using animals build their lairs while others use hollows which occur naturally. Rich was a hollow that I occurred naturally. I loved him, I miss him. Rest in peace my dear dear friend.

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Have you ever been on the verge of making a really bad decision but you are not sure just how bad it is and the only gauge you have is this gut feeling that won't go away but also does not provide any clarity either? I am there right, right now. Do I or don't I. The time really has come for me to jump but where to? If I jump will I fly?

Sometimes those who dish out advice find the pickings slim when their own need for counsel arises. I am lacking. I need counsel.  Today I need someone to rub my head and say no matter what, I will be there, go ahead jump. Today I need to know that if I jump and there is nothing there that I will fly and not fall. I have no room for error. Not an inch.

A safety net can sometimes be a good thing. Some of us have operated without this net all our lives. We defy our surrounding by pushing on regardless blindly taking great leaps of faith entrusting our fate to the known and unknown gods. We do this in complete silence and then sometimes we can be silent no more. Today I am actually not sure what my place on this planet is about. Honestly I have not felt this disassociated in a long time. I feel like a kite that been left to roam for too long and can't see the ground blinded also by the light.  Rein me in. I know what it is though, some of you know too. I need to get laid! Lol...I will level with you. I am terrible at lying; getting laid is the last thing on my mind - I need to find a new job.  Something new, something I have not actually done yet - I use to love radio but the station pickings are so poor they fluctuate between mundane and mundane. Plus I use to work in radio in CT, too much coke in that industry! I will tell all someday.  I would like to try TV but it's like you need a special pass to even whisper that desires name. I would love to have a talk show if Felicia and Noleen can what the hell!  Why cant I?  

I will call it Bruin - Ou .com

I will interview Gerry and his cat! Talk about kids smoking dagga all day, merchants, 21^st birthday planning, matric balls, taxi queens, shit men, great dads, aunties who make the best koeksisters on a Sunday morning, Alan, Chris, coloured consciousness, the new apostolics vs old apostolics, these pastors who have body guards, opportunistic politicians, deserving single moms, grand mothers, death, life and of course sex!  That would be the first week only.  We are very smart, creative, sensitive people. I will talk about my dad who died on the streets, a poet, crazy afro, tight three piece suit, factories and spring queens. We have so much to offer this country.  I hope that we achieve a greater level of visibility as a minority within my lifetime. I pledge my thoughts and talents to further that cause.

Bottom line I am bored of boring board meetings, whats the point of being on board if you have to do all the work yourself? lol. Tired of project management and being micro managed, tired of people not able to lead and not to recognise true leaders espeically those that have the balls to differ. Tired of being a girl. I have sneaky suspicion that that glass ceiling has finally made it presence felt. I see the sky beyond but it is out of my reach...time to do a quick step! At least Bruin Ou will still be here.    

 

 

 

 

 

 

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So happy birthday baby! You are all of 27 years old. Twenty years plus seven just to rub it in. My mind boggles. Just yesterday we were playing cricket in the yard with a palletjie for a bat and tennis ball instead of the real deal. Aargh never mind those balls were too hard anyway.  We watched karate kid together and for weeks were practising moves on the lawn. Our game "take your best shot", remember I would say those words and then you would punch me as hard as you can. I know now that we were practising.  It made us stronger against the blows later.  Just yesterday I saw you paining over Boet en Saartjie sounding out the words silently to yourself, desperately trying to memorise them. Scared cause mommy was gonna test you later and if you got it wrong whack you over the head with that flat ruler over there!  Those were the days we lived in that space. In the caravan where we slept next to each other well beyond the point of decency. You never complained though. We just got by.

You are a married man now, you have 2 children, 1 more than me and only 1 truly is your blood. I am proud that you treat both equally. He never gave us that opportunity. I know not knowing your father always bothered you, but you never complained. Do you remember when we moved to Delft into that small house - seemed like a mansion to us then. We had two rooms to choose from but night after night we chose to sleep in one space. All of us and when Nikki was born - how we hated her. Teased her until she cried, she was his favourite.  Then came Marc and Jayson and all of us cramped into that small space, that claustrophobic cramped caravan.  We never brought friends home, he was always at home and well...it was not really a home. So you were my best friend growing up. We shared everything. Even when I wanted to bunk school cause Mr Herbert told the class on Friday that we should not even bothered coming to school unless our books were cover with plastic and brown paper, you supported me. You were only sub B. We bought train tickets and went straight to the city. I remembered from my last journey and took you through the tunnel. I was scared but I did not show it. You were so brave. We spent hours walking around town and going to the museum. The whale sounds in that yellow drum. The Khoi-San exhibition had us in stitches! Convinced that it was actually Uncle Billy and aunty Stienie! Then home. On the same train, we bunked for a week. Still the best week of my life and I am so grateful to have shared it with you.

His voice would make you shiver and Tes, I am sorry...

I should have protected you, but I was scared too. I still have nightmares about the time he threw you tiny body against the four walls of his mother's house. Everybody just stared frozen solid mouth agape.  Horror does that to you. Nobody moved a muscle not even the air moved, only dust speckles mixed with tears and your saliva droplets and his wretched stinking sweat locked into a morbid dance. Your tears and high pitched screams ringing in my head. My Baby!  You don't know this Tes but I ran around the corner to get mom just as fast as I could and she came just as fast as she could. I felt like Lassie - unable to speak I could just point and silent tears betraying the urgency of the matter. Your face was all swollen and you were broken, baby, I am so sorry. FUCK!

We breathe in energy and light, positivity and hope surrounded by loves whitest light.

We breathe out memories of pain and hurt and anger and blows and fists and blood and fright.

I cry openly now in memory of that little boy you were and laugh with that same open heart thinking of how we have grown and moved and shifted beyond the pain. You are a miracle Tes and I love you.

You could have used the excuse of his abuse to waste your life and throw away your future. You came through, baby you came through. Now he can't work anymore, he is tired and his fists are relaxed. Did her remember how he treated you when you were a child, when you were the breadwinner in the house years later? Does he sleep at night? You can, you should sleep a warriors sound sleep.

May your boys, both of them, grown up to adore you, may your wife treat you as a king. May her family respect and nourish you and when you look in the mirror may the reflection you see bring joy unto your soul. For you are truly beautiful. Happy Birthday day.

TM

   

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I am a dreadful procrastinator, I wait until the very last minute before the shit actually hits the fan and then I spring into action and execute. That is one thing I will change about myself. Another is my heavy thighs; I would make them maar boure! Don't get me wrong it is masterfully hidden behind layers of muscle thanks to the thigh master but it is there nonetheless.  Just waiting to explode, smiling at me after one too many Marie biscuits or a few Copenhagen's...    

I have quit smoking; truthfully I am only smoking 1 ciggie per day. That one-a-day is reminding me how much I really hate it. The real acid test will come when I go to Katzy's on Thursday and have a few glasses of wine.  The point is - there's always something to change, something we can improve on, have more or less of and deciding what to do first can take up a whole lot of time.

My dancer friend - in turmoil - going through a divorce as we speak, does not know where to begin.  He has lost everything, his kids, his fully personalised home, his massive Nigerian drum in the garden, his garden, his sense of purpose and in all honesty he has lost all direction.  He is selling his restaurant (there goes my hopes of being ravished on a butchers block!), he has lost a lot of weight and is quite literally half the man he use to be.  Divorce hurts and there is no getting away from it. Not the same kind of hurt as splitting up after a long relationship, I'm not trivialising shit either pain is pain but divorce - it wounds you in some of the deepest crevices of your being.  It actually does not matter how long you were married, how rich you were, how much love you had for each other, kids or no kids when you stand up in court and admit to making a mistake, to being wrong, to wanting nothing - NOTHING further to do with this being you once loved - it hurts.

I am like a magnet for pain. I find it and it finds me. Use to take that pain inside myself but I have learnt. No sir, not anymore.  Perhaps this is why I am still without a lover after all this time, lots of people are hurting and lots of people are lost.

What do I do first? How do I prioritise? He asked me this question on Friday and I could see that no matter what I said - he would have to come up the answer himself to fully understand and believe.  He just used me as a sounding board, I was happy to oblige - so I try to say the most out there thing. Eat raw vegetables I told him.  Ingest life. Think of the concept of low hanging fruits; take what is within reach now. Move on it.  At that point I moved in a little closer. Take me...my heart pounded. There is no stopping the woman in me sometimes. He looked at me - I took his hand. Ingest life I intoned, dropping my voice to just below earshot. Trying to reach his soul I whispered. Ingest life and learn to love, not another but yourself. Ingest life and learn to love not another but love yourself.

I think I got through to him, he lightened up. He glowed a little. Then the phone rang - his soon to be ex wife. As if by some emotional beacon she was notified that he was starting to become light, he was starting to lift away from then pain suffering and strife and she was not ready to let him go.  When we hurt we want others to hurt just as much to validate our pain, we will share sorrow faster that joy and it should be the other way round.  He answered the call. Clunk!

He dropped down again into the valley that has now become his home. The years of pain piling onto him like wet blankets thick and uncomfortable smothering him.  By the time the 30second call ended he had forgotten what I had said, what he was beginning to believe. We had to start all over again. No worry dancer, I have no where else I would rather be. You are worthy to be healed and loved for no good reason and you are special. Dancer you are special.

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I am stuck. There is so much to tell you right now although excruciatingly little has happened. Most of the things are happening in my head. My thoughts are mulling over and over, they are tormenting me, twirling and twisting some pleasant some wretched. I want to call him; I want to ask him if we could go for another walk. I want to confess that I am falling for him.  The thought of him. That his face is the first I see when I wake and the last I recall before I go to sleep. That I can't eat and I can't sleep anymore. I want to tell him to hold me again and never let me go, to go ballistic for love.  But I won't.  I have done this before, played my hand a split second too soon and other times a few moments too late. This balancing act is killing me. Show interest, but not too much, don't scare him. Why do boys scare so easily?

It was a very hot day, a Saturday in February. The MEC's wife and former (sacked) Mayor of a small W C Municipality were to pick me up from home at 8:00am. We were going to a funeral of one of their comrade's and the only reason I went is so I could listen to Boesak speak. He is most dangerous from that pulpit. By 10am we were ushered into a small community church hall. VIP's on the left and the rest of the community on the right. My companions were obviously classified celebrities by association and although I felt uncomfortable with such distinctions at a funeral service I said nothing. I took my seat next too another (also sacked) former Mayor of a small WC municipality and he proceeded to pour his heart out to me about how unfairly he had been treated by his friends- the politico's. We are at a funeral you self absorbed prick - I thought but again, I am ashamed to admit, did not say!

In these municipalities mayors are dime a dozen and the novelty soon wears off when you roll with these folks and realise they are more messed up that average citizen. No sense of morality, no lines to cross, no internal GPS tracking system - no idea of right and wrong. They are in this game for themselves. To make profit, to feather nests, create opportunities for friends and to f**ck, each other themselves the community. I hate politicians and I hate their games even more. 

So I am grinding my teeth wondering when the highlight of this low light is going to make an appearance. I jump at every opportunity to hear Alan speak. He gives me chills.  His collection of love poetry in Afrikaans is a must read. A must.  He finally takes the stage and speaks after the exec chair, the premier, a few MEC's all of them occupying the front row on the left. Family of the deceased seated front row on the right.  He makes a quick scan of the audience and then begins. He launches into the VIP's seated in the rows to the left. Accuses them of not delivering on their mandate to make a better life...for all, I get the chills. "Ons dogters is nie HOERE nie he bellows," a comment on the increase of prostitutes on the N7.  The front row VIP's start to squirm.

All the while this is happening my eye is drawn to a short little man in an expensive suit. His son by his side, their exchange is so tender my heart wants to break. I see he is bruised, I think he needs healing. I focus all my positive energy into the back of his neck. I take the chills and translate them into love, the purest love for him. I have never spoken to him. I can't tell you who he is.

I am exhausted by the end of the day and like always I am smitten, still have not spoken to him but I want to love him, I know love can heal him.  A few weeks later we go out, in the safety of a group but I get to speak to him finally. He is tiny, his hands petite his mouth round. His hair curls impossibly and his mind fascinates me.  A few weeks later we are alone in a room. We listen to orchestral music, we smuggle on his luxurious couch overlooking the sea sipping a bad red.  I shower so does he, I tell him about my heart and he places all his cards on the coffee table for me. She hurt him, he loves his kids. He confesses. He cries, he shudders and we make our way to the bedroom.  The sheets seem foreign int this room, too bland for one so smart, he is reading a book, a bad one, his ex wife had read before she dumped him - he is still trying to understand her.  The first glimmer of concern is raised within my mind.

He whispers huskily, voice thick with lust, that this is all he had wanted for the longest time. I think it is the first of many and give him everything in my repertoire. Everything, I hold nothing back. My heart is at peace as he curls into me. I feel content and fly off to Oslo the next evening convinced I would see him again. Make love again. Hold him again.  And that just never happened. I was crushed. So utterly destroyed, I felt angry more than anything else. Why? Why say you will cook me "stamp mielies en bootjie sop" and just never answer my calls, respond to my messages and avoid me at all costs. I heard a few months later he was dating a little petit foreign girl. She was dripping in the jewellery he gave her. My heart stopped a little. I am angry, this feeling now guides my next interaction with a boy I like especially if I like him a lot.

I am going to wait to be pursued. Even if that means I loose him in the process. If he does not want me enough to chase me then he does not want me enough right? I can eat I cant sleep anymore, waiting for you to walk through the door - I wish I didn't miss you anymore!

I hate playing these games.

 

   

 

  

 

 

 

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Moodphase 5ive makes me miss Cape Town, the inner city.

When I was very very young, around 4 or 5 my dad decided to come and fetch me.  So you can imagine how excited I was.  We were going to spend the day together. Just me and him.  His afro and adidas tracksuit, me with my ponytails and polka dot summer dress.  It was to be one of the most memorable days. Even now I can smell the iron tracks of the yellow and black train snacking along. An oily scent.  Stations becoming neater and nicer the further from my stop it moved.

I feel the gentle rocking, side to side and the rhythmic pulse beating in my ear drowning out all sense of the past, of back there where you come from of Steenberg and Retreat and Lavender Hill.  Of ma and pa and mom and the other dad. Of other children and towards the new, the unknown, oh man thrilled me so...

Sound like a percussions relentless beat. The fascination that each stop brings to this 3rd class carriage, new faces stepping on or off the train. Listening to their sticky footsteps shuffling towards a seat, the relief of sitting down.

Strangers scanning the carriage, approval nods or scornful sneers, a guy in a tight suit with a bible in his hand another with a chip roll.  

The fashion, the sights, sounds and smells of traveling to Cape Town city, all too thrilling for a 4 year old. One of the most remarkable sights was the station platform itself. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the dim lights. Having grown accustomed to the gentle rocking - like a slow predictable roller coaster ride, the sensation of walking was suddenly awkward.

I remember holding onto my dad's hand, trembling slightly as those same strangers now less strange because we were travel companions, eyes still glazed over absorbed in their own thoughts pushed past me, nearly knocked me of course. All of us moving in the same direction like herd. A herd of people of the unknown.

Then I saw it. The Tunnel. It was to change my life. I believed with all my heart that I would change when I get to the other side. And I did. My love for the city center was born. My relationship with the city has matured since. Those streets have seen me dressed, undressed, drunk, ecstatic and depressed in more ways than any human ever had. I loveit, I hate it, it gave me freedom and smothered me. I starved on those streets and fed from its rich cultcha reserves. Its not as cosmopolitan as people think. Most people dont know what cosmopolitan is.

cape town just is.

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The day I told M that I would marry him if he asked was the day I knew my life would change forever. It did. He asked a few months later, he took me to a forest went down on one knee; I was unprepared for it so I dropped down on my knees too. It must have looked real funny, two grown ass people kneeling in front of each other in a forest! The ring he had designed especially for me was simple elegance and I am ashamed to admit now at first I was unimpressed, how ungrateful of me to say that but I promised to tell the truth here, it was a sapphire with 2 diamonds on either side and it was snug. I must have the smallest finger circumference; we had to have it resized twice. The ring was the last thing on my mind though because by the time I got up off my knees in that forest I was engaged to be married to a wonderful man. M, kind, gentle, good looking, caring, intelligent and generous in every way. He was a renderer and architect, he designed a Hertz building.  He was tall with a strong face, square jaw and regal nose with the bluest eyes you have ever seen.

His mouth puckered the way only an Irish mouth can and he had dimples when he spoke and none when he laughed. His fingers were long and strong, like a pianist.  He loved me with all his heart and I him. We spent a few weeks in Paris and Ireland and by the time we got back to CT I was convinced my life would be wonderful. We got married. The band arrived an hour early and decided to dig into the spit braai before the guests arrived. Even now whenever Russ sees me (saxophonist) he proceeds to tell all within earshot about my wedding, my big fat coloured wedding.

Now because I decided to get married in Franschoek and arranged everything myself including arranging the transport for the family to get there, come the morning of my big day I was exhausted. My dress, designed by P Van Zyl, fit thankfully and my hair was in a million ringlets and unfortunately the florist went a haywire with the flower tiara which looked more like a bush halo but it was too late to change. I was rushed off my feet, between trying to ensure the family got there to trying to ensure my stepdad arrived late so my grand pa could walk me down the aisle. I tell you, I understand what mediating peace in Zim must be like! My real dad also made an appearance - him I told before hand that he could not take me down the aisle cause - well - that privilege should go to someone who actually played a meaningful role in my life.

So I had my brothers and grandfather walk me down the stony path towards the thatched structure where the makeshift pastor waited at the makeshift alter, my heart was beating noisily in my chest. I remembered I had not eaten.  The blood was rushing to my eardrums I can't even remember what music was played as I walked towards M. He looked awkward in a suit. He smiled lovingly when my grandpa handed me over to the man who would be my husband forever. Forever - the moment had arrived where before God and my family I would swear to love and cherish him forever. The blood pounded in my ears. Forever! It echoed it my head I could barely make out what the pastor was saying, I knew he was saying it in flat accent.

Somewhere something moved, my eye was drawn to the lake, it rushed past on the crisp October afternoon. It had somewhere to be, somewhere, anywhere but not here at my wedding. I shifted position again, I really should have eaten. I started sweating profusely and I was bitterly cold all over. I transferred the weight onto my other leg that's when I realised I was actually swaying. I looked down, someone had thrust a ring into my finger and M had his hand stretched out towards me. The words I heard myself say ricocheted in my head.  It started and I knew when it did, there is no stopping it once it gets past a certain point. I was about to faint. 

The back of my head dragging to the front - I could feel every fibre, time stretched, everything in slow motion, my breathing quickens and in the corner of my eye - the vision starts to fade. The black out! I fainted right there in front of everyone as I was putting the ring on his finger. I collapsed. Seconds later - felt like hours later I jumped up, hysterically yelled "I am not pregnant!" and was passed a glass of water...some sense of normality returned and the ceremony continued. I was glowing.

In a nutshell the rest of the day was no less eventful. My mom and dad got into such a moerse fight they had to physically restrained, one of my uncles wet himself in the taxi going home cause he got so drunk on the wine, my grand mother flirted with Kessivan (the drummer) and my grandpa threatened to kill him. All in all a wonderful event. Can't wait to do it again.

 

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