Letters from the Village..

Finally.
Only a day away.
But i on some cosmic level might just miss the village.
watching soccer with the dad and brother..
god knows i hate soccer... even now. I just pretend to love it.
But the men have nice hair. So its worth while on some gay level.

That last bit was totally unnecessary but felt needed.

Anyway, lets just get one thing straight.. the letter N wont be.
Cause if you lose the N.. life becomes tedious and harder than child birth.
more trouble than breast-feeding as man, and as difficult as drinking wine from a saucer.

okay, once more.. the last comparison is not as hard. but is annoying..


I am on my way home tomorrow, without a functioning Blackberry.
And god knows that seems horrid.
the idea frightens me..
Okay, i dont need it on the flight.. or before or after..
but it feels like you do, understand?
no?
well, whatever then..


I have learnt in the last few days, whom my true friends are.
the ones who tried to speak to me, and succeeded cause the refused to give up.
Be it through facebook, twitter, msn, yahoo chat, email or bbm/text/phone call.
I love you all to bits and pieces. more bits than pieces.

I am having a glass of wine, and talking to some lovely people.
cant wait to see you all again.

Now, my time in the village went from horrid, to okay, to horrid, to lovely to okay again.
I am working on a new short story. finished a chapter in my "book" (which seems to be deleting itself cause of my horrid writing) and wrote a new poem.
very productive for me, considering i spent only a week here.
it usually takes AGE for me to write a single thing, but the seclusion and so forth has really forced me to focus on these horrid little hobbies.

Anyway,
my blackberry is being replaced.
im going home, i miss the pollution and love so much.
its crazy.
GIVE ME SOME FUCKING BOX WINE.. im so over the organic kind..

seriously considering becoming vegan for a while, and if that works, a permanent switch, no?
Which would be hard, since my family practically live around the stove..
and oils, meats and creams/eggs are always there..
But shall see.


Now, the new poem? maybe?
okay then.

Subway.

I have loved you,
once before.
but that was on a subway, and your coat was different.
way different than the rag you wear now.
But i still love you.
even though you feel ashamed,
even though you feel different.

I remember the sweaty twirls,
Large women in even larger sun flower print dresses.
The men, slick haired and ready to pounce,
Un-aware of you, or even me.
Dancing daringly.
Covered in blue pansy’s and poppies,
Large women should not wear flowers.
Government gardens look better.

I remember,
The dirty nailed days of scratching the kitchen tables,
Begging an un-known god to let you win,
Even once would be enough for you.
One win in the card game.
Your mother would not understand.
And your brother would sit there,
Stunned and speechless.
Then the next hand will be dealt.

Life has moved on.
Bus tickets have changed.
The subway has covered more ground,
More km’s than most would in their lives.
But i still miss you.
And your coat.
Even though now it is nothing more than a rag.
And dirty cloth, tattered and torn.

I still love you though,
And i wish you would answer more often.



Love fookers
<3

Blackberry you bloody bastard.

So,
day was spent lovingly staring and doing nothing..
until the house repair man came.


But, i write this entry and super anger.. enraged by technology once more.
FUCK YOU BLACKBERRY.

Just randomly, my phone decides to go all uncontrollable rabies victim on me.
Im the fucking victim here.. i poor my heart into the bloody phone.. everything i need.. from email to sms.. my friends talk to me when i decide to move to a village like an idiot..

and like a naught and grateful child it decides to seize function in its N button..
Now, you dont know the value of an N until you lose the damn thing!
So then decided the track pad.. to not be a push down button anymore.. douche.
Followed by the bad ass on and off and no button.. now i have to take my battery out to turn it on and off.
there goes menu? Unless he feels like working, he doesnt.
So,
dear blackberry.
fuck you.


and when i take it in, and you tell me its water-damage.. god know ill be peeing all over your stock. thats water damage.
Who the fuck showers with a phone?
Its not near water.
i dont go to the beach.. i hate the sun.
i dont swim? im fat.
I dont bath with my phone.. cause thats reading time, and rare.
i shower.. and no fucking idiot showers with a phone.
or danced in the rain with it, or does sprinkler running with their boyfriend blackberry 8520.. NO ONE.
But the creator does maybe. Cause i swear to you if i hand my phone in with 3rd degree burn wounds.. they will say water damage.
fuck..

i need my phone,
i have become that dependent prick who need a phone to breath.
i miss bbm.. and free facebook.
i miss the cool texting and the tweeting.
blackberry. work. i beg.
for without you, my half life become a quarter and i am forced to become a human again.. to live a life without.. issues and drama or free internet.
WORK FUCK..

or else is shall show you swimming..
and then, and only then can you blame water damage for all your wrong.


Love
fook.

hold on to your blackberry.
its a lifestyle.

fuck.

confusion you amiable bastard.

ages.
it feels like AGES have passed since i have set foot outside of this "village" called Balito..
There is nothing here..
some people dont even speak i assume..
we have a spar and a spur and something that seems to be a gay bar that is NEVER open.
So i dont know.

But i have to have some fun here. its supposedly a "holiday" no?

Don't you just hate it when someone takes your friendship, of years of course.. and shoves that shit in your face like a bad towel or with the intent to knock you out and sell your half pickled liver to a nigerian.. and then turns around and pretends its all good cause they are to high on their horses to admit their wrongs?
its kinda gets me all emotional and silly.

But whatever hey? eventually you have to accept that however you might be so totally and disgustingly in love with someone, married or not.. that you are still just you.. alone.
if you fall asleep next to someone, inside someone, on-top or below someone, you are still just you.. alone.. right inside that little place that supposedly matters.
But meh ..
enough of this.

Existential life crisis anyone?
Yay!
Its almost like the rice crisis, just real.
and with less chinese people involved...


So, as i sit here, next to an open front door cause conveniently thats where the internet is place.. you can tell im in a village..
they internet would get stolen if you put it in the front room in pretoria.. or anywhere else.
I need the pollution. thank you.
Its also the coldest part of the house.. which is supposed to stop me from being online all night..and day..
fail.

i refuse to go outside.. the sun is to strong.
the people to few
and the opportunities to little.

someone hand me some wine?
thanks.


I love the confused feeling you get when you dont really know whats going on in life?
Understand? When you are not sure whether you are doing the right thing, saying the right things? drinking your drink or the odd fat bald man next to you in the bars? Are you sleeping or are you awake?
Should you secretly eat that tart or shouldn't you? And im not talking second cousin twice removed tart.. i mean like jam tart.. or victorian sleeping cake.
kidding.. its fucking horrible.



Now, as much fun as this was to write.
i see now point in where it is heading?
I have lost the gift of rambling once more.
great.

Oh god.. robby ray has an annoying voice..
someone? anyone?
Silence him with dignity and love?

okay,
smile fookers.
lifes to short to care whos drink it is.
and confusion should be embraced..

im pretty sure your parents where confused when you came out a boy/girl anyway..
and turned out as you did. joke. the last part at least.. about turned out as you did..


love.
peace
smile
fook.
;]

Blow that fookin Vuvuzela one more time.. die..

IT IS HERE.. we all know.


So,
you wake up to the sound of Vuvuzela's, at 7:30.. in a neighbor hood? Not near a stadium or even a fifa parking lot?
Why?
I get that you feel the 'gees' and what not.. but cant you feel it at 9? Will that kill you?

To the next person who blows a Vuvuzela near me before 9 : I honestly hope you get a lip disease that becomes life threatening for the duration of the world cup..
mean. i know, but honestly.. get real.

I am not against the world cup, i do not hate the idea of the gees and the fun.. but there is no need to become stark raving mad.. unless you wear it well.
and most people do not.



Moving on.

I will fix this up later.. or not..

Things are not always what they are.

"In real life, unlike in Shakespeare, the sweetness of the rose depends upon the name it bears"

When i wake up, every morning i am supposed to be grateful for surviving another day,
but i never seem to be able to. Because when i wake up in the morning, my first thought always is, ugh.. just a few more minutes. To do what exactly?
To sleep away another few, however brief they might be, minutes of life, that i could have used way more effectively?
Or is this because sub-consciously i honestly do not want to face the day, or "life" that waits for me. Every morning.

When i sat down to write this blog post, my initial title was "life is as sure as you are" which after writing the first part of this post, which i can honestly say was written while i was sitting here, and not mediated upon. Cause thats how i roll.
seems depressing.
But then again.. the new title and direction this post seems to be taking is also, very much depressing.. though uplifting in some way.

For years i have lived, waiting.. always waiting for something to happen. I do art, and then wait for it to happen. I write poetry, then wait for it to happen. I finish a poem which i can say i am proud of, and then i lock it up in some file on the computer. What do i expect? That some publisher will hack into my computer to read my work and then steal it? And when i wake up tomorrow morning, not wanting to face the day, or just not wanting to wake up, i will pick up my blackberry and find an email from a publishing house begging me to publish my work? Promising me that i can have my first collection or novel or whatever it might be published as i want to? With the best media coverage and a promise of a great career. Instead of actually trying to get out there, i wait. We all wait.
When we wake up, we immediately start with wait. We want to wait a few more minutes before we get up, and in those shy minutes before we are 100% awake, we think only of the madness they day hold for us, and how we wish we were still asleep.
We dream of it.

Reality in a sense, is the small little grey area between black and white.. its the link between fantasy worlds and the one we call real. Its being unsure, its wanting to wait, but not doing it. Its trying your best. Reality is failing and falling and hurting. But its also receiving, and love and hope. Reality is the small tiny little piece of our brains that doesn't exist, it just is.

Exams have been tedious, they have been fun and humiliating and agonizing and in some sick way, enjoyable. testing. with no pun intended.
But the life surrounding the exams, have been horribly plain.
Fights between "friends" over the silliest things ever. Annoying.
Needy people, clingy people. If you cant stand on your own, then you will forever be leaning on someone else, and eventually they wont allow it anymore. So for fucks sake, GET YOUR OWN FEET.. thanks.
The worst part about feeling like someone is constantly leaning on you, the person knows, they know they are leaning on you, but pretend not too.

Now, a poem :

Untitled.
"It is your time.
The eyes, fear filled, tear filled.
You skip a beat, like a heart.
But you do not die.
Oh god, you do not die!

The apple tree, it is in full blossom.
But they will never see its fruits,
Ripe and juicy.
They never lift their faces that high.
Their eyes scan the ground,
Searching.

Missing pieces of memory,
Or small change.
No one knows.
But Oh god, they search!

And in the lost darkness,
The shining faces of the missing
Fade out the moons lights.
And Oh god, the worlds."

Any ideas for titles? No? okay then.

I have been here, once or twice before in my life.
Where you realize that you should actually do what you want.
Don't just sit there and wait like a fucking idiot. Get up, and do something.
Paint, and show it to people. Write, and join a writing guild/site.
Cry, and dont be shy about it. Cuss as loud as you want, someone will understand you.
Believe in yourself, no one else will unless you do first. Love, god knows it doesnt hurt unless you fuck up. so dont.
Trust, because you might get hurt by the ones you trust, but it hurts more to never be trusted.

On the other news :

Emilie Autumn was mentioned in an article on grammy.com.
Pretty cool. right?

Now, i have to concentrate on History and my Art concept.. the title is "reality"
and i do not know where to begin. And that might just be an idea in itself.

Smile fook.
Your only here once.. might as well have some fun.

<3