Man survives for 70 years without food and water.

Yeah.
You read that right..
Complete bosh if you ask me. but ok, seems like he did it.

Now, the soccer world cup. (yes, even I dare talk of this).
(un-expected right?)
So, i will keep my opinion short. And bitter-sweet.

Unless they hurry like crazy, its is going to be a complete mess.
And, the fact that they are building all these nice monuments and shit, doesnt make the place look any prettier? In fact, the pretty shit that they are constructing at the moment, makes the rubbish, dirt and homeless people next to the road stand out even more.
HELLO GOVERNMENT : Move the homeless into some sort of home, and clean the streets up.. (fountains has that nice little "reserve") - dont tell me the entrance money makes enough to support even the guards..

THE PLACE IS PRETTY AS IT IS. (south africa that is)



Ok. over it.

In other news,
I found this new site, called erepublik and its amazing.. Join it.
They just dont allow me to heal. -___-,, fook.

This is all for now..
update later..

silly phantomlock on this pc makes it unable for me to access any websites worth anything..
like the new Emilie Autumn Interview in Bizare!

On my laptop now! So i can update and see whatever i want too ;]
yayay.

Evelyn and Evelyn.. amongst other..

First of all.
I hated not writing for a few days,
BUT i have been rather busy. And rather un-inspired.

However, rediscovering my love for certain musical artist, as well as discovering a few new ones. Has given me ground to write about..

Evelyn and Evelyn.. By the way Amanda Palmer talks of them on her tweets, blog etc. They seem like real twin sisters joined at the hip. The story behind them is so unreal, you dont even consider doubting it.
And then i realized, what the fuck? They are fake.
BUT STILL BRILLIANT.
So i google a bit, read a few blogs and some comment. And people seem a bit upset?
Why the hell? They calling it Ableism and what not. Amanda Palmer is an artist folks. She shocks and awes us, this is why we love her. And the simplicity of her art in my opinion in creating these twins, were brilliant? To me it says, we were all so awed and inspired by the idea of her helping these two physically disabled sad girls get a chance, that we thought it was brilliant. If they were not physically disabled we would not have reacted in the same way? We would not have thought the act so amazing.
But we did. We thought it was amazing how Amanda carelessly gave these two girls a chance at a musical career was inspiring and amazing. The only reason we reacted like this though, was because they were physically disabled.

If it was just a person with no physical or mental disability, we would have thought awe, how nice of her. And other things like this..

The creation of Evelyn and Evelyn to me says, fuck this. We are all the same. We root for the underdog cause we think its right. Not because we actually care. We root for the disabled twins getting their chance, because they are disabled. Not because we thought they were talented. Because many people already went on gloating sprees saying how great it is that girls with such sad lives get chances etc etc.
If they were not "physically disabled" we would have not been that supportive until we heard music.

So in my personal opinion, calling Amanda Palmer a Ableist because of the evelyn evelyn project is both silly and not thought through.

Next, i also found a strange love for Swedish singer, Lykke Li.
For some reason her soft air-like voice and amusing lyrics just caught my attention.

Anyway,
The weather today was, well. Confusing. yet, lovely.

Cant wait for the weekend.

Love.
Smile.
Fook <3

Follow Amanda Palmer on Twitter

Iceland. Ireland.

So.
What with another eruption in Iceland happening.
And me still being stuck in South Africa.
Oh the joys. I log onto my twitter account (ok so i went on the blackberry application) and guess what? Amanda FUCKING Palmer is stuck on the airport in Reykjavik.
Lucky Bitch..

Those of us who are born Icelanders at soul, are still stuck here?

However...
Ireland seems to be getting closer.
Or maybe only in my dreams.
But i still see that little shop and the wonderful times i will have with my best friend. I see them so vividly its like i have experienced them already.
Which brings up another idea, maybe i have.
Maybe in my previous live i have experienced all of this.
All the joy that get allocated to one person across the span of ALL their lives.
Maybe now the distant thought of Ireland and Iceland are exactly that..
Distant thoughts of a times i once had.

I pray to the goddess that they are not.

Anyway,
Ever heard or Amanda Palmer?
Look for her. Amazing. Ukulele lady! <3.

The tourism of these volcanos are amazing for iceland.
Hope it continues.
But i also hope that iceland will be happy and successful again.

One day i will return..

This is all for tonight.
I will now retire to my room, with a glass of wine and read about Malcolm X and the NSCC or whatever.

And as i have was typing this.. The eruption of the volcanos are intensifying.
Be safe country of my soul.
Be happy.
Love and Light to those there.
Fucking lucky bastards.

Volcanic Stuff

Goddess let them be safe. And let the lovely country be ok. Please.

This might just be the beggining of the end my lovely people.
The airports are closing.. people wont go anywhere. Trade will stop. Money will lose value. People will starve. We will die.

Or maybe not.

People being evacuated?
Anyone with some seriously solid information. PLEASE send me a message or something. Leave a comment. Anything.
Please?



Be good to us world. For we are not all to blame.
Love. Smile. Happiness.

Modern Hippie - and no one cares.

"Ek se dit vooruit
hard
ek staan vir niks
ek skaar my by nerens
niemand kom my naby..."
- Antjie Krog

I know who i am. And who i want to be. Or i thought i did.
I thought i knew.

I am scared. As much as i hate admitting this. Its true. I am scared, and so are you.
Or most of you.
The opening words of a poem by Antjie Krog called 1995. Today, as i sat, thinking. fearing to be truthful. These words came back to me. Haunting me.

I am a modern hippie. Most people of my age group are. We are fighting like they did, in the '60s for peace in our country. Amongst our people. Peace for us.
The generation with the answers. Fixing things we never broke. Never wanted broken.
Global Warming, Racial Hate, War..

Maybe we only want to fix these things, because we don't really understand why they started. Why the previous generation of people created these issues.
But all i know, is that i do not want to be stuck with these responsibilities.

I fear for my life. Not because i am white or afrikaans or whatever. I fear for the lives of my friends. We are all in trouble. We are all hurting because of past mistakes we weren't old enough to make. Some of us weren't even born.

We are surrounded, especially here in South Africa with questions. And not the good kinds. We question whether or not we will wake up in the morning. Whether we will see our parents and children today after work or school. Cause at any moment. They could become victims of murder or rape. By anyone.
Because in a time of such hurt and hate. We have all forgotten how to smile and love.

Maybe we are all trying to pretend its not here. That this is not happening. But it is. And writing the words peace on your arm -as lovely as a symbol that might be- wont make a difference. Saying you will take part in a strike or peace movement against the racial hate and insecurities in our country, wont make a difference.
Maybe being there might. But just saying you will. Wont. As sad as this might be.
Maybe God has already given us peace and love. Because you know, we are all asking Him why he hasn't given us peace. He has the power and the might. Maybe he has given us these things. We just do not understand how life can be lived without anger and hurt and hate. And thus we created these monsters. These horrible crimes of "fairness". Maybe we are all so obsessed with what is wrong, that we forget to see the good. Maybe we should just turn on the light.

"Happiness can be found, in the darkest of times if only one remembers to turn on the light"

Another quote. It might be from a fictional character. But it is true none the less.
Maybe we have forgotten how to be happy. I have been questioning myself for the last few days on whether or not i have been truly happy in my life. And to be honest. I do not know.

The future for me here in South Africa is not one of light and love. And i want it to be. I always wanted to be a writer. I also wanted to publish here. But now, if the future is war and hate. Then what is the use? Why bother putting all this time and effort and heart and sweat and tears into something that will probably never be seen. No one will take notice, because we are all to busy destroying each other.

We are modern Hippies. Bad ones. But still. We are trying to fight for freedom and peace in a country and time that is messed up beyond repair. Fucked to be honest.

I am scared.
I never used to be. But i am scared. And i hate admitting this.
Scared for my life. Scared for the lives of my friends, and loved ones.
Scared for your life.
Ek is gatvol.

We have lost all sense of being human. We have even lost our religion.
We dont pray anymore. Unless we fear. We have lost our religion and all sense of being human. Argue with me. But it is true.
We pray for the country and for help and cry out. But when things were doing well. We did not once pray to be thankful. At least not publicly. (facebook prayers to be exact)

We need to ground ourselves again. We need to learn to love and be happy.
We have to pray because we want to, because we enjoy it. We have to love and live and laugh because we care for it.
We have to be happy.
We have to get rid of the plague. The plague of hate and hurt.

But, the sad thing is. No one will read this.
And even if they do.
It wont make a difference.

And this makes me even sadder.
This makes me feel even worse.

We should learn to love again.
Learn to smile again.

Or else,
we will be fucking ourselves even worse.

Love. <3

ps. Join this group on facebook. Happiness

break time is lonely time...

Break times.
Boring tedious break times..


So.. Where are you? Anyone?
Screw this.

Ima drown in Albert Camus.
The plague.
Its love.

Anyway, eating. how gross. The eating contest this morning in Assembly.
It was. Gross. Sick. Ugh.

So happy i could die.

No really..
Its 7:12AM.. and i am not going to school early.
But i am awake.
But its worth it. I hope. Picture taken. Lovely? No. Fookin Ugly.

Seriously. The days are creeping up on one another. Really, Really fast.
I swear to god i just woke up. on a monday.

And now we are already making plans for the weekend?
Which btw is not one for resting, but drinking excessively, and spending more airtime and allowance than you have. Well, that is what it is about for most people.
Lovely is it not.

Now people. I advise you to go listen to some Emilie Autumn. The lovely lady of the hour/day/month/year/lifetime.
She will indeed rock your boat then drown you in a expertly crafted porcelain tea cup. Follow her on twitter folk ; http://twitter.com/emilieautumn

In other news, my art installation will be called : my life through the eyes of a formerly dead poetess.

What do you think? Catchy right?
It will include Egyptian Canopic Jars.. and a wonderful cut up canvas..
Pictures will be posted.

Anyway, i decided to write this as if a MILLION people are following me.. reading my every word cause they are interesting and life changing. Even though its not. And only YOU are reading this.
But, i find solace in the idea. So shhhhh.

So, a poem is in order? No?
Sure. A new one. Oldish. New. Unsure.

"The Rage.

I have waited.
Ages and ages for your child face to transform.
But the only transformation, was redness.
Soviet Union across your cheecks
As you drowned me down another neck another head, feet, body.
You pushed me down. Down
Down.

I have a daily ballet in my guts.
And everyone knows I cant stand dance.
Your little slippers and tiny eyes trample ever so gracefully across my innards.
Like a pumped up nazi fucker inside Auschwitz.
Gentle.

I can not, I can not, I cant.
Give in.
What waits for me, waits for you.
As eyes from the walls stare me down. Scornfully.
I flutter around. Just like you.
Uselessly.

I no longer wear those confusing colours to baffle the strangers.
You do.
You are still red. Now mixed with blue, blue, blue..
And I stare at you, and your heart screams :
Not you, not you, not you.
Like leftovers, the sea did not even bother consuming me.
I sit on the sand. Covered in years of rage. And you.

Your neglect.
Of not only me, but you.
Green spots on your skin. Dalmatian of a different breed.
Half Cast? Bastard?
Camouflage.
Where are you?

Not you. Not you. Not you.

You are Red, Blue, Green.

I dangle now, emotionless and happy.
Still in space. Frozen.
I foetus in a jar.
Too young to know different.
Too old to remember.

But you are still soviet red. Blue, Blue, Blue. Camouflage.
Who?"


Love the day.
Fuck the year.
<3

this guy has the weirdest painting ever...

Had to start by saying.. Pregnancy. Freaks me OUT. Now..
To my interesting tidbit of absolute no relevance. <3



Hilarious. Honestly.
Ok well, a boy just got hit by a bus on the corner of my street.
Not funny I know. But the collection of people, 90% of whom probably don't even know him, standing there, trying to get a little bit of shine no doubt. That was amusing.
The idiots made it impossible for anyone to get close to the boy, so he probably lay there.. concussed as a crazy fuck. And people stopped. I swore i saw someone take pictures. Rather upsetting. It could have been me. And imagine what you look like after being run over?!

Now the funny news.. On the bus. On my way to school (extra drama) this new boy on the bus turned to me.
His face goes all distorted and seems to be in shock.
His face went all funny, distorted almost. And then he exclaimed with shock and utter disgust all together ; "That guys painting is weird"..

I could not help but laugh, lower my voice and whisper back : this guy can hear you..
The poor kid had that lovely awkward smile of a child being caught with his hands in his pants look all the way to school.

God i wish i had tea today. With anyone.
I miss people.
Or the idea of people at least. Like most things in life..
At least the political state gave me some form of amusement..
And my art work seems to be getting on just fine.
Can not wait to be quite honest.

Anyway, sleep better get here soon. I have to take pictures in a few hours.

Life is bliss is seems.
Utter, tedious bliss.

Green Love Peace.

"A gift, a love gift
Utterly unasked for
By a sky"

I feel like i should be running for something.
President? (happy birthday Zuma btw)

But running is exercise and i am not the biggest fan of exercise.
Not by a long shot.
Since my long-weekend -they call it a holiday here- was so short, i spent basically al of my time on painting.
And the goddess knows that turned out badly.

I feel like i should be thankful for words. But sometimes they seem to be torturing me. So being thankful for the tortured love seems odd. So i am content with words.
And life. And probably you.

Ireland.. I want to be there. Open a store there, a little corner shop. I will sell books and charms and herbs and live with my best friend. (even i have one) and we will laugh, read poetry for weekends on end. Study and people will be jealous. They will want to be spend time with us. We will be fun and people will want to be happy again. Cause the world needs happiness now.
We need love.
Not to much love. But love. And loads of happiness and allergy-free fruit juices.
We need those too.

Anyway, i feel its time for coffee.
English exam in the morning.

Smile.

Now, for a poem by me..

- Poem..

"Carefully let your feet slide across the mossy green,
Carefully.
For in the happy wetness of the atmosphere, you might fall.
The atmosphere is happy here. Not the people.
They are never happy anywhere.
Not here.
Nowhere.
Anywhere.

They are sly and always ready to pounce.
Boggle eyed and horny.
The lonely amongst us shy away.

I want leaves. Red and green and brown like rich men’s coats.
Patterns of swirling and twirling.
Confusion in its human shape is you.
Perfectly created from dust and soot and anger.
Rage.
Empty lust filled tedious rage.

As empty as the night cream on the sand mans bedside drawer.
He stays young from all the stuff.
Young and wise.
Like you told me I can never be.
Like I never will be.
Never can be.

Never will you be.
Better.
Never will you see red and green and brown twirling around you.
Moss covered floors. I will be happy,
With the atmosphere.
Happy. Excited. Elated. Clear.

I will not fall. I refuse.
Unlike you.
I thought before I irked the stones.
My black shoes are clear. My mind is clear.
And you are the hole.
the dirty man made hole in the atmosphere.
The blemish on the earth’s face.
The beauty spot.
The mole.

I wait.
Wait
wait
wait.
I waited.

I fall. Eventually you pulled me down with you.
And now,
I am stuck.
The moss on the stones.
The green, smouldering mould.
The death of a dream."