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I wake up in the morning, truth is I didn’t wake up I just got out of the bed, its either the sleep comes or it doesn’t. My mind is filled with many different things and everyday when I wake up and check my e-mails I get angrier, nothing is going like it should, every week seems shittier than the one before, my hair is falling out again. Nothing feels like the reality I once knew, even when I stare into the mirror I see a different stranger everyday. My body refuses to move, my voice refuses to speak and my mind is lost in a coma of depression. The world is so surreal so far away, I am blind once again. So utterly lost as a being. I asked God where I should go? He kept me hoping and this hope is killing me, I have no idea when or how to stop. Uninspired I stare into barrels, shooting guns and ammunition flying everywhere past me… there’s a me that longs to meet with death and dance till the midnights sun rises, but I cannot because to die is not be any more, my vanity is still driven by these useless materials, the bane of my existence, the inspiration of my sadness, nothing is real, I touch myself, hurt myself, because I do not recognise the intruder living inside of me. We are all trapped in here. We want, we long for everything, but nothing is real… except for the pain, the pain feels more real, it makes me feel alive, it wakes me from deep slumber, it shatters dreams that may have been… its like trying to fly when you never got wings… I keep staring into the barrel, I polish a gun, I hold the ammunition, once again I am holding a gun against my head ….

juju Beans

Thembi switched off the heater in the car, her face felt like it was turning a shade of deep purple from the heat, obviously her dark skinned face had not changed colour she just imagined that it did. Sitting in the traffic she thought about the weirdness of the music that played on the radio, she changed stations and realized that maybe every radio station she tried was part of a conspiracy to make her day an annoying one. Cars were moving at 10km an hour, an annoying nasal female voice on the radio said that there was an accident not too far from where her car was, she just hoped that it would all be over soon so she could sit at her desk and stare into space. she looked around at the people in other cars. next to her there was a girl in a silver Golf 5, she looked vain, conceited and all those words that describe someone who thinks they own the world. There in mid traffic, this girl was busy putting on makeup, never mind the fact that the nasally radio presenter had just said that there was an accident. Miss Golf 5 was at it, with one eye open she applied her mascara and she could still move her car forward, Thembi figured this must be a special talent. Thembi carried on looking around and saw a skinny guy in a green Corolla making sure that whatever was up his nose was gone for good. he dug his nose so vigorously she figured he must be enjoying it. Traffic was really moving slowly, she decided to grab the binoculars from the cubby hole and checked what was going on ahead. it seemed the cars were struggling to sneak through one lane. "That's Jozi drivers for you" she thought, "very inconsiderate, not letting each other through, five cars fighting over one lane." Finally she got to the open lane, drove through and the rest of the freeway was as clear as day.

As she drove on the N1 towards Polokwane, Thembi felt her stomach grumble, it had been a while since she had eaten, in fact the last time she had anything to eat was the day before at lunch time, she decided that she would to the nearest garage and get a small snack. her stomach began to feel like it was a big hole that had an endless cavity, the hunger was driving her mad. As she thought about her hunger, she wondered about the guy in the green Corolla and thought if he digs out so many boogers if he felt as hungry as she was would he eat the boogies? She made a gag motion and realized that she just missed her off ramp. She got annoyed and took the next one. When she got to the end of the off Ramp the robots were red she noticed guys selling a few things on the side of the road. She asked herself why they never sell anything useful? it was always stuff that you never needed like how you would be wearing sunglasses and they would try sell you sunglasses. Or because you drive a Fiat try to sell you a Fiat sticker. Nobody who drives a Fiat wants to drive a Fiat, they want to drive a Ferrari, so why would you want to carry on with the humiliation of being a fiat driver by even getting the fiat sticker? She turned right at the robots and carried on down a road called Lynwood. She passed the first robots before, they became red and then just before the second robots her Fiat came an absolute standstill. The car would not move. She tried to restart, scream at it and even got out to kick it. The damn thing just wouldn't move. She knew it, this had to happen on the one day that she was later a pregnant woman for her monthlies. Thembi spat at the car, got her bag locked it and started walking. The car was slap bang in the middle of the road. Thembi had a thing against driving on the fast lane or the slow lane, she believed that the middle lane was the best lane because you could go left or right as you pleased. This she loved. Cars were hooting and people screaming at her, she carried on walking… she couldn’t be bothered. She was however, worried about her shoes, she wondered about the wear and tear and if she would make it to the office in heels without falling to her knees from a grand bout of fatigue and feet aching.

Walking is an amazing thing, Thembi began to realize the world around her, she saw things that she possibly passed all the time, just never noticed because she was zooming past in her not so flashy, not so fast either Fiat. She thought of how many people missed these insignificant construction sights that she was seeing.

A few blocks down the road she had to cross the street, she watched as the cars rushed passed a man in leather pants and a torn jacket, the colour of his face looked like the colour of his leather pants. He was trying to distribute flyers at the robots, people passed him, closed their windows or shooed him off. He was relentless, with some people; he slipped the papers in as they rolled up the windows. Thembi became rather curious, about what the flyer had in it. Why did he want to give it out so badly? Surely he truly believed in what the flyer was selling or saying.

Thembi crossed the seemingly busy street and slowly walked towards the man with leathery black skin. As, she approached he gave her a grin with missing teeth… actually all his teeth were yellow and he had random gaps between them, she couldn’t tell whether the teeth were missing or if he was just born with teeth cluttered around.

She walked passed him and he followed her with a gaze, as she reached the other side of the street she felt a sandpaper like touch grab her hand. Before she could turn around her nostrils were hit by a random stench that 3 day long shower would not help one bit. The leathery man was trying to get her attention. She gave him death stare, but he was not phased he had a goal and no matter how much Thembi would protest he would not relent.

“Bootifool gal you tek the fire?” “Excuse me?” Thembi answered
“You tek Fire?”
“No thank you.”
“You mus it help with sad face. Make you good and happy now now.”
“No thank you.”
Thembi realized that she had been walking for a while now and the leathery man had left his duties at the robot to pester her down the street. “Pease, just take aan.”
“Ok fine! I will take one if you promise to leave me alone.”
She grabbed a flyer from him that read ‘DR Ogudu from Nigeria can fix marriage, penis enlargement, court case, even get you car, house or married’
Thembi looked at the flyer and wanted to burst out laughing, she read on and realized that – this DR Ogudu from Nigeria claimed that he could fix anything and everything. ‘Try my car’ she thought

The anthology of our bruised soles

There are days when you wake up and you feel like you have been walking for years, there are times where you feel like the entire universe has just spiraled out of control, there are even times where you may feel that taking the next breath is too much effort… but none of these times worse than when you cannot see a solution, a time when the future eludes you and you feel like you are falling into an endless dark cavity, that manages to swallow you and everything you are.

This is the point where you feel you cannot return and you cannot go forward, you are stuck with a deafening scream that takes everything and swoops hope from the depths of your gut and you lie there… nothing…nothing but a worthless turd breathing … a waste of humanity… a feeling worse than that of the passage to the dead.

Who says death is not beauty, a walk through life exposes an enchantment in this deep sleep, a new blossom for the wounded souls. This is a paradise filled orchids inhabited by Phoenix that reject to fly, a place where the darkness is yet a mere dim light…

I dream of a place where the bruises on my soles heal.

Social Network Society's Toe Jam

I have told many stories about my everyday adventures and as most of you may have realized there is never a dull moment - the truth is there is always a dull moment, I just happen to be able to take the bore out of any story. I guess you can call it the ‘gift of spicing’. But, anyway that is not what I want to blog about. The other day as I was reading Frantz Fanons wretched of the earth I came across a line, which to me was very profound. He said: “The Native is an oppressed person whose permanent dream is to become the persecutor.” Now I would like my readers to bear in mind that I am about to bastardise this great psychologist and writers quote by adding y own new age social network analysis that might leave my blog hungrier for followers than it currently is.

As we have all seen and heard the twitter phenomenon has hit the world by storm (ok not that big a storm, but its doing well). I always hear the same argument between twitter and Facebook users: twitter people are smarter than facebook people and twitter people are narcissistic etc, etc. However, we cannot prove any of this as there are no IQ tests taken when you join a social network _ all we know is that you can read, write and upload pictures, which more or less is what is required. At times facebook people tend to use the social network as their diaries, but at the end of the day it is their page, so they should be allowed to say whatever they would like, I find the people that live to critisise what the others do to be the worst, they get on my nerves because they play the role of holier than thou or rather in this day and age better off than you (truth be told I find these critics rather pretentious and they try too hard to smarter and so above it all).

Actually that reminds me, I was at a function, ‘do ‘ or thing not too long ago where a friend of mine sat bored and going through her facebook on her mobile. I am not quiet sure what she saw on Facebook but, minutes later whatever she saw became a conference call that demanded her to head outside and call a few people. I always wonder, do we really care that much about what people do? Do you care so much that you want to spend your hard earned money and call people to discuss what you saw on another person’s wall? If that is the case I would rather be considered narcissistic, what other people post bothers me very little unless I think it is funny, informative or they are talking directly to me. Which may be the reason why I found the links on twitter informative and the one liners people threw around worthy of my incredibly toothy grin.

Twitter was, for the longest time in my case a place that, I could read short version of what people had to say and get links to read the papers … oh and make friends with some really cool people that share the same interests as me such as books, animals, art, fashion and the list goes on. The more I got into the network the more I began to take interest in people and things, so much so that I have met some amazing and intelligent people in real life. For me, it was an amazing experience - it was networking without the clutter.

Lately however, which actually brings me to the quote I have been dying to share I have noticed that (I cant call them haters) the somewhat angered individuals are now rearing their heads on twitter. Now this is a different crowd all together, these kids or grown ups or whatever they are out for blood, they are renowned for their ability to attack people that are doing better than they are, start or perpetuate what they call ‘twitter wars’ and start trending topics that are dumber than my pet pig wearing a tutu.

Just the other day I was going through my twitter home page when I was met with retweets from the fuelers applauding a marauding fool as he critisised an artist for putting together his work. All of a sudden these people are experts on all subject matters, yet they are societies toe jam. It is however ok not to like something, but these people build their social network popularity by attacking, fueling or defecating on peoples work or quality of life. When I was reading through Frantz Fanons Wretched of the earth and came across a quote that said: “The Native is an oppressed person whose permanent dream is to become the persecutor.” I actually took that line out of the context of the book and looked at our dear friends that gain popularity from making people look bad and for me that one quote seemed to summarise what these people are (I told you I was about to bastardise the quote).

Thing is, its ok not to like something, we all have different tastes. If you don’t like it leave it alone. But what I have read from these marauders is that, they dream of being someone special, someone big or well, known, so when someone takes some of their work put it out there (hard work mind you) they jump on a band wagon to deface it so they can be popularity points without lifting a finger, they just spew hatred and venom. Their spirits are so oppressed by their talentless mundane lives that they devise a way to be the suppressors. It has become a disgusting social network trend where people who live to shit on people who work hard… Are you that depraved?

I have one question for them though… when will these marauders ever show us something worth appraisal or even the odd green eye? And oh I am not just talking about fame, education counts here also.