All I do is sit and stare,
unaware
tears rolled down my cheek
smoke peeled to lips, a freak

mountain view but unattached
all i see is a rope, a noose
morbid, maybe dont let me loose

tight enough to kill
round enough to fill
sadened subtle skin of mine
enough said, blow
smoke sucking the know
how to be alone
not alone but empty
the space inbetween whats left in me

sit there, look , stare at me
i dont care to look back and see
nothing
nil
no feeling, a pill
riding,stretching to riding
down ill

no muddy slide or groogy reel
no movies sights or slow peel
torture over and away
save or be saved

Bygone

One of those days, pro active in one-way and debilitating in another.
I decided to sort through my shit, and it applied almost literally.

I feel gutted and sad, maybe I have been pretending to be a okay, cos today I feel anything but.
Boxes and boxes of crap, and regurgitation of crapier feelings. I would think after a year of been broken up finding my ex girlfriends things amongst my stuff would be easy, like ‘ok, that’s hers, bin. Done.” No…

I found everything from underwear, to baby pictures, music equipment to an old toothbrush. I failed to understand this would leave a gash to the chest and a bump to the head.
This is silly, I even craved at one point, but no, I have come far to far for silly self-deceit like that.

Some times bygones are not as simple as bygones? But after procrastinating and smoke breaks every 15 minutes, I got though it, the craving past but a little sense of loneliness still lingers.

I’m growing up. Yes I still kept a few pictures and okay there’s one more really big box that I know contains really big feelings, so I will wait til my mom is here, honestly don’t really feel like doing this on my own.

Speaking of mommy, she’s been away a few hours and I find myself missing her, walking around saying mom would do this or mom would do that. Gosh, what has come over me, over emotionally sensitive to each movement in my life?

But hey, I think I might finally be growing up a little (hence crying for my mom at the age of 31, yeah: real grown up)

Its flashing a smash in the side of my head
moms snoring from her couch instead
a bottle of wine an a splash of gin
my migrane pounding from chocolate sin

eyes closed, face quinched, passed out
take a gander and see , a angel a lout
a turnaround bout

mom my heads sore
banging with each murmer of snore
gore,law,before It tore

goodnight lady wine
sleep pilss are binine
its just a rowdy fine

alarm clock please

MMM, what did I do today? Something I never do, something I would never even consider doing, ever… I arrived late, 30 minutes late to my therapy session. The part of my life I consider most sacred: my therapy session, and well obviously my therapist, cant take away from that.

I am never late for anything, but I am especially never late for my session. No, no way. So what happened is I go to bed to late, I wake up to late: but who’s watching anyway?
(Wicked sniggering) My phone died in my sleep, which means no alarm clock. My phone died? Maybe it has something to do with the fact that it practically sleeps in the same bed as I DO. Maybe I text in my sleep, wear the battery down, I don’t know.

I know I was having an intense dream about my therapist. I can remember the exact details but I remember it felt very real. And no unfortunately I was not taking her clothes off, seducing her in her chair, no sadly not, but we were having some in-depth conversation about saving someone and how I need to help her, then she looked at her watch and told me I was late. That’s when I woke up and realised, dead phone, no alarm, boom I’m late.

I pulled my clothes on, brushed my teeth, missed my meds and missed my coffee, but I got there and I barely remember, but I do know I have been more productive today then any other, well if you call productive driving around from mall to mall looking for magnets.

I decided that I should write a weekly schedule for my life but of course I needed magnets fore the schedule to be put on the fridge. The magnets became more important then the schedule and took up most of the day. I got a little side tracked at the malls, watching beautiful girls,woman,Goths.

Anyway my therapist must have said something to inspire me, a few hours later, no magnets but I have my schedule, whoa…

passer by

Just yesterday I was watching passers by out my moms window. For days I had noticed how a very tall African man, would walk past at 4 pm, everyday. What was different about him was the sound of tapping that led him. He held a stick, not any stick but a kind of wand that he used to see. Yes he was blind. I found him fascinating. The morning I left my moms house, I happened to be having my last cigarette before my journey. I was all packed up and ready to go, rushing through my coffee and everything became still, the man normally led by his Wanda stick, walked by, floating holding his baby, led with an arm by his wife. I appreciated this, I slowed down. The way I watched them like an old movie became the pause on mine.

Now I am seated in my home for the next six months, best described as a five star hotel suite, but hey I can live like this. I am unpacked; I have my food in the fridge. Okay sure it’s a little quite and no passers by at all, that will are some getting used to. But the silence is good, the view of the mountain is solace to my busy brain and yes the sprinkler system that goes off in the dark may startle me every time. I have a sense of stability here.

Well no lies here, not everything changes in a day, but from day to day each little thing that might change, really helps me feel…
And don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t mind a few other people in these empty houses that surround me, but I guess that to is a process.

Ok the sprinkler system just went off, which means I can go out and enjoy a silent fag.

My grandparents back in the day:

Perfectly amusing, entertaining and delicious Sunday lunch. The food as always devines, the cast on top form of play.

Today the cast was, Uncle dean, my grandparents and myself. We covered every form of conversation topic, from the lovely view, the perfect day to, the norm of politics, fashion and religion.

No arguments, just purity. I do not mean pure as in the blood of Jesus Christ, but pure in family bonding.

I mentioned I would do things differently today. A gazing on snow capped mountains from across the sea, my grandmother’s wholesome but mostly loving food. Giving my grandfather a hug and having a dance off with my uncle while driving! BLISS

Now I’m tending to my mom who has a migraine, that’s if you call buying loads of chocolate with someone who has a migraine helping. But we sit here and giggle and chuckle.

To all this initially I have my grand parents to ‘thank’



My Grandparents now:





My grandparents always...

sqaured

I think my eyes are squared and I’m convinced I can feel my thighs rubbing together. And this is a result of comfort eating and my addiction to marathon dvd gazing. I’ve said this one to many times, “enough is enough”, says I who is contemplating making a batch of pancakes for my mom. The finale of my days of probable moping. Diagnosis: ‘inadequate movement of the will syndrome. I will a way, I will a way, and sure I will a way from my couch. Today’s excuse for numbing movement was that it was raining. Perfect excuse to do a day of insignificancy. The difference with today is my mom has been my partner in this devious crime.

Pull it together cos its okay, a little bit of time in and loads of chocolate is not exactly suicide but it does make me rethink my situation, but then again I am constantly rethinking my situation. What is the situation right now anyhow? Nope, I’ve got nothing there.

Let me try again, tomorrow I will wake up and spend the day at my grandparents, so no couch oblivion, no guilty wrap, no over indulgence. What am I thinking of course there will be over indulgence, Its Sunday lunch.

What have I learnt today: I’ve learnt that it is possible for my mind to shut down if I entertain myself with to many anesthetized, mundane actions. From this I know I’m feeling sick physically and it seems there are no thoughts fluttering through my head.

So what am I going to change, well I will start with hardest thing, as I warm on doing most times, just diving in, so the hardest thing would be waking up before mid day, who knows an early morning could change my whole day? No?

Who are The 'Baddies'

I have a certain amount of paranoid neurosis around some things. One thing stands out, this one thing is the one thing I could do with out, but it just seems to be out of control.
I have a fear for intruders. “The bad guys”, it is possibly because I had a life of broken boundaries. Our houses (we moved a lot) were constantly been broken into, echoes of weird guys trying to kidnap my sister and I and I specifically remember the incident of the ‘yellow man’, I have always had an imagination and I decided that a normal everyday man was yellow. I concluded this by the foot and hand marks on the wall he climbed over, traced with yellow mud, and for the rest of time I have believed I once had a yellow burglar.

Turns out, now later in life I have some sort of warped imprint relating to the baddies, feeling of constant threat when there really probably isn’t any, any at all.

Last night before bed I went through my usual or perhaps unusual ritual of making my space a safe zone. Since my mom got home early from the night with the girls, I was distracted by her drunken tactics of scaling walls and turning the heater off, three times as she forgot she put it off the first time. So after some comedy of the mom show I sent her off to bed and soon my ritual began.

I walk around the apartment to ensure there is no one hiding in the rooms, once im satisfied I repeat my round but this time I ensure every door is locked and every window closed. I then repeat just to make sure I am enclosed. I make my way to my room and close the door, since there is no lock I have found this genius way locking my self in by stuffing my sandals under the door, that way the door cant move from my self made door wedges. Obviously through all this I have taken my meds, in a timeos way, to ensure I fall asleep as my head hits pillow. Phone in hand in case of emergency and normally if I hear no noises I sleep. Last night was a little different.

Apparently in my sleep I heard a noise and automatically called my mom, I then went back to bed. A little later, at 1:48am I must of heard yet another noise my mind insisted was an intruder, took my phone and instead of calling my mom I called my Drug counsellor who I have not seen in 3 months.

Great, a call to my drug counsellor who I haven’t seen in ages, at 1: 48am, she can only have one conclusion: USING. So I panicked for a bit, what are the odds, how is this going to sound when I call her to explain, that I wasn’t using, but I got scared in the middle of the night, oh and oops called you. Yeah, sounds a bit like a kid on drugs. Wacky. I called her and I guess last night just pushed me in the right direction, I went to see her, she didn’t think anything of it, she helped me today, and things are more or less in perspective now:

The lesson, I don’t think I’m going to sleep with my phone in my hand. And maybe just maybe I should try going to bed without some frenzied house search for something that just isn’t there.

So who are the baddies anyway?

It could be them, those who are out there

It could be we, when my mom comes home tipsy thinking shes spiderman

It could be you, who doesn’t know

It could be me, who hangs in the wrong part of my mind

Or simple ist could be no one

Couch Potato No

I feel like I've been on a bit of a bender. Not that of drugs and beautiful woman (which sounds almost romantic but always almost ends very badly! Let me think, something like badly.), so no I have chosen a more humble approach and slightly safer, but that is definitely debatable.

I have held a 3-day DVD marathon, with the company of take out and stay in. I have reached the point that when I get up off the couch, its dented, ashtrays filled, stomach bloated, eyes squared. Yes these three days have been fun.

I should be finding a place to live. I cant, I’m stuck, and I search the same places over and over, like the shutter in my brain has been jammed by my escape into super heroes, Chinese villains, mystic robbers and eccentric housewives.

I lay here, stuck in a self-destructive play button, paused. Almost delirious.
My mom has naturally gone out with the girls, cant help but think “should roles be reversed?” I could sit here wrapped up in a blanket, smoking a fag blended with almond ice cream all night, or I could get up and go. Take the evening, see where it goes, locked lips with a fantasy woman, arm wrestling with an old friend, who knows what would happen if I got up and left.

I hear this little voice, “one more night, just one more night”, when that voice speaks it scares me. It sounds a little like any life threatening bad habit “this is the last time!” Wake up from your guilty conscience; assess the situation for what it is, because you know exactly what it is. No pretence here, IT’S CALLED WALLOWING.


Will I wallow for the rest of the week, or will I just get up and go?

unleash me

No, I have not been here, not hidden in the shadows or on bathroom floors either. I have been nowhere really but a long term holiday. I thought being incognito suited me well, but after a session with my therapist (whom I still find attractive- doubt that will ever change) Point is she asked if I still paste my words into my blog. My answer was NO.

My answer has changed, She juggled some balls in my head and it got me thinking, I miss my entries, they are important to me, read or unread, they keep me in check, of where Im at where my wayward life unfolds.

So today I sit disappointed. My dad made me a promise a promise he could not keep. That fact brings me back to my entire relationship with this man from when ever to forever. I have been doing the right thing for me for almost 11 months now. A week ago I was finally going to move into a place my dad promised, only a few days before he retracted and I hurt.

My initial reaction was to use,then I thought of hanging myself in his bathroom (decided that would be a tad dramatic) so instead I sent a mail a mail he does not understand. So I can help but feel saddened, a little regressed.

Truthfully I am overcome with confusion, Kind of jaded, wearing a blindfold, waiting for my puppet master to pull my strings. In my soul I rip those strings from me , takem my blindfold off gently, and walk ever so slowly.

homebody

My psychologist called back and said,"its been a long time.", "to long" ,I thought. "Yes it has." I answered.
Yes it has for more then one thing, its just been to long.
I'm missing a home I do not yet know where its siyuated, but I miss where I feel most at home: capetown.
Yes its great having no responsibilities, driving to whereever I feel on the day, being on the road for the last 3 months,
Lonesome , no people to worry aboutn nothing to be wary of, well just whatever I feel like.

Who would of thought, I would be over carefree, no not I! Who would of thought I would crave atleast
One responsibility, no definately not I, and mostly who would of thought, I would want to settle in just one place: well
Yeas I!

I feel up in the air, but happy, just not fully in connection of next! So next!
I long for the road on tuesday when I set out to 'home' just to be able to see my therapist every wednesday, just to be able to wake up
Where I will stay for atleast longer than a month? Just to be able to find a place I can call home, have a dog I can call phoenix(undecided about name)
Create a space where I can create daily, and well then sure being on the road again could be good.

I just need to know, when I'm on that road I always have a foundation to return to, a place calledx home.

single

At first I didn't take to well to being single, well obviously no one enjoys been gutted.
Like most break ups - I felt a part of me sink deep, to deep to reach again, this time it happened
To be an intense 6.7year relationship of love and loss.
I thought I would never survive it. "Oh no, I don't care, I may as well use as much coke available and die" the
Normal self pity drug binge everyone leave me be and let me dteriorate til my heard goes.

Well I did survive it, the drug binge, the rehab, the love loss(although I still love her) the all of it.
And now I am honestly happy to be singleits a record for me,single for a year,I've broken my record and I'm clean.
Sure I'm not always happy but I'm honest with myself,I see differently, I know I allowed myself
To be with me.

Obviously I don't want to be single forever,living with masses of dogs7nlearning how to knit. No!
But,
Truly I believe I have learnt so much more by actually, genuinely letting go,of her,of it,of me.

Its good , its all just as good as it is tailored for me.
(Oh and the thing about still loving her,well that's ok to, to love her but to know she is not right for me or I for her,its goody

driving a daredevil

An early start to ride with my gran. Well she drives like a lunatic, I found myself clucthing
My seatbelt or hitting the dash board from time to time as she sped from 120 to halt in 1.1seconds, then sliding from
Left to rightt as she surfs the corners, phew, a couple of hours later(ready for opassenger eject a few times) we reached our detination: an old age home.

And here I spent the day. The day in a brickface estate with tricky security, white walkers, a few wheel chairs and aunt anne with
Her weaponerous walking stick, she taunts those in her way.
Parts of this place were sad, the prisonlike buildings gated in, the old folk discussing the end.

But a few hours later after the few select of hanging with the old folk, I drove home:happy!
(Sure I was stoppedd by cops and fined for speeding,ironic since I refered to my gran as rthe lunatic,but I even got
The cops to drop some miles) and there I was, driving happily to another temporary destination.

What's next

limbo

I don't know if I'm getting lazy or if I have post holiday blues. Or maybe I don't know
Why I have agreed to being in limbo for the next 3 weeks in a town I literaly despise. Yes I'm back where I said I would
Never return, my place of birth. Yes the most discrimtating, racist little town. It disheartening.

I'm sure I will find something to do, I usualy do in my days of limbo, my second name could be limbo, living in the land of the still.

I'm visitng auntas house,watching greek tv, no I do not underdstand a word,and here I watch,a lovely backdrop
To my limbo.


I have this haze,glaze over my eyes and its freaky,this is what's going on. I smoke,I venture around from
Food courts to cemetries. Speaking of cemetries, today I visited one, of a dear person I lost in my childhood- laying there still,18 years ltr.
Mostlt I had some flashbacks and naturally decided I never want to lay in the ground- discarded cemetries and dying flowers, all loomed in the mix of the dead,
Mostly disrespected by those who steal parts off there tomb stones,hardly ever seen by those left.
No,I have decided I will have it put in writing,although I am young just so its known, when I die I will not go dust to dirt,rather cremate me
And blow me over tje river of the veld in letaba, to be visited by nature always.

Ok I'm not getting morbid,just realistic for a second, I know when I die I die, but lay me peacefully departed to a place I love,a place people love, a place that will not be discarded.

So limbo to cremation to live and love of life, and in death there is still some sort of life...

its me and the wild

Here I sit beside the fire I made (the fire I'm quite proud of) solo in a luxury tent,solo in
The bushveld. My soundtrack goes like this: hippo,baboons,loud screeching bird,hippo,hippo,lion kill,hippo,
Hyena singing shivers.

I sit here,crackling fire thinking,its me I'm solo nothing but the sand. I become brave
With my fire as a weapon, but no bravado as the baboons are comming and I'm convinced its lion.

Another log,the sky so well kept but loud with sparkling calm. I don't see stars like this back home.
Tonight is a test, can I handle my paranoia of evry sound "being an attack"

Another log, I'm ok, let the lions whale,the hyenas dual, the hippos grunt and the screaming?
Hypontise me with this that not all will ever see, just get over it, the animals are not comming for me, for all that seperates us
Is a piece of canvess, and my fire I need to let burn out,

mommy

I am feeling a whole lot of good today. I broke off from my dad and them for 48 hours,
Spent those hours with my mom who leaves for vietnam tomorrow.

It Feld good to be in a space where i could be myself, so very good. I feel i have been confined to
Half a me for the last six weeks, i got it. All out.

Lastnight i had to share a bed with my tiny mother, ofcourse i insisted we sleep head to toe, not that it mattere
As she doesnt move. So beautiful, her tiny little self, to hug her os to feel a part of.

Thanks mom for a beautiful day, mostly for giving me the space to be me! I will miss yoy
U,
Now im sharing a bed with my ouma, we have an early start, darting back to safari.

"daddy"

When I learnt how not to have a father growing up it was hurtfull enough. As an adult learning it all over again is beyond words.

To have to dip into my soul to find some sort of self control as not to feel it all comes out sideways!

By this I mean...

I know the feeling of been discarded
The notion kept me emotionally retarded

I know the pain of a blow,dust hit
No tears,instead blood by my tounge bit

Accepted back but only by rules
Expected are we to be mere fools
Thrown out to wait
Not even a childs whimper bait
Lost be gone to boundries none

Stood standing, dark but reaching
Never reminded if the screaching

Now and adult faded to part
No ends of meaning to be a part

Now years by learnt the forgiving
A balance but not stable
Woken by what I thought finally
My dad,a daughter, to soon to be

My father still now not only in realm
No space for his first not even a dream

I learnt today after 31 years, even in his subconcies I wade, not there nore here, just one past fade

an elephant just passed by

I have this view, I look out on to a riverbed,I'm in the bush and for others who don't know the bush(safari)
Peacefull enclosure, a soundtrack of trumpets and a vague purr of some cat.
Looking up I see a star, not just any star, its falling beautifully.

Why would I want to be anywhere but here. Nowhere but wholly stood in yet another paradise.
How lucky I am to have taken the las 5 weeks and the next three in different parralels
Of opposite worlds. The one thing in common is some sort of southern hemisphere of natural perfection.

Everything adventure fallen in calm, I make my way to bed, avoiding the bats sqeuling in the thatch(but privately enjoying the company)
So fluttering I go

pet name for public affection

Ok that's it! I can't handle public affection. Maybe I just have issues with affection.
Sure holding hands and a kiss here and there, maybe a pet call once a day I could handle, but I have to draw the line
At picking the skin of her boyfriends back. Maybe I have a sereies of symptoms of cabin fever, but everytime I
Am in the same room as my 19 year old brother with his 17 year old girl I find my skin crawls.
Perhaps its because I have been single for 1O months (and let me add that's a record for me) I sit here across them and either
I will throw something at them or I will probably just go smoke a fag.
Its ok if my bro gets his hands on this its not personal its just a genralisation of many couples,just using an eg.
Here's the list of public affection that makes me... Pet names constantly, "babe, give me your nose, smok bok nunu babe" he then takes mouth to nose and grunts,
"Its called back washing schnukom" that's just a minor offence,

The constant baby talk, and over rated affection ( canoodeling,tickling,more kissing than public neccesity)

Seriously, the grunting takes the cake, the looking over not cos - want to but because we are in the smallest space - have to listen, watch and pretend that it is not
Freaking me out. The constant begging "tickle, tickle tickle" and when she does not respond he huffs and puffs and...

Then the playful slapping that becomes horseplay that hurts , the pleading"I'm soryy babe" the giggling the kissing.

No this has nothing to do with being single, this is boundries kids, simple boundries.

Ok so - have vented, so let me go go smoke a fag, get over it,tolerate it, hide from it, understand it oir purely just leave it alone.

My lesson from this is the next relationship I'm in , I will stay clear away from babying, cos I to am guitly of pet neames

practise

After 6 weeks of people skinner whisper behind closed doors will aid one to build a complex...

You know this holiday has been anything but balanced. One would think the dream locations I have trvelled would be beuty enough to bring balance and solace. However when traveling with family that point blank refuse to let u be a part of, well let's use part as the operitive word (everything falls apart) I have just learn to semi hide it. Sadly its not hidden and even more sadly they still do not see.

I sit just a few steps from them and they whisper, I walkf past the room as they whisper and they close the doot. - see them speaking softly as a family (this to remind u is supposed to be my family) anyway so I mainline them and as soon as I arrive the talking stops and we have an awkward moment. This has been my contact with this side of my family for the duration of a 'dream holiday'

Its hard to take away the pain and focus only on the joy, gladly There have been times I have managed to ignore and filter and seen the beauty of long white beaches in mozambique, staying on the top of a dune in a house made of palm under a mosquito net watching the moon rise above the ocean. The fun of a jeep sliding in the sand , used to carry the locals to there make shift house, truly living off the land!

I learnt nostly from the locals, admiring them for there very simple lives, seeming so gratefull, there little farms and there children going to school in the dust, stopping for every white man, screaming 'sweets,sweets' almost sounding like a choir of goats, they tie to their coconut trees. This has inspired me to let go of europe for a while and plan an adventure through my own land- africa.

I could go on , but more stories will prevail, as there are many through the eyes of all.