A friend of a friend was celebrating his last day as a single man, I believe the term is Bachelors. I'll be honest I'm not a strip-club individual, but, I only went along so I can know about what it is about, you know, body of evidence type thing?

I don't know much about running a strip-joint, but I know Malasha had not thought theirs is proper (or maybe they did)

The girls, women, strippers have to walk through the crowd to get to the, ahem, pole.  Which is okay when they are about to perform, but after their performance, they have to walk past the same crowd to head back to their, ahem, rooms. 

Which is odd considering their are strippers (they take their clothes off) and have to walk past the same 'aroused' mense?

I guess maybe the bouncers are on point — or that's part of the marketing and 'sales'?

but I digress.

Well, after the strip-show we headed to a 'special-bachelors' room to get a private dance for the soon-to-be-groom.

and there it was:

for as far back as I can remember, till that day, I had never been attracted to Indian women, never saw them in that sexual light (or lack of).

till our private-dancer started doing her thing, yes, she was an Indian girl.

… from that day/night I am a changed man.

Which is great, I think.

With the advent of micro-blogging that has become difficult, arguing on twitter is like your phone ringing every second paragraph you utter — the interruptions break the conversation flow.

… how can a debate be allowed to persist on twitter — how much can you say with 140 characters to spare?

So, I have decided never to engage in debate over twitter — imagine security guards arguing with walkie-talkies, not a very efficient way to convey a thought.

What I wanted to say on this essay is:

inasmuch as enjoy arguing and debating things — I refuse to debate with anybody who fails to set a baseline for the argument.

you know? Its like an Atheist arguing with a god-fearing-believer, that debate is going nowhere:

… because both are not willing to accept each others baseline argument.

The debate, argument will go on forever — as a matter fact, I refuse to engage an argument with anybody that fails to accept what is known (or accepted) to be true:

… for every argument there is, almost, always an anchor of fact that the debate is based on — without it, what exactly are we arguing about?

q.e.d

It is no longer important to look at what was or what will be, what is important is right now, right here.

be in this moment, this very second, this very minute, right now.

do no reflect on how you got here or where you will be because of this moment — in fact do not reflect at all.

enjoy this very minute, this second, this moment.

… try and do that everyday at least once — enjoying a moment without having to make sense of what it means beyond the fact that it is a moment to be in, right now, right here.

*ps: the minute you observe this moment, right now, right here — it is not longer right here, right now, you are already on your next moment.

enjoy.

I wish I didn't feel it
I know it just ain't right
But it seems to pop up in my head
Morning, noon, and night
I just can't release it
The memory of you
Mama never told me
Love would leave me so damn blue

1ove, melancholy.

… spend all your time waiting, for that second chance. For a break that will make it okay.  There is always some reason to feel not good enough, and it's hard at the end of the day.

… I need some distraction, oh beautiful release, memory seep from my veins. Let me be empty and weightless and may I'll find some peace tonight.

… and the words are absolutely perfect — if you remember the show The Pretender, that was the first I heard it. It was also on that movie with Nicholas Cage and Meg Ryan: City of Angels.

1ove, melancholy.

…after all that has been said and done. I won't ask you where you're going. Don't keep in touch.  I don't miss you much, except sometimes early in the morning.

Now, use your silver tongue once more, there's one thing that I'd like to know. Did you ever believe the lies that you told? Did you own the fool's gold that you gave me? — Lhasa de Sela (Fool's Gold).

1ove, melancholy.

Tomorrow, we start teaching again — I had vowed never to do it, but alas, I am doing it, again.  I do sense that this will be the last time I do it 'till 2013.

Don't believe what they tell you — teaching is exhausting.  There is a fundamental difference between wanting to know something and having to know it.

Furthermore, there is a difference between that and needing to know.  My job, and I do suspect it is not to teach anybody anything, but to create the 'environment' for them to learn it.

I'd go as far as to say:

nobody is ever taught anything.

I neither have the temperament to explain that nor do I have all my 'arguments' in line to support that — I only sense it.  I suspect someday, I'll come back to this, for now, lets roll with it.

I am some how looking forward to this academic year — I envision a good year, and that 'good' is not reliant on what the learners will be producing or of what calibre they are, all I know is:

… come end of December, they will be that good.

For someone who is almost an atheist, I tend to have a lot o' faith in things I am not in control of.  I never like the word belief, it sounds devoid of reason.

Okay, I digress — let me get back to planning for school.

Until, until.

the multitudes of thoughts and dreams (or nightmares) that come with not telling somebody you love them are worse than the pain of knowing, for a fact, the person you love does not love you.

… I think, if you have not told that person, you mind wonders in two possibilities simultaneously:

1. you tell them and they love you too
2. and you tell them and they don't.

So, if you let them know how you feel, you will know which of the two it is — and thus the misery (or joy) is one of the two and not both.

In theory, anyway.

… today I did just that.

… now, here is my dilemma: I am more afraid of the consequences (or lack thereof) of what I just did.

… alas it is done.  But, here is a question I have.  If you are to live by that mantra, then my question is (or rather a statement):

there are 365 days in a year — how many things scare you?

I'd like to think the older you get, less things scare you, no?  In fact one should not be afraid of a lot of things — it's a terrible way to live, no?

Now we wait and see what the world with throw at me for being bold;  I am sure there are reasons why some things should never be done:

safety in familiarity.

We shall see in front.

Alas, I woke up this morning with this thought in mind:

Who am I?

That is supposed to be what the hell is I? As in I, the pronoun.  Who am I, to put everything after me? You know like?

I love you; I am (verb); I think; I, I, I; I this; I that;

What lies behind that I, what exactly is it? How exactly do you start defining it.  I bet you nobody on the planet can truly and completely tell who they are.  So, why this obsession with self?

The first thing you learn in Buddhism is letting go of the idea of self, the I, the conceited idea of self — ain't nothing more selfish than describing yourself.

But, then again, how does one survive this maze of existence without being and acknowledging that existence?

I (ironic huh?) think the minute one places that pronoun before everything else, that in itself implies whatever the meaning of 'I' is now, is in the past, it is no longer what you are after you say it.

The I, is almost a snap-shot of what you can say about yourself at that moment in time — an opinion is only an expression of a thought.

Wait, then, just, maybe thats exactly what the I is, a collection of thoughts of what you are, maybe.

Meditate on this, I will.

Strangely, if I wake up after the sun has risen, I am less productive than if I wake up before it does.  Something special about a natural-organic alarm clock, its a peaceful wake-up clock. 

You know what, everytime an alarm rings my heart skips a beat, in fact, I generally have my phone on silent, the sudden ringing does the same to my heart, which I am assuming in the long run it ain't good for my heart.

A lot of things are not good for my heart, a lot.  Which is why it is better not to feel a thing, emotions are detrimental to my heart.

I still find it amazing that an emotion can actually be felt physically through the heart, even though emotions are all in the mind. 

I like that, the body manifesting an intangible entity.

Oh, just after I wrote that post yesterday, I found out that my sister is starting her own Law Firm (the firm baby, volume 2!).  Which most likely means, I'd have to get shit moving quicker by April or I will have to take an early retirement and get me a good paying job, to support my sister in her new venture.

I believe, I have done quite a bit for my family, but the minute I go downstairs to make coffee I get that overwhelming feeling that I have not done anything.  In fact I think I have done more for people outside of my family than I have for my family.

As gratifying it might to have aided people in realising their dreams, it is quite upsetting that none of them are family.  That must change.  In fact, I need to find my Buddhist book, I haven't seen it since I moved back.

I need to still this mind — then train it to focus on one thing and one thing only: family.

Err, so why the elephant in the room? (I love this metaphor, by the way: it is simple as it is visual, I mean: how can one ignore an elephant in the room? how the hell did it get to be in room? can you imagine somebody trying to smuggle an elephant? LOL).

… back to the elephant.  Not a waking minute do I not think of her, not one, but I think now I understand it, I understand that phrase: unrequited love.

… but, I am good.  That realisation is what I needed, now we start rebuilding that proverbial Cancerian shell.  If I was a crab, I'd say in the past 8 weeks I'd been turned upside down with my 'belly' exposed, but we are swinging (left to right) till we catch enough momentum to back on all eight.

Whoever said: it is better to have loved than to have not loved at all, has only imagined what love is.

'till the next (soapie) episode.

This (lack of power) might make me consider moving out of mom's house, again.  I am not keen on renting a flat, I want a house, free-standing.

But, the upside is that I am writing again on this here book.  So the power cuts are good for something – even though I have two hours of battery life I am not keen to do any work that I won't finish properly.

Wait, I just got a thought:

… this lack of power is quite symbolic.  I could infer it to that love situation I am dealing with.

But, I am on that last phase of love, when it fades.  The only good thing about being a Cancerian is that, we know how to make love fade away:

we know how not to love (well at least to never, ever, again feel that emotion).

The catch is that it will take another 5 more years to wear down these walls that I am efficiently, silently and painfully building.

*but then again, that is only a catch if I matter.

(moving right along)

I know I have said I want to retire by the age of 35 (which gives me 3 years before that happens).  I am no longer sure of that:

if the current state of affairs at home: as in the entire family (including extended family members) stays the same by the time I hit 35.

My retirement will be from self-employment into full-time employment.  There is no way my family can be at the same state it was in when I entered this world, by the time I die.

… these degrees I hold and the experience I have should amount to something that my family can benefit from.

It is a fantastic thing to realise your true passion/potential and try to exploit it, but, it is another thing to realise that in-fact that potential can be maximised if another path is chosen.

I believe, a path chosen is only a path chosen.

I will have to reflect on that.

Alas, I came back from Coffee Bay (Eastern Cape). As I wrote that two thoughts came to mind:

1. the Eastern Cape is rural, and I mean, rural: if you were to pick up a history book from say, 200 years ago, you will find the same thing: economically, architecturally.  Sure the society has progressed a bit, but they are still far behind.
2. I forgot the second one, sorry.

Oh, I think it was, that silly thing called love.

It is probably the first time, that I can't even tell close friends who it is that is driving me crazy, but some might have a clue, and I think that is part of what the problem with it is, nobody to share the drama and thus get a wing-man.

I've been trying to understand why I do feel this way 'bout this girl:

I have all the reasons why this love won't work than I do for it.  There is nothing there to love, but the emotion she evokes.

ain't that some said shit?

(back to coffee bay).

It is a beautiful place, absolutely, except there is that Xhosa thing that Xhosa people do when you greet them not in Xhosa

they ignore you.

I can understand some traditional reasoning for it, but when a white person greets them, they respond, which for me is worse, at the least birds of the same feather flock together, no?

(back to love)

What are the stages of love? if such a thing exists.  I suspect I am at that stage where:

… we gotta forget about her. (Lenny Williams)

(singing along)

girl you know that I love you, no matter what you do."

I agree, Lenny Williams' song is probably the saddest-beautiful soul, love song ever written, ever!

I will stop writing, before I start sounding like a bad episode of (insert-soapie-of-choice).

'till the power returns.

an interjection is in order.  This is the reason, I prefer to hide, dam it. In the words of The Verve:

… love is noise. love is pain. love is these blues that I singing again, again, again, again …

dam it, dam it, dam it.

no more I say, no more --- well, until next Summer.

If you are not into geeky/nerdy ish you can ignore this essay.

With that said, here we go --- in my defence: I am in a very hot room and extremely tired, so I am easily irritated.

So, with that energy I can rant.

You know that thing, that twitter calls: trends? If not, it's okay you don't have to be on twitter regardless of what that person's bio on twitter says:

social media strategist --- but, one of these days I will write another essay about how this [social media strategist] is a farce (read: bull shit).

So, a twitter trend is described as:

the most common phrases currently appearing in messages.

Which is fantastic when

1. Obama was getting inaugurated;
2. or when the swine flu hit;
3. or when the plane landed on The Hudson river;
4. or when Michael Jackson died;
5. or when the Sugababes lost/fired that not-so-pretty black girl;
6. or when the FIFA Confederation Cup went down;
7. or when we (South Africans) were voting;
8. or when the Iran election thingy-magic-thing went down
9. or when something is happening right now

I hope you are following my, chain of thought --- the beauty I find in twitter is that a topic trends because people are talking about the same thing that is going on outside of twitter (and trending-hash-tags are topics within a virtual system).

I read on Wired (Clive Thompson on How the Real-Time Web Is Leaving Google Behind):

Google organized our memory. Real-Time Search [Twitter] organizes our consciousness." — Edo Segal

What that implies to me is that Twitter tells us what the collective conscious is thinking; talking about; or experiencing; but the important thing is:

What our reality is, right now.

Now, note (I know I sound condescending, but hey, an argument is laid out to be won, no?) the key words in that is conscious and reality.  That means we are thinking in context to our existence, which I can construe to mean: our current environment (state of the being, maybe?)

Now, enter those, hash-tagged trending topics --  I will admit they were fun in the beginning: #chrisbrownsbowtie was quite funny, from an observation point of view --- I know South Africans are proud of trending: #whenwewereyoung (or something like that).

But, my question is:

beyond the short term gratification of 'being the person who started a trend' what value are they to our 'collective consciousness'?

You see my rant: I hate trend setters, period.

*sips on more coca-cola.

*inhales nicotine.

Yeah sure, this rant of an essay won't stop them and you might not agree:

but I'd like to think as a social collective there is an inherent good our shared experiences bring about (que: iran-election).

If that is not true -- then, what social contract (by this I mean as people there is way we engage with each other in real life that is not supposed to be harmful, but useful to each and everyone involved) is there in a social network, if assuming it is a indeed a social network?

*phew, at least that's off my chest.

Why am I more motivated and inspired to work since I've moved back home, to Mom's crib.

I think it has to do with the space - how things are arranged.  It feels more comfortable to sit on this desk and work than to sit anywhere else, and the minute I sit down, I want to work, and I do work, without fail.

I mean, look at the time, it's 6h15, I woke up at 5.30 (I've done the same for all of this week).

I suspect it is the sun.  It floods this room as if it rises from it.  I am better woken up by the rays of the sun than a sudden, abrupt sound of an alarm.

In fact, one of these days an alarm is going to cause me a heart attack, it is mad scary that sudden noise.

Alas, lets get to it --- churn this work.

Wait, I actually have nothing to say about that -- but there is this thing, that is missing, in this life of mine, but it could be because I sense a change in the clouds, or is that a tea cup.

You know that thing that fortune tellers do, with tea leaves in a tea cup --- I sense something like that.

But, there is a residual feeling/emotion lingering within my thoughts, I am not sure what it is, but I sense it --- maybe it has something to do with a girl (or the lack thereof) we are not sure.

This weekend was good, very good.  We celebrated life, fully, and we met a girl.

Something about meeting a girl is beautiful.

Yes, that's it --- it's all about a girl.

We are home.  I am sitting on a bed, a bed, yes, a bed.  The futon is on my left with a gang load of things on top it.  I am no longer feeling the futon vibe, it worked when I was in my early twenties.

The things on top of it, are things that my mother 'stored' in my room/penthouse.  I don't know what they are, but I don't quite care.

I am motivated to work, but I don't have my desk setup, the roof leaks, so I can't risk putting 50 grand worth of equipment in the line of sight of rain drops, especially in Summer.

I am however listening to Regina Spektor's "Laughing With", I love this song:

and I quote:

No one's laughing at God when they see the one they love hand in hand with someone else and they hope that they're mistaken.

…

We're all laughing with God

It is a beautiful song.

We have moved back to my mothers house.  I suspect, if don't curb my interest, this will be what my weekends end up as.

I would not live in the cbd -- I can sense the value, or is it the sentiment of it?  I love my corridor.

I have corridor of places I'd live in:

killarney, saxonwold, rosebank, parkview, parkhurst, parkhood, parktown north and greenside.

*oh, that reminds me: I need to change my GPS location on my twitter account.

Anywho, it's only 8am on a Sunday, sippin' on some beer, planning to go to Emmarentia for Goldfish and 340ml.  Well I might go, not really sure.

This planning about where I am going to sleep is a tad bit of an inconvenience.

Somehow though, I feel driven, focused to put in some work --- get these other ideas of the ground.

We shall see in front.

*oh, that two posts a day might be pushing it.

I am at the time where I am, once, again flooded with beautiful ideas, absolutely beautiful ideas, I am debating if I should share them or keep them to myself.

Strangely two ideas I had in the past 2 months have been executed by somebody else --- it is sad, but here is there thing, if you have a good imagination, it matters not who beats you to market, because the ideas keep flowing like champagne at a Puff Daddy birthday party.

Alas, that's all I got for today --- at least we posted something today, keeping inline with my plan.

Oh, by end of tomorrow, I should know where I am moving to --- moving houses is boring.  I don't know where I am moving to, but push comes to shove I'll be moving back to my mother's house, Alexandra Township.  Till we find a wooden floored apartment, I am not going anywhere.

ah, well, till tomorrow.

Alas, one can't be quiet for a month, it's bad form, me thinks.

So, we shall try to run a test we tried on Sinah, awhile back -- forcing myself to find something to write everyday, and not only that, write at least 2 posts a day.

So, today what do we write about?

*thinking

*thinking

*thinking

Isn't that silly --- writing that you are thinking, when effect the thinking happens before one writes?

*thinking

*thinking

Okay, the thing on my mind is the iphone --- I've put in a request for one (well a request is a bad word, it should be order).

Those that know me, know how much I hate 'gated' communities (facebook, northern-suburbs, iphone, blackberry).  But, the question is why did I then order an iphone.

Well, simply put --- the user interface is beautiful.  I hate ugly human-interaction-systems, period (or coma).

But,

*lol --- I left the browser window to answer some IM, now I forgot what I was saying.

... o ne o tlo bua maaka.

ah, well --- till tomorrow.

Humanity.

Why haven't we acquired that illusive state of harmony, peace and collaborating existence (not sure what this is)?

Le me put the man on the stairs in context.  For as long as I have lived in this complex (block of flats) the one constant person that I greet in the morning is the man that cleans the stairs and parking lot, collects and removes garbage (other peoples garbage: I am not comfortable with the idea that a man way older than me should clean up my garbage).

I've never seen him have lunch before --- of all these 30 something apartments - that he maintains - there isn't a respectable, decent place for him to have lunch?

It bothered me. It still does.

Something is wrong here, something is very wrong.

So, instead of singing: Man in the mirror. I thought to myself, we should be the example we want the world to become (paraphrasing Ghandi's words).

But, it's not good enough for you to want to 'start with the man in the mirror', but rather, reflect that changed man onto the world. (besides: helping others is easier than helping yourself, no?)

I think the key thing is that 'reflection' --- the world is harsh --- anybody can tell you that.  But, we all don't experience the same harshness, our levels of harsh are different and we all know it could get worse.

*before I lose the plot --- let me get to the end.

I think, we therefore need to care for others, show compassion, accommodate, listen, engage, go out of your way, lend a hand – all those good things you see on cheesy calendars.

I also, think, the state, government, NGO's, the UN, cannot change the world --- they are a reflection of what the world is, including it's illusions about who should bring about this peace.

A government is a representation of a people --- when the government fails those people, it is the people that have failed.

We should then ensure we resemble and reflect the world we want the world to be.

I am hoping this makes sense --- I guess, that's the problem with a thought provoking an emotion.

Aluta, continua.

(digression)

why is it that we apologise for being truthful?

(back to regular programming)

So, there is this thing that I have been wondering about for quite some time --- some how I feel like I am just, lack of better word, hatin'.

But, alas, in short it is:

authority.

I know I have asked this question before, whatever it is you are writing about, do you have the authority to write about it? I am not a fascist, anybody can express an opinion on anything, but at the same time, the freedom to express yourselves is qualified by others being able to challenge that opinion, otherwise, it is dictation.

I rarely visit blogs, I do visit some, but they are few --- I am more interested in qualified arguments (that is to say an opinion that is defined and reasoned about).

But, wait --- I think I am digressing.

Here is a question:

does consuming a product/service make you an expert in what that product/service is?

Huh? Let me put it another way:

Does watching tv making you an expert on what is good or bad tv production, programming, planning, etc? - To have an opinion, does not make you an expert.

There is a lot of people who claim to be: Social Media experts (in most cases they are referring to tweeting and using facebook) -- waar was jy during the .com bubble+bust?

Let me share what I tweeted a few weeks ago:

#mbq: since when did geeks become 'social' media experts? A geek is defined as a "unfashionable or socially inept person". 1ove, paradox. (8:47 AM Sep 14th)

I have actually come to a conclusion that I do not trust anybody that claims or says they are 'social media' experts.  What exactly does that mean?

Ah, wait --- I think my argument is jumping back and forth. Ah, well, a few days ago, I realised this 'social media' yadi-yada stuff is no longer interesting me.  My interest are shifting towards Augmented Reality:

Augmented Reality: is a term for a live direct or indirect view of a physical real-world environment whose elements are merged with-, or augmented by virtual computer-generated imagery - creating a mixed reality.

now this stuff, begs my mind to imagine.

For the record:

I am not fully convinced it is a crisis, but I am more leaning towards: a natural order of the world.

but, for the purpose of this essay/argument, let us assume I am in aggreement with the general 'state of affairs'.

So, I have been thinking --- we all know if we don't go 'green' we are in danger of self-destruction and humans will be no more.  My thoughts are around the idea of why, aren't we 'fearful' to the point where we see using those old light bulbs as sealing our fate.

I think, we need to evoke the same fear we have with AIDS/HIV.  Let me elaborate the analogy, if you will:

We all know the risks involved in un-safe sex are potentially terminal, the fear is there --- nobody is brave enough to say: "well, since I've used a condom 3 times this week, I can afford to not use one."

So, why do we do the same with going 'green' - here or there we are green, but sometimes we are not. I was saying to a friend if it was true that if you used fossil fuels, you'd die in a week:

the people would invest in solar, geothermal (which is a very fascinating thing) or wind energy immediately --- this gradually going green is more dangerous, I think.

but, this was an unplanned post --- so we shall leave it there.

How the hell did I get here?

I think as a child (when I was younger) I had a better judgement of character than I do now.

Ever found yourself wondering how the fuck did you get to this point of relating with a person/idea, and you are wondering why do I even give a shit about it?

*the swear words are by design.

I think I expect not a lot from people, but the bare minimum of what they should be able to deliver without effort, sadly, turns out to be a lot to ask.

batho ba tlo reng?

I guess that's it.

When you wake up, bathe, walk out into the world --- what are your thoughts? A few people would easily say: I don't care what people have to say?

How true is that? If you really, didn't give a rats ass about what is being (or imagined to be) said about you, surely you'd walk out the house naked (in summer at least) or be rude, crass and ignorant, but, you are not.

I think, if you are going to say something, then take cognisance of the fact that somebody is listening to you.  If they lend you their ear, then please, do make it worth their time.

I just realised that has implication in why I don't listen to that bullshit (lil' wayne, florida, drake, kwito yadi-yadi-yadi-yada) --- I value every moment I spend in this space, it has to be well spent.

wait, wait --- what am I talking about?

Oh, angst --- I am at that point, again, where there is way too much bullshit, way, way, way too much.

What is upsetting about the bullshit, is that some people buy it, regurgitate, shuffle it, paraphrase it, resell it and expect you to agree with -- nah muthafucker, my momma didn't raise no fool.

Like a friend of mine said today:

What's on page two? (if you don't get this, its okay, maybe one day you will).

now, we go sleep. --- this was an unplanned broadcast.

till we write again.

So, I have decided to start drafting all my posts --- excluding this one.  I have a few topics lined up.  I like the idea of thinking before I speak.

Although, I get my ideas whilst walking --- I am not mobile so I do a lot of walking.  Its a strange feeling that, getting the best ideas when I can't do anything abou them.

The irony is if I have not jotted the idea down, it keeps coming back and I keep thinking about the same thought on the same stretch of road.  It would be cool if there was an internet café where these throughts cross my mind.

Either that or I need to invest in a personal assistant.

Mara, re tla bona.

Oh, I want to restart the silly project o' mine called: en-off (english off), where we use native tongues to express our thoughts, regardless of how bad our gramma, spelling is, I think the 'percieved' permanance of the web will be good to preserve our languages.

Yeah, I hear that argument about english being important: but it is mostly important to communicate ideas to a broader audience.

But,,,, wait,,, I need to plan for this argument.

till then.

alas, what's on my mind

ego.

not mine, but those that choose to exert theirs on others are pissing me off.  I do not even have the words to express the level of absolute piss-off-ness.

we are better off as a collective, than individuals.

I believe in that and I shall stick to it through and through (my twitter followers should always be less than the people I follow) --- I do believe there is more for me to learn, than there is for others to learn from me.

but this selfish (conceited) desire for one to be followed without the capacity to lead, or at the least to construct and engage in a dialogue worth listening is,

well,

annoying.

I am not speaking of twitter, alone, I am speaking of ego, the exertion of it onto others.

If I take the time out to listen to what you have to say, I am not interested in your life but, you perception of life, at the least.

argggggg.... lets leave it that.  What's next on my mind:

sense of humour, the lack of it.

I've known for sometime that I have the ability to make others laugh, although, sometimes I will fail, and in that failing, I learn.

It is true that through humour, I have learnt to command language (although my spelling begs an f7) better.

alas, I need to prepare for class tomorrow --- I will return with other things to say, that are, I hope, worth your time.

oh, that reminds me:

I have no desire to be relevant, within the context of blogging, I do however, want to write things that are worth coming back to, sometime later on in the future (including being corrected)

So, if you feel, I am straying into the 'dopeness/fresh/swanker(read: swagger)' territory, please let me know --- my mother would not be proud.

it appears, the struggle continues.

Aluta, continua.

but I got interrupted, I am still interrupted, I am waiting for the interruption to end, then maybe I'll remember.

but, whilst I am here with a mind thats running around in thoughts, I might as well, write something about whatever.

hmmm,,, I got nothing, this interruption is rather more powerful than I thought.

Oh, here is a thought that crossed my mind yesterday:

what is your darkest fear?

that thing you fear the most? does it change over time? or does it get worse over time?

I have realised that with me, it gets worse over time, gets scarier over time.

no amount of pseudo-intelligent-dr-phil-esque-bite-size wisdom can shake the fear off.

I am hoping, through meditation, I can fight it.

Its is been a nerve wrecking week.  I worked hard putting together the STUDIO83 new website --- only to go through a design depression, then to be hit by a loosing South/African football team, then hit by the death of Michael Jackson.

As far back as I can remember Michael Jackson has crossed my mind every single year --- his importance in (my) life was not his continued presence but his continued influenced.  Pick any Itunes music library you are bound to find a track he made or a track somebody else sampled his music.

My uncle, is probably the only true Michael Jackson fan I know --- being that I was raised by my uncle during the 'days of the struggle' you can imagine the impact my uncle has on me ipso-facto Michael Jackson.

I am not saddened to the point of tears (I rarely cry anyway) --- I am, like a cliché, realising the impact he had, yeah sure its in retrospect, but such is life, and in death it always preferred to celebrate the humanity of person that has passed.

and I am doing that.

but, on the good side of life, is that Brasil won the Confederation cup --- that brought a sense of balance to this chaotic sequence of events.  I am happy about that.

I am also, as I type this, working on the final touches for a project that has been close to one year in the making.  It is probably the only client-paying project I will observe and partake in it, because it is, truly good for South/Africa.

and more good news is that, I am a few days from seeing the fruits of my ambition, a business transaction that will allow me the time and space to be where I have imagined my business to be in.

but, the sad news for today, is that my sister's flat got broken into.  The truth is:

If my sister is not happy, I am worse.

with that, I shall try to finish of some work, then sleep.

oh, party people was cool, albeit bizzaire.

1ove, june30th.

Anywhoo, I don't fully understand this phenomena:

everytime I drop a new website (in this case STUDIO83) I get depressed.  I don't mean depressed like Kurt Kobain, but I feel drained, tired, even though I haven't done anything after the launch.

alas, that is where I am --- and I need to find energy to work another project, pronto (due end of week).

I am hoping after this project --- I'll ge time to drop a new design to this here (blog?).

and I also want to go on a marathon of just posting new stuff as I go along, without thought --- I think too much.

But, here is what is disturbing me, two people in a space of 1 hour who were not in the same space, said this, about me:

you are predictable.

I don't quite like that --- but I guess its true, at least of how I am percieved.  We have to work on that, a man my age (and thats another thing disturbing me) cannot be predictable.

in 8 years I'll be 40 years old.

I am not happy with that at all.

I haven't worked an inch since last week Saturday.  I wanted to work, until Monday morning, and we lost all drive.

It is a strange thing to be in --- when you have nothing to do --- well, I have something (lots of work) to do, but I am not doing any of it.

Strange feeling I tell you --- in fact not doing anything is mutha-effin' boring.  Well, at least the Affirmative/Shopping helped out, I've been watching tv series, and movies and stuff.

You know, last week I was offline for the entire week --- I come back this week, and I find the whole experience of being online, rather boring, almost as if nobody is saying anything worth knowing; well, there are some stella content that pops up now and then, but most of the time, its just plain on mundane boring ish.

You know, you'd think by being online people will be more open to madness (virtual identity and all) ---

maybe that's what this (web2.0/social/networking) revolution is taking away: anonymity ---

Yo! in my time my online 'buddies' I didn't know, I had never met in person, so I could be whomever I wanted, but now, 60-70% of all buddies/contacts/friends on any social netowrk I know, that sucks, I can't lie about ish, fuck truth is over rated --- lie, lie, lie, lie!

okay, this ranting is a lot o' work --- I go back and do nothing.

1ove, sloth.