… this could be a blessing: there is a power outage in Alexandra, well almost of all it, which means I have 2 hrs (or so) of battery life to do something constructive, I've chose to write something instead of reading something.

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.

Hai bo!

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.

Okay, maybe near, rather than now.

I have finished (well, almost finished) building the thing I need to use to redo this book.  Oh, the name will also change. The reason being simple:

I am no longer searching for self, I have found that, whatever it is, it is not me, but it lives within me.  I am no longer away, I am here, or rather it is here.

I have also decided of where I am going to move this entire book to.  The URL/web address will change, don't worry the old links will work (automatic redirecting).

I intend to work on the design or the new thing, by end of next week, and launch the new thing by the following Monday.

By the way: Thank you, yes, you, for coming around these parts. Its all love and fornication, ;-)

1ove, you.

It has been a rather interesting week.  Met with a woman I was hoping, dreaming and believed is 'the one'.  I still feel that way.

Albeit, it didn't pan out as imagined.  Ah, at least she knows how I feel, I can only demand that much.

The beauty of getting something of your chest, is that, it's off your chest.  One can only move on, from hence forth, and just maybe, find the same emotion re-surfacing with another person.  I am not aiming for that, my heart is too fragile to be all 'lovey dovey' at any given moment.

I think a line from Love, Actually sums up how I manage the chaotic state of emotions:

It's a... self-preservation thing, you see.

the good news though, is that, ever since I returned from Mozambique, I have bathed every single day.  This 'being' clean thing is quite refreshing.

I think I might enjoy it.

1ove(d), her.