Masked Madness

A few days before new years and we are getting our masks ready.

This is not Paul's finished Mask. 

One of the students from the Johannesburg group is in Cape Town for a visit and we (Paul, Jessica and myself) that we are going to make our own masks. So out comes the plaster of paris bandaging, water, scissors, pens, paper, paint, glue, sequence and double sided tape. Oh of course not forgetting the Zambak. Don’t ask! So on a piece of paper we decide to draw what we want our masks to look like. And we are ready to start the project. Unanimously, I decide that we will make Paul’s mask first. Why his first, cuz if I fuck it up and the plaster sticks to his face for the next week or I take off his eyebrows or something stupid (as always happens to me) at least he wont fuck me up. I hope…….. hehehehee

So Jess puts the Zambak on his eyebrows, as we don’t have Vaseline. Hey it was Zambak or K.Y. lubricant. The Zambak won, for obvious reasons.

This is not Jessica's finished Mask.

I look at jess and ask her if she wants to build the mask or cut me strips. Well Nurse Hannah decided to assist only as the Doc performed the miracle of working on Paul’s face, which was not an improvement at all. But as we started with the second layer it started to take shape and look good. However at this point in time I can’t remember if we were supposed to put something on his face first to make the plaster not stick. Did I say anything about it? Hell no!! I was just gonna mind my own damn business and work on building the mask. Then I rubbed against the grain of the eyebrow hair and also got the hair at his temples stuck in the mask. Again, was I gonna say something? Hell no!!

The mask was doen and admittedly it looked ok. Now it had to dry. “For how long?” Paul asks me. “Until it’s dry came the response” Which translates to, I have no fucking idea. Was I going to admit it? Hell no?

A few minutes later (due to the intense heat and the fact that we were sitting outside, it was time to take the mask off. In other words it was also time for me to quietly in my head chant that the damn thing will come off. Thankfully it did. Next up was Jess and lastly myself. Of course by now I knew that I had the hang of this but neither nurse Hannah nor Doc Joubert had a hang for it. So I was just a little bit stressed. But I knew Paul loves me too much to fuck up my mask on purpose and then laugh at me.

This is not Zeo's finished Mask.

To dry the masks so that we can paint them white and decorate them killed my hairdryer. I started drying them with a hair dryer and then two minutes later we had to have a funeral for the hairdryer. Maybe this is a good place to explain that even though I love technology, it fucking hates me. Technology just has a way of ……. Breaking around me. Ask Conway’s DSTV, and all I did was skip to the next channel, we wont even mention my phone. Damn thing is possessed I tell you, and lately the bathroom light also goes disco even when we changed the actual bulbs. So back to drying the masks, Paul decided to put them in the oven and bake them at a low temperature. I decided to let Paul do this cuz if I had to do it, well then I will almost burn the house down. Like I almost did when I decided to heat Sage on newspaper in the microwave. It seemed like a good idea at the time and in my defense I wasn’t on my own. My friend Paula was with me and we both thought it would work. That microwave is still not the same.

Masks all ready and hard we started decorating and the end product is stunning,  if I may say so myself.

So if you are in cape Town for new Years and you are bored or have no plans and you like masks. Then bring your sexy ass, a predominantly white mask, booze and snacks to our place for the final party of 2011. If you wanna know where our place is then Facebook me or send me an email to zeowitch@yahoo.com. If you have my number just phone me. Don’t sms me, pick up the phone and call me. If we don’t see you, have a blast and be safe.

Mwah!!

P.S. No masks were harmed during the making of this blog. They may have been harmed somewhere else though, like the oven, but not during the making of this blog. Also if you wanna see the end results of what the masks look like, well then you will have to come to our party!

2 People per Trolley

We are walking in jingle bell rock at this time of year. We are getting three kinds of shit beaten out of us by the Drummer Boy's drum. And while we just try to do normal food shopping in a nut house called a Pay 'n Pay we have to listen how Santa will only make a turn to our house, if we are on the nice list. Santa, you can come suck my ......... everyone just seems to be in such a happy mood. 'Tis the season to be jolly fra-la-la-la pppfffffttt.

Well fuck that. I hate this time of year. As it is I am not a fan of people, the ones I don't know and even a few I do know. I can tolerate them and be nice but if you are walking in the shop at this time of year and the entire fucking family is walking in front of you (and by entire I mean at least three generations), at a pace that would be able to be beaten by a snail, then I want to do my nut. What I do not understand, is that we all know what the shops look like during this time of year. You know it's going to be like a race for the last choc chip cookie in the orphanage. Choas, Disorder, mayhem, kids screaming for that last toy, moms screaming at dads for not giving them suficient help and and and. 

Why then do you take your entire family with you for Christmas shopping?

Are the presents not supposed to a surprise for everyone? Is an imaginary fat man not supposed to break into your house at midnight, eat your last choc chip cookie and drink your milk and then leave the gift for you? Here people like me have to deal with screaming kids, old people that has a Zimmer frame, young kids snogging and parents that are all over the sow. It annoys me. Just think how much better your shopping experience will be if you just go to the shop alone. Without anyone bitching around you. Imagine if we could all do that. Two people per trolley, max. Oh it would be a dream come true.

Mwah!!

2012

I have been very sleg in the last few months when it comes to this blog. For a number of reasons I guess. 1. I didn't think anyoe cares anymore, but it turns out people do and they want to read more. It's very weird for me to think that people want to know more about me and my screwed up little life with my wonderful man.

2. .....Ok well that that was the main reason. hehehehehehehe

So for 2012 I promise to keep you all entertained. I will however say that in 2012 I am really gonna put out there how I feel and not mince words about it. In a few of these entries so far I tried to keep it very 'politically correct', yes I also think that I failed. My point is, if you think that this year was forward and to the point then you have not seen anything yet. I am not gonna aim to piss you off, but it is goint to be the truth as I see it. Granted sometimes my twisted mind is not always right but hey this is my fucking blog so I can but on here anything from wise words to dick cheese if I so feel fit.

Also I am gonna try to revamp it a little (no that was not a hint on the vampire politics). What I mean is I want to create a new fresh look for it. Something less dark this year. I am sure my words are dark enough for people. Maybe the site should be bright green with red polka dots and pink dildo's. Who know's I will see what pulls me.

But for now, to all of you that will be on the road this season, please be careful, don't drink and drive, you might spill. Have a fab new years and send me your pissed pics so I can laugh. A happy 2012 to all of you!!

Mwah!!

History is gone

“And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend, legend became myth.” – Galadriel: The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring –

I am amazed by the younger generations lack of knowledge of the of the world. Now I am not an old man. But I find that my youngest sisters generation is just ….. I almost want to say stupid. They have no concept of the world around them and they have no willingness to learn about it. I speak to so many of these young people and I am so shocked by how they are only interested by the things that influence them directly. It is like nothing else exists except for that little sphere of comfort that they call their world and everything else is judge by the iron fist of ignorance.

I think that is the scariest and saddest thing about it. The unwillingness to grow, to learn, to educate the self. The unwillingness to further ones self and to know some of the great people. These youngsters don’t know anything about people like Mother Theresa let’s not even mention Florence Nightingale. Florence who? And then when you try and tell them Florence who, they shrug and brush you off since Florence has no bearing on their current lives. It saddens me that great people of history are being forgotten and being left in the dark and now one cares about the people that shaped our world. But this does not just stop at history greats of our world, it includes musicians, actors, painters the lot. Our young people are writing history and their beginning starts with Britney fucking Spears.

Influences

A man woke up one morning. Feeling like a ray of sunshine he decided that today is going to be a great day. He dressed himself in exotic clothes and put some colour on his face. This long process, yet worth while one, was completed by the final touch of a plain red bindi that is placed between his brows. He looks in the mirror and for the first time in a very long time he feels very good about himself.. After the ritual of change, this sacred one that every caterpillar also experiences, he goes to turn the kettle on so that he can make coffee for himself and his boyfriend before they leave on their journey.

His boyfriend looks at him, mouth drops open “you look so sexy” he says. Blushing the young man says “Thank you” and he feels that today is going to be a great day. Even his boyfriend noticed he looks good and complimented him, how can this day not be great.

Everywhere they go people compliment him, men whistle and in general people are extremely kind to him.  Doors gets opened, people give way and everyone is flirting with him. Yes today is going to be a great day. His boyfriend can’t keep his eyes or hands off of him. He feels like he is the envy of every man and woman, they either want him or want to be with him.

And then it gets to the point in the story where his boyfriend tells him that he has to use the bathroom. He himself feels the need for a bathroom but has issues with public bathrooms. So happy that the boyfriend will go and explore this unknown territory first to report back he quietly sits on the bench and waits. A few minutes later the boyfriend returns and gives the ok that he himself can now go to relieve his bladder. Again, very aware that people are looking at him with lusty eyes he struts to the bathroom.

As he is about to walk in, the cleaner, an aged African woman, tells him that he is not allowed to enter the room. He asks her why.

“Because that is the gents” she says and points to her other side and says “The ladies is that way” He looks at her knowing that people often call him lady or ma’am or girl. He tells her that he is most definitely in the right place. She looks at him for a long moment in silence and disbelief and then asks “So what are you a man?” And again being used to this kind of treatment he says that he actually is yes. Up until now everything was still fine, but then she asked the next question

“So then why are you fat?”

Silence. You can hear a penny drop. The need to visit the bathroom is gone and it seems like all the preparation for the day has been an utter waste.

Today is going to be a horrible day.

How easily we are brought down in one quick sweep.

Kuns en Kultuur

Ek tik die blog in Afrikaans want ek dink nie dat daar enige ander taal is wat die ervaring kan verduidelik nie. Dis ook snaaks dan dat ek Afrikaans kies om my emosie oor te dra, want toe ek nog kind was, het ek altyd gedink dat Afrikaans n aaklige taal is vir enige emosie en ek het altyd gewens dat ek n Engels man kon wees.

Gisteraand was ek en my geliefde man Paul na ‘n kuns en poësie uitstalling in die Kuns-Kaap sentrum. Een van Paul se vriendinne wat saam met hom buik dans doen was die kunstenaar en digter. Gerda Louw, ‘n naam wat julle almal maar gerus kan gaan opsoek, ‘n naam wat nog vele male gaan verskyn.

Gerda Louw

Elke skildery was gepaar met n dig. Die dig het nie die kuns verduidelik nie maar uit gebry daarop. Die uitstalling se naam was ‘Passage’. Gerda verduidelik hoe die ry skilderye en die poësie wat daarmee saam gaan, jou nie tot n eind bestemming bring nie, maar net hoe dit ons bewus maak van elke stap wat ons neem op ons ‘Passage’ om onself the ontdek. Sy daag ook die aanskouer uit om verby die kuns te kyk. Om te kyk wat sal in elke stuk volgende gebeur. Dus word die kuns nie net a storie van Gerda se lewe nie maar elk een van ons ful aan tot wat ons oë sien en so word haar storie, my storie, jou storie, ons storie.

Die musiek van die klavier en die saksefoon wat gespeel word deur twee mense op die maat van musiek wat jou terug neem na n tyd sonder sorge en probleme akkommedeer my stap langs die muur van kuns en poësie.

Ons begin die ‘Passage’ met n gedig genaamd ‘Gallery’. Ironies genoeg was dit vir my een van my gustelling stukke.

‘versplinterde skeppings

wat hang in die gange van ‘n verwronge realiteit’

Dis net twee reels van daai dig en van daardie oomblik af was ek absoluut binne in Gerda se skeppings. In n wêreld waar dit vir my voel asof elke stuk werk geskryf of geskilder was om iets vir my te betekin. My gunstelling dig stuk was een met die naam “Ek is anders’. Emotioneel staan ek voor die raam teen die muur waar die stuk hang. Die knop in my keel form en vergroot en ek voel hoe raak my oë nat. Ek sal later uitvind dat dit is ook haar gunstelling stuk.

Paul kon nie genoeg kry van haar kuns met die naam ‘La Traviata’ en vir rede. Vir my spreek dit van maskers. Maskers wat ons op verskillende tye en verskillende paaie vir verskillende redes dra.

Gerda se dig bundel 'Eg'

Die klavier en saksefoon is nou vergesel deur 'n stem wat sing in die mooiste toon. En hier staan ek voor die kuns stuk wat my die heel aand terug roep om weer te kom kyk, ‘Meisie op die spiraal trap’. Dit spreek tot my siel, van waar ek vandaan kom tot waar ek nou is en waarheen ons gaan sal net hemele alleen weet, maar voor daardie stuk het ek heel aand gesit en ek kon myself heeltemal vireenseldig daarmee. Dit was asof sy die net vir my geskilder het. Asof Gerda presies geweet het wat in my lewe aangaan soos n God wat uit die hemel my elke stap dophou en die stuk kuns vir my gee om te se, ‘Ek weet’.

Gerde Louw se werk kannie gemeet word nie. Een van die gaste het gese hy voel soos hy gevoel het toe hy die eerste keer een van Van Gohg se stukke gesien het. Dit was heeltemal asemrowend en n plesier en eer om daardie talent te kon aanskou.

Gerda het ook n dig bundel wat te koop is en natuurlik moes ek net een he.

Gaan kyk gerus na haar webtuiste op www.gerdalouw.com of kontak haar op art@gerdalouw.com

Matthew Shepard

On October 6^th and 7th in 1998 a brutal crime was committed against a young boy.  Matthew Shepard was beaten to the point of death by other boys for being gay. In the little town of Wyoming in the United States of America, two other men decided to beat Matthew Shepard and left him hanging in the fields for death. A biker that drove by at first thought that Matthew was a scarecrow.  On the 12^th of October he died in the Hospital of severe head injuries that caused stem damage among others.

Protestors carried placards  at the funeral saying “No Tears for Queers”. 

This young boy suffered but his story has been the main driving force for the legislation against gay crimes. Not that this is a comfort for a mother who lost her child. Judy Peck (mother) in 2009, wrote a book about the event and the events that followed her sons death.

You can read more about this tragic accident on http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matthew_Shepard

Most of us look at this accident and think that it does not affect us at all and we are so glad that we do not live in Wyoming. The fact is that hate crimes against gays still do exist and it happens all around you. You have just chosen to close your eyes to it and you have chosen to laugh about the ‘witted’ gay jokes. But even a young boy that grows up in a very liberal home during the 80’s and 90’s gets affected by these ‘witted’ gay jokes. You think it is a joke to call someone gay and then link that gay title to something less than human. You teach society to point and call gay and then beat up. You teach your children that gay people are fudge packers and all sorts of horrible names. You show your work colleagues and friends that you wont associate with your gay brother or sister. You tease, you belittle, you brake the souls of people all over the world and when confronted you say it was a joke. YOU ARE A SICK INDIVIDUAL. YOU ARE GUILTY OF GAY HATE SPEECH and YOU ARE JUST AS GUILTY OF MANSLAUGHTER.

I was 25 when I finally came out of the closet. Just about 4 years ago. It was the scariest experience that I have ever had to go through. I am that boy that grew up in a very liberal home in 80’s and 90’s. My mother had just passed away the year before and I was lost. What scared me the most is what would my siblings think. Especially one of them. Not because he ruled my life but because my siblings were all I had now, the only family I knew. And for my entire life I have been the underdog of gay jokes and comments relating to how fucked up I am therefore I am gay as per one of my siblings. Yes of course he sees it as a friendly jest, a joke. Those jests and jokes and fucked up comments ruined my life and made the most important choice of my life also the scariest one. I was too afraid to breathe in fear of what may happen if someone could smell on my breath that I enjoyed to suck cock. It has been four years since then and I have forgiven and moved on, but how many cannot. How many are too scared to come out of the gay closet for fear of what their family and friends and society will do and say. How many rather end their own lives due to that fear. And you in your perfect straight world with your white picketed fence and your 2.4 kids can’t understand why. Because it is your fault if you have ever told so much as one poor tasted gay joke, teased one gay person, or made one negative comment about a gay person. If you have done that then it may have been you that took that persons life. Makes no difference.

Fact is, it is never just a ‘witted’ joke. And next time someone is killed or someone’s soul is destroyed or someone commits suicide due to gay hate speech, just think, it could have been your child.

So go tell your fucked up jokes to yourself. The rest of the world does not want to hear it.

Giant Mistakes

I just need to get something off my chest and even though it has nothing to do with anyone and even though it wont make sense to my readers, I just have to get it off and since this is my fucking blog I can write here what ever I want.

Sometimes in this life we act very impulsively. Sometimes too impulsively. I speak of personal experience. I am a impulsive twat who often is like a bull in a china shop once I have an idea in my head. I tend to think that I know what is best and then I run with it. Sometimes forgetting to take into consideration the people around me. I don't always think enough about a situation and I just jump. My motto has always been that tomorrow I might be dead and then I never got the oppertunity to do what I thought about doing. The god thing about thinking like this is the fact that you really do experience all kinds of things. The bad thing about this is that sometimes you get yourself into some serious shit. I am afraid that today I think I may have jumped to quickly and I also realise that it is too little too late. What I did is really not important. What is important that Paul stands next to me all the way. I have been blessed with the best man on this planet. Sometimes I dont even think that I deserve him.

On the Cher farewell tour she tells people how you should do everything  that you want to do while you have the oppertunity to do it. She says that she doesnt want to die and think "Shit I should have done that", rather when she dies she would like to think "Shit maybe I shouldn't have done that".

Well I think I have just stumbled upon such a situation. I know that there are no amount of appologies that can ever make right the damage that this can have but I am truly very sorry.

So, 'shit, maybe I shouldnt have done this.'

Blessings

I have not been very active on the blog in the last few weeks as serious changes have been happening in our home and in out life. All of them for the better. What will the outcome of all this be, who the hell knows. But I suppose that is part of the excitement.

We finally have a car and Paul has an amazing job. Life seems to finally be looking up for us and I for one am very excited. I am so grateful for all of the many blessings that we have received over the last year. But as the year draws closer and closer to its end I look around me and see so many ungrateful people.  I know that this year has not been wonderful to all of us and that some of us has lost dear ones, jobs, teeth, sanity whatever all, but even if you only have one tooth left in your mouth then I suppose you can be grateful for that. I know it is difficult to stay positive when all else seems like it is falling to shit, but it is so important for us to then stay positive. A negative attitude only builds and attracts negative energy. You draw that to you then. The people in your life will be negative and what’s worse is that you wont even realize it. Misery loves company and like attracts like. Besides we all have something to be grateful for. A roof over our heads, If you are reading this then an internet connection and a form of computer to read it on. If a friend printed it out for you then be grateful for a printer or better yet a friend like that. I also would like to use this opportunity to tell everyone that there is no use to hold a grudge. Don’t get me wrong here, I am sure as shit not claiming to be a messiah who is all love and all light and fluffy bunny shit. And I am also a Scorpio. Ain’t no one can hold a grudge like a Scorpio, but I also know when it is completely useless to do so. To tell you a secret it is actually always pointless to hold a grudge.

A very close friend of mine told me about how she held a grudge to her primary school bully for all these years and then when they were all adults she went to the bar one night, a guy poked her shoulder and asked for light. She nearly died, it was the primary school bully. She had waited her entire life for this moment. But instead she did nothing. She realized that he had no idea who she was. That is when she realized that holding a grudge doesn’t do any harm except to the person that is holding it. She had held onto a grudge for years and years and here was the bully in front of her. He had gone on with his life. Gotten married, had his house white picketed fence and two point four children. No idea who she was. Yet she spent years thinking about him. Making herself feel sick and crying over how he treated her and and and. Instead of spending that energy on something constructive and positive she wasted it on a man that doesn’t even know who she is today. All that stress built up over what?

As you know by now, every meal that I have I, softly to myself, mention 1 thing that I am grateful for. I urge no in fact I challenge you to do the same. Even if it is only for the rest of this year. Every time you have a meal, think of one thing that you are extremely grateful for. Don’t use the same thing more than once. It can be one word or a description. Anything you are grateful for.

Mwah!!

Aleister Crowley

Last night I watched a documentary on Aleister Crowley. It was a about a 40 minute show but I found it to be very one sided. Even though they had historians and Catholic priests and even a satanic writer on the show as well as Martin Booth (the man who wrote the book on Crowley) it seemed to be more of a ‘let’s just make him out to be a bad man’ show.They mentioned nothing of his work in the Golden Dawn. No mention of his Tarot Deck that he designed. There was no mention of his joining of the Pickengill covens or his meeting with Gerald B Gardner with the aim of helping Gardner to write up the rites for the new Wicca movement.

Instead they just continuously called him ‘The Beast 666’ (a name that he truly did give himself to rebel against his Christian upbringiing) and ‘the wickedest man on in the world’. In a way I am sure that J.K. Rowling based her character of Lord Voldemort on him. Surely other people have based various fictional characters on him, even Dion Fortune did. But in the first Harry Potter book the wand maker says the following of Voldemort “He who must not be named, did many great things. Terrible yes, but great.” In his later years he is said to have calmed down and raise a son also named Aleister. According to his diaries it looks as if he regrets the way he lived his life, but who can truly say. Maybe him helping Gardner was a way of trying to redeem himself.
But this documentary also failed to mention was that in 2002 the BBC acclaimed Crowley with the award of being the 73^rd greatest Britt.

Crowley made popular the use of Correspondences in magick. He was a fore runner for helping people to face their shadow self in what he called ‘The Nightmare Room’ in his Abbey of Thelema in Sicily. He put the use of sex magick on the map and gave people back their personal power.  I am not trying to make him out to be a saint, but I am trying to make the average person who follows the occult that whether or not you like him and what he did, he made huge impacts on our way of life.

So even though this is not a long blog, I am urging you to read up on this man that changed the face of the esoteric world forever.

Here is just one website

http://www.controverscial.com/Aleister%20Crowley.htm

Mwah!!

Spring Fever

It is widely accepted here in South Africa and probably most (if not the entire) southern hemisphere that spring day is on the 1^st of September. On that day people wear floral (puke, puke) or just dress up in various colourful clothes. I never got it.  However I just want to point out something here, and maybe I am wrong and I am more than willing to admit that I am. But is spring day not on the Spring Equinox? Which means that this year it is on the 23^rd of September. In Cape Town we currently have sunny days and then suddenly rainy days. Then you must hear the people complain. “I thought it was supposed to be spring” blah fucking blah. Point in fact. When winter switches over to spring it is not going to be a sudden WHAM no more rain and sunny beginnings. It is a gradual change over from one to the other. There will still be rain. Nature is not dictated by what we think it should do on any given season. And then when it gets too hot then people complain again. We are the most ungrateful shits that walk this planet.

Or we watch the weather at night and then the next day it is not as what the poor weather man predicted. I say poor cuz I feel sorry for the doos. Here is this guy, just doing what he gets paid to do. He doesn’t even try to predict the weather. He just looks into monitor and reads what whoever tells him to read. No not God, just some random person that also just tries to predict the weather. Jisses and then when the weather is not as the weather man said it would be, we all kak him out. Die arme vokken man doen net sy job. Can you imagine how his ears must buzz everyday?

Personally I do not watch the weather, I do not listen to it on the radio nor do I look it up on the internet. If I happen to see it somewhere, then fine but I am not going to go out of my way to try and find it. Why? Cuz I don’t believe that it can be predicted. Think of it this way. The weather is kinda like God’s mood. He can wake up happy but then he gets pissed off cuz the Pope is being taken to court and it rains. Then he learns that the Pope is guilt and the fucker should go to prison then he is even more pissed off cuz this is after all the head of the Catholic church so it hails. Or some shit like that. I mean can you predict your partners every mood, one day in advance? I don’t fucking think so and if you can then both you and your partner needs to get a life.

Then spring arrives and we all throw things out. We grab mops and brooms and lappies and we clean like it is the new in thing to do. We call this spring cleaning. If you think about this it is actually very disturbing. Does that mean that we are only allowed to give our homes a good cleaning when it is spring time? So for the rest of the year our home must look like a hookers handbag. Personally I think A good cleaning (aka Jik bomb) should happen at least once a week. If you keep it clean it is really not a mission to maintain your house. Also nee sies man vok you should be happy to clean your house. Why would you want to live in a dirty house. Do you want to fight the roaches and worms for your food? Then I have also noticed how some people do a serious cleaning and then in the middel of Autumn they will “Oh I spring cleaned my house.” Should it not be a autumn cleaning?

Spring, Why do we make such a big deal out of it? Hundreds of years ago we used to wait for it and then we would have to do stock take of food that was stock piled and old people that died. But in this modern age, why? Why is it such a big deal?

Mwah!!

Make someone feel special

It is funny how music has the ability to completely control our emotions. When we are in a happy mood we like to listen to happy music. We jump up and down and we dance till the cows come home. When someone plays a sad song we comment about how we are going to slice our wrists and we also demand that a more ‘hip’ song be played. One that we can dance to and have fun on. But why? Because when that one sad song plays and we truly listen to it, it has the ability to completely change our mood. We go from being happy and full of life to a sad humanbeing sitting on a couch singing wholeheartedly with the artist. Sinead O’Connor “Nothing Compares”.

It is also rather amusing how we equate certain music with certain people or events. And every time we hear that song we then think of that event and or person. My first boyfriend told me that the song that made him think of me and miss me and love me and all that shit was "Die With You" by Blutengel. Now this is truly a beautiful song

“You do everything for me
Protect me from the shadows
You hold me when I'm falling
Chase all the bad dreams away
You hear me when I'm calling you
Wash away my tears
My blood is poisoned, my soul is aching
I'II die for you once more”

Is some of the lyrics and yet after we separated I could not listen to the song without getting pissed of at him and thinking that is a really fucked up song. However yesterday I heard the song again and for the first time in about three and a half years I was able to listen to the song and enjoy it. I did not spare him a single positive or negative thought. I simply enjoyed the song for the beautiful song that it is.

Certain friends have certain songs that remind them of each other. My friend Naomi and I will forever share the song “Simply the Best” and Catherine and I “What’s Going On” and Paula (no, this is not a drag queen name for Paul it is a female friend) “Whether Without You”, which was the long song that played in the coffee shop before she left for Kuwait. Thankfully she has returned again. Even though she is back I will forever think of that day in the coffee shop when that song plays.

Relationships also have songs. Paul and I have a song, it is “Rule the World” by Take That. When I phone his cell phone “The Music’s No Good Without you” plays as his personalized ringtone for me and when he phones me “You are my Sunshine” plays.

When I hear the song “Auld Lang Sein” I used to think of New Years but due to the first ‘Sex and the City’ movie it now makes me think of my true friends and how there is nothing I wont do for them.

When I hear “Have you Ever Seen the Rain” I think of my mom and when I hear “To Where You Are” I am bound to cry cuz I really miss her then. 

When all is said and done I really think that music is one the most powerful things on the planet. We are surrounded by it everywhere we go. In the shops, on the radios, when we are put on hold, in the shower (well don’t all people sing there?) and even in lifts.  And we are all so delighted when someone dedicates a song to us. It makes us feel special. So here is the challenge for this week. Pick 5 people that are special to you and dedicate a song to them. Make them feel special. Pay it forward, lets make everyone feel special.

Mwah!!

Believe

In 1998, singer, songwriter, actress, director, Cher made a much needed come back with her album Believe. The RIAA certified it Quadruple Platinum on December 23, 1999, recognizing four million shipments in the United States only. In 1999 the album received three Grammy Awards nominations including "Record of the Year", "Best Pop Album" and winning "Best Dance Recording" for the single "Believe". The album has sold 20,000,000 copies world-wide which makes it her best-selling album, and also one of the best-selling albums of all time. But that is not the point of this blog.

The number one hit on that album also entitled "Believe" sings of having hope when it feels like your heart has been ripped out.

“No matter how hard I try
You keep pushing me aside
And I can't break through
There's no talking to you
It's so sad that you're leaving
It takes time to believe it
But after all is said and done
You're gonna be the lonely one, oh

Do you believe in life after love
I can feel something inside me say
I really don't think you're strong enough now,
Do you believe in life after love
I can feel something inside me say
I really don't think you're strong enough now”

Is just some of the words from the song. This, combined with a my oldest friend in world (meening that I have known the longest, [since we were 6 years old]) going through a very hard time in her relationship, made me rethink the human condition of needing love. We are just about all of us guilty of it. We all want it, we all want to have someone to share things with. Whether it is a friend or parent or sibling or parent, it is still love.

My boss (brilliant man that he is) one day told me that you have to live your life in such a way that you are only dependant on yourself. Those words together with the words of one of my friends (remember nothing in this universe is for certain) has stuck with me. Yes I am happy and I love Paul more than every breath that I take but as explained in a previous blog I am also a realist and knows that even if it is death that one day claims one of us, it wont last forever. And should that day come that we are no longer together, whether it is tomorrow or in 80 years from now, can I live without him. Am I able to survive. But again that is just one side of the coin. This song to me not only speaks of the physical but also of the emotional. Will I be ok if something happens that Paul and I are no longer together. I don’t know. I have no fucking idea. But here is what I do know. There is life after love, but it depends on us. We can either sit in a corner and sulk which is the natural thing to do, but it is also natural to bounce back at some point or other. Life does and will go on and we cannot let it pass us by like a movie scene of someone else’s life.

So to you my dear wonderful friend whom I love, I promise you that there is life after love and that even though it will be dark and miserable for a while it will also pass and things will become better. Life is what we make of it. Everything that happens to us is what we make of it.

Mwah!!

Prices

I am in the last two days feeling very nostalgic. I am missing people that I do not know and I miss my mom terribly. So last night I went to go visit my one friend. Naomi. We have been friends since we are six years old and her mom is like a real mom to me. So we are sitting there and she is telling me story after story about how dangerous the road has become that she lives in. She tells me about the burglary that they had and the gun fights and all the terrible things there. Which leads me to tell her that maybe it is time for her to sell the house and then move to a better area. But she doesn’t want to do that. All of this lead me to think of all the things we are so unwilling to do to better ourselves. Are we as humans, willing to sacrifice our own safety in order to be left in a comfort zone that is not safe at all?

This made me think of when I went to Durban. I took with the camera obviously and before I went I was so paranoid about the fact that someone would steal the camera. It is his camera that was a gift from his mother. He then tells me that I must please look after the camera but if someone wants to mug me and it is between the camera or my life, I must give the camera. Out of instinct I responded and said that I would hit the person with the camera and run. Why do we do this? Why do we have this need to be strong and mucho and risk our lives for material mundane things? Is that the price tag that you put on your life? If you fight for a two thousand rand cell phone in a mugging you are in fact telling everyone that your life is worth only two thousand rand. Safety and life should not have a price tag on it and if yours does then there is something seriously wrong with you. I am not saying that I do not make the same mistake. We all make that mistake. Each one of us at some point worry about something material that in fact will not shape or mold our futures.

The sad things is, that when we place such a small price on our lives what is our souls or spirituality worth to most people? Let me tell you, it’s free. They don’t care about it at all. They will fight for that two thousand rand cell phone but ask the to do a course on ………. Lets say meditation and it costs R600. This course lasts for three months and costs R600 in total. You know what we do, we think of reasons on why we can’t do it or why it is expensive or why it is not needed and and and. Apparently it has become more important to have a nice cell phone. Inner peace, why should we invest in that? Who wants inner peace? I am not saying that you should now go and give all of your money to the local church or the pastor, but keep things in perspective. Forget about the afterlife. It is not about buying your way into the afterlife, it is about improving the quality of your current life.

Just a thought, use it, don’t use it.

Mwah!!

Boerre Bronx

Tonight we are taking one of our friends to Bronx. Now for those of you that don’t know, Bronx is club on what we like to call the ‘Moffie Mile’. It is a road in the heart of gay valley in Greenpoint, Cape Town. There people drink and smoke and if you see someone you like you can take that person to the bathroom. Sexy boys dance around in nothing but underwear and everyone dances around the pole on the bar counter. Drag Queens parade the dance floor and grope each other in plain sight. Paul and I have a rule when we go there. He and I are allowed to snogg whoever we like, but nothing more. We are both young and we would rather enjoy young life together than end up cheating on each other. A couple that plays together, stays together or some such bullshit.

So our friend that we are taking there is a old school farm girl aged 50 from the Namaqualand, who believes that to show cleavage is wrong and she is a complete non drinker. We love her to bits but it is going to be an experience for her. We have instructed her what to wear and how to do hair and makeup. Bwhahahahahahahaha who knows maybe she turns the head of a nice looking lesbian. Problem is that she is not gay and she is very happily married. Her husband is going with. It is going to make for a very interesting night. I can hardly wait.

Who knows when they become ok with Bronx we take them one day to the pink parade, hehehehehehehehehehe.

But I am sure I will have a full report on this little excursion on Monday.

Have a wonderful weekend all.

Mwah!!

Respected Elders

I am very often among people, more often than what I care for actually. Silly as it may seem, I am not a people’s person. I find it difficult to socialize with people I don’t know and normally end up spending the night in my own company.  Last night we went to a Muslim friends house to celebrate Eid with them. Of course there was mountains of food and we were given take aways. But that was not the significant thing about the evening. What struck me was the close bond that these people share. How grateful they are/were for everything.  How much love, time and respect they have for each other.

Shukran and Afwan are two of the words that I heard the most last night. Yes I have always known what they mean but really to see these people mean what they say was truly beautiful. For those of you that don’t know, Shukran means ‘Thank you’ and Afwan means ‘it’s a pleasure’

We sat at the table and I have this little ritual that I do before I eat. I think of one thing that I am grateful for. Last night before I ate I was grateful for the fact that I have Muslim friends so that I may experience that closeness that I did. 
As western white people we tend to dismiss the elderly and senile. One of the Aunts there last night is a very old woman who has in the last year become riddled with Alzheimer’s disease. And I know that in our culture people will steer clear of her, talk behind her back and stare, My Goddess people love to stare and it is such a rude thing to do.  Even at Paul’s family gathering people did it to their own Granny. While she sat in the corner and you could see that she had no idea, where she was, who these people were and why she was there. It tore my heart open and I just wanted to cry.

This old lady last night was talking to everyone and everyone entertained her. She was the old crone. Senile and riddled with Alzheimer’s, she sometimes spoke very wisely and other times she spoke the biggest load of bullshit, but no one dismissed her. No one put her aside or out of the way. No one made fun of her and people respected her for being a matriarch. It was profound.

I want to thank you two for allowing myself and Paul to be in your beautiful home and to be present at such a sacred day.

Shukran Yasmin, Shukran Soraya.

I try to go to as many different cultural and religious gatherings as what I possibly can, when I get invited of course. Our cleaning lady at work, an African woman that is busy doing her Sangoma training, has now told me that when I want I must let her know and she will take me with to one of her gatherings. I look forward to it yet I am anxious as I do not know what to expect or what will be expected of me but that is part of the experience. So in the near future I am off to the people that cared for our Mother Africa, long before we set our feet on these lands, to experience their way of life, to learn from them and to hopefully grow a little wiser in the process. I will be sure to tell you all about it.

Mwah

Fanatics Sicken Me!!

I have in my life come across many things that I have considered to be out of the ordinary.  Weird things.

I am not a Wiccan, nor am I a Vampire. I am a Witch, plain and simple. I have in the last 7 years developed huge issues with most Wiccans and their huge ego’s. But today I have to say was the height for me.  I have met fanatics in every walk of life even an atheist fanatic but today for the first time I have met a fanatical Wiccan. This is a man who is so strong in his interpretation of the Wiccan Rede to the point that he condemns every other view or way of life. He preaches what Wicca was intended to be but if he had any fucking clue about history he would know that Gardner never even intended for Wicca to be a path to be used to the extend that it is being used today.

What makes you any better than the ones that chose to burn your ancestors, I am disgusted by you.  You disgrace the very thing that we as freethinkers are against. I tried to reason with this person but like any fanatic he refuses to see anything beyond his own point of view. I am shocked and horrified that any fanatical person has the right to voice his opinion but what shocks me the most about a Wiccan fanatical is that this is a person that would try to speak up against the injustice and the crimes against witchraft, made by the church and then he in turn commits the identical crime to someone else. You are not worth the breath that you used to utter your oaths of initiation.

I am not disgusted with this person because he doesn’t see my point, not at all. I am disgusted with any person that denies or demonizes any other path because it is not the same as theirs. ANYONE that does this disgusts me. You are the reason that so many people have lost their way. What is the next step for this Wiccan? Is he going to start evangelizing and then punish those that do not believe as he does? Sickening.

I really have nothing more to say on the topic. I am saddened and disgusted that this is happening in the larger community and this is the exact reason why I have remained in solitude for so long inside of my Tradition.

Cocktails with Simone

My baby sister, Simone

I have a baby sister. Well she is no longer a baby, she is 19 years old, but she is still my baby sister and will probably always be. As kids we never used to get along. She used to make me so angry that I wanted to drown her head in the toilet, over and over. We used to fight day in and day out. She used to copy everything I do and it pissed me off so badly. I remember one year I put up fake spiderwebs in my room all along the ceiling. Well She got hold of some fake spider webs as well and tried to do it herself in her room (I think she was 7 or 8), but it looked like a big piece of black off cut cotton rolled into a ball and just stuck on her wall. Our mom came home and told her that she needs to take it down cuz it looked crap to which she replied, “but Martin also has some in his room”. Needles to say that after that night, I didn’t have it anymore. What is good for the goose and all that shit. I would watch a movie and she would come into the T.V. lounge and ask what I am watching and then ask me if she has seen it. To which my response would be “I don’t know, maybe.” Which would be an honest answer. How am I supposed to know what she watches. We were all free to watch any movie we wanted and she knew how the video machine and later dvd player worked. The she would look at me and ask “Oh, Did I enjoy the movie?”. Now how the fuck am I supposed to know if she enjoyed a movie if I don’t even know if she watched it. But as we got older we started to get along better and better to the point now that she is my little baby sister and as much as what she is capable of taking care of herself, I still feel as if I should be the bigger brother.

She is a very sexy young girl and due to her long legs and beautiful bone structure she has become a model. A DNA feature that I clearly for some reason did not get. I have our mothers build and the older I get the more I look like our mother. Our mother used to say “I am in perfect shape, a circle is also a shape” So no, I am not build for model material.

She may be thin but we are both gorgeous!! ;

About a year ago she met a great new guy.  Who lives in JHB. I do not know how they met but they are lovely together. A sexy little thing with long hair. Then she started studies here and shortly after that I told our older sister that Simone (the baby sister) is going to move to JHB. My older sister told me that it is not going to happen and that the boyfriend is looking for a job in Cape Town.

Well tonight I am having cocktails with Simone. She is leaving for JHB permanently tomorrow morning. It’s very weird, cuz even though we are not the kind of family that visits each other every weekend, we are still close. This is the furthest away that any of the siblings will have moved. It feels very final.

I used to change her nappies and now she is a grown woman making a life for herself and it all feels so surreal. Well best of luck to you Kleine Schwess.

Love you lots

Mwah!!