Alternate Ending

We’re sitting in your car and I tell you, I love you, but you already know. You know that because you can see the way I look at you, the way I laugh with every muscle in my body.

So this doesn’t change our fate.

I look look at you, holding your hand in mine. It feels so natural, this will not change the outcome of our future though.

I tell you I’m afraid to be with you. I’m afraid because I am in love with you too much and I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.

If I take you right now to be mine, it will only be you and me on the road ahead. Our colours clash, these man made colours of skin, yet
here is my heart beating for you.

I tell you ours is a dangerous love, a Shakespearean love, only leading to death of each of us.

You already know this though, you’ve told me a million times before in tears. My chest has been a handkerchief to many of your watering eyes.

You already know me and you being together will burn bridges, yet like the moon yearns for her love the sun, you yearn for me too, as I do for you.

Yet, that won’t change the ending. This confession won’t change the ending in stored for you and me.

The moon is bright, the sky is dark and clear. It’s a perfect engagement of dark and white, just like you and I.

I lean in, you meet half way, right at the border were our lips would meet.

I am looking into your eyes, this is something I’ve wanted to do since..

We kiss. I kiss you. We melt in each other. You kiss me. There’s nothing else except you, me, the moon, the dark sky, inside a little car at the parking lot.

The future now changes


In theatre the term alienation ‘effect’ describes Brecht’s style of working. As we tend to always be reminded in readings it is taken from the German word….verfremdungseffekt.

Def. Alienation in the dictionary is described as: a withdrawing or separation of a person or a person’s affections from an object or position of former attachment. Distancing.

So I begin to write.

An addict I was, for probably my whole life, to certain things, to certain ideas and certain places.

I am an image of my former self, only those that truly know me can see through the fake skin I am wearing.

I am a reflection of something that has been left behind, or I am an image of a man exposed to the true reality of the world, my world.

I lived in a singular point, surrounded by alien colors, pink colours, colors of all emotions, now I find myself in a room with only a singular light illuminating, it’s not even bright, it fades away like yesterday’s memory.

What did I do yesterday? I was running backwards, chasing a memory of my former self. I found him, me, lying in a land of grass, with his head looking at the sky.

He was happy, I wanted to stay with him. I didn’t want to tell him that the things he loves the most will break his heart. That in time, from now, from this moment he is in, his smile will turn into many frowns.

That he will gain weight, not the good kind, not the one he wishes his skinny body could carry, no, no, no. He will gain weight in his heart, and in his chest it will feel heavy, his heart will drown in his own circulating blood.

His body will betray him. The images in his head will not be true.

I don’t want to tell him that. I want to sit next to him. Alienated from the rest of the world.

I am an alien here, in his memories, but I feel more alive then I have been in recent times.

I feel strange in the future, as if I am a guest in my own mind. In order to feel alive, I have to travel back in time. That’s really shitty!

_Purplish Flowers_

Theatre Work On Sale

See this as a review.

‘Idyllic Lives’

You can walk out of a show not liking how it happened, ‘the structure’, but you can fall in love with so many aspects.

The wonderful dancers that move so well they make your muscle orgasm, no, truly my muscles still have a shaking spasm for how well the performers could move.

The design, oh, what a design it was, like sex for the eyes, not everyone loves sex, so replace sex with whatever you desire and be charmed by that image, yes, that’s the stage design.

The music, I suddenly wished the live musicians were the show but I understand how without bodies dancing, the music would have been useless.

The work as beautiful as I have described it lacked a certain structure. In the world of comedians, its something they dub “Callback” the work began a certain way, a very beautiful way I might add, it lied to me really, it drew me in with the opening, dancers rolling like hay on stage but so hypnotic, I was caught in their web but after that it was filled with “moments” rather than a line structure, I was left saying ‘Oh wow that piece is nice’

Yes, it didn’t really connect together, the movements/dance although very wonderful there didn’t connect to the concept of the work, there were so many movements but they didn’t feedback to the concept at all, I felt again I was left watching how these performers could move wonderfully but not necessarily how they are creating a working narrative.

I want to defend it and say perhaps if I was Chinese, I would have gotten it more, but the audience around me although enjoyed it, I felt they too sensed the disconnect.

Can I go back to talk about the design? I get jealous, perhaps it’s because I hardly get to work with designers on my works. The design was something to feast your eyes on, it wasn’t like the best stuff in the world but I envisioned so many ways it could have been utilized, I felt all types of emotions.

Sand falling from the sky, something I’ve seen before, but totally worth re-seeing, animation, it could have been used more, it really could have. Bamboo sticks, OMG, they used those sticks for just a short moment but I screamed no, you are using them wrong, bring them back here in this moment, so it connects with what you did earlier.

I walked out content, I walked out understanding that we create differently, we work in certain ways, while some of us work in imagery others work in narrative, I am the latter, I want to connect my work to a certain line that when it ends you understand how it began even more.

I walked out wanting to create again, to build that connecting story, now I wish I could steal those performers.

What work have you seen and connected with lately or disconnected?

Academic Orgy

Def: Orgy

-A group of people/friends or strangers that engage in sexual satisfaction with each other. It can happen in certain intervals of time.

I haven’t done anything creatively constructive in a while, not from lack of ideas rather from lack of inspiration; Inspiration to begin, other body inspiration etc.

However as I ponder on this, it occurs to me that I actually have something to speak out to the “world” in quotation marks because it’s not everyone who will get to read this, even though I’d like to reach that far.

I have different dialogues everyday, each uniquely interesting in its own way. Amongst these many conversations one that had awaken me was with my friend/brother Mlondi. We were again speaking arts and other things, what came up important was art academic writing.

I was reading a tweet that stated “when your dissertation no longer makes sense to you, it is then that it’s finished” I laughed out loud but became more sad as the statement went deep in me. I remember how that felt like, I remember going in writing my dissertation with a certain idea and what came out at the end was not entirely what I was saying, it’s not that it didn’the say it; the problem is it said things in a very complicated way that as reader you will get lost in translation.

This brings me back to the conversation my friend and I were having; Who are we writing these papers for? It becomes clear that we are literally writing papers to ourselves and the people in our closed spaces (academically enclined) hence the orgy title. I find that terrible, i hate it. For me,  part of the reason I delve into artistic creation whether it be practical or written, I want everyone to kinda have access to it, to experience my experience and either relate or find something that can help them.

An academic writing doesn’t seem to fairly offer that. My friend went as far as to say “who in the hood will understand what Stanislavsky is saying or even worse practically, who will understand the deep layers of a performer shoving a Bible into her vagina” frankly no one” these images are beyond their capacity; not because of being dumb, just a matter of understanding. I have seen it happen “what is happening in this thing?” As we watch a work that I watch and thought was very insightful.

Artist have such great ideas, but these ideas written on paper amount to nothing because the only person who will read it, is the person that wants to write an essay related to your work. The gentleman who is struggling to break through this idea that he has in the hood, where your paper could help will never get to see/read the paper, even if they do “wtf is it saying”

 So at the end you ask yourself is it really necessary, all this academic writing we do. Is it worth it, if it doesn’t help the majority, your written idea collects dust in the shelf or online somewhere. I’m sorry but I don’t what to write like that anymore; not many people read my blog but I can assure you many people read it then those who read my paper.

Which is rather messed up since I took more time writing the paper then a blog post, but this post is imbued with my honest feelings then a dissertation will ever be.

All this rubbing each  other out is tiring. Why do we have to distinguish ourselves as “academics” by producing papers that are difficult to read. Should we not rather aim to speak the simplest things that when any normal human being reads it goes ‘Oh shit! I could have said that too, I’ve seen that happen’ but nope we go for what the fuck did this person just say, do I need a dictionary to read.

I can tell you there are words in my dissertation that I still find difficult to grasp, because I don’t use them in my daily language or any language for that matter besides this academic orgy we all keep getting involved in.

So, what is the solution? How can we get better? I don’t know really, maybe we can keep writing blogs like these, open YouTube channels, you know for “Exposure” a word I am quite familiar with, and always tired of hearing. How much exposure do I need really, the sun has burned me already.

You can’t really attack academics head on, they will defend their reasons and frankly they would probably win with a lot of jargon words you’ll have to look up; out there someone has attempted it.

I actually wrote something similar to this years back titled What the Homi Bhabha? This new version confirms my fed upness about the whole academic writing situation.


What is your opinion?

Tape recorder

I bought a Mcflurry today, it still tastes of you no matter were I go; Not you but the memories of you, each spoonful or half spoon brings back a bit of you.

I’m a movie character having flashbacks, unlike the movies only I see the memories, unless you read this, so will you

The memories are so quick, sharp, like the expansion of bubble gum between the lips. There’s a build up, this small huge amount of air, and then a sudden pop

All of it going away, and then the memories build again. I got cherry or strawberry flavor, you got chocolate, yet I see your hand creeping towards my ice cream like a naughty child… you take a spoonful and I look at you… the spoon lingering in your mouth.

You dip it back into your ice cream and take a spoonful, and I see the spoon heading towards my mouth.

It’s all so innocent, so childish yet looking at it now, it’s such huge gesture, romantic even.

The bubble gum pops out again. A new memory swirvs like a clicking sound of a cassette on repeat.

What are we doing? We’re sitting in silence, just lying there next to each other like the rest of the World doesn’t exist. It’s strange how we’re able to do this for hours, but I guess our fingers tugging on each other is all the conversation we need to have.

Being in a memory of you drowns me; it suffocates me; each time I think it’s giving me a breath of air as I drown in the happenings of life, I realize, it, the memory is the ocean that pulls me back, to drown.

I wish I could swim, so I could butterfly in these memories of you, we humorously both know that I can’t swim.

I am not bothered to learn either. It’s the first I’m admitting that, guess I am fed with the statements ‘you should learn, it’s so easy’ I’m sure it is, but I don’t want to fuckin swim.

It’s strange how a simple ice cream can be so delicious yet so cruel at the same time.

W.T.F or (What The Future)

Again we come to that point were we realize there’s too much pressure on kids, not just by their own parents/guardians but by society itself.

Kids, I am also including young adults; I’m not sure if I can count myself as a young adult anymore, but it does say via the great vine that young adulthood ends at around 35 years so, I can reshuffle the statement and say there’s still too much pressure on us.

We have been constantly being prepared for “the better future” I can always recall those words being used either at home or in an education sector, that what I am learning is building me, so I can create a better future.

There seems to be an issue because I am an adult now yet these same words are still being used and engrained in the younger generation; So what da fuck??

What da fuck indeed? Where is the data? Is there any improvement from when I was younger to now that at least shows there’s change or is everything getting fucking worse. Someone show me an excellent form, numbers people ? Yeah sure a little bit more awareness is being shown about certain socio-political issues, political issues, economical etc etcetera.

Are we getting any closer to this future that I was so being prepared for, that I didn’t have time to live fully, or are we still kind of a fucked up world?

Well my thoughts are gravitating towards the latter. We’re still kinda fucked maybe this time there’s lube at least?

Listen my point is not necessary to focus on how to solve the World problems, I am just a speck in a huge vast world, I mean technically according to Carl Sagan, the world is a tiny speck of dust, suspended in a sunbeam.


The fucking lunacy of it all.

 We should stop preparing kids for the future, wait, listen before you conclude on that statement. We should stop; We need to let kids, nay, we need to let ourselves live in the present.

We are busy teaching each other, or preparing our kids for the future that no one seems to be living in present? Why are we all in limbo, living in a destination we have no fucking idea what it looks like, it could perhaps be even worse and when that happens you say ‘fuck, I wish I had lived a fuller life earlier’

Do I sound negative? Let me clear that up

Yeah of course I am working, saving my money so I can do this and that, better future, but I’m going to be old by that time and that’s the scary shit for me, to have all his money and knowledge but I’m old.

Benjamin Button syndrome sounds so interesting right now

I don’t want to live on regret, I kinda have much already.

Let’s stop preparing kids for the future, let’s let kids live in the present, hell you need to live in the present.

Like WTF for real. Write me. Be in the present with me.

I want my hoodie back

I’m washing my clothes and some of them smell of you, not really you but the memory of you lingers on them. My Olfactory transmits you right into the front of my memories.


Each cloth I pick up, like an old cassette rewinds my mind and plays you; You are my old school jazz, and love making RnB songs.


You, in my big old clothes, like a hot sexy hobbo; somehow it looks better on you than it does me, maybe because I’m seeing twice the love.

I love how the hat tucks your head in and makes your eyes a secret; how it’s just short enough to show your thighs but long enough to cover the subject.


I want that hoodie back


Truth be told, I’m not sure if I want to wash these clothes, I want to lie here, in these dirty garments and just be absorbed in the scent of you; Be stuck in limbo of right now and what used to be


Damn, I really want my hoodie back, it’s not here.


You’re the last person who was wearing it. I said it’s looks better on you, yeah, only when you’re around me.


I’m going to report you

I want my hoodie back

So I can burn it, let it become ash just like our relationship.



I heard you tuck it under your head when you sleep, like a pillow so you can think of me.


That’s nice, but like a league log table this race between you and I is over; I’m not sure you’ll even get that football reference.


I want my hoodie

It was mine, I only borrowed it to you because I wanted to keep your heart warm.

Nobody ever died from Listening

Why listening is great for writers

Okay the title might be wrong a bit, I’m sure someone there died from listening, heard the wrong shit and then boom.

Uhmm yeah of course listening is significant for everyone, it’s such a great skill to have, a skill that most people don’t possess; it’s not necessarily a crime, however if you are a bad Listener, I can tell you that you’re missing out on quite a lot.

So, why is listening an important tool or rather skill to have? Well, as writers we have the ability to transport people from a seat to a world they’ve never been into before, I mean in a sense that’s an artists job, we live and thrive on the idea that we take people to this reality that may or may not have existed.

As a writer you have so much you go through, in one lifetime you cannot experience all the emotions needed to write all these different emotionally driven characters, I mean damn, you also have your own personality, when do you get time to party like Van Wilder if you’re always stuck at home watching Harry Potter because you think it’s a great piece of work.

So then how do you write all these eccentric characters if you can’t experience their livelihood, well the best way is to live vicariously. To listen; listen to those that have experienced all these intriguing adventures, and live vicariously; that’s basically it, just sitting across different humans and listening to all their stories.

I recently found out information about Ramadan that I didn’the know, an emotional and psychological level that people who go through it, what they feel like. It was amazing really.

Listening takes patience, it takes interest, anybody can listen but also not everyone can be a great listener. One of my favorite South African writers Kgebetli Moele known for Room 207 and Book of the dead (favorite novel) in an interview said “My stories are mostly based on the character around my community, based is really an understatement, but my community doesn’t want me sitting around them anymore, because they say “ahh you, you will write about us in those books of yours” he laughs. I was there in the interview so I know he laughed.

While he was sharing this event, I could imagine him being outcasted in laughter by community, so in turn, I laughed at that thought. These characters we write, most come from reality, people that exist, only way you can write what an arsehole is like is if you’very been around one; same goes for depressed, wild, socially aware etc. you can’t experience all these things so, it’s not to say hang around these people but listen to them when you get the chance use it.

I sit quietly around strangers at most times, just vanish while sitting among them, what I am doing most time is writing character descriptions in my head, yeah of course to the viewer I am the quiet weirdo, but bare with me, I am at work.

There are a lot of videos out there teaching you how to listen better, as stated, a really important skill to have, Celeste Headlee probably still amongst my favorite talks on listening. So as an artist, as a writer, listen a bit more, just shut up and listen, respond of course but absorb it all in.

The Epitome of being Cool

It takes time, some of us don’t even realize it, but it sucks not being “cool” I am being like an emoji putting my hand on my face right now


I have to admit that I am not cool, well not as much as I thought I was, who am I kidding, I definitely am not


Of course in these days and time being cool is associated with being an extrovert, going out, having a few drinks, “wildin out”, which I am definitely not, especially around people.

Can I wild out? Uhmm I have doubts, I can “dance” per se but it’s about time I accepted that I am shyer than I thought I was

The epitome of being cool; lately I have not been able to make new friends/significant other, which leads me to conclude perhaps I am not as cool as I thought; the people I’ve “lost” perhaps didn’t get the energy they required around me? I  am in no way saying that’s a bad thing, however I am saying it kinda sucks 😝

I was talking to my brother, Fiddy who is significantly more social than I am, asking him why can’t I get women like everyone else, why I get myself friend zoned

I won’t bore you with this long conversations but it was beneficial, I got a chance to reflect, listen I am not bad with women, strange enough I’ve been able to “hook up” with people, but there are moments were I can’t, again listen I ain’t great with women either

The epitome of being cool. If I can quote two individuals in this moment, I’d quote Hitch who says “You can’t be what you are not, if you’re out going be out going” I’m not outgoing, that’s okay. For me depends on what out going means, and Just like Larry David did, I can admit that I am not a “cool” guy, cool I assure you can mean lot of things, but in current standards, I am not very cool.

I dance and sing with a broom everytime I clean. I whistle and sing everytime I cook, a horrible singer at that. I carry my diary all the time because I never know if I’ll need something to write, why not use a phone you say, well, it’s not the fucking same. I listen to 80s music too much, but you’ll never figure me out through the music I listen, yeah, I’m pretty sure you won’t, I sometimes just listen to water sounds, just water pouring out of different things, even I think it’s weird, I can listen to wind blowing through something.

I randomly quote lines from movies, out loud, in my defense how can you not quote Bane though “Victory has defeated you”

I am an “intellect” and I’d like to think I am funny? debatable really 😂 All of these things you won’t be able to get access to unless I really trust you; Yeah you can get a glimpse but if I trust you, all bombs away!

Perhaps my worse trait especially after talking to my brother is that I listen too much (Who knew that could be a fucking bad thing) I’m too much of a psychologist, I can’t help it, I do have a qualification in it but “I don’t think people need a psychologist, especially when looking for a random f@#k” those are my brothers words, not mine, but might be truer than I had realize

Yeah my listening and talking is so bad that my brothers would constantly tell me we were having a full on conversation whilst I was asleep; I can’t seem to help myself, I like listen to people.

It sucks not being cool, yeah of course we can say ‘ you’ll find people who think you’re cool but what about the people you thought were cool for you??


Sweet fucking life!

You’d think after reaching 30 just last week, I’d be content with life, have most answers, but this life thing is a curveball.

Why am I not “cool”? What does it really mean to be cool? I can recall the anime Hajime no Ippo, the main character Ippo just wanted to know the feeling of one thing, he was driven by one question, what does it mean to be strong? What is being strong? Then he threw himself into this world trying to find out. Just like Ippo the question is, what does it mean to be cool? Will I even find an answer?

I don’t know, I’m willing to find out even if it means I need to be kind of an asshole but like Stella I am aiming to get my groove back.

What does it mean to be cool for you?

Untold story of Nonkululeko (Freedom)

Freedom def: the absence of necessity, coercion, or constraint in choice or action. State of being free

Nonkululeko which loosely translates to Freedom is one of my successful drama works that I wrote and co-directed; When work is completed people often only see that, but never know the layers that built the work.

Let me share.

I guess for a long while I had been fed up about the education system or rather ideas brought about by education, I had just completed my thesis which took a long struggle but finished; I love school and knowledge but damn education sells unfruitful hope most times.

I was angry, but I’m an introvert at best, I can’t express my anger outward, I am in my element through art.

Then came two students of mine, there was a competition, a theatre work was needed

“Jigga can you help us”

Jigga is one of many names I have; I might be an introvert but I am a lunatic in my own manner. A blessing in disguise I said, we had 3 days to make the work.

What if Freedom was physical? That you can see it or touch it, what would it look like? What is freedom? I am not in the slightest a political person, politics frustrates me at best, in South Africa, it makes me mad, but on one hand I have a logical understanding, so I was trapped in between, people’s thoughts and my own thoughts.

People want freedom, but what does it look like? What does it mean to be free?

As writer you sometimes create from what you know, what you feel, what you’ve experienced. I am no different, I create from what resonates with me, it can’t be momentarily, it has to be something I want to unpack and understand.

And my deep loath for educational ideas was at its peak.

So, I spent what I can describe as sleepless night constructing, finally created these three generation black characters, who go out to rob the South African Reserve, not for cash, but for FREEDOM, they believe Freedom is being preserved there… hidden from the people.

What happens next is but a journey of these three characters learning that they were able to get “everything” from the reserve except the one thing they were looking for, FREEDOM!

Neither character could identify what is freedom, here was all the money in the country but it didn’t make them complete.

I don’t know!!

I am an academic, I am a creative artist first but an academic I am, however as academic I may be, education, perhaps through out the world still needs investigating or re_adjustment.

People have so much worth, but we are put in boxes that we need to be “educated” in order to be something, bullshit I say, but I’m an academic what I am saying sounds bias.

The system is crooked, look at me speaking like a conspiracy theorists[Lol]

I don’t have a solution, my undying solution is that people need access to knowledge, just knowledge, a lot of it, because we end you getting politicians selling people the idea of freedom without necessarily knowing what that really is; but who am I, just a lunatic with many names.

Nonkululeko has been performed various times across KZN, in 2020 I gave the script to a young man from DUT who I heard did justice to it.

First performers: Mncedisi Zulu, Kwanele Gwala and Xolani Malinga.

Co_director: Simphiwe Fiddy Ngcobo