Inherited Mumbo Jumbo

Let’s say for a moment I can admit that I am good at talking with women, something I oddly worked hard not to be when I was younger; Why, well because I didn’t want to be like my biological father who has apparently was very good with women, well the number of kids with different mothers he produced seem to be proof enough.

So just like a movie plot, I envitably put myself in a path I was avoiding. However there’s more fucking mumbo jumbo that seems to be (weird) & frustrates me.

In this blog I want to talk about the things we supposingly inherent without any dire knowledge, fucking nature/nurture situation right.

I never knew my father, he was rather busy putting his dick everywhere else than to come around check how his lookalike was doing; that’s the first thing that got on my nerves as  a kid, constantly being told that I looked like someone I didn’t know. People would literally look at me like a museum piece, in fascination, like “wow, you have his exact bone structure”. It seemed I inherent this man’s face, although I want to believe my face looks like my mothers, but whatever.

It turns out later I inherited a lot of things from this dude than I thought, things I thought were naturally my own desire, hell I still believe that, but the coincidence of it all fucked me up. Even the things that I inheritedly gained from my mother don’t make entire sense. My mother was apparently very good with maths and athletics (running) which I was naturally good at as well, in fact I loved it, and had no prior details that my mother was into it or good at it, naturally all my mothers kids attempted athletics in our school days, fucking weird, maybe it all that chasing she gave us to whoop us that became inherited.

I assumed math was just a thing I loved, it was natural to me. I’d spend days on end just studying it, so imagine my surprise learning later than my mom was also good in maths, again something she never really told me. In the maths department, I think my sister was the only one who kinda didn’t inherited the gift, sorry little sister at least you’re very good at accounting, which has numbers. Yeah, naturally my mother loves money, we all love money, but my mom is on her own level.

So how this post came about is that my friend Mlondi was laughing at me, I was telling him about a girl I liked, that I happened to have had the guts to kiss. He chose to change the whole subject and noted my “charming” ability with women, which I can admit I have, but not all of them, I’m very shy, that’s my kryptonite. However he continues to add that “bro, you were avoiding to be like your dad but look at you man, just a charmer”

He then goes “You thought you naturally loved martial arts too, but turns out it’s inherited from your father, you can’t avoid this shit”

Yeah, that’s the most messed up thing I heard a while back, the fact that my biological father was obsessed with not only climbing things but martial arts or anything related to karate; these things which I was growing up obsessed with, things that literally designed who I became right now.

That is fucked up right‼! Don’t get me wrong, in no way I am concluding that I am not my own person, fuck that, I know who I am, but that doesn’t mean the situation itself isn’t scary. I mean how many things do I believe I naturally like or love but no, it’s inherited?

We create our own fate, at least I believe that, most people put that faith in the many “Gods” that exists, and that’s fine too. We all should believe in different things, it’s what makes this whole living thing interesting.

I am in ponder though, really, how many things do I enjoy doing, love, gestures I make that were inherited that I don’t know about, is it even true or is it all just a coincidence?

What are your thoughts? Write me your weird shit, and let’s laugh about it.

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.

Pink is not my favorite color

You are often told not to judge a book by its cover, neither can you judge this reading by it’s title too, it may not be what you think it is.

It’s true though, pink is not my favorite, neither do I hate it, in fact it’s the opposite, I adore pink.

Pink is a color that slaps well on me, it’s colorful but not really bright colorful. Yet as a person of certain gender, I am still looked at with squinted eyes.

I was oddly very pink today, hence the writing of this post; pink watch and pink shirt, however my students saw a pink watch and went haywire

“Teacher, you’re wearing a pink watch”

‘Well yes, I am, thanks for noticing, it’s nice right!? ‘

No, teacher, it’s pink!

So. what?

Pink is for girls.

I knew that’s were it was going, I was waiting for them to say that, so I could ask who said that? Well I wasn’t going to get an answer because they just knew only that, they had no idea why they thought it, they had been told throughout life that pink is for girls.

Which in my opinion kinda sucks, more so that I don’t like blue as the color representing men. Who on this god damn earth chose blue as the color, why not black? or grey, something dark and mysterious!!

I’ve never been a fan of social classification or gender roles; that one thing should be done by one gender or another the other, in this case that one color belongs to a certain gender.

I like pink, it’s a freaking, nay, fucking good color, no it is, if you feel a type of way about that, it could be because of all the social madness that has clouded your intellect, but here I am suggesting you try out some pink color, I promise it won’t make you suddenly “change”

Pink, it slaps real nice. That sounds like a good slogan.

You like that? I hate that, let’s get married or some shit.

They say opposites attract, I say god damn, this is Romeo and Juliet all over again, someone will end up being dead.

Wait, who’s they? uhhmmm I don’t know.

It’s good that y’all support different teams, until someone says no sex, because Arsenal isn’t in the Top 4 again, that’s a long time without sex.

Opposites attract, like magnets drawn to its counter part, how true is that though? That we are drawn to people who are opposite us?

The question I want to ask is “Should we like people because they offer us something we lack or should we like them because they offer us similar taste?”

Of course I am not asking that question with intention of getting ‘the’ answer, there isn’t such, for such the right answer doesn’t exist.

While writing this I had a realization that I’ve never had a successful relationship with someone who wasn’t into art in some way, whether they loved it as spectator or as participants, it’s such a strange thing but it’s true; I am shook, because it was never my intention but that’s how it is.

In all that however, I am not really taking the side that suggests we should be with people who are similar to us, neither the latter, I am saying it’s complicated.

I have crushed on many people who were highly different from me, finding them to be utterly attractive, even right now, I am attracted to various people who have intellect that fascinates me.

These statements or social quotes, whatever, have blinded us for quite a long time, I think it’s about time we re_look at them and reboot their meaning, maybe when the statement was made it was for scientific reasons, and people just went along with it.

I’m not entirely sure what causes attraction, if I did, I would pause that button for a while because it can hurt to be attracted to someone who’s not attracted to you or both attracted to each other but circumstances don’t allow it.

It’s better to go with your feelings really, if you base attraction on the standars of science, well good luck to you Romeo/Juliet, see you on the other side.

However, the question still remains, I can let it hang in the air. Do you have standards in which you base your attraction on?

Write to me, invite me into your thoughts.

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 high 5

It’s such a simple and mundane gesture isn’t it, a high 5, yet it carries so much weight, no it really does, ever hear the statement “come on bro, are you going to just leave me hanging?”

It’s kinda of a rule, you can’t leave a bro hanging from receiving a high 5 it’s there in the social rules, it should be in the testament too

As a teacher to young students, a high 5 is synonymous to a reward, perhaps can be considered to be more important than stars/money/gifts or whatever rewarding system you might use; A high 5 goes beyond the logic of being a “reward” it’s praise that includes [physical contact]

I once wrote a short “poem” about the significance of hand holding, honestly I’ve written about hand holding a bunch of times, it’s just a simple gesture but yet carries so much weight and meaning in relationships.

For a child, a high 5 has that kind of sense, I mean not just for the child but for the teacher and the parent as well.

Let me explain

I like kids, nay, I love kids; kids are like an empty canvas waiting to be painted on; their world is almost blank, and we “adults” fill it with all these experiences, sometimes I wish we didn’t, some experiencesvmore bad than others but experiences none the less.

Being a foreign teacher, one of the things the kids struggle to grasp is this strange fellow with very different skin than their own; worse if this child has already had their blank canvas painted on that this skin should be feared.

Yet, we proceed none the less, and the initial, the first step is perhaps to try break the contact barrier. I have learned that if you can break the contact barrier (high 5) with the child, the journey becomes more smooth.

We all know how awful it can momentarily feel when a child refuses to give you a high 5 or maybe it’s just me; this little bastard is basically leaving you hanging, s/he should really read the social rules…you don’t leave a brother hanging!!

I once had a student like that in a demo, only one who refused to give me a high 5, I smiled at the notion, told him, I’ll break you  soon.

And then it happens, you break the barrier, the little guy gives you a high 5 and it’s rewarding for both of you, and the parents; everyone is joyous and all cheer hooray‼ Yeah that actually happened everyone clapped so loud.

Somehow once that barrier has been broken, the stakes reverse

“Mwahahaha” that’s my evil laugh.

The stakes reverse that you as a teacher are now in power; this simple gesture of high 5 has now become Thanos’s gauntlet, if you refuse to give the high 5 to the student, it hurts them.

“Mwahahaha, yeah, told you never leave a brother hanging, how does it feel now?!”

By giving this high 5 it is like you are giving a gift; You are uttering well done, I’m proud of you, without even saying a word.

This gesture, the high 5 has a lot of power that perhaps as teachers we don’t pay attention to, perhaps we do, I can see the eager anticipation from students waiting to give an answer after they saw others receiving a high 5 for giving an answer too

Probably saying I want one of those.

There are some questions: Should you use the high 5 as punishment? Refuse to give it to a student who is naughty/misbehaving/didn’t get the correct answer? It’s debatable, not to say that I haven’t done it before, yeah, I’ve left some little suckers hanging…syke

You got to earn this high 5, I definitely feel like I worked hard to earn it from you (student) as well, especially in the start of our relationship.

So, from teacher to teachers, let’s use our gauntlets wisely, don’t be Oprah, don’t be snapping high 5s all over the place.

You get a high 5! You get a high 5 everybody’ gets a high 5!!

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?