When the lights turn off

I had an experience, for some reason I am having a difficult time putting it in the right words. That’s weird, me, a writer unable to put something into words.

I have attempted however it’s all foggy. I woke up in the middle of the night and I released all I felt. It was better, I felt better. The context is love affairs and casual affairs. The confusion of what it all means. How is one suppose to act in love affairs and casual affairs. Is there a rule book? Are there do’s and don’t? WTF! So this writing, these writings are split into two

Friendships and love (affairs) Pt. 1

Are like campfires? There only burn if someone keeps putting in the wood.
Wood is like the effort that keeps the fire burning, lets the fire produce all the warmth. It’s not a one person job, whoever is involved in the friendship/love affair is responsible for putting the wood in and blowing the air (is that a pun)

Both these things take effort… from everyone, once one person
is responsible for everything, the putting in the wood, the blowing, the sorting etc. it can
become rather exhausting.

That’s how friendships and relations end, when one person feels like their doing everything
to keep the fire burning but the other is lacking off.

I’ve seen fires go out and others get lit in life. Some fires I was responsible for letting them
die, some I felt like I was doing all the work. There is even the worse experience of going back to try and light the fire that died long ago, to try get back all that warmth, but then when the fire starts warming up you realize the reason you left it in the first place.

I’ve been the bad guy; watching the other person use so much effort to keep the fire burning and I stood there starting other fires on the side. When other fire didn’t work, I’d come back to this hot, warm, burning one. By the time I awoke, I was alone in that fire, the person who kept it alive had moved on.

This brings me to the second part of the writing. I urge you as a reader to find your own meaning here; I have this feeling of sharing these writings as there are, with the feelings I had when I woke up in the middle of the night to write.

When all the lights dim off pt. 2

What goes through your mind when you’re watching all the lights turn off. You watch all the
moments you were a part of disappear? Life basically telling you to move on, that chapter of your life is gone; it was bright for moment but it’s gone.

You watch these lights which are all you or rather moments in your life that you wished could stay lit forever. You start looking around to see if all the lights are really turning off, you run to see if the old lights, the ones you never took care of still work.

Yaaay! this one came on, but the moment an old light comes on, you remember why you
moved on from it in the first place; that light started to mean something else.
You stare at it again, you unplug that light, you make the decision of being the one to turn it
off.

As you make that decision, you then realize why some of the lights were turning off on
you. It’s not nice to watch all the lights turn off, it’s not all of them because there are lights that seem to always stay on in our lives no matter what happens, but there are ones that turn off, all the moments, all you have to do is nod, smile look ahead and work on other lights

Rewind II

Def: To begin again

Let’s rewind

To come back to a moment before you were naked under my skin

Your hands playing a cello on my back

Pause, rewind

To before my chest was the bridge to which your legs were walking on

Bent and crippled like a newly born giraffe

Rewind, pause

Before I left my soul between the sheets of your bed

You captured by sandman’s lullaby

Pause

Rewind

To you being a mysterious book I want to read without licking my fingers to flip the pages

Pause, rewind

Read that last line again.

I want to know you by Reading Lolita in a room were the sun hits my body so well, I get lost in its warmth, or is it just the thought of flipping through the pages of you

Pause. Pause. Pause. Rewind

To you, sitting across me, your eyes trying to undress me

Alas! I love that look in your eyes, like a coin in a mine I can get lost in those big eyes

Pause, Fast forward

To mysterious chapters; canvases so empty God is having a hard time deciding what to paint on it for us

Pause

I am here with a brush, if you want to, please bring paint

I don’t want to wait for God to decide

Pause,

Rewind

Alien*ation

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_

A love letter to my lover

As everyone in life I’ve had to deal with a lot of crazy, funny, and hurtful things that life has to offer. In recent years none have managed to bruise me; you tend to build up thick skin for things that can hurt you in life, as everyone else does.

In those things I have felt none have been more hurtful than being blamed for not loving you.

I could be taking it into heart too much, I can be sensitive but you saying the words “I didn’t care”… no let me use love you, has been a thorn in my chest.

I don’t blame you in any sense. You are an amazing person, with flaws and all, but flaws I love. I began to question a lot of things being in love with you. I started to wonder if I’ve ever actually liked talking to a female person more than I loved talking to you.

I started to wonder if a girl has ever made me laugh like you do, or if I’ve ever went so deep in my own memories, digging stories so I can feel so close to you.

I wondered all these things and I smiled at the thoughts, nay I laughed because it seemed so untrue yet there I was loving without feeling any type of consequences

I must be a silly boy, but silly has driven me across a lot of bridges and so far, I’ve lived an entirely exceptional life.

I am sorry I didn’t love you the way you wanted to be loved. I guess I need to re-invent myself in the field of love, although I don’t question how I love, I got plenty of that, an entire ocean, all I have to question is how to love more, to go further into this deep sea that is me, there’s hope for me yet.

I hope you find someone who loves you more, the way you yearned to be loved. If I was a believer I’d pray for it, if I were a singer I’d hold a concert for it, if I was rain I’d pour it down on you in waves, but there’s no need for that, because you will; for loving you in this moment in time has been the best feeling I’ve felt in a long while.

Loving you is or rather was the best thing I looked for each day, to love you more was becoming an acquired taste, now I am stuck with the worse part of all, trying to forget you.

Groundhog’s Day

Groundhogs Day

Going through a break up is like experiencing Groundhogs day.

For those unfamiliar Groundhog’s Day is a Bill Murray film in which he relives the same day over and over again. Although many “versions” of the film have been made in the past years, I still somehow recall Murray’s version possibly because of the early tune “Groundhogs Day” that plays every morning he woke up.

So, how does this relate to going through a break up? Well, it’s repetition; that sense of waking up each morning knowing the person you’re in love with you is no longer in your life.

That sense of realisation haunts you.

Just like Murray’s film there are things that you try to change each day, so it doesn’t feel so bad, until you catch yourself in a moment or situation that reminds of that person, and you just want to die😂

Experiencing the same day over and over again let’s you explore a lot of emotions, it’s like an emotional roller coaster.

One day you wake up feeling sad, the next day you feel angry, the next frustrated, the next day calm because there is a certain belief at the back of your mind that perhaps it’s meant to be this way. Another day you want to pick up a phone and say Hi!

I hadn’t been in a relationship for about 2 years. As I know myself to be very analytic, I need to sink into different situations with a person so I know exactly what about them I like.

The only issue with that is, once I sink into deep, and things don’t go well, I am left drowning in all these memories, that might not necessary belong to me, but I have loved them as my own. Fuck, I sound like I’m saying a riddle.

It hasn’t even been that long, yet I feel like my bed at night is a deep swimming pool, that I sink deep into, so I tend to wake up in the middle of the night to sit for a while, I’m scared of drowning.

Hours were I think of a story but have no one I want to tell but them.

So what does one do, when they feel stuck in this day of emotional drama, well create a different routine to drown out this noise of the other.

Run, even if the memories chase you, run. Sweat, even if the sweat reminds you of being locked inside a room with them mingling your bodies and merging your feelings, just sweat it all out.

Create another routine that makes you think anew, eventually, you’ll feel better, not all of you, but part of you and then you begin again.

I might pulling a straw out my ass; enlighten me. Write to me, what does a break up feel like to you?

Invisible rules

When we fall into certain relationships, we agree to certain rules, some of them we might not necessary agree to but social norms dictate that we should, but I’m me, I’ve been fighting social rules ever since I was a baby, so I am having a bit of trouble.

I have many times in this blog written about relationships, ideas I might have about relationships and difficulties that arise in relationships, it seems however even knowing what can arise nothing really prepares you for when it happens.

So, here is my current story, I find myself in a position where I could pursue a relationship, this is the only platform I can admit that since I can’t admit that to her “she probably would freak out” but in all honesty I look at her, I think of her, and in my stomach it’s all butterflies, it’s true yet somehow it’s all complicated.

If I were to start detailing the whole ‘relationship’ it would take a while to get where I want to get. The summary of it is as follows: We have spent a lot of time together, we had a strong intimate time, just writing about it takes me back to it and I am smiling; we have strong lengthy conversations, it’s quite a match made on earth really, but as I go back it’s rather complicated.

First complication is that I am now far from her, quite far really and already that puts the relationship on edge. As intimate as a person can be with someone over the phone seeing them face to face provides something different; having to converse over the phone all the time gets frustrating no matter how strong the “connection”. I think that factor hangs over us, even if we can admit it or not.

I like the girl, no, honestly I really do, every nonsense about her I like, frankly I don’t care how she feels about me liking her, I liked her before the sex, even more after it. I can assume she likes me too but that wouldn’t be factual unless she admits it.

So, we fought, not the first time, but we did, the most awkward fight really, I am still yet to wrap my head around it. My version of the story goes “she hung up the phone on me after a long conversation. Internally I said “that’s rude” but I laughed it out. She calls me minutes later asking what happened? I say, you hung up the phone. She denies it. We lose connection. She calls again before I send a text saying I couldn’t hear her. She says why am I not picking up. Okay, she says a lot of things, she’s frustrated. I am confused at what is happening. End of version.

Now, everything you read, everything story you’ve heard concerning relationships tells you as a guy you should apologize, that somehow in these sort of arguments you are wrong, and she is right; those are the social rules. However, for the life of me, I can’t. Every fiber in my being cannot let me apologize for something I don’t understand, yes I can apologize for the misunderstanding that occur, but does that solve the bigger issue at hand? The issue remains that I don’t understand what the fight is about, yes, I am being logical, in a situation where perhaps I should look at it emotionally, which a part of me is, but it’s still a problem.

In an odd way, it seems we have reached a tipping point in our boiling pot of emotions. Neither of us is willing to acknowledge what is happening between us. I can acknowledge it individually as I am right now, admitting that I do have feelings for her, but I don’t think it would be a great idea to say it to her.

I am dying here; this is my form of release. To make myself feel better, to express deeply felt emotions I write them all down. I don’t think I am looking for a certain answer/solution, I already know the solution, but I can’t apply it, so what does it mean? Does it mean the relationship is declared none existing? How do I get myself to do something that I don’t believe is true? Would that not count as me emotionally lying?

How fair are these social rules that we must adhere to without necessary agreeing to them? I haven’t been in a relationship for a long time; rarely does a person find someone they connect to so well.

So there it is, my struggle. What other existing social rules do you find yourself in that believe are a challenge?

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.

 

Yeah

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.

Chasing moments

“Process over product”

There should be no doubt that we now live in a quick fix world, going from event to event, activity to activity looking for a quick fix. I am making it sound like a drug deal because essentially that’s what it ends up being, a certain addiction, were people can’t find themselves easing down to enjoy one moment because they fear they might miss out on another.

Okay, maybe I began too deep, that I sound like I am complicating what I want to talk about in this writing.

Del: I tend to miss things a lot, you know, the importants moment, so I always try to live 5 minutes from now.

This is a random line from the film Comet, it’s not a famous film, but it’s worth a watch.

I’ll get to how this quote relates to this reading a little later. Our “new” world is tuned to the idea that you have to impress people within the next three lines you say or write otherwise they will move on to the next moment; people are really in a hurry to live in the next 5 minutes from that right now, its terrifying.

Well, in a way it is terrifying, to miss moments, but it’ should be more terrifying to miss right now isn’t it? For the idea of process fascinates me.

I know I’ve said that so many times especially when it comes to art creation, but I also apply the same concept to people; that process of slowly building something is quite fascinating, it doesn’t matter what form of relationship it is, process is better than products, in a way that it’s thrilling.

In process you get to discover, you get to understand, you get to undress a whole lot of information, so to know how something/someone functions.

I learnt from a very young age to not do too many things at once, not that it’s a bad thing, people should learn as much as they want to; however I learnt or rather was advised by an individual who was much older and wiser than me that, I should choose one thing, choose one thing to love, and let that thing drive you to other places.

It’s advice that I’ve applied variously in life without ever realizing it. Art, after I chose it took me to a whole lot of places; my social circle after I chose it, introduced to me to things I never would have discovered alone.

The point I am making is, if there is a point, this quick fix world is scary, it’s scary because it doesn’t give people an opportunity to discover each other anymore, it’s quick satisfaction and you wake up the next day looking for a new dose, and if you can’t find it, you feel empty.

There is something in the idea of fishing that shows process over product; Fishermen intrigue me; sitting there for hours on end patiently waiting for a bite. I know people who could never be fishermen, because they are always itching for 5 minutes from now, and while they are busy scratching that itch, they miss the right now moments.

So serene, fishing.

I tend to miss things a lot, I don’t want to. To wonder what could’ve happened; It’s not a way to live. I’m not saying we should live in the moment rather I am saying, let’s enjoy the moment, for longer than 5 minute.

What is your view? Has process over product in human interaction disappeared? Is this good or bad?

Whose nudes are these?

Nudes, probably an art form that has been done for years and we only appreciate its beauty now. I mean have you seen some of the old paintings? Those are basically nudes just that no cameras ‘existed’

I am here again with my intellectual bullshit to talk about nudes. Why send nudes? I mean why not? What is to be answered… the ultimate question of all these questions is this.. after we break up should all the nudes I have of you be deleted? Ooohhhh interesting question, I know.

When my friends read this, they will definitely complain, they said I am too sexual or rather I like sexual topics, well bitches, I am a “sexually” curious person.

Who can send nudes? Uhmm I can answer this with my eyes closed, anyone can send nudes to anyone, I mean, if you want me to appreciate what your momma gave or rather workout gave you then by all means share with me, I will appreciate with a thank you filled with heart emojis/thirsty drooling ones whichever ones that will make you feel good and send more nudes in the future.

I have received numerous nudes in my lifetime, lately it’s been dry though, huge sigh of disappointment, I don’t think I’ve made new friends yet who are willing to send me nudes for appreciation; which leads me next to the second questions.

Why send nudes? what possible reason exists for someone to send another person a nude? Firstly let me be honest, there is absolutely no reason to send a nude, especially if we are fucking already or will do it or want to do it; however as much as there is no reason to send one there are many reasons to send one or two, or a couple more

Nudes done right create this thrill, this excitement within not only the receiver but the taker of the nude. I don’t know about you but I’ve received nudes that made me want the person who sent me in bed right in that moment; I’ve received nudes that made my penis want to climb out my pants to have a little peak themselves, of course I had to say come down boy, this one is for my eyes.

Nudes are like an appetizer before the main course, like an advertisement, a sample, and you know how some samples can be, there make you want to buy the whole god damn thing. Finally nudes can act as foreplay depending on the reasons why one was sent; there are nudes you get because the person just wants to ask you how they look, yeah, those actually exist, from close friends, a friend who just writes “what you think?” and I look at the nude and reply “not bad, have you been working your ass out” but from a lover or a person of interest, a nude is the kiss/bj for the eyes… look at all this, just for you…

How does one take a nude? Oh boy! oh dear me!

Now to be fair, when it comes to bodies, female bodies have been more sexualized than male bodies, which is why when it comes to nudes female ones are more appreciated than males. However times have vastly changed, men’s bodies come with great appreciation depending on the circumstances.

So with that in regards, men don’t really know how to take nudes; I see memes even making a joke about it, when a guy sends a nude, it’s usually of his erect penis; In his mind what the receiver will appreciate is the size of his dick… but nudes are more than just about genitals, there is a rather artistic factor in it as shortly explained earlier.

The receiver usually wants to see the whole package, the genitals should be saved as a mystery really, should never be the main focus of the nude… ‘the skin, the muscle, the ass, the boobs, the six pack/belly, neck, hands, legs/thighs but never, I repeat never the face. I will explain why on the last question.

I am not a judge no executioner on nudity and dirtiness, people can really send their partners whatever they want, but I am stating a point of view.

My final addition to nudes is this; “relationships” end, no matter how strong the love can be or whatever, “relationships” tend to reach some type of expiry date, I have relationships in quotes because I am speaking about all forms of relationships. When relationships end people tend to get bitter, some angry, others feel regret, and others appreciation but nonetheless, you’ve given yourself to this person who is no longer in your life, the one thing you’ll regret is having sent that person nudes with your face on them.

Some people can be childish, it’s true; No matter how much you trust someone, it’s important to reserve 1% for doubt, just to be safe. You don’t want your nude photos to ‘leak’ out or worse be used against you some day.

This makes me arrive at the most important question of all, whose nudes are these? After our relationship ends and I have all these nudes you had sent me, some with faces, should I delete them?

I asked a friend Sabelo and this is he said..

“They are yours 100%. Gifts that were bought during the ‘relationship’ don’t go back to the one who bought em.

If you buy me a gift. Automatically you are giving sole custody of the gift. Whether I sell it, misuse it, keep it, pass it to someone. I have that right. Its mine not ours”

I agree, the nudes although have your body, they belong to me, no one returns a gift; with understanding of course that I will not do no harm. Nude testament

So, let’s all take a breather, let’s all appreciate this beautiful art called Nudes, sink deep into it, soak it, warm into it, stroke to it and indulge in it.

What is your take on nudes, I’d love to hear.