It starts

Over a period of time I forgot myself. I was so busy losing myself that I completely ignored the fight in me. The real fight.

Oneday I will look back at my DIVA moment and smile at the man who feels so much for so little. Now that’s me being a  full on bitch. And yes I cursed, and quite frankly after much replaying the sentence out in my colourful mind, bitch is the only word that fits APPROXIMATELY APPROPRIATELY PERFECTLY.

It’s 1am in the freaking morning  and I have a new go to feel good movie which is exactly the kind of fluff I need. ‘Chalk Me Up’ is a real chick flick with just right amount of bang to whip my 4 platinum blonde hairs on my balding scalp into shape; without a tease nogal. 

I will not pop another coma inducing pill down my throat. It’s neither necessary or good for me. My body is simply going to have to self-adjust to its normal sleeping rythm, kinda like after jetlag. Instead,  as of tomorrow or rather today this brat is getting off his self-induced slump and I am going to get rough and tough because I actually do come from the Bluff. It really is a pretty village’y type coastal town and I loved growing up there.

For however many years I have allowed my over-indulged wanna be northern suburbs fragility to get in the way of dealing with me. I am not passing commentary on the Northern Suburbs of Johannesburg at all. I love living here. In fact it is the only place I semi-fit in but the preciousness rubs off on me and I forget that I like being a little badass. No, not badass and delinquent but badass as in a bit of a driven go-getter.

It’s true, I flick flack through authenticity and frivolity like it’s Christmas time often but the truth is I am nasty. A nice nasty. The kind of nasty that says: “YOU DO NOT HAVE TO EARN JACK ….. FOR A PLACE IN THE WORLD, THE FACT THAT YOU ARE ALIVE IS EVIDENCE ENOUGH THAT YOU HAVE ONE, A GREAT ONE!”

I believe, wholeheartedly, in love and the fairytale of 2 conquering the world together. I hope, sooner than later, to meet my playmate to do so; but crying in a bucket for crying in a bucket is just too much sometimes. I love the fact that I go through those emotional moments and they are a wonderful reminder that I am indeed not a robot as so many online sites need one to confirm. Has anyone else thought about how scary that is? Are we really at a place where we need to be checking whether it’s a human filling out the required information? If so, shouldn’t us as the general public be informed of how to protect ourselves from said robots causing us unnecessary strife? 


The fact is that I am 43, emotionally disabled and get things hopelessly muddled sometimes and there is always guaranteed shrapnel lodged somewhere in an unforgiving heart. Oh well….. one can’t change how other people choose to process stuff. We can at best apologise for ours and then let go.

It’s taken 9 months to finally let go and as faithful as God always is in an instant I am back into myself for myself and reminded that I actually am tough. One just has to read the many blogs of my trying this or that to bury the hurt to know that surviving me and what I do to me…..u gotta be tough hun.

I wish it was as nice a Sunday drive through life as it is in my head; but alas. The truth be told is that a lot of people are mean and outright not good guys. A lot are fabulous. I am aiming at fabulous daaarling. One just has to see the number of false posts about people with piercings or tattoos to know that people are sooooooooo full of bs. I mean have you ever heard this saying:”DON’T JUDGE A BOOK BY IT’S COVER” or “TAKE THE LOG OUT OF YOUR OWN EYE BEFORE YOU TAKE THE SPLINTER OUT OF ANOTHER’S.” 

be careful giiiiiiiiirl…..mama is in da house and she ain’t going nowhere. The roast is on the cook and dem greens is getting broiled to an inch, a wink of dem death….but I got it….I got it reeeeeeeal good. 

[I love being me and the SUEDO characters that live in my head and heart, both fictional and non]

The point is; besides evasive sleep; it’s time for me to get dirty, roll up my sleeves, quaff some bolla’s and rumble in my jungle. That scratched vinyl of cry me a river is so over and I need a new song to set me on fire. What’s hip these days that has peeps fired up?


Do you get like that? When one gets so gatvol of one’s own crap that eventually, whether resolved or not, it’s time to move on and add a little blush to those sullen cheeks. In my case it’s making my mind up….I love Johnny”s guyliner in Pirates and I identify….so if one is to imitate those we admire, and let’s face it Johnny is good, then DO NOT ASK ME WHY I WANT TO WEAR EYELINER/GUYFREAKINLINER…..I want to! Besides I do not ask you about beige walls or twin suites. I simply accept that some are classic and others are eccentric like myself. Please do the same. And if the kids ask, they buy “He is an artist.” Just be careful they may want to be artists too….lol.

But seriously, as I have often said I can shakespeare a moment out of a moment better than any Carpenter’s song. 

But it’s time to buckle up because there is one hell of a ride coming… it always does, naturally. I have no idea how or what but I am tired of mopping up milk.

It’s not going to be easy but I survived rehab in Mozambique and that was really tough. I survived my Dad and that was ridiculously rough. So this sheriff is polishing his dimmed badge, donning his favourite white trash scuffed sneakers and getting off his lazy butt to go buy smokes. Besides walking is good right?

Thank you for reading, sometimes responding to my chirps and a definite thank you for loving me through 9 months of hell and back.

But it’s time to start eating that curb one bitter chunk at a time and to get tough. God knows we need as many of us in SA to chew to get things back to a more prosperous way for ALL.

And if raving, all dressed up, stone cold sober all alone in my apartment  to Stevie B on Mixcloud is going to turn my desert into the oasis, which I colour so boldly in my heart, then that is that. And if dancing to a beat will shut every voice off in my head that takes my delusional self out of my authenticity, then so be it. Conversation closed. It’s time to dance.



• AJB • 


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