Butta ‘n Toast


The shiver of a sweat being brushed by the Johannesburg winter air is exhilarating. Trying to write this blog is proving to be difficult as I jump up to jam 1 more movement to my favourite mix on Mixcloud. Years gone by my friends would struggle to separate me from the seduction of a DJ, mirror ball and hot steamy dance floor.  I would run and hide to just get 5 minutes extra dancing in. 



I remember a time that I was as high as a kite and dancing. I, for lack of better wording, had left the galaxy. I was at the back of the dance floor and hallucinating something hectic. Naked Roman soldiers were dancing on the speakers, undercut hair was growing into vines on the ceiling, sweat drops grew into horns and right in the front was the flashing light of the finish line. I was in a race to beat the obstacles in front of me. The rule wasthat  if another competitor bumped me, they sucked my energy and I would have to  start at the back again. Visa versa. It was 5 hours later until I realised that it was the strobe light and the GAME was all in my head. Oh gosh I laughed at myself. But did I have a spectacular moment of dancing. I fought hard to win….lol.


Like some people can turn paint into art and instruments into unforgettable music; some people can turn the promise of an early morning booty call into a game of cat and mouse deliciousness and intrigue. Recently I have had a really, like REALLY, beautiful other playing this cyber seduction game with me. Often the cyber connection  of pleasure bores me to death but every now and then; and more then than now…lol; a person captures the imagination. Not so much because they are completely pervy to look at but because there is a vulnerability that is both sexy and invokes the passion in ones heart. THE GAME IS ON, SO LET’S SEE IF IT EVER EVOLVES FROM CYBER TO LIVE ENCOUNTER….LOL. (hope u can catch a hint…Mr ‘G’)

Through all the ups and downs in life there are just some things that remain FACT. The fact is things tend to work out not as bad as we think they might. The fact remains that sex is freely available. The fact remains that we like what we like. The fact remains that finding a connection that runs a bit deeper than a casual fling of disaster is not so easy to happen upon.

Little beats butter on toast, the laugh of forgiveness, the feeling of sleeping in one’s own bed, cooking lunch for people you adore or knowing that a GREATER LOVE is in action to help us be better humans 24/7/365 is deeply beautiful.

Whatever your situationship is right now, take it from a guy who should’ve been OVER more times than a ticking clock that you are more deeply loved than you could ever imagine. We just need to tune into the mix and let the natural rythm of life dance through us. 

Get sweaty on life and as the artwork, compliments of my incredible artist friend Ella, implies freedom is yours to be had….TAKE IT!



• AJB • 

The fearful step

Have you ever felt frightfully inadequate?

I remember the first time I ever went into a ‘fancy-schmancy’ restuarant. Things were so wierd. My imagination was vomiting inside of me. Snails…fungi….soil….rabbit….liver! How could people eat this stuff? So many forks, and what kind of knife is this? And bibs for grownups? 

As strange as this all was to a kid of 17 I learnt that what is in my head was not as powerful as the experiences of giving it a go. 

Function must follow Form or visa versa!

In other words an idea not tried is vapour. 

For years the disgust of pornography has bothered me. Like eating snails, I had to understand why people who watch it love it. In my inadequacies I believed that if others do so must I. I wanted to be everyone else but dorky me.  Although I have an understanding these days of snails and pornography neither are goto things for me. Both are yucky and boring. Give me an Oxtail stew and kissing any day and I am Lord Muck.

There are plenty of journeys I wish I had never taken but they at least taught me about who I don’t want to be.

This month has been a magnificent time of many 1st’s. Graciously accepting the hand of friendship and tonight joining a Hip Hop dance class to name a few. 

3 things remain true for me:

*keeping it real

*I love people 

*I know God is love

Most of my life has been done scared but I did it.

It has taken me 43 years to get a handle on my irrational fears and have some self-esteem that is allowing me to venture into the life I believe is meant for me. Not a schmaltzy, wannabe and pretentious life but a life filled with adventures to come. 

I am adjusting my point of view!

So remember that what we, falsely, believe about ourselves will always cloud our lives from being the KINGS AND QUEENS we actually are born to be. It is not easy fighting our shadow but it beats fitting in whilst dying inside.

Love is designed to win. Perhaps not exactly how we imagine and often we must go through it scared but the step must be actioned.

I have to find the most decent track and T to wear to dance class tonight. I don’t want to look like a complete eyesore….lol.



• AJB • 



I think I might just be. No, I don’t mean that arrogantly or even self-patronisingly….if that is even a word….it is now….lol. 

It’s Sunday 1:40 am. It’s freeeeeeeeezing in Johannesburg. Well freezing for us. I guess compared to the UK or Antarctica it is a summers night. With my favourite blankie, a cuppa and the damn too bright kitchen light blasting my ‘wanna-sleep-but-can’t’ eyeballs I toss this word ‘iconic’ into the mix.

What makes someone or something iconic? Is it the amount of likes they get on their social-media pages, or the good they do in the world that so easily is forgotten, or the amount of art/ records or sportmanship they leave behind to remember them by, or the fact that perhaps they are born that way. I don’t know. Perhaps it is all or none of it.

‘The No Kiss List’ on Netflix rocked me this morning. Obviously the tears are a given and the awakening of my spirit has gotten me trying to figure out, the albeit a fictional story, why I am so deeply moved.

With the remnants of my ok but delish supper stocked up in the kitchen sink and my debt repayment plan looking good but both staring at me calling for attention, I force myself to just be with me.

‘The No Kiss List’ reflects on change, acceptance and growing up. The world is often hard and childhood dreams are forced to change for clearer perspectives to grab hold of us as adults.

I work next to a ‘new age exercise’ gym. I don’t know what one calls a place that puts electrodes on you that tense the muscles as one does certain movements. I am a bit old school regarding this but highly intrigued.

Which brings me to my point.

I am trying new things. Not revolutionary new things but things that I simply have not given myself the gap to really try. Like forging friendships that are honestly good for me. Look I have been incredibly lucky in that many people have come into my life that I will always love, deeply care for and hope to become a true friend of oneday but I haven’t let people in close. I feel sorry for my ex. The time with me must have been tough. I loved him so much that I wanted every bit of my being to be dedicated and absorbed into the him & I scenario. Which perhaps is not really possible for anyone. I think this is because I haven’t really allowed myself the opportunity to grow platonic friendships to a level that I can call them besties; so I immerse myself in love. IT IS CHANGING! My friend Ella is proving herself quite the force to be reckoned with. It’s both daunting and stunning as my fears are being challenged and being put into perspective. If you ever get to meet her you will understand why she is an iconic human. I am only now, at 43, beginning to get a handle on who I really am, what I like, don’t like, believe or not, desire and don’t and want to change or let go of both in me and around me. Rather late than never I guess.

Perhaps I may be remembered as iconic for all the mistakes I have made. Perhaps I am starting to walk in the shoes of iconic and will yet discover what it is still to be. But the most essential thing is being iconic to myself.

It has been a week of intense but thought provoking conversation in the salon. Clients/friends have opened up about their lives and I have been moved, surprised and have fallen that bit more in love with each of them. Yup. I am one of THOSE stylists. I don’t want to do hair for people who are superficial. I want to go to work everyday excited to do what I do for people I treasure. And yes when I hurt them I want to care that I have. Come now let’s not pretend that we haven’t  hurt some people, directly or indirectly,  and actually it didn’t bother us too much. As a kid I tried hitting my dad with a broom to stop him beating up my mom. I was glad that the wooden handle left a red welt on his back…..happier that it forced his attention onto me and got him chasing me down the street and off my mom. So you see sometimes we hurt others, like I did, intentionally and I was thrilled with it. Look, I am not advocating violence. I hate violence and am scared of it but the argument is a blurred line of many factors necessary for context before judgement is effectively made.

This week I have finally, after 13 years of guilt, decided to no longer go to church. Not because I don’t want to be a Christian, I do. But the constant pointing out of my personal shortcomings keeps me focused on guilt and not on the love I have for a God that is both God and iconic to me. I mean how does one mimic a love that still loves when we destroy eachother everyday. For now, it may change, I am happy to let my spirituality become a more exclusive affair without the constant negative vomit that gets flung at me in the mask of following a bible-based teaching. I have a bible. I read it. I pray and everyday I hope to be a bit more iconic like this God that has rescued my butt from myself many times.

So too have I decided to dance….actually dance. For years the guilt of ‘boys don’t dance’ coupled to ‘drug-induced-dancing-for-days-as-a-means-of-belonging’ has had me in a noose for too long. The short and of long of this rope is….I love to dance. It frees me and I am in my ordinary way iconic at it.



Perhaps as we let go of the childhood ideas of wanting what we want exclusively for ourselves we may as adults raise our thumb and allow the dancers to dance, the singers to sing, money makers to make money, runners to run and lovers to love as passionately for ourselves and others alike.

Perhaps then, ‘ love will cover a multitude of sins.’ Perhaps then we cut  the noose that strangles  the dreams of a world in despair. Perhaps then dreams can come true for the many and not only the ones whom opportunities are granted.




• AJB • 

Dirty Flowers & Clean Mops

It’s day 12. Things are getting done; correctly. My skin is starting to show the signs of increased blood-flow and oxygen. The crap in my lungs is starting to loosen. My sleep is beginning to be deep and peaceful. My body is pushing my mind to think faster and craving  a bit more food. My thirst for water seems unrelenting. It’s all good. I can even crack a smile at the pleasure of my body, mind and spirit awakening as it grinds to the sounds that instruct so seductively when I dance my day into being.

The fresh winter air brushes over my nipple rings. It’s soothing; kind of like the sensation of ice dripping onto your skin after candle wax has alarmingly aroused it with heat. It feels sexy!


The Panther in me prowls.

I stand in awe of the mercy of God/the Universe/Karma. It’s been 8 days into the new month and I am 1/3 of the way of catching up after the carnage of self-loathing near destroyed me. I am equally in awe of the forgiveness of my clients who see past my struggle with recovery and encourage me towards wholesome growth. Perhaps, rightly or wrongly, I shouldn’t be as open as I am with them, but it’s the only way I know recovery actually works. It’s golden rule is transparency and honesty. And to be honest if others trust their image in my hands then the least I can do is be open about myself too. Besides, I actually don’t know how to be different. I couldn’t be ‘mum’ , except for the vulnerable secrets of others, if I tried. 

I wrote a piece called ‘Dirty Mops & Pretty Flowers’. In it I spoke about truthfully loving one’s spiritual journey. I woke up this morning and had a sense to chat about its counter opposite.

For years I was a ‘Dirty Flowers & Clean Mops’ kinda human. What I mean by this statement title is this…..

I tried to represent to the world that I was fine but underneath I was dying. My resentment, mistrust and anger brewed. I dressed nice,  smelled nice, and even spoke nice but underneath the rage made my heart loathe everything around me. The interesting thing was that I kinda digged it. I had a secret and it belonged exclusively to me. I was a Dirty Flower.

Even though I hated the consequences of my actions I, because of fear of being judged, never changed a thing to get better results out of my life. My spilled milk just kept spilling and my mop stayed clean.

It was only when a friend told me a sentence that has turned me right side up since, have I been able to try undo the mess I had gotten myself into.


God/ the Universe / Karma keeps giving us the same lesson to bash our heads against until we have learnt it.

My progress has been slow but in motion. Years of self-loathing doesn’t undo itself easily. And perhaps it is the personal journey we all have to conquer for our entire lives. 

It is easy to dress up a mannequin, it is less easy to make it come alive!

It’s been 13 years of me struggling to overcome my self-hatred. Even though I am only in my pubescent years of my spirituality I am beginning to pull out the things of myself that are authentic and true.

Spirituality and Reality are one in the same thing. They mimic, reflect and merge into eachother much like our DNA chain. Everything is separate but integrated and one cannot exist without the other.

So I encourage you this weekend…

If you haven’t yet gone on bended knee/ hugged a tree or whatever you feel is the honest thing in your heart to invite true spirituality into your life; do so.


Find the rainbow in you because it is a much needed one. Both for yourself, the world and for the artist in me. 



• AJB • 

Dirty Mops & Pretty Flowers

The path to authenticity is truthfully love what you love.


With flailing arms in my living room, alone, it dropped. The sweat percolating the toxins out of my pores. An hour in, it dawned on me that I had been dancing in my ‘sweet spot’ both organically and for a while. My ‘sweet spot’ is that moment where every muscle moves willingly without thought to the music. I don’t know about other people who love to dance but that moment when everything just flows is indescribable….and yes for those that have seen me dance will know it is something electrifying to watch. No, I am not a pro and I don’t even have a particular categorised style…I just have a raw natural fluidity which is sexy….if I say so myself…..lol.

(Note to self….I must get Bluetooth earphones that sit snugly in the ear….there is nothing more disruptive as when in mid motion my hand rips the sound right out of my ear.)

But the point is not my self praise but the acknowledgement of self.

As I was enjoying the moment of feeling every muscle respond to the music blaring into my eardrums I heard that guttural voice  teach me a few things. 

1*Truth can only set us free, give life and grow us. It does not mean that it is easy or even nice but the outcome will always remain personal development.

2* Spirituality by its sheer nature is the loneliest road one can take. There is but not one other person that can fix us, live our purpose or travel our journey but us. Yes we can share our lives and be taught and guided but we still have to live it ourselves.

3*Lying to ourselves creates a prison in which we die a torturous death to ourselves. Remember that lie. The guilt, shame and paranoia of being found out was hell. That’s the prison. The not being able to look others in the eye or pretending to be ok; that’s the death of authenticity.



The point is this that as I was dancing I realised that for me to grow in the direction that is exclusively •AJB•’s PURPOSE is to do the things I love. 

I love dancing. It does something to me that nothing else does. I also know that I have learnt as much as I can at this juncture in my life and the actioning of my spirituality is necessary. It is a relief as in my living room, alone and sober, I can dance as I wish, cry as I wish, enjoy as I wish, do as I wish. 

It is in this ‘sweet spot’ that I feel the bits of me that are myself and connected to the world and God melt fluidly into eachother.

So in recognition of myself I put this pic into my blog. Can you see the inner peace and self-love ooze out of my pores. That’s what dance does to me. And the best thing is I never taught myself, or bought it, or manipulated it, it costs me nothing, it takes no effort to want to do, and it’s a gift/ talent that is exclusively my very own unique way of acknowledging that I count. With dance I can choose to invite God into my living room to both dance in and with me. With dance I can celebrate the fact that each of us is ‘fearlessly and wonderfully made.’



• AJB • 

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…..as 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 • 

Monday Mood

It’s warm and Dora is just not in the mood to blitz goddess-like. The mundane cleaning rituals are needless to say a thankless difficultly. So; instead he feeds the birds and lays prostrate soaking in some much desired vitamin D, whilst beyond the organza wall lay the aftermath of an incarcerated but necessary discipline. It’s warm……

The camouflaged wild birds dance, chat and groom between the perfectly haphazard leafless twigs. It’s been a while since I just watched the world go by. It’s a luxury that most, I think, miss as the ever increasing costs of trying to live are a taxing toll on our limited clocks.

The faded black Loerie gallops; blundering elegantly through the branches.

Balance? What is it and how does one actually achieve it? Theoretically I know the answer we all know. Practically I fear most of us stare intrigued but dismayed at the pie chart illustration. I do! Perhaps balance is more of a societal ideology….u work, they play, they save, they spend. Oh gosh I have tried the envelope budget idea too and well there just ain’t no envelop deep enough. My lists are strong. And I feel the onset of a dress up gay musical sing-a-long coming on. “I do too love dress up,” I mutter so British to myself.

Truthfully, as I was told sincerely, that my best bet is to completely have the bare minimum access to getting  my hands onto money. I am one of those that get so bewildered by a moment that all sensibilities fly much like the blundering Loerie galloping out the door. It does, however, make for exciting times requiring me to be on high alert thinking on points often. It will change.

Is there not an effective class that can teach one the necessary skills to undo a life of wanton mediocre success. Ironically,  at those elected entrepreneurial programs that are implemented at high school level I fared brilliantly. I never got to see it through. Sometimes, kids just have to do as they are told by a parent, particularly the big looming male.

It’s warm.

With a melted herb cheese, tomato, mustard and smoked chorizo sarta brioche well placed, the wicked inevitability of getting out the Domestic Goddess frock shrieks ‘it’s time’ to the ‘oh-god-oh-god-oh-god-please-no’ slamming of grinding brakes at a ‘saw-it-too-late’ red traffic light. 

Tranquil bliss effectively disturbed! 

Whatever it takes to carry through the surrendering of our wills to achieve the dreams that WILL make a difference, not only to ourselves but potentially the world around us……DO THAT! 

As a new potential friend said yesterday, ” DO REAL,” and a glancing read of a Richard Branson online article slogan quips, “SUPPORT DON’T PUNISH”



• AJB •