Better call Saul is basically a show about a guy doing bad stuff. As his arc progresses he does more bad things and encounters bad people. A scumbag Lawyer who resorts to underhanded tricks and creative methods to win his cases. He will fabricate evidence, smear your reputation, deceive, manipulate to make you the demon, morality is not a vice. He went from serving senior citizens with their wills and estates to serving hardened criminals, prostitutes and junkies. Nonetheless, he is the perfect guy to get you out of a rock and a hard place. Colorful, eccentric, slippery and unpredictable, presiding judges never know what to expect. He knows how to get you out of a sure thing. Vince Gilligan and Peter Gould will make you cheer for the bad guy, cause if everyone in the show is a bad guy, who are you going to root for? Obviously the guy with Halocaust numbers and that makes you contemplate about your human nature. Am I as pure as I would like to believe? Am I a good guy? Do I want to be a good guy? Cause Saul learned a lesson when he was a boy and it also hit hard. There are two types of people in the world, the sheep and the wolf, decide where you fit in. Do you really wanna be a sucka all your life? Standing on the stands, watching life frizzle into obscurity. The wolves are the go getters, they make things happen, they will things into existence, they make the money, they fuck the bitches, like Tony Montana they are portrayed as the bad guy. Would you rather be the lousy sheep? Following orders, “doing the right thing”, staying in your lane, playing it safe, boring as watching two coat paint dry. The Gilligan Universe shows us something different, fast paced, big money, bloody, murderous, exciting! Life is boring why not add spice, lie, cheat, extort, manipulate, murder, get away with it and repeat. Walter White had noble aims for dealing Crystal Meth, a high school teacher struck with the news that he has cancer, to compound things he has mortgage problems and can’t avoid to pay for Chemotherapy. He turns to Chemistry and starts cooking Crystal Meth and it proves to be lucrative. As his power accrues he becomes a monster and killing becomes routine. Cause when you kill one, then you have already crossed the line, you have transgressed, you are already a sinner, you are already condemned and going to hell why not do it again? One day it starts being normal and the cost of business and killing in cold blood becomes a part of you, you gain a reputation, you become the grim reaper.
I used to attend primary school and high school WITH antakalipa. Yea cool guy, was well-liked by everybody but I didn’t know him that much. At primary school, I saw him on the play ground and afterschool but that’s just about it, he was not in my class. It was at high school when we had our first real encounter. It was winter and I had on my white Che Guevara bennie. Che Guevara was embroidered in black on the front and it was the most awesome bennie ever! Expensive too, I parted away with R250 to purchase that bennie. Ridiculous money to pay for a bennie at the time as they ranged from R20 – R60 but it was an investment for me. I bought that bennie with my acting money so it was special and dear to me. There was pride attached to that bennie and I knew it made me look cool – that was the whole point. I had it for 2 years and I guarded it with my life. In the morning while I was walking to school, I had it on and he saw it and flipped. He went crazy! I was surprised, I mean he knew who Che Guevara was, my peers didn’t know who Che Guevara was. Sure maybe they recognised the image because it’s iconic but that’s just about it. He loved my bennie! I reciprocated his energy and shared in with his enthusiasm. I was flattered and he made me feel good. Then he made his move, he asked to borrow it for up until afterschool. I told him “nah”, I mean it was not the schools color. The school’s official bennie color is green and anything other than that will probably get confiscated. I was careful when I wore my bennie, I wore it only when I walked to school in the mornings and put it in my bag before school started. It was enough time to show-off and for the other kids to see me. I never rubbed it on people’s faces, I respected the authority figures. Beside it was way too valuable to me, I didn’t want any problems. I always did things by the book. He pressed and pressed until I relented but I gave him conditions. I told him to look after my bennie, don’t advertise it to the RCL’s and teachers, only on breaks and make sure you are secured! I figured his a good guy and well-liked by all and he appealed to my ego and mirrored back my taste. How could I insist on no? I have a self-image and like everybody else I believe I am a good person. Denying him the opportunity to be cool with my bennie would contradict that self-image. “Just one day” I thought, “you know him, his a good guy. Have faith, trust him”. Big mistake. Afterschool when I requested for my bennie back, he told me that an RCL confiscated it and that he’d get it on Friday. I brewed inside but I didn’t let him see it, I decided to give him a chance. I am not stupid, I knew he knocked me my bennie but I waited for Friday. He didn’t even look for me, I had to take the initiative. He was avoidant like somebody who owes you money, I couldn’t locate him until afterschool. Afterschool I went to his transport and I finally got him. I asked him about my bennie and he said he didn’t have it, that the very same RCL had it, then he dismissed me, he left, he showed no remorse, he just didn’t care. I let him be, I didn’t go looking for my bennie anymore. He was careless and I knew that one day I’d get him. We were in the 8th grade, I decided to play the long game and I took the lose. “One day is one day”, I thought.
4 years later, in the 12th grade, the last grade of high school and we are in the same class, everything is all good, the bennie incident is even forgotten. One day in Math’s class, the teacher had us sit in groups. There was this study pack book that had past question papers dating back 5-6 years, the book also contained memos for these question papers and a lot of other additional resources and stuff. It was the holy grail of mathematics, that book was your route to a distinction in math’s. It wasn’t offered at school, you had to purchase it. Most of the learners in class didn’t have it, including myself but He had it. At most we had 6 in the class so we split into groups. Along with the other gents we rounded his book. When the bell rang for end of period. He rushed out to EGD class because there was a project he needed to finish, the other EGD guys also did the same. Only the Computer guys were chilled, we didn’t have anywhere to rush off to. The class split and he left the book with a couple of us gents. He knew he’d get it and why not? We are reliable, goodfellas. No need to worry, rush off to EGD class my good man. The gents left the book on the table because they didn’t want the responsibility so I took custody of the book. Everything flashed back and I remembered my Che Guevara bennie, the devil manifested himself in my smile. A wronged heart never forgets. It turns out revenge was simmering in the background all along. “He is careless” I thought, “I got you”. The next day he came to me requesting for his math’s textbook, the gents told him it was with me. I replied firmly “I don’t have your math’s textbook” and I dismissed him and walked away. It was cold and detached, I just didn’t care. A friend of mine came up to me and asked “Why don’t you give antakalipa his math’s textbook”, I simply replied “Nah, he knows”. The look on his face when I held back giving him his textbook was worth the 4 years waiting for him to slip-up. My body was filled with happiness. He couldn’t do anything. He knew that I had the textbook because everybody told him that I had the book and they were right. His eyes were sad. He was pained. My whole being brimmed with satisfaction. He deserved it! In my heart I knew I’d get him and it happened right at the end. Revenge is a dish best served cold. That’s my story with antakalipa but to me just a guy, the wiseguy who stole my Che Guevara bennie.
Look at you Fucken Junkie! No impulse control, emitting smoke from your lungs like a chimney. Splurging on pills and powder to numb the pain but neglecting what you need. Floating high across the sky when you should be grounded because you have seeds. Fucken Junkie look at you, you disgust me. No self-worth but it’s your appearance that disgusts me. Thin as a needle, teeth crooked and yellow like “Hell no”. Lips blacked out like the mouth of a mamba. Eyeballs lifeless like Brazil without the samba. Face disconfigured like a loaf of bread weighted down by 10Kg mielie meal. Did you even have a meal? Surprise, surprise the fridge is clean. Are those ribs popping out? That ain’t lean. Fucken Junkie, look at the house, it’s a pigsty. It’s like a natural disaster occurred and the smell like somebody died. Junkie, surrounded by needles and baking powder. The music is maxed out but you want it louder. Junkie, your children are dirty and are attracting fleas. They can’t go to school because you smoked the fees. Junkie, you are someone no one wants to appease. You are indecent, unreliable and always on your knees. Fucken Junkie, you are a burden to humanity. Always high and mighty but your existence brings much uncertainty. Junkie, who you gonna rob for your next hit? Show me your face so I know where to spit. Fucken Junkie look at you, can’t function without your daily dose, snorting everything up like a vacuum cleaner. Junkie, you disgust me!
Paul Heyman and Roman Reigns on my socials for years and there’s still some confusion about my position in the mortality spectrum. I do whatever to win! I thought my position was clear when I stated that ‘I am on a heel turn’. I despise purity because it’s pretentious, disguised and filthy. It’s the pure ones that do all the manipulating, they have learned to camouflage themselves with the consensus of the majority while aligning themselves with virtues that seem righteous but are two-faced like a coin and leave much to the imagination. Hypocrites, they hide under the morality that plagues their existence. They are fakes, they smile in my face and start smear campaigns when my back is turned. I like the bad guys more, there’s no pretensions, anything can happen, things are out in the open and your life is in danger. There’s no mirrors, smokescreens and theatricalies, no need for passive aggressive antics, just the consciousness that if you get out of line, I am going to whack you. I don’t like the pure ones because they secretly yearn for power, it’s in their actions, their demeanor, the disguised sly commentary, passive aggressive behavior, the perceived innocence white as snow, the victim mentality and their righteous indignation. Meek is dangerous ask Gandi and the English. How can you trust an individual who has blood more pure than Christ? I wish human beings were good, saintly, creatures who lived on love and farted butterflies. But it’s not like that isn’t it? A dark side exists and people want what you have, violence and if you’re stubborn death is a means for reposition. How can someone be truly whole when they don’t acknowledge their dark side? To claim you are white as snow is to refute you’re black as death. Arrogance, do you think that you are a better human being than me? White privilege can’t save your soul. I don’t like the pure ones, they make me uncomfortable, everything is a show and their smiles are fake. Face drips off schadenfreude through their pores every time I have a bad day. Nah, I don’t like the pure ones, I prefer drunkards, wife-beaters, criminals and prostitutes, at least they are real, they don’t try to be what they are not, they are flawed, vulnerable, confused, human and roaming about a maze they didn’t create and attempting to survive. Psychopaths exist but they are a product of this maze so they have my compassion and understanding. All of life has my compassion and understanding. Existence is difficult, no one has the answers and we all are going to die. Why would you want to be Jesus Christ? Did you forget his best friend was Mary Magdalene? I’d rather call Saul.
What is good? What is bad? Cause when Walter White started cooking crystals to secure his family’s future I was with him. Life is not fair and sometimes it makes no sense at all. I mean what is the alternative? He has cancer and can’t afford to pay for Chemo because he works in a profession that doesn’t pay much. He is overqualified and his teaching job isn’t maximizing his talents. He has kids and has been diagnosed to live for a couple of months. Even if he reached into the family’s savings to pay for the Chemo, its not guaranteed that he’ll survive, cause what if he pays the 300K for the treatment and perishes anyways. What then? What about the kids? What about their futures? What about the house? The unsurmountable debt? No college fund, what about the kids dreams? No insurance, what about that safety net? Is that the legacy you want to leave for your family? Are you really going to leave behind your kids hungry, scrambling for survival, living off bread crumbs? What about your honor as a man? What about your pride? What is your use? You lived your whole life as an honest man, working to secure your family’s future and now cancer is wiping off your whole existence. Maybe you know of people who can pay off the treatment but is that a way to live? Being a charity case for people who screwed you over? People who built their empire on what you started and claimed it for themselves. It’s guilt money, a bribe, they are paying you off! Of course that’s not how they will present it because human beings are sophisticated creatures and theatricality is the order of the day. Maybe they do care and genuinely want you to beat the cancer but deep down you’ll know. You’ll feel the bondage and entitlement. Sure they stole your work to get to the top but they also saved your life, let’s face it, you owe them. How is that fair? You screw me over and still manage to get the last laugh. Nah fuck em! If I can do something to alter destiny then I will, even if it means cooking crystals. I am already on borrowed time, I am knowledgeable, I might as well go all out. This way at least I have a chance, I can procure the funds for the Chemo treatment, I can secure my family’s future, I can be useful, I can be a man, I can be proud of myself. It’s not like I am stealing the money, I’ll be earning it. I understand that drugs cause harm and death is a relative but what is the alternative? Give up to cancer and die? Leave my family broke, leave them with nothing except a memory. A memory that was stained by suffering and a prolonged death towards the end. Everything I do, I do because of my love for my family. What’s so bad about that? What’s the use of having the knowledge and not putting it to use? Laboring years for a system that rebukes you. What does “overqualified” even mean? Everyone else is flourishing as a result of their hard labor. Why can’t I be the best that I can be? What is ethics and morality in a Godless Universe? Everybody dies, time forgets and nothing matters in any case. You tell me, what is good, what is bad? Is your criteria subjective or objective? Cause if the people want crystals I am happy cooking it for them, we are adults with freewill and it will be the best, most purist crystal meth in the world.
You think you got a good wife but when the kitchen gets heated she dashes out and goes fucking her boss. After everything I’ve done for the family, after everything I’ve sacrificed. I did everything for the family, she doesn’t recognize that, she doesn’t acknowledge me. All she does is criticize, criticize and criticize. How I wish words were sufficient to make you see the broader picture. It’s like I’ve become an outsider, an enemy, she wants a divorce, she doesn’t love me anymore, it’s like we don’t have a history. Sure I lied but it was to protect you and the family. I wasn’t fucking random bitches, I was working to secure the family’s future. A man’s job is to provide and it has been that way since the beginning of time. How you gonna persecute me for doing what comes natural? Watching the show, I was disgusted with Walts wife Skylar, she abandoned him. She had a righteous aura about her, she judged Walt, she elevated herself above Walt. The balls on her to sleep with her boss. Walter Jr, is correct, she is a bitch! I mean sleeping with your boss to spite me, to get me to react, to get your way? That is devious, beyond Machiavellian. How is that morally justified? I cook crystals to secure the family’s future and you fuck your boss because you disagree with my methods? Where’s your loyalty? You made an oath to be by my side. Nobody’s perfect but how you gon consciously do that? Repeatedly at that! You don’t respect me. You don’t support me. You don’t want to see my perspective. Who made you God to judge over life like that? You are a bad person Skylar, an example of what a wife shouldn’t be. Fuck you too bitch, here are your divorce papers all signed, you got what you wanted I am leaving! Hope you choke on that assholes dick and die!
“Woah! Slow down big fella don’t make this personal”, I’ll try. The show made me emotional and my moral compass was tested. You might make a point for Skylar and suggest that she was only thinking about what was best for her and her family. When it comes to family self-preservation and survival triumphs all. Distancing yourself from a drug dealer is a good move as implications might lead to a difficult life. Stay and you are an accomplice, an accessory, a collaborator of all the crimes. Stay and everybody is a murderer cause you all enablers. Who wants to be on the front pages of morning papers and grace the tabloids columns? It’s disgraceful and worse you might lose everything you worked so hard to achieve. Good points but there’s holes, Skylar was already flirting with his boss before she found out the truth about Walt. It was just a matter of time before something metastasized. She just wanted an excuse to fuck him and she got one. Lines are blurred, I don’t know what is good and bad anymore but I do identify with the protagonist, that’s my nigga, I am with him, I understand. I progressed with him on his Arc. In my view good and bad is a matter of perspective, they are labels that don’t mean all that much – life goes on, we all make our choices and then they make us. Life is not black or white it’s far too complicated because we are complicated creatures who live in a world we don’t understand. There is no definite blueprint for a successful life and everybody is doing their best. Everybody in the show transgressed, everybody in the show is bad, everybody in the show is guilty. I salute the creator Vince Galligan and everyone involved with the show. The characters of the show are complex and troubled. How do you save somebody like Jesse when he believes in his heart that he is a bad guy. The criminals are super professional, have high levels of empathy, supremely intelligent and hide in plain view. Judge one of the characters and it reflects back at you, you feel like a hypocrite because you see yourself in their actions. It is an absolute masterclass, one of the greatest shows of all time. The acting is unbelievable and the writing superb. I was addicted to the show, I couldn’t stop watching. It is excellence. It gripped me, I loved it!
Easily one of the greatest books of all time. It follows the life of the author and his experiences throughout his life. “In search of lost time” covers the subjects of Love, homosexuality, death, old age, art, the Dreyfus case, social conventions, politics, family, friends, the war and lost time. It is such a masterpiece. If only I could write like Proust. He writes like a detailed painting. You can see the brush strokes in his words. You can see the different hues. His words are passionate and full of life like Spring. His words are so vivid, they evoke feelings and transport you to his time. He describes everything in its smallest detail. He is reflective and honest. He can make you laugh and he can make you sad. He makes you reflect about your life, your decisions, your future. He makes you see how tragic life really is. Even with all the money in the world and the most esteemed people by your side, it still doesn’t mean anything. The esteemed people in the highest positions in the world are still humans and they have a nature that is universal. They have fears, they are in a world in which they didn’t create, a world they cannot successfully navigate because there is no blueprint, they are vulnerable to sickness and death and despite their best efforts they don’t know what they are doing. Boredom is an inescapable fact of life and so they keep themselves occupied with social conventions. They attend parties and invite other celebrated individuals and talk art all day. They talk art, books, music, drama and fashion. At least that gives life meaning. It makes it bearable. I learned important social skills and emotional intelligence is important in the context of life. Social skills and Emotional intelligence is better than IQ. You can be high in IQ but if your peers and colleagues find your conduct undesirable you risk being stagnant and never moving in an upward trajectory. Social skills and Emotional skills is how you navigate your way through life. It is how you find desirable mates, it is how you increase your list of acquaintances. Acquaintances enable you to move up the social ladder. You must be able to perceive and regulate other people’s emotions. That is true intelligence because human beings are emotion creatures. The ability to regulate your impulses and act in a just manner will attract things to you, it will enable you to move up. Social skills and emotional intelligence are important because as you navigate the world you meet different people with different tastes and customs. You encounter foreign traditions, a high level of emotional intelligence will enable you to be open-minded as you won’t fall prey to your urge to exert you ego, this will enable you to communicate and project yourself with desirable effects. “In search of lost time” centers a lot around society and social conventions, it explores finding favor with people, undesirable qualities in individuals and how to be well-liked and adored. The characters in these social classes are intellectuals bred from the highest aristocratic families in the world, they are the elite. This doesn’t mean they are snobbish, although a couple of characters do exhibit this snobbery behavior but rather that they are finicky and know proper culture. They engage in stimulating and witty conversations. I have to admit I loved going to the Duchess Guermantes place. It was good and she was charming. Orianne oh, my beautiful Orianne. She was funny and witty and everyone loved being in her presence. She also didn’t just entertain anyone, you had to be of a certain pedigree, you had to be a master of your trade, you had to be cultured, you had to be interesting, you had to be special. The parties were quite exquisite and wonderful. I enjoyed being in the presence of great people and engaging with them. It was quite an experience!
“In search of lost time” also explores the subject of love and how peculiar it is. The first volume of the book covers the love affair between Charles Swann and Odette De Crecy. Swann an important man in the eyes of society falls in love with a peasant girl Odette. He loves her despite her infidelities. He is conscious of her infidelities and yet he still persists. He gives her money, he does absolutely everything for her. Odette makes him suffer through jealous streaks and unquenchable paranoia. This is what draws Swan to Odette, the suffering, it is familiar to him and he just can’t get over it. Swanns is repressed and as such his subconscious is doing all the navigating in the world. Swann loves Odette with all his heart and he figures that’s enough. Eventually, Odette will come around. This makes Swann a laughing stock in the eyes of society because evidently the peasant girl is using him for his money. Swann knows this and he accepts it since it enables him to be with Odette. This is the strange thing about love, we love what makes us suffer, we love what is familiar. Because love is a psychological phenomena, we love the repressed qualities of ourselves and project them onto another person. This is explored in the work of Carl Jung with his Amina and Animus. I am not attributing the Anima for Swanns situation but it is the most intelligeable option. Besides, consciousness is a difficult topic to explore because no one can account for it, at least work has been done on the subconscious mind. Love is difficult because it can be unconscious like most of our actions. And so the most intelligent conclusion would be to say that Swann didn’t know what he was doing neither did Odette. Swann was attracted to the suffering that Odette was inflicting on him. This says a lot about the human condition, the fact that we need suffering to feel alive, to be alive. Numerous other love affairs are covered in the book like the authors affair with Albertine, a Femme Fatale who almost leads Proust in the wrong direction. Albertine too makes Proust suffer and it is what reels him in. The book also covers the authors infatuation with the Duchess Guermantes. This infatuation locks him in a trance of behavior that he doesn’t understand. He becomes obsessed with her. He spies and gathers data about her and when she takes her walks. He ultimately falls in love with her and talks at great length about her features and fashion sense. He asks his friend to introduce him to her considering that they are family and everything blossoms from there onwards. This behavior exhibited by the author shows us that love is not logical. Love is the ego exerting itself. Love is selfish and consumes. Love possess like a demon. Love is the universal unconscious form exerting itself on life. It is pheromones in the air that accessing a unwilling host. It is a phenomenon that just happens to you. Popular culture often talks about “Love at first sight” perhaps there is scientific evidence in this notion. It would certainly explain the concept of homosexuality and the urge for young boys like the character M. De Charlus in book. Maybe Charles Darwin didn’t cover the whole scope of evolution. Surely, this is only De. Charlus’ nature. M. De. Charlus is portrayed like a zealot who engages in morally unjustified and elusive behavior, maybe the society in Prousts time is wrong. The fundamental question here is that do we choose who to love? Perhaps the idea of choice is our biggest illusion.
The book also covers our common ground, the destination we all share namely death and old age. It is a certainty that we are all going to die. That our family, friends and cherished acquaintances will all some day perish leaving nothing but a memory and even that isn’t much because they vanish and die down like smoke. Proust communicates to the reader how fragile life is, how nothing in this existence is ever guaranteed and the importance of orienting yourself to your passions. This is important because life goes where energy flows. For Proust writing brought him solace and he was able to navigate life because of this passion, it gave his life meaning in an otherwise meaningless life where we all experience boredom, suffering, old age and ultimately our demise. These ideas are also covered in Martin Scorsese classic movie “The Irishman” where death and old age follows us to its climax. This is useful because death can serve as a catalyst to show us how to live. Death inspires and teaches you how to appreciate life and live in the present. After all, the present is all we ever have, everything else is just an illusion. Urban poet Kanye West makes this point on his sophomore album “The Late Registration” on the song “Drive Slow” and he advises the listener to fully be present because you never really know what can happen tomorrow. He favors a life of meaning over expediency. In the book several of the authors close family members and acquaintances die including Aunt, grandmother, girlfriend and best friend. This serves as a reminder that nothing lasts forever. It serves as a reminder to never take life for granted. We also see Proust maturing in the eyes of society, we see him as a young man full of youthful exuberance and him maturing into an old man who is teased and made fun off by the current generation of youthfuls. We see the Duchess Guemantees lose her wit, charm and beauty because of time. We see her position replaced. We see countless marriages happen because of death and separations. We see people rise up to the top of society. We see people who had it all and lost it all. We see regrets, we see people never reaching their potential. Throughout the book humannature is put through the microscope and we observe people’s tendencies and habits. It is habits that make a person and we are judged by our actions. Words are used to deceive and don’t carry any weight. Proust teaches us that life is short. In today’s climate and world, the life expendency is 70 and we spend a third of that time sleeping. Another third of it is spent doing things like brushing our teeth, commuting to work, eating, entertainment and work. We have a third of that to ourselves, that third is less than 15 years. How do you plan on spending that? What habits can you caltivate to ensure you live a meaningful life? Is self-development important to you? Whose life are you living? Is your life worth living? These are the types of questions that Proust forces us to answer about our life. We are all going to die, the youth is going to force us into retire, we are all going to be insignificant, we are all going to be useless, we are all going to vanish and leave no trace of time. Time is an illusion anyways, time is a creation of man created as a means to dominate nature, everything is what it is. Proust teaches us to make the best of the present moment every chance we get. Proust teaches us to elevate our perspective, he teaches us that change is the only constant.
I had a date with destiny. She was everything I thought I wanted. She was prosperous and promised to share her riches with me. She was gorgeous with her make-up on and towering heels. She resembled a Mac advertisement like Pearl Thusi. Damn! I was star struck, lights were flickering all about, it was like a dream and I was unconscious, locked in a trance of Gucci patterns and colors. She was glorious. I was impressed but that was not enough for her. To grant my hearts desires I had to give her my soul. To relinquish control of my core beliefs and values. She wanted my blood on the contract. It was a big test for me. Do I give in and get lost in the magic maze? Or do I stay put and believe in my process and believe that time will prove me right? I’ve been hungry all my life, starved to the bone, dreaming, contemplating about forever and her role in my life. I come from a place of broken dreams, Alex, the hood, a place where dreams die. There’s a reason it’s called Gomorrah, it’s biblical, because it can be hell. Will Sandton City save me with her designer dress and Louis Vuitton handbag? Am I willing to recede into the darkness with her? I have been broke for so long that I feel like a virgin. Do I trust her? She wants too much, I can’t. I will not bend to her rules, her conventions of passivity. She wants to dominate and make all the decisions for me. While life is a stage, I am not a puppet stringed along by a puppeteer. Unfortunately, this is not a Charlie Kaufman movie, this is my life and I am the lead, the star. Maybe if she encouraged growth and freewill. For goodness sakes I am life, a miracle; I sometimes wonder how am I conscious, who are you to want to control that? God? I wish she loved me for who I am. That’s a big frailty in the psychology of man, the tendency to want to be loved and accepted for our intrinsic qualities even though life is subjective and relative. The nerve, we truly are narcissistic creatures. Still, I thought you’d be the one to stroke my ego. It’s a tragedy that life never unfolds the way we want it to. I couldn’t take your offer I am sorry. I am better than this. I am not someone you can ground. I vibrate on a higher frequency. I am too opinionated and yes, I am a “Mr. Know it all” who thinks he knows it all. I won’t apologize for being an individual. I won’t apologize for thinking for myself. I see the world through my lens and don’t seek confirmation from anyone. Do I have a problem with authority? Yes, and I am an egotistical narcissist who has grand visions about his future. That I say with pride. And maybe I am deluded but you can’t bring me down with your domineering and condescending words. You cannot validate who I am, that’s my job. I am too dimensional. I am too great. I emit an energy that’s commanding and my presence is felt like acid to the burning flesh. I am fire, a phenomenon you can’t keep your eyes off. I am exciting like the first day of the new year, I represent great prospects. I am overwhelming like running water in a glass. I am the best. Keep your promises of grandeur, I don’t worship false prophets. I create my own destiny, play the cards that I deal and dominate the world I walk on. While it’s true that I am too hungry, I won’t just eat anything. I am too finicky like a rich housewife better yet a Duchess, a Princess in the upper echelon of the aristocratic circle and so, I never settle. I know my worth. I know where I want to be. It will only take a moment for everything to change. I want it, the winning shot, the headlines, my name in lights, the glory! I will wait for my break, it’s coming.
Mr. Center of attention, loud and space consumer, grounding other people’s participation like detention. Miss “its not my fault you’re so sensitive”. Like “I’m sorry, if you’re offended”. Keep your half baked apologies that are conditional like the weather. You ain’t never gonna change. You think you’re the axis and the world revolves around you. Mr. Monotonising the focus, expert manipulator stringing peoples emotions like Geppetto. You’re not the only real boy in this tale. Miss tantrums and ego trips, oblivious to how you make others feel. Flossing and bragging like you’re on MTV cribs. Mr. starting fights in the clubs and bruising ribs, spoiling the fun for everyone like a canceled trip. Mr ultrasensitive, Mr. know it all, volitile temper, everyone is always wrong and you’re the victim. The victim of circumstance, victim of ill treatment, victim of past experiences, victim of life, everyone hates you and you never asked for all of this – please, no one cares. Miss “I am prettier than her, I’d never wear that, and I only eat gourmet”. We see through your pretentious persona like transparent glass, disguised by your make-up and costumes like Kayfabe, life is not WWE or Keeping up with the Kardashians. Mr. Hogging all the spotlight like “Imma let you finish, but Beyoncé had one of the greatest videos of all time”. Miss always talking and never listens to anybody; so much for the two ears and one mouth. Mr. Maui, Demi-God of wind and sea, shape-shifting your way out of responsibility with your crooked hook; “what can I say, you’re welcome”. Miss big personality, Queen Bee, imposing your will on your workforce with an iron fist. Mr fabricator of stories that conveniently suit your narrative and expands your inflated ego. Miss control freak dictating everything like a beast. Mr. take credit for your ideas and work. Miss show off with no substance, empty as a tin can. Mr. Blame everyone else and point fingers only to disregard the 3 pointing back. Miss destroy your confidence and frame to gain advantage over your mind. Mr. & Miss deep rooted insecurities, chronic bullies, passive aggressive energy, no self-awareness, self absorbed, so whack.
She told me she loved me and at that moment I was trapped because I was only interested in what was between her thighs. I felt it was a premeditated move consciously executed to land her man. She is vindictive and this is a ploy to possess all of me like a prisoner, a slave. That is what love is all about, control over the other person. Love is strategic ploy to weaken and exploit. Love is a flanking maneuver that surprises and hurts the opposition. Love is tact to make somebody vulnerable, a blow that makes a soldier reeling and a poison that kills without medical assistance. Love is war, deadly and compromising. I resent the notion that we were made of gold and sunshine. That is not what a human being is at all because like Nietzsche once stated, even good actions are sublimated evil ones. She showed her hand too soon. It was rash, impulsive, expedient and unsedective. Still, I had to be careful because I knew where that blurt came from. It was truthful expression on her side, her shadow and it came from a fabricated reality. All of her life she has been chasing the idea of love. She loved the idea of somebody completing her. She loved the idea of somebody instinctively knowing her thoughts and how she felt. The culture of romanticism had consumed all of her being. She was impractical living in a world where she chased novelty after novelty. She had a low self-esteem and confidence. Maybe, it was because she had been hurt before. Maybe, it hurt her to the core that it dismantled her self-worth and identity. Maybe this is delicate and sensitive. It could be me, something about my childhood and how I was raised. It could be that I had a narcissistic mother who never gave me much attention and that I am scared of being abandoned and so I do it to others before they do it to me. Maybe I am a written-off vehicle, completely wrecked and damaged. Still, I had to answer or run the risk of dead air taking over. I responded “I love you squared.” It sounded vague and contained possibilities. It sounded like an illusion. It hinted at loving you more but meant nothing like that. It was an exceptional counter-attacking move, one with precision and amazing creativity. The answer had to be great too, if I had any chance of being between her thighs. See, it was a mission of mine, a dream – her thighs were like a gateway to heaven, to paradise. I felt like a jackhammer anticipating to be used. A bomb on countdown awaiting to explode, figuratively and literally in her. Her body excited my middleman and love had nothing to do with it. What I felt was merely physical. A longing to express my desires on her. She represented an object to gratify my sexual urges. Besides being an object, she meant nothing to me. I resent the fact that she would tell me that she loves me when I was trying to climb, to be the best. I am young, black, gifted and amazing and she is trying to cling on to me, to lay claim and preserve like vegetables in the refrigerator. I am not a possession, I am not a vegetable in someone’s refrigerator – I belong to the world and any woman who inquires. Am I a bad person? Sure, but she’s the hypocrite and the liar, camouflaging herself to the exterior of love when she doesn’t know my intrinsic value. How can you claim to love someone you barely know? This is just the duality of life, the realization that we mean different things to different people. The realization that we are a coin toss and fittingly, theres a third side to a coin, the side that gives the coin its duality. She is wrong for loving me so abruptly. After all, would she love me if the word “love” didn’t exist? Highly unlikely, she would have requested a signature to my death warrant. So yes, sure I am an exceptional human being. At least she knows what I want. There’s a big bullseye sign between her legs and I want to be the nail that gets hammered in repeatedly. I wish to penetrate through the curtains of life. I am interested in the energy force that propelled humanity forward in our long ancestry line. Her personality is of little relevance to me; I am only interested in what is between her thighs. Personality depends upon the environment and culture, it is not reliable to be considered as critera. I wish she could detach from her body, it would be ideal. But since that’s an impossibility, I have to be patient with her. By professing her love to me, in my hands I have her vanity and ego; I can make her do anything that I want. She is eager to impress. While I don’t consider her a serious project, I do see her as an adequate mistress, somebody there when called upon to gratify my urges. Alternatively, we could fuck just one more time then she’ll be somebody that I used to know. But why limit yourself?
antakalipa 