Be weird, do strange things, follow your heart, never let anybody surpress who you are. We all have that inner voice, that inner guide, channeling us to who we truly are. This voice manifests itself in these eccentricities that make us stand out like a nail that needs to be hammered in. The world hates anything that stands out, something that’s different, that’s why we are indoctrinated into a system that teaches us to think the same, to be the same. The conditioning is so deep its starts from when we children at school. We wear uniforms that make us look like everybody else, we follow these social constructs that enable mobilization and control, we shame anything that is different, we follow the curriculum, we weed out individuality and we reward complicity and fabricated standards that cater to the majority. It continues up until adulthood and in the process we lose who we are. We become one dimensional. We are trapped in a loop, we do the same things over and over again. We want the same things. Our dreams get sucked out from our bodies like liposuction. The magic from under our feet dissipates and we stop looking at the world with novelty. We stop trusting ourselves and following our intinuations. We lose our wonder of the world. We die at a faster rate. We lose the fire in our belly. Enthusiasm wanes and the lens of our lives becomes dull and larthagic. We forget who we are. We learn to hate ourselves and the lives we lead. Why do you want to fit into a standard when you are already a standard? We forget the magnificence of life and the miracle it is. A one size fits all approach begins to define us. I say fuck boxes and standards, I am gonna do me. If you don’t like it tough, go jump off a bridge. No one is going to tell me who I should be. The only authority figure in my life is me. Maybe my style is foreign to you, maybe my mannerisms offend you, to that I say go suck a dick my good man. I ain’t changing for you. It’s either you love me or leave me alone and if you don’t feel my style, you don’t exist to me – poof be gone!
I advocate two words that will change your life, words that will enhance the quality of your life and lead to a life of authencity. Be weird, do different things, combine combinations, see different patterns, do crazy stuff, be an outcast, risk ridicule. Be weird, be the minority, embrace being laughed at, risk failure, be unsafe, try out different colors, be unexpected, be prepared to offend. Be weird, no one has to understand, let your inner voice guide you, have the spirit of a child, see magic in the world, see novelty in everything, be inquisitive, draw inspiration from everything, sway away from being normal, be weird. Don’t be afraid of being who you truly are.
I love you because you make me suffer. What would I do without your bruises that color me black and blue like police sirens illuminating the troubled corners of my life that keep me grounded and lacking an escape. Your toxic fumes are like lilac perfume, intoxicating mesmerizing and disguised in a costume. Your love is like a fire that consumes, decomposing my troubled past like corpses that have never been exhumed. I love the penicillin apologies that make the pain go away, numb like anesthesia it gives me a blackout and I forget everything and return to your warm embrace. You are the route to my soul, the navigation that leads to all, a single glance in winter and I can never forget your face. Cold and distant your demeanor, loud and bashful, you defeat her. I love you because you make me suffer. Your love to my heart is like burning Sulphur, excruciating and burdensome but worthwhile and satisfying because it makes me feel. I can’t live without you, you are my Achilles heel.
I could get my way with liquor and poor judgment, sure she’s hot and my chances with her are slim but what if I disguised the date as an undertaking of two colleagues getting together after work for another project, a side hustle, an opportunity to generate something, make it worthwhile for her, concoct something that will pique her interest. What exactly? I am not sure, I am not exactly a ladies man and their interests are foreign to me. I hypothesize a free meal will interest her, it’s biological, we all get hungry. Maybe I play the long game, buy her lunch on occasion, make her comfortable around me and associate food with me. A little operant conditioning never hurt anybody and I wouldn’t have to sustain it, it’s only until I get my way. You know what they say, food is the way to a girls heart. Or is it vice versa? Well, who cares? If I move just right I can get her to dinner. I am a decent guy, then maybe we talking and exchanging interests. Maybe we get to our common interests and discuss our future. With liquor and bad judgment we laughing and touchy touchy, maybe it leads to a kiss, who knows? The end result could be coitus.
I know I am insignificant, scum, a cockroach, unworthy, tainted, contaminated and rotten to the core. I am a virus that spreads like a cancerous cell to devour the very essence of your existence. I live to consume and leave nothing of substance. I am a plague that wipes out life. I add nothing, I contribute suffering, I am nothing. I am a bad man, I would decapitate your head from your shoulders if I had the chance, for the fun of it, just because I would, because I was bored, because of the power I have over you. I find it difficult to condemn slavery because I have inhibitions to own and control you. If you were my slave, I’d have my way with you, I’d humiliate you, work you, break you, rape you, cut off your tougue to silence you and when I am done with you, just throw you in the nigger box. How’s God going to save you when his on my side? I am coming for the kikes and the kaffers too. If my bloodline was Aryan, I’d be your chief tormentor. More shots to the head and bigger gas chambers to accommodate you. Who’s going to stop me when I am God? Apartheid and segregation is justified, the kaffers will only taint our snow white skin. They are dangerous and as the chosen race, we must work to put them in their place. I understand the hate because I am a hateful person too. Why do good? How’s that going to benefit me? Don’t tell me about God. Don’t be naive. Where’s your proof? God is the last refuge of a man who doesn’t have any answers. If he exists, how do you justify the suffering? Why am I a pawn in this chess game? Why doesn’t God care about my dignity and pride? Why the humiliation and subjegation to unjustified violence? What about my honor and my humanity? Does this sound like divine providence to you? Maybe I am an animal and it’s time I played my role, killing all these white folks would make my life better. At least my family would be safe and live their lives without bondage. God is dead, his not coming out to save us. I must do this for us, for our survival, for the continuation and progression of our species. God doesn’t care about us and it should liberate us, all is permitted, there are no rules, it’s survival of the fittest. Kill everything in your way even if it’s lord Buddha or Jesus Christ himself. We are all insignificant. Time will bury us in history and we will all be forgotten. Being a humanitarian is a PR stunt, an attempt to control public perception, to deceive, to play God. All of life is a power struggle.
Every second, minute, breath, moment is a chance at creation. You just have to push yourself against the world. If you do it frequent enough with zeal, aggression, hunger, determination and a lot of effort cracks will emerge and then it’s easier from there onwards. At first the world will be this hard concrete wall erected on a skyscrapers foundation and you will run headfirst into the wall with no avail. You will feel that your efforts were in vain. You will be so wrong. It’s just operant conditioning – with the Universe as BF Skinner structuring and molding you for future greatness. You will know to wear a helmet next time. There’s only one rule in the Universe – don’t ever give up. Don’t you ever do it! You can rest for a minute and gather your thoughts but follow it up with a movement even if you crawl or roll – keep moving forward! The world is seduction and seduction occurs over a period of time. Take your time. The life of expedience is not the answer, pursue a life of meaning. The fundamental law of seduction is that your target, goal, victim should give you a tough time, it should reject you – that’s when you know that you have struck gold. Keep pushing forward and your goals will attract like a magnet. You are too good, keep on go farther, hero.
If you’re going to try, go all the way. otherwise, don’t even start.
if you’re going to try, go all the way. this could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives, jobs and maybe your mind.
go all the way. it could mean not eating for 3 or 4 days. it could mean freezing on a park bench. it could mean jail, it could mean derision, mockery, isolation. isolation is the gift, all the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it. and you’ll do it despite rejection and the worst odds and it will be better than anything else you can imagine.
if you’re going to try, go all the way. there is no other feeling like that. you will be alone with the gods and the nights will flame with fire.
do it, do it, do it. do it.
all the way all the way.
you will ride life straight to perfect laughter, its the only good fight there is.
They say you don’t know what you have gone till it’s gone, it’s true she’s gone. I was too slow chasing dreams and immortality. And now our future is dead, buried under my voices of rue. Come back, back, back. We were almost something special and magical like the pyramids of Egypt. But you could still mummify us and bring us back to life like Isis. The queen of my heart. The story behind my art.
I remember when I played pool with Oscar, he humiliated me; white wash, he put all his balls in before my move. I will forever remember that day, he kept on putting in his balls and looking at me with a smug face. I was helpless, there was nothing I could do. But to be fair, I can only blame myself for that day. Oscar is a good guy, it wasn’t his intention to humiliate me, he just wanted to put me in line. Before him I didn’t even know how to play pool. After school, we would go to this cool pool place and just play. Oscar taught me everything, from the rules and holding the stick for maximum efficiency. I witnessed myself getting better every time we played. He was cool about everything, his intention was not on beating me but rather on having fun. Then one day we were playing, at this time I could hold the stick and I knew my angles and I beat him. But my win was suspect, I had 2 balls left and a black ball. He still had like 4 balls left. I put in one ball and was left with 1 ball and a black ball. I put in the black ball first and then put in my last ball. He kept on saying I lost because the black ball goes in last and my response was, “what’s the use I put them all in, while wena you still have 4 balls on the table”. I told him with 2 balls left, it’s my choice which ball I put in first. That response seemed to anger him because I didn’t listen, but he didn’t lash out. To his credit, he relented and gave me my false win. Still he didn’t like my arrogance. For two weeks, all he heard was how I “dominated” him at pool. When he requested we play again, I didn’t oblige him. Even though the win was suspect, it was all I had on him. It was the case of the student beating the master and I milked that for all I could. Through clever maneuvering, patience and playing to my ego he got his rematch 3 months later. It felt like an ambush. He let me break play and what followed was a bloodbath. I had never seen him so focused. His balls just kept on going in, towards his last balls, he was dancing, laughing and having a good time. I lost my cool and left him at the pool place. He didn’t even let me put in 1 ball. At least balance was restored again, he was superior again and I never played pool with him ever again.
Don’t be a romantic is what I gathered from Johann Wolfgang von Goete’s book “The sorrows of Young Werther”. The book tells the story of a passionate doomed love affair between a young poet called Werther and a beautiful clever young woman named Charlotte. Unfortunately for Werther, Charlotte is married, so the love affair is impossible from the very start but that doesn’t stop Werther, a dreamy and practical young man who loves the arts above all else. Werther is under pressure to have a sensible career and join the bourgeois life but he can only think about one thing: the impulses of his heart. Eventually young Werther can’t take it anymore and kills himself, but rather than condemn him as a lunatic and a hothead, Goete one of the founding fathers of romanticism directs all our sympathies towards Werther. We are supposed to be on his side admiring his passionate and entirely impractical attitude to love. I think that love is a biochemical that the conscious mind can’t detect. We often find it hard to account for it when it is in process; it consumes and controls leaving us in a remote state from our mind and body.
Romanticism seduces because it comes from the works of artists, poets and philosophers. I am drawn to Amy Winehouse in a way I cannot truly comprehend. I reckon because she died lonely, depressed and misunderstood – I find those elements seductive and soothing. I want to be there for Amy, I love Amy, I would give my life for Amy, I would do anything to make her happy. I am seduced by her tragic death, by the fact that she was vulnerable and alone – I am seduced in a primordial, primitive sense. I was intrigued by her and based on that evidence I can hypothesize that I am a romantic. “Hypothesize” because it is not a fact nor a concluded statement simply because I know with certainty that the world of romanticism was fabricated by mortals. Therefore you can choose to be excluded from this mass hysteria.
Romanticism is what I call “Kayfabe” a termed coined from Professional Wrestling which means the portrayal of staged events within the industry as “real” or “true”, specifically the portrayal of competition, rivalries and relationships between participants as being genuine and not of a staged or predetermined nature of any kind. You could argue that everything in the modern world is “Kayfabe” and you’d make a compelling argument but that’s a topic for another day. We all know “romanticism” is “kayfabe” – a concept fabricated perceived as good and effective but disastrous for couples in the modern era. Evidence of this can be found in the high divorce rate, the anxiety storm in the west and the demand for drugs from pharmacies to help elevate stress and depression. The drugs don’t help because no one is happy. Striving for happiness is like an unquenchable thirst: we may attain some brief satisfactions, some momentary release, but in the nature of things these can never be more than temporary, and then we are on the rack once more. So unhappiness, or at least dissatisfaction is our normal state of affairs. Romanticism promises eternal happiness something that is not possible because happiness is expedient. Romanticism is ruining relationships.
Romanticism is being deeply hopeful about marriage. It united love and sex. Previously people had imagined that they could have sex with characters they didn’t love and they could love someone without having extraordinary sex with them. It elevated sex to the supreme expression of love. Romanticism made infrequent sex and adultery into catastrophes, proposed that true love must mean an end to all loneliness. It promised that the right partner will understand us entirely possibly without needing even to speak to us. Romanticism believed that choosing a partner should be about letting oneself be guided by feelings rather than practical considerations – that you are loved because you have a “special” feeling. It has manifested a powerful disdain for practicalities and money. The myths have reached cult-like status. That we should meet a person of extraordinary inner and outer beauty and immediately feel a special attraction to them and they to us. That we should have highly satisfying sex, not only at the start but forever. We should never be attracted to anyone else. That we should understand one another intuitively. We should have no secrets and spend constant time together. That our lover should be our soulmate, bestfiend, Jesus, Allah – My Universe! Oh, this is an extreme case of kayfabe and is now almost embedded into our cells – our senses. It has become a world of destruction that we walk into willingly with everything – our hearts, souls, hopes and dreams and come out empty-handed with nothing but battlescars that never heal. Romanticism is not love. Romanticism is a world that is fabricated solely from psychological needs.
Urban poet Kanye West expresses that “Love is cursed by monogamy” in the hit song “No Church in the Wild”. I think this is partly because of romanticism for now love “restricts” and “confines”. It has become contractual and formalized. It is now bounded with a checklist of do’s and don’ts. It has become about expectations and ownership. Love is passive with no will to power or the courage to be imaginative. It is cursed, set in stone, in a spell, intoxicated, bad and ruined. Marriage and monogamy should be expressive, open-minded, mature and enable the beloved to grow and self-actualize. This is reflected in the movie Emmanuelle about a young woman who takes a trip to Bangkok to enhance her sexual experience. The young woman is happily married and her husband encourages to follow her desires citing that Emmanuelle is not his property, and not his beauty – that her beauty belongs to the world. This enables Emmanuelle to grow and trust in the relationship because of the mutual communication, respect and honesty. To love someone means to see him as God intended. There are no restrictions to Gods lenses – no confinements. All he wants is for you to flourish and fly as nature intended. All life is meaningful.
Pop star Adele expresses love in its truest forms in one of her songs on the hit album “21” lovesong: “Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am free again, whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am clean again”. Those are words with meaning, words that matter, words with a lot of love, words that are full of serenity, words that provide a second chance, another glance at life. They are pure, heartfelt and honest and what I liken love to be like – a second chance to truly be myself, to share the best of myself and be all that I can be. To be liberated – I can be that when I am with you. It’s practical and concise. It builds and regulates one’s conduct and character, it inspires – it is love.
antakalipa 