I think that it was expected. The mind surprises me every time. It’s so primitive, so effective. What an engine. I think it was too tough. The mat kept on being swiped off the floor. The concreate was unstable, it didn’t have floor muscles. We just kept moving like pawns in a chess game. Strategic? I think it’s subjective. I just wanted something to hold on to, I couldn’t stop the world from spinning. She threw in a rope and I have been holding on ever since. I couldn’t let go, didn’t want to let go, didn’t want that part of me to wither. It was a reflex – the amygdala, I was constantly under attack and I just protected myself. But I notice you held the rope too. A great grip, the rope was rigid and erected on a skyscrapers foundation. You stayed on with me. I think it’s magical; something that transcends into invisible realms. I think you get it – this life thing. I think you tough, a trait that is so seductive. I think you’re smooth like a lioness with a pray on its sight. You open minded. You a Kanye West fan; the ice-breaker, the common route, a little point on the exponential chart we can zoom in and explore; music, art, classified under the humanities – what makes life bearable. You didn’t make it easy for me. You were too good. I couldn’t let go of the rope, it was between life and death. Because if I do, then my whole world crumbles. I am in a unique position to be witnessing the guy who will attempt to pull the mat from my feet. His heading towards my way and I don’t want an interaction with him so I think I will just get off the mat. I think I’ll also let this rope go now. Kanye West is doing trap and making 7 track albums in any case. And while I still can’t stop the world from spinning, I can move with it; I am equipped. I have such a long way to go, its critical I get the foundation phase just right. I ask that you let go of the rope on your side.
I just want something that’s just mine. Something that is subjective and particular like taste and art. The alternative route, an empty canvas, custom made and specialized – something brand new. That’s the new plan.
What can I say? I know you feel the chemistry between us. It sparks, we can ignite a volcano, I make you wet and the lava burns and brings everything down like a tornado, we cause havoc and the composition is a natural disaster. We are supernatural and what erupts inside of us is super natural. I see how you look at me. Preening yourself when you think I am not looking, I know you do it for me. Lipstick and makeup, what you trying to conceal? I see the truth written in your eyes, transparent as glass that I see through your soul. I know your nature and it yearns for my soul. What can I say? I want you. You the only girl who can pierce through my veil of ignorance. You make me want to be a sinner and soil my innocence. You make me lose my train of thought so I don’t make any sense. You make me sweat, I heat up and I mingle my words. My eyes are not lying to you, I want your perfect body. We don’t need the whole house, we can fuck in the lobby. I can make you feel so good, afterwards you’ll be sobby. Your eyes tell the whole story and it translates throughout your whole body. We can never be platonic because you are after my body. The family thing is a story you can tell yourself, you ain’t my family, speak for yourself. I am ready to transgress, if you follow me in the other room maybe we’ll make a mess but I’ll help liberate your desires and lower the stress. Me and you are a piece of destiny, a moment, fate. The more you resist, the harder it is to escape. Our eyes tell the story, let’s start a state.
God gave me another Amy and this one, well she’s absolutely perfect. Better than my best dream. The last Amy was a projection of my insecurities. She moved on and I felt stuck. She was doing something while my efforts failed to produce something. I knew I was great but I was broke as hell. I felt like a loser. She was a girl I loved but she was not Amy. She felt like Amy because I lost Amy. She was one of the last girls I loved. When I saw her happy with another person, I felt my spirit pierced with a dagger. I had to concede that I was not good enough. I had no real power. I was wrong because I never really made my intentions clear with her. I never told her that I loved her, I was content with just being friends. She deserves better, I was selfish, I am glad she met someone who makes life worthwhile.
God gave me another Amy and this one, well she’s absolutely perfect. She’s beautiful, artistic and intelligent. Symmetrical face, great body, long black hair, brown eyes oh, I think I am starstruck! She’s a superstar, everything I’ve ever wanted. She can sing Amy Winehouse songs and Rap like Nasir Jones. She’s also proficient on the piano, able to recite Mozart’s concerto with her eyes closed. She’s a perfectionist who can communicate her ideas, she executes better than a German. She plays for a living and strives to create in every moment of life. She was a headgirl at school, that’s my third headgirl and I feel she’s the best. I never thought I’d be in love again and yet here we are. Her mind has me whipped. I had never met someone so amazing in my life. She saved my conception of reality. She gave me hope for the future. I had always wished for someone so amazing but it was all in my head until it finally manifested in real life. Yea, she’s real life. I guess that’s the results of following your dreams. If you consistent in following through some of them actually come true. She’s a byproduct of content, I was pushing through with the dream not making much money and I saw her and fell in love with her. I loved her from the first day and I knew that things would be good for the rest of my life. She was a starting point. She represented a new reality, one I wanted to be a part of. A reality I would be a part of if I just followed content and my inherent nature. I am glad I sacrificed all those basic bitches because now I get to have the real thing. Even if she’s not the one, I am now in a paradigm of everything high value. I made myself high value.
God gave me another Amy and this one started everything for me. Things started moving, life fell into place, I started creating with a business mind, started interacting with high caliber individuals, started becoming the person I always knew I was. Of course she might leave like all the other Amy’s in the past and I am good with that. She gave me hope. She gave me reassurance that I was on the right road, she was the proof. She made me fall in love again, I became infatuated again, I started writing about love again, she saved my life. And even if I don’t get another Amy, I’ll be okay, I’m good.
After “Dress Code” things went downsouth for me. It was the girls who kept me relevant for a month, they loved me. They made it hard for Daphne to get rid of me. They would always shower me with gifts, kisses and hugs. Honestly it was like heaven, I felt like I was floating walking on clouds, I was all soft inside, I was intoxicated by them, I was in awe of their talent, I loved them. I did everything above and beyond to please them, I treated them like royalty, like the stars they were, with reverence and awe. I executed every request with efficiency and care. The stage was spotless before the show and the mirrors reflected like diamonds. Cliff’s (Piano guy) water was iced and always on time and on queue before the show. I was professional, courteous, smelled good and dressed with real personality. I was the eye of God who kept watch over everything and addressed every significant or insignificant thing that had the power to affect the tone of the show. It was all about excellence. They were very happy with me. The girls flooded Daphne’s email with compliments about me, she was elated and she opened her purse for me. I accepted but it was never about the money. Quite clearly it was the girls who kept me in the theatre for that long, the staff at the theatre only needed someone to assist for 2-3 day’s tops. “Move in” day can be tough and time consuming as you welcome a new act to the theatre, sets need to be on the stage and it requires planning and thinking. There’s also the issue of the sound and lights, they need to be programmed to the system. Without the sound and lights, you don’t have a show. It’s just a casual job and the guys who help out do their two days and it’s done. A lot of the times the theatre uses young students who are keen to learn about theatre to help out. It’s a win for both sides, the student learns and gets practical and the theatre don’t have to pay for labor. That considered, I stayed for a month! I was also the usher for the girls show and generally everybody liked me and that’s the problem, I was magnetic, likeable and had a ton of charisma, illuminating the place and setting the mood for the show – I was too perfect. Inevitably envy and jealousy sets in and I became a target. Human nature and narcissistic tendencies, I refrained from responding and reacting, I observed like a bystander and was amused by the human condition. I knew what caused the hysteria, mainly that I was too amazing and I couldn’t help myself. I had no flaw, I came early for work, had a lot of enthusiasm, executed every task with perfection and everybody loved me. Around the 3rd week Daphne called me to her office and took my particulars. She asked what I was good at, education, skills and talents and so I shared. We talked for a while and she said she wished she had something for me. Her roster was full. I acknowledged but I was just there for the love. After that meeting I definitely felt the room getting smaller, it was like she was pushing me out but life went on and I got more responsibilities. On the last day of “The Dress Code” as we were clearing the stage, I asked the director “Alan Swerdlow” for the script, I wanted it for it’s format, structure and I was really in love with the writing, it was witty, urban and well written. I also wanted to learn the skill of writing scripts for theatre. Alan liked my energy and appreciated everything I did for the girls, he gave it to me. After knockoff, Reginah from her car saw me from afar with the script and asked “Are you holding a script?”. I walked to her vehicle and replied “Yes”. She continued “You are not supposed to have that”, to which I replied “The director gave me the script”. She replied “No, you are not supposed to!”, I countered “But I want it”, I had the script in my hands. She started having a narcissistic fit and threw tantrums wanting to get out of the car. I watched her attempts to bully me off the script and I walked away from the scene with the script in hand. I left her shouting alone, she was wasting my time. It’s my fault, I encouraged her behavior hoping it would dissipate but she only got more controlling and overbearing, it was time for a receipt. As I was walking away, she shouted “Don’t come back on Tuesday”. It was the same Reginah who took 33% of my pay. She didn’t ask, she just took it in a power move. After “The Dress Code” Move In, Daphne delegated the task of paying me to her. She called me into a room, reached into her pocket and took out R300, gave me R200 and took the R100 stating that she needed it more and that she’d pay me back, she never did. I always resented that action, it was like she was entitled to my pay. I deserved the full R300! She didn’t ask me, if she had I would have given it to her, she took all the power away from me and took it! I judged her character that day and a receipt was definitely on the cards – she was going to respect me!
I defied her and came back on Tuesday. There was no way I was missing “Vincent’s” Move In. I wanted to help with the production, I had been anticipating it for quite some time and luckily, I still had Daphne, she was reasonable, she’d see things my way. When I got to the theatre Reginah isolated me from the team and instructed me to wait for Daphne so we can discuss this script issue. In an act of power, she brought in a student to take my place. Gaslighting, she was downplaying my importance to the theatre, communicating that I was inferior and disposable. I saw that for what it was – insecurity. Everybody loved me and it was warranted, I was a hard worker. I wasn’t concerned, I was fine with any outcome, I stood by my decision to walk away with the script that night, I simply wanted it more, if not for the content then the hopeful connections it had the power to grant me. Daphne came in and we discussed the case. Reginah presented her inaccurate version, filled with slander and smear campaigns in attempts to get me to react. It was just pure lies concocted by her imagination. She was vicious, disagreeable and incoherent, a blind man could see that she was attacking me. She wanted to control me so much that she lost control. I was calm. I presented my case and took responsibility for taking the script and as anticipated, Daphne understood. I went back to the team and helped with the production of “Vincent”, flirting with my female student replacement in the process. In no time my replacement was hooked and mesmerized by my aura. She too was on my side. This was definitely not in Reginah’s plans. I survived but hostilities were brewing. “Vincent” was a success and my replacement stopped coming to the theatre so I reigned. I understand human nature and I realize I was a missed hit, I know a target is still on my back, so I decided to leave on my own terms before things spiraled out of control, I’ll be back later, when things are calmer, when I am in control.
I came back 3 weeks later and everybody welcomed me back with open arms, the script issue was all in the past, they were just so happy to see me. It was the girls who kept me relevant for a month, they loved me and I love them forever.
“Don’t look at me like that, we are practically family. I see the way you look at me.” GUILTY. She was right, my thoughts were not the purest but she was encouraging the behavior. She has been flirting with me the whole night. The sexual tension is prevalent, her gaze is intense, attention focused, wants to sit besides me, can’t stop playing with her hair and she’s all touchy-touchy. Surprise, surprise I’ve turned into Richard Pryor in her presence. She enjoys my attention and seems to want her hands inside of mine. Eyes closed, her head resting on my shoulders, the mood intimate, sweet and close. We are in sync, we are vibrating in unison. Not hard to see why my oxytocin levels spiked and my dopamine went off the charts. I’ve given it away that I want her. I may be drunk. My actions are all wrong, I’ve lost control, passive to her aura, lagging like a moving average, she’s in control like the driver and I am in the backseat of the vehicle. It’s like I am high of love-heroine, floating, hallucinating, hypnotized, in a trance. I have these raging thoughts, to tear off her blouse, drop her panties to floor and penetrate her to the core. We not family, her sister is married to my cousin, that doesn’t count, incest implies the same blood. You are not my family. Ain’t no way we of the same kind, you are out of this world! Legs created for mini skirts, body advertises lingerie and a face that graces magazine covers. We can fuck and our babies will be beautiful. I yearn to do things to your perfect body, your personality is fire but objectifying you is all that is in my mind. I want you, I’ve wanted you for a long time. I can’t get over how you make me feel. I see it in your eyes, feel it in your energy, I know you want the same thing.
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.
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 