31 August 2012

Lately: Hairpisodes

I've always fancied me self a comic book character


I kept this chopped braid look for about  a week and then move on to the bottom one. I never got good at combing and maintaining my hair. I hate combs. I'm trying to give my head a break from braiding and plaiting, let's see how long that lasts.

Love from Jo'burg,

30 August 2012

When I was Five....


this kid was born. Happy birthday Mphiwe!

29 August 2012

Lorraine Hasberry

Dancing with James Baldwin


Mr X


22 August 2012

Bolt/Puma Print



Like a Love Note Addressed to me.

For Women Who Are Difficult to Love by Warsan Shire

you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you
you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours
but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him traveling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love

18 August 2012

This Past Week: A Visual Overload

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My Kotini buys finally came through!


10 August 2012

A Photo Diary of Sorts

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I walked in it, stuck my tongue out to taste it, laughed with and at other people frolicing in it... There's no picture of me in it, unfortunately.

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How cool is that branded car? Imagine it black and unbranded, a British man in a black suit and cap...

7 August 2012

The Best Things in Life are Second-hand

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These jeans' destiny is to be a a pair of shorts. My Mr P brogues came out to play as did yet another jersey from the latest loot. Good times.

It's not a Bloody Dirty Word!


Greetings from a cold Jo'burg!
How cold you ask? There is snow falling. You know when Harry, Ron and Hermoine ditched Hogsmead early (in Half-Blood Prince) because it was so wet and dreary; they went on to witness Katie Bell get cursed... Yep, that cold. Today felt like Jo was narrating the whole thing. I have pictures somewhere, I will show you if the snow is visible in them.


A couple of weeks ago I was watching The Close up, produced by Showbiz report producer, writer and presenter Nicky Greenwall. A woman after mine heart, really. The person they were zooming in on on that penultimate episode was Idols judge, radio presenter, singer and mummy Unathi Msengana. Her story is interesting. I don't mind her at all, as a person. She's okay. During the 20-minute (or so) programme she retold how she came to leave her first (real) radio job at youth station YFM. That she had stood up and spoken out about the unfairness of an "all women" line-up on the 50th anniversary of Women's Day. That because they would be cooped up in studio they would be unable to go to the Union Buildings anscelebrate all the women before them. She then went on to say: "I'm not a feminist but I really love women."

What is wrong with being feminist?

Is it -- feminism -- not about equality and choice? Is it not about fighting for women and for men?

The manner in which Mrs. Msengana said this I was made to wonder yet again what is wrong with being both pro-men and pro-women. What's wrong with believing in choice and diversity and all that good stuff?

I often miss the mark. Maybe this was another one of those times.

5 August 2012

Emotional and Mental Health


I nearly died last night. Nothing special, really. The driver of the taxi I was in thought it within his right to plunge the taxi onto a bus because he was on the right lane and the bus driver was wrong. I have never been that pissed off before.

Later on in the evening, when I was safely indoors I realised that the only reason I have not yet had a blown out public anxiety attack is because there really wouldn't be a point. After a while you learn that some things, like emotional breakdowns, are meant to be done in private because nobody really cares. Expressing how powerless you feel becomes pointless. Not because you fear being thought of as weak but because you know that not one person will hear you. You then begin to whisper it to yourself in the dark as you chase sleep. You wonder out loud: "what's wrong with me?" "why can't anyone love me?"will I die alone?" "why can't I be happy?" And you don't come out with any new insights or answers. Just a slight twinge somewhere in your skull and you write the emotion off as just another day on the wrong side of the moon.

Sometimes you say: "I've so much to offer! why can't anyone see that?"

Love from Jo'burg,

3 August 2012

My new Friend Karabo

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He is the sweetest and most polite kid I've met in a while. And by the looks of things he plays as rough as I did.

1 August 2012

Some Mainstream Clothes I wouldn't Mind

Tara Lynn in some H&M+

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Images via Style Has no Size.

Love from Jo'burg,
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