Don't Lose The Fire

A lot of people in this beautiful country work some pretty shitty jobs, if "job" should even be the term coined when no coins are collected at the traffic lights with a dustbin bag in that profession of 'choice'. I get it though, Capitalism works its magic on everyone below the wage-line set by politicians coining coins that should really be in the starving pockets of the people who hold this city up on their backs. 

This is what Capitalism does, it keeps the rich alive and puts out the fire of the poor, dampening their hearts and souls with the knowledge that success is their illusion, advantages only truly fall on the hands of the middle-class who fit the image for companies, that's what Capitalist BEE is baby.

I hate the dead-look in the eyes of beggars, window washers and walking dustbin-bags, but while it may seem like the ultimate symbol of defeat, bringing oneself to hustle at that level takes a lot of fight, inspirational and sad all at once. 

Because if you've got the resources to read this blog you know that there is far better than being a cripple and having an income that survives at the mercy of tight-fisted suburbians, you know that this country's leaders can serve its people with a little more effort. 

Above all though, you know that with a touch of Considerate Capitalism, you won't have to complain about the emotionally robbed man standing at your window with palms held in prayers for small change, because you'd know that he'd have something better. 

"None of you is a believer until he loves for his brother what he loves for himself."

A Mile In These Boots

Over the past week on Twitter I've seen a lot of petty shit go down, not unusual for the self-righteous soap-box that Twitter has become, but only concerning when diseased notions begin to gain popularity because they are formed as prose and profound intellect. The way you write your tweets may sound very smart and inspirational, but the mentality you promote is nothing short of nauseating. 

I find the worst of the Twitter-sphere engaged in hate-speech against the less-fortunate in careers they find viable. The followings are quick to type out a condemnation for cashiers, car-guards, taxi drivers (always), domestic workers, beggars and vendors, would you say the things you tweet to the faces of these people?

What twisted tertiary education did you get that justifies your criticism of the working-class? What's more disturbing than Tweeps who wish taxi-drivers "get killed" is the fact that the working class are divided into professions and barely seen as anything human beyond the work they do. And yet, all the people who are quick to cuss a car-guard, have no comprehension of the economic role played by the very people they degrade. 

Who built your office? Who cleans your home? Who picks up your rubbish every week? Who built the road you drive on? Who rings up your groceries? 

Could you spend a day, let alone a decade doing any one of the aforementioned jobs? 

Then I suggest you have some respect and compassion for the people who do the jobs you won't and earn much less than you do in your irrelevant consultancy capacity. 

Everyone is entitled to their opinion, but I'm also fully entitled to call you a Dick.  

The Hustle.

Good morning Johannesburg. My city, the poison and potion of our lives. 

Do you smell that? The stench of determination thrown off by the perfume of procrastination, worn by the many supposedly street-smart kids hustling not with ambition for victory but just with the drive to be known as a Hustler. Too many young ones struggle for downloads instead of struggling for success.  

What is the hustle with no triumph to follow?

And what of the girls of the city, not intellectually grown enough to be called women, but mature enough in aesthetic to appear as such? What happens to these girls when all their Video Vixen choreography doesn't result in a marriage to an All Star, and their club-hopping doesn't secure them a Black Diamond forged by tenders and bribes?

What is a woman if she is only made of dance moves and eye-lashes? 

Take your bullshit hustle and your fake intellect, take it far from here where there are people worth hustling for. Take your fluttering eye-lids and gyrating hips, take them to a club where we don't have to be embarrassed by you. 

If your hustle hasn't put you on the road to a sustainable future, ditch it. 

It isn't a hustle, if there's no chance of getting paid. 

A City of Deception

It's funny what fleeting fingers with too much inspiration coursing through their veins can type and reveal, what's funnier is perhaps the reactions that range from ignorant to entirely personal, all from these fingers linked to that popcorn factory some call my brain. 

We live in a world built on double standards, and none of us seem to have the balls to go against the status quo which a congregation of fools started ages ago. The notion that true humanity is rooted in sensitivity, understanding and acceptance is a notion preserved only in bumper stickers and environmental lobbyist campaigns, and that's how secular society has become. What you wear on your sleeve isn't your heart, its the facade you'd like everyone to believe in for fear of baring the fangs of your hardened soul to a world that constructed it through it's infinite imperfection. 

We are all liars and tyrants, self-serving but quick to justify our actions and reactions with extracts from one or another pre-millennial rom-com. 

I'd like to unsubscribe to the common sense that urges us to be inconsistent, and Common Sense can stop e-mailing my brain-box with silly habits of submission that silences what is truly right and should be expressed. 

Screw Common Sense. 

Common Sense makes soldiers sign up for wars they know nothing about. 

Common Sense drives people to partake in genocides of people they once called their neighbors.  

Common Sense is a deceptive glory that ruins the truth with the little lies that selfish idiots in power come up with. 

I hereby resign from the occupation which states that I must have double standards in order to be normal. I'd rather be crazy and consistent than be a captive and sway my standards to someone else's expectations. 

Thank you for the Common Sense, but I'll opt for a Rooibos and hanging rope instead. 

Iglu & Hartly Sing My Sentiments

How long have I been out? Blind to the poetry stamped into the pavement of my streets, positively ignorant to the compounded sand beneath our soles, earth that transforms to rock, only because we oppress it until it does.

How long have I been asleep, in a state of limbo between being on my grind, and grinding the remains of myself into edible powders?

Alex is glitter in the daytime, shack-roofs become fragments that only shed light on the South African dream that is Sandton. You rap and sing and protest for a home in the suburbs that are made of high walls to segregate neighbors, Apartheid of class, and the glitter on which success is built remains just below the skyline, the breadline, always just surviving. Constantly in a state just bitter enough to picket for better, but always degraded enough to be used by men with pretty voices for ballots, indeed, the poor are always desperate enough to follow those pretty voices anyway.

I woke up in a pool of pity that really should have been puke. Nobody tells you at your high school valediction that the world is an intensely shit place. There isn't an inspirational speech to alert you of the double standards that people live by, or that inconsistency is the only consistency you should ever expect. No one has the balls to be truthful when you're young and hopeful, I kind of wish my Utopia was killed off before I matriculated.

Because glitter is poverty. Rock is just oppressed sand. And all we'll ever be are rocks that pretend to be golden.

A Word

I am no heroine, or saviour, my soul only soars when I am content with some of the world, but as of late, my soul has been shackled by depressed notions. I am the aardvark who chose the night as day for fear of seeing the brutality of the world we live in. 

Every struggle is ignored unless campaigned for, and even then, the struggle is seen until it is a bored topic. Women aren't where we should be in this place, we aren't cherished or heard, or respected or revered. No. We are raped and murdered, and abused and broken, seasoned like slaves in islands in our own homes. 

It is no one man who hurts us, but everyone before us and with us, determined to not defend us. The blame falls on the shoulders of our mothers and fathers who did not let us speak out. The burden should be on the shoulders of our friends, who do not carry us to safety. The disgust should be aimed at the men surrounding us, for choosing to be stereotypes instead of heroes. We should not be to blame for the actions of others, no one asks to be killed, or violated, or both. And no woman, no matter how twisted, how dark and spiteful, deserves the humiliation and hurt that society still chooses to throw upon her. 

Stand up for the women around you. Because you would want them to stand up for you. 

Lino: They Grow Up So Fast

Lino is another revelation to me as a blogger and appreciator of beautiful talent, 1. because of his skill set and 2. because of his age. 

I'm not much older than Lino but i remember how much focus (or lack thereof) i could muster for artworks, and i also learnt that when an artist can dedicate themselves to their craft, there is no stopping them. 

I had a nice cyber interview with Lino and nagged him for images.

Q: what inspires you most?

A: I'm inspired by the raw talent shown in the art community by the newer artists. I've seen countless graffiti pieces in walls and a number of amazing art pieces on tumblr done by artists my age. The constant competition keeps me on my feet and always brings new ideas to the table.

Q: Any favorite artists that you turn to for motivation when creating a piece?

A: there's a number of artists I turn to for inspiration. Not only from graffiti styled art but from tattoo styled art as well  Artists that I draw motivation from include Rasty and Jeremy Hush.

Q:  What's the last song you listened to?

A: An instrumental. "Relax- Charlie Brown"

Q: If there was one thing about the city you could change, what would it be?

A: honestly, I like the city as it is. With it's flaws.

Q: Steak or Chicken wings? (ps. this interview is being written on an empty stomach)

A: definitely chicken wings

Q: Where do you see yourself in 5 years?

A: Working in the graphic design field, among other things.