Thanks for visiting...
Hopefully something posted here will either inspire, intrigue, interest or initiate you, or even just make you laugh because all the things that I have posted here have done something like that for me.
I just read your 'recent' post: "Gambino Gambling- That Power". I suppose the thing that caught my attention and resonated with the most was the casual and instinctive (how I pictured it in my head) slipping of the word "destiny" from your adolescent mouth. It doesn't seem like much of an outlandish word; although there are connotations of ridiculousness around it. whats your take? is there any truth in the stars?
Nice, thanks for checking it out. The post are actually words of the monologue at the end of Childish Gambino’s song ‘That Power’. I have since made this clearer on my blog.
I loved the story so much that I had to share it, probably because I’ve experienced similar summertime flings in the past. I’m thrilled that you found it intriguing.
To answer your question, I believe that there is definitely plenty of truth in the stars, but there’s possibly as much foolishness in them too! What stuck with me the most was the nonchalant response that Gambino received after professing his sincere and yet to be tainted ‘love’ for this girl. It was as if she had heard it all before and knew that what he was feeling was just temporary- especially after slipping in the word ‘destiny’. When I heard that for the first time I literally put my head in my hands and wondered why he would say something so foolishly cheesy. But I know how it feels to be in that situation though, and I can see how saying something like that would just feels so right at the time. Then again, we only call it foolish because she responded the way she did. If she responded positively, expressed similar sentiments and they lived happily ever after, we would call it destiny and say that it was meant to be! I think either way it went, its all part of a bigger plan and one cannot rely on the stars themselves.
» Asked by Anonymous
"…This is on a bus back from camp. I’m thirteen and so are you. Before I left for camp I imagined it would be me and three or four other dudes- I hadn’t met yet, running around all summer, getting into trouble. It turned out it would be me and just one girl. That’s you. And we’re still at camp as long as we’re on the bus and not at the pickup point where our parents would be waiting for us. We’re still wearing our orange camp t-shirts. We still smell like pine needles. I like you and you like me and I more-than-like you, but I don’t know if you do or don’t more-than-like me. You’ve never said, so I haven’t been saying anything all summer, content to enjoy the small miracle of a girl choosing to talk to me and choosing to do so again the next day and so on. A girl who’s smart and funny and who, if I say something dumb for a laugh, is willing to say something two or three times as dumb to make me laugh, but who also gets weird and wise sometimes in a way I could never be. A girl who reads books that no one’s assigned to her, whose curly brown hair has a line running through it from where she put a tie to hold it up while it was still wet.
Back in the real world we don’t go to the same school, and unless one of our families moves to a dramatically different neighborhood, we won’t go to the same high school. So, this is kind of it for us. Unless I say something. And it might especially be it for us if I actually do say something. The sun’s gone down and the bus is quiet. A lot of kids are asleep. We’re talking in whispers about a tree we saw at a rest stop that looks like a kid we know. And then I’m like, “Can I tell you something?” And all of a sudden I’m telling you. And I keep telling you and it all comes out of me and it keeps coming and your face is there and gone and there and gone as we pass underneath the orange lamps that line the sides of the highway. And there’s no expression on it. And I think just after a point I’m just talking to lengthen the time where we live in a world where you haven’t said “yes” or “no” yet. And regrettably I end up using the word “destiny.” I don’t remember in what context. Doesn’t really matter. Before long I’m out of stuff to say and you smile and say, “okay.” I don’t know exactly what you mean by it, but it seems vaguely positive and I would leave in order not to spoil the moment, but there’s nowhere to go because we’re are on a bus. So I pretend like I’m asleep and before long, I really am.
I wake up, the bus isn’t moving anymore. The domed lights that line the center aisle are all on. I turn and you’re not there. Then again a lot of kids aren’t in their seats anymore. We’re parked at the pick-up point, which is in the parking lot of a Methodist church. The bus is half empty. You might be in your dad’s car by now, your bags and things piled high in the trunk. The girls in the back of the bus are shrieking and laughing and taking their sweet time disembarking as I swing my legs out into the aisle to get up off the bus, just as one of them reaches my row. It used to be our row, on our way off. It’s Michelle, a girl who got suspended from third grade for a week after throwing rocks at my head. Adolescence is doing her a ton of favors body-wise. She stops and looks down at me. And her head is blasted from behind by the dome light, so I can’t really see her face, but I can see her smile. And she says one word: “destiny.” Then her and the girls clogging the aisles behind her all laugh and then she turns and leads them off the bus. I didn’t know you were friends with them…
I find my dad in the parking lot. He drives me back to our house and camp is over. So is summer, even though there’s two weeks until school starts. This isn’t a story about how girls are evil or how love is bad, this is a story about how I learned something and I’m not saying this thing is true or not, I’m just saying it’s what I learned. I told you something. It was just for you and you told everybody. So I learned cut out the middle man, make it all for everybody, always. Everybody can’t turn around and tell everybody, everybody already knows, I told them. But this means there isn’t a place in my life for you or someone like you. Is it sad? Sure. But it’s a sadness I chose. I wish I could say this was a story about how I got on the bus a boy and got off a man more cynical, hardened, and mature and shit. But that’s not true. The truth is I got on the bus a boy. And I never got off the bus. I still haven’t.”
Can’t wait to show my kids how cool I was…
This song has over 1.2 million plays on soundcloud for good reason. Check it out. #house #music #klangkarussel #jazz
One of the best things I’ve stumbled upon on sound cloud… #Das Kapital #Bon Iver
Some movie reccomendations from a fellow volunteer I met on the last day of the Youth Forum after I told her what type of movies I like. Even though she brags about her Zara blazer, stacks up beer cups and stands on them at concerts, has a weird thing for cows and tells me to stay up but then eats toast and falls asleep, she is still one of the coolest people I’ve met in a while and I’m glad volunteered that day and to the PAYLF in general.
And just like that, the intense and convicting experience I felt feels just that much less intense and a little less convicting… (Read below)
I have always wanted to go up to the top of the Carlton Centre, preferably with a beautiful lady by my side, but instead my first time visiting the landmark was with my group from the Pan African Youth Leadership Forum that I volunteered at during my first year university holiday. This was a day full of intense conviction as we walked about some of Johannesburg’s problem areas to experience some of the real life challenges that have to be faced instead of just spewing hot air about “being the change…” from comfortable air conditioned conference rooms in Sandton. One experience that will never leave me is when the Hillbrow community watch took us to a part of town that is known to be place where life’s so called failures wash up.
The scene was as follows: Deep Johannesburg, not too far from Ponte, a park on a picturesque hill over looking Ellis Park, tens maybe even just over one hundred adults, homeless, poverty stricken adults, all addicts… smoking, snorting and injecting whats left of their lives away as dealers are on standby and policemen turn a blind eye. As soon as I stepped in I saw an old man drop his crack pipe by accident on the hard surface of what used to be a basketball court. He let out a painful shriek in fear that his only escape from his harsh reality had been shattered. We spoke to some of these forgotten people, some were professionals, others prostitutes and even parents but all were human. Upon leaving the park (after being advised that after some time these people start to get aggressive because they cannot get their fix while the community watch is around) I heard my name being firmly called. He was a dealer, a master of human destruction, leaning against the fence with an arrogant grin on his face. Nothing has ever been more spine chilling, but then I realised that he simply read the name tag pinned to the left side of my chest. “How are you?”, he said. ‘Fine, how are you?’, I responded as a reflex. “I’m fine…” he muttered as I stepped closer to our ride out of there. I don’t think I have ever wanted to leave a place in more of a hurry, but I knew the whole experience would stay in my mind for a long time.
Carlton Centre, the tallest building in Africa is where this day ended; and as much as an emotionally intensive day it was and regardless how much conviction to make a change I felt, my warm bed, loving family, great friends, education and comfort makes this experience so easy to forget…