Flesh
Adultry
When I was working for the S.A.B.C in Johannesburg I once picked up a girl in a miniskirt on my motorbike. (A 650cc twin carb Triumph Bonneville) I was married then to my first wife and schooldays sweetheart who was a ballroom dancing champion, a graduate from art school, a potter and a florist.
Anyway this girl I picked up was going to Hilbrow so I wound the throttle wide open straight up this incline which is a 1/1 gradient and she had to hold on with both hands around my waist while my clutch hand felt her leg all the way up to the top where I stopped and she got off flushed and walked away without a word. Poor girl.....but hell, that was exciting.
This is the juicy bit. Or the start anyway, or should I rather say, where I started, or it started. My mother used to help out at an old age home near the farm and she told me of an old lady who used to sit in the back yard by the fence and let the passing black laborers feel her pussy for a few cigarettes. My mother used to smoke before she passed the baton on to me, in a manner of speaking.
When I was six years old my sister (5 years) told my mother that I was playing with the girl next doors thingie. I have very good reason to believe she was jealous. My mother hit the roof. And this is what's so astonishing, looking back. Most kids do that...just curious, what's the big deal. Well, I had to go next door (crying every step of the way) and apologize to the the girls mother, who told me never to do that again.
This was one of the reasons my mother moved us out to the farm (Click here) where she caught me kissing a fat girl in church. "Talk to your son" she said to my dad, who said "He's YOUR son. You talk to him" What's this YOUR son business? (Now that's another story.)
Anyway I've redone most of the song I lost. It's okay. Not so subtle though, but quite nice. It's called....Dusty Days.
The Queen's in Natal but they still won't buy her beef.
Friends is getting boring again...but I sit and watch it to the bitter end and then even watch Frasier afterwards. What a waste of time. So I think I'll watch the England - Scotland football match this afternoon.
ohwellohwellohwelllohwell. Exaggeration is the opposite of truth as is understatement due to, for example, "false modesty" or pride as we know it.
On the news on radio four I heard a report that a lady had given birth in a hospital but the hospital staff were so busy that no-one could come and show her how to breast feed. She had to phone a midwife friend to come and help get her started. Am I losing my grip.........or has the world gone bonkers. Have women forgotten what their tits are really for?
Maybe her mother didn't breastfeed her and she doesn't know how to now.
Apparently I threw my bottle out of the train window on the 500 mile journey from Johannesburg to Durban and I never heard the end of how my mother had to actually breast feed me till they could find somewhere to buy another bottle. To what lengths does a baby have to go.
Morals have been replaced with manners. How a thing appears is important.
Is the business of being an adult called adultery
Get rid Self importance.
Be inaccessible to the world.
Use Death as an advisor (he's just there over your shoulder) in times of decision or boredom.
Look for your hands in your sleep. If the dream starts to shift, look away and back again. Look back at hands each time to gain power.
If you start waking up, throw yourself onto your side (in the dream), this will fool your awakening consciousness into thinking it's actually going to sleep. You will then actually fall asleep in your dream, but don't panic or try to wake (as you will be aware of the whole process) just wait for a bit and you'll find yourself in another lucid dream scene. (I read this trick on a website and tried it. It actually works. But that's when you're already in a lucid dream. How to get there is another story. If anyone knows a sure fire way, please e mail me.)
Select a place to visit once dream is stabilized.
ROSES
I think I killed my mother.
I used to wish her dead every day muttering under my breath i wish you would die I wish you would just fucking die day in and day out for years after she had turned me into her skivvy just do it for mommy and getting nothing in return because I was the eldest and she had abandoned me to my fathers tender care. Tender my arse. I was no good to her anymore. He had ruined me for anything.
The soil in South Africa is sandy, dry and hard as iron. I have dug many holes in that dirt. Some one told me that if I put some seeds at the bottom of a narrow hole I would catch a guinea fowl because they were so dumb they'd just dive in head first and get stuck there. Well I dunno who was dumb, but it certainly wasn't the guinea fowl.
They dug a hole in that same hard earth for my mother.