Sunday, February 28

post secret pic of the week

postsecret

ha! i love this postsecret. couldn't agree more.

i once had an amazing orgasm in upavista konasana (i had to look that up, the normal phrase for plebs like me is 'spread leg forward fold').

moving into stillness. hm. yes.

and then there are some poses that are just generally very arousing anyway. meditation often has the same effect on me. actually the whole body awareness thing is just quite a kick.

i love this moving towards nirvana thing. hope i never get there. all about the journey and that.

oh also, check it, there's a little note from a saffa on the postsecret site:

Hi Frank

I live in Pietermaritzburg, South Africa. Which is many miles away from 13345 Copper Ridge Rd, Germantown, MD.

I just wanted to let you know I have shared PostSecret with my friends here, we have all been affected, sometimes shocked, amazed that people share the same secrets as us, but above all else inspired to live a life that is full of love.

Quintin

Thanks for that Quint. Been meaning to send a little shoutout myself.

Wednesday, February 24

jebus!

cos it just seemed funny

either i'm in my 20-hour cycle 'wtf' moment, or jebus really did descend and take all the bad feelings away.

queue montage.

woot.

Tuesday, February 23

strike a blank

11.43

still no column.

maybe it will come to me in a dream.
maybe jebus will descend from heaven and take the bad feelings away.
maybe i'll harden the fuck up by breakfast tomorrow morning.

did i tell you that i got a phonecall from the significant ex (SE) on thursday (before the friday that Mr Hardman made do with our relations)? and then a clarifying email from the SE on friday (the very friday that Mr Hardman made do with our relations)?

yes.

it never rains it pours.

one relationship of 5 years, ended 5 years ago finds closure on the day of the ending of the most significant relationship (of 5 months) i've had in said 5 years.

the planets are aligning.

in short: while i didn't think i needed it, i got the closure i was looking for from the SE. he's finally human again, which is always a comfort. very genuine apologies all round and some heartening signs that he has, in fact, grown up.

chin chin

11.55

still no sign of column. might have to call in a broken heart and hand in my homework next week. my anger ate up my paper. christ. it's just as well i'm not going to hand anything in, the cliches are difficult to keep at bay. the drama of it all.

boo.

being heartsick certainly puts a damper on writing an upbeat sex column. how did that annoying carrie character do it?

Monday, February 22

the art of breaking up

rothko, no 14, four seasons

i've had the good fortune to enjoy many breakups. many little ones, two not-so little ones and one whopper, which was particularly adventurous in its scope of pain.

eventually, you get the hang of them. the basic lay of the land so to speak: the shock, the realisation, the sad, the hoping period, the sad, the anger, the sad, the acceptance 1.1, the sad, the lonely, the acceptance 1.2 ad infinitum (or until you get closure or get bored).

you know, the basic five steps of grief.

anyway. as i have nothing better to do and i should be writing my column but i'm not and i can't sleep, i'll give you my list of how to break up.

(this doesn't really apply to the whopper break up / break down types... generally those require therapy. mine certainly did. oh, and wine. and drugs hugs. you'll know it's a whopper because you won't be able to function or breathe properly for weeks.)

so, onward and upward my plums ... something of a kinda serious / cosmo-esque, ten-step list:

Dot's Fine Art of Breaking Up Without Breaking Down
  1. Do try to break up on a friday. it'll ruin your weekend but at least you don't have to leave your bed for two days
  2. Be the zen. You can't argue your way into someone's heart. If you're not there, you're not there. sucks. but there you go.
  3. Find a friend. The minute lover has left the building you follow suit. Go to a friend, preferably someone at home with booze, a big couch, a caring shoulder and an internet connection.
  4. Delete all stalker material. Delete all contact details - including messages and call lists - take lover off facebook (mxit, myspace, whatever) and clear out your inbox, outbox, sent folder and trash. Be ruthless. If you need to read something to remember it, it wasn't worth remembering. do this in the shock phase before you start thinking of trawling their fb wall or smsing weepy/angry/whiny/drunken messages.
  5. Switch your phone OFF. Eventually you'll forget to check it every 2 minutes for the messages you should know are not going to come. Because it is over. O.V.E.R. Note, that this fixation with your phone signals the beginning of the hope phase. It starts approximately 40 minutes after lover has left the scene. awesome.
  6. Feel exactly how you're feeling. But don't become a doos when you get the shot of pseudo-confidence every 20 hours or so; you know, the 'fuck, yeah, whatever, i totally didn't want that stupid fucking relationship anyway'. I mean, feel it, just don't go shouting it all over the city and thumbing your nose at lover if you happen to see them. Because that only lasts for just under an hour and then you're back to being a weepy sack of shit. Unless you hit the anger...
  7. Be the rage. Draw it out for as long as possible - as long as you're doing something about it. this 'something' doesn't involve self-harm, drinking or drugs. Doing something about it means writing your anger the fuck away or doing something physical like running or boxing. as far as possible don't direct this at anyone while you're in that space. you're not out to hurt anyone, least of all yourself.
  8. get the hugs. your peeps will be rallying to fill up your calendar. let them. every time you freak out about the one person that's not loving you, think about your family and all your mates that are. they don't do that for nothing. they do it cos you rock.
  9. do the cocoon. sleep/cry/write/cry/watch happy movies/cry as much you can. it gets the hours ticking by and it allows the dust to settle. at least for a while.
  10. be thankful. just think to yourself, gosh, lover loved me so much he ended this because he knew, somewhere in that sad pathetic loser wise mind of his, that there's someone way fuckin better for me. what a swell guy.
oh and!
  1. don't dialogue! there were only 10 but then i remembered this one in the bath this morning. don't dialogue (those imaginery convos you have in your head) - it's always destructive and negative and wastes time. hum if you must.
the red tree by shaun tan
(one of my most fave kiddies illustrators and a truly beautiful book)


so there you go.

that amused me for about an hour and a bit.

post secret pic of the week

Saturday, February 20

it's not me, it's you


it's 12 am sunday morning. the city is suffocating me tonight; this city and its happy summer evening hanging like a bad smell around my apartment.

i can't sleep.

i've been napping on and off since friday night but wake up each time feeling more and more drained. probably because between napping i've been crying. a lot. mr hardman broke up with me last night see.

it's not me, he says, it's him. he loves me but i'm doing his head in and he can't think straight anymore.

so, actually, it is me.

i'm pressuring him; i don't connect with his friends in a manner that is satisfactory to him; he doesn't have time for my incessant demands of communication and spending some one on one time together...

i'm not going to pretend i'm an angel to be with. but i can't help wonder if a month's worth of pot-smoking every night and a possessive friend has anything to do with his sudden change of heart.

whatever.

it doesn't make the sadness and the disappointment go away. i really, really thought this was different. mostly, i suppose, because i have never fallen in love so hard and so quickly and opened myself so absolutely to someone before.

but as labushka says with love: 'harden the fuck up dot.'

so yeah, i have to suck it up and accept that he's just not that into me anymore.

12.21

i'm trying to follow beaverboosh's advice about doing something, anything instead of lying in bed if i can't sleep. 'just get up and work, blog, think or whatever... DO NOT stay in bed, it is soul destroying...'

but all i can write/think/talk about is this. and that feels soul destroying also.

i hate this part right here.

12.41

Friday, February 19

a friday funny (cos i'm all outta everything else)


Here's a difficult one.

This test only has one question, but it's a very important one.
By giving an honest answer, you will discover where you stand morally.
The test features an unlikely, completely fictional situation in which you will have to make a decision.

THE SITUATION
Johannesburg has seen it's worst storm in living memory. There is chaos all around with severe flooding.
You are a photojournalist working for a major newspaper, and you're caught in the middle of this epic disaster. The situation is nearly hopeless.
You're trying to shoot career-making photos.
There are houses and people disappearing into the water.
Nature is unleashing all its destructive fury.

THE TEST
Suddenly, you see a man in the water. He is fighting for his life, trying not to be taken down with the debris.
You move closer... somehow, the man looks familiar...
You suddenly realise who it is... It's Julius Malema!
You notice that the raging waters are about to take him under forever.

You have two options:
1st you can save the life of Julius Malema or 2nd you can shoot a dramatic Pulitzer Prize-winning photo, documenting the death of one of the country's most powerful men...

THE QUESTION
Here's the question, and please give an honest answer. . .

Would you select high contrast colour film, or would you go with a more classic black and white film?

Wednesday, February 17

post secret pic of the week

i have a better post coming up about anonymous, but it's taking some time to do the research (such as it is), so i'm posting this little nothing in the meantime.

i hate hearing people say they're really bad at relationships, but i'm starting to wonder whether i am, in fact, actually just pretty shitty at them.

i'm a hopelessly romantic cynic as labushka would say. or a cynical romantic. either way, it doesn't make a good landing ground for cupid.

my first 'adult' relationship and the first person i slept with – who was, in my young, rose-bespectacled naivety, the love of my life - taught me many things:

1. do not get involved with broken hearts / inlove with someone else
2. do not fall in love with potential
3. do not fall in love with a frustrated creative

i wasted an entire year and a bit of my life driving to his place to be holed up with his broke ass in cheap, stinky apartments (in a very creepy arrangement with his foster father and another boy) watching tv, smoking and drinking coffee or hanging out in bars smoking and drinking cheap beer and playing pool (which i hate).

nightmares are made of this

i think of where i do not want to be in my life and i think of him and that time.

mostly i know what i want for my life and where i want to be and HOW i want to be.

but i'm starting to think that knowing that is a big black strike against possible relationships.

i don't really listen to radio and really not gareth cliff. but caught him on the radio this morning mumbling about love and sex and staying single and that there should be a love rehab. that the minute you thought you were falling in love, you'd cut and run and get yourself to a 'get-better home'.

maybe i operate like that. and maybe cm is right, that i use my 'do not fall in love with' shit list as a way of justifying that.

i don't know. sex is easy when you're not getting all tongue-tied and heart-twisted with love (or the lack of it).


oao plums. (is this week over yet?)

Monday, February 15

monday and other boring thoughts

plums.

look i'm not going to lie. i woke up in a very bad, bad mood. it was foul. it was black. it was not a pretty thing. maybe it's cos i watched paranormal activity before a snippet of bad boy bubby (godDAMN the CAT man) before going to sleep. or maybe it was because of chocolate.

whatever it was, i woke up in a horrible space.

everybody sucked.

everybody hated me.

mr hardman was clearly a complete write-off and i was better alone.

i promised myself that when i got home i'd lay it on blogger like it was nobody's business.

ag, and then, i dunno. the clouds shifted, the planets aligned, someone made me laugh and someone thinks i'm funny and *click* all was well again.

hormones. i tell ya. (well it's either that or i'm just a fucking moody cow...)

anyhoo.

gotta be thinking of next week's column. i have some ideas but nothing's really popping out. lmk if there's something that tickles your fancy - or any other bits really. i'm not getting much inspired by the hardman (maybe i really am that kak relationships), so throw me bone... or you know, some other METAPHORICAL object.

sparky get your mind out the gutter.

oo oo AND i have a GUEST BLOGGER joining soon. or something along those lines... he'll be along shortly, he just has to think of some funny nick or something...

he is truly most awesome.

oao plums. it's evening and i'm catching up on some BSG. whoohoo!

some time later

*** spoiler alert for those who, like me, didn't watch the brilliant BSG when the rest of the world did ***

so watched til the end of season 4 and i gotta say i am THRILLED that the earthlings were gone. once the caprica humans and the cylons all managed to get along, i saw them entering the earth's orbit thinking 'oh my god and now they have to deal with the (earth) humans!'.

we are a sorry lot.

oh and HEY. this monday was SO kak, it inspired a new word...or at least a new interpretation on an old, washed out word:

GRUNT - Grrr and cunt. like a day that makes you stop in your tracks at the photocopy machine on the way to the teensy little office kitchen to make tea, and just say: 'Ggggrrrrr, this is a cunt of a day.'

now you can just say 'grunt'

because time is of the essence and wherever we can shave a few words out of a day is a better day for all.

christ. i should prolly go to sleep.

k. g'nite.

Saturday, February 13

come out come out wherever you are

got an email from marie claire ZA (still no website apparently. go ZA publishers.) this week asking me if i'd be open to being interviewed as part of an article on relationships.

har. har.

for 3 (three) reasons.

1. me? relationships?

2. they wanted to out me. full face photos and real name.

3. marie claire south africa stopped meaning anything to me when the previous ed moved the mag from a half-way decent read with interesting journalistic-like stories to something resembling a glossier 'santie from brooklyn's heartbreaking story' you book. and in the stakes of cultural relevance the you bible holds more relevance.

so i said no. for the following 3 (three) reasons.

1. me? relationships?

2. i thought about this one long and hard. for, like, at least 15 minutes. i have a pseudonym for a very particular reason. while it started off being a bit of a laugh (no i did NOT know it was also the name of an hungarian porn star when i thought it up) and because i wanted to slag my ex off without using my real name, it's become part of a character that suits my ends very well. i get to write 'serious' stuff and a light-hearted piece of ditty about sex and singledom without confusing people. lord knows a character with more facets than one would confuse the masses endlessly. more than that, it protects the people i write about and the people i choose to sleep with. * footnote below

3. there is a difference between a 'column' and a 'blog' dear mc writer. i am not a relationship blogger. i am a sex columnist that blogs about shit. neither of them have particular importance in the greater scheme of things. which is also why i am not keen to be part of a mag that reckons seth rotherwho is relevant in any particular way.

anyway. i'm drunk. as one gets at kiddies parties.

FOOTNOTE & GENERAL DISCLAIMER ON PRINCIPLES FOR FUTURE OFFERS: Principles and vagaries aside though, little ol' me in a really realz magazine?! is fame and fortune finally mine??! most likely not. but i still woulda totally bitten if not for the face/name issue :) oao plums.

Friday, February 12

post secret pic of the week

cards are big in our family. except for me. i don't give out cards. being the black sheep in the family extends even to this.

i've had very little sleep. had my annual bout of the insomnias last night. thought sex would help. mr hardman was obliging. but no. dozing only happened at about four this morning.

when i eventually fell asleep i dreamt that tavi and i were super friends.

Thursday, February 11

What's your slut number?

Hi everyone. My name is Dorothy Black and I’m a slut.

If you read my column regularly, you’ll easily draw the conclusion that I’ve slept with more than one person in my lifetime.

And you’ll be right.

I’ve slept with more people than you can count on your one hand. Or two. Including both feet’s toes. In the numbers game of what makes a woman a slut, I’ve passed ‘Go’ a whole lotta times. Read more...

plums.

the comments on this were staggering. i wasn't around to follow up on what people were writing, which is just as well, but came back to a whole lotta mails and twitter directs asking me if my skin had been thick enough to take the kind of crud people were dishing up.

almost didn't want to read the comments.

but then i did and it was just the usual blah blah, lonely whore blah blah will die of HIV/Aids blah blah and will never find a husband blah blah.

and i have some points i'd like to make in response to some dipshit comments:

the only part of that blah blah that pricks my ears is the whole issue of STDs and HIV/Aids.

if you're a regular reader of my columns you'll have noticed that i've written a column on STDs.

or rather, the conversations we're not having about STDs and HIV/Aids. because that is a reality here; a whole country of HIV/Aids spread primarily through fucking, but we can't even talk sex without finger-pointing.

my columns are little columns speaking to and about other city folk, generally single women.

what you may or may not have figured by now is that i write from this, the only reference point i know - middle-class city girl.

and i hang out with other city people.

we have enough money to go for regular gynae check-ups and get our cervixes inspected once a year (thanks for the concern commentator 'Dr') when we also go for a pap smear. we use contraception like the pill or IUDs AND condoms.

most of us are culturally enabled to say no. most of us have been allowed to learn that women are not second-class citizens.

i do not speak for the whole of mother-fucking south africa.

most of us are single and in our thirties. most of us are in and out of adult relationships in which we amuse ourselves by enjoying physical intimacy.

but it would seem that even in this 'enlightened' time, people would expect women to keep their legs together - at whatever age - and stay home, untouched, virginal, for that magical day Mr Right comes along to wed and bed our perfectly clean, untouched bodies.

because if we don't, we're sluts. whatever the circumstances.

i know i shouldn't rant about the poopl that click click click and hate hate hate and give me a platform from which to air my little views, but sometimes i just need to comment back.

oao plums.

black is back

dearest
nature's valley was a hoot. will check in later with a funny.
love and hugs

Friday, February 5

nature's valley (of oh shit not again)

so. leaving today for nature's valley with mr hardman and co. he's got some crazy fuckoff 4x4 truck thing that i'm sure it's going to be a lot less comfy to drive in than betty.

but he's stoked. as miss k says, 'die bull het 'n nog paar balle gekry' (the bull got another pair of balls).

speaking of bulls and balls, i bumped into HWSNBN at gym last night. well, i say bumped. i poked him in the arm as i tripped up the stairs trying to look non-plussed. as one does.

fortunately, he barely noticed.

i haven't told you much about him apart from the brief mention in that one column neh?

well.

HWSNBN is not exactly in my 'circle of influence'. He's not really in my circle of reality actually. Basically he is everything i am not about.

he drives a black bmw for crying out loud.

but he is the first man that actually made me feel weak at the knees. very, truly, literally. it was like being in a perpetual celin dion song when he was around. silly really. the man had such a physical reaction on me that i actually had to leave the room when he walked in. either that or i'd make a complete tit of myself. ya know... talk louder, laugh louder, trip over things, choke on my peach... real sexy.

anyway. totally over that of course.

totally.

Wednesday, February 3

Tavi

you know. sometimes, someone comes along who is just so awesome you want to shit.

they are filled to the brim with light and awesomeness and creativity and smartness and uniquability and personality and marketability and real and success that you just want to fall on your face with shame for being a lazy, conformist, grazing poopl.

usually these people are older than i am, and i console myself with the only thing i can:

they're almost dead anyway, so the fuck. they've had more time to accumulate awesomeness.

but then. i came across Tavi. Just the other day.

Tavi is 13 frikkin years old. She started blogging at the age of 11. ELEVEN. she blogs fashion - which i care little for - BUT she does it with such sass and voice. worse, she's unbelievably ... what's the word ... cultured. and clever.

Tavi at 11. ELEVEN.


here's what wiki says:

Tavi Gevinson is an American fashion blogger. She began her blog, “Style Rookie” on March 31, 2008 as a 11-year-old. Initially, her parents did not completely know what Tavi was doing until she asked for their permission to appear in an issue of New York Times magazine story. Since then, she has had as many as 50,000 readers.

While Gevinson describes herself as a “tiny 13 year old dork that sits inside all day wearing awkward jackets and pretty hats”,many look to her for style inspiration.In mid-2009, Gevinson partnered with the London-based Borders&Frontiers to design and sell her own t-shirt.

'tiny dork' indeed.

what life-time of experience does a pubescent have to be self-deprecating. YOU NEED REAL PAIN IN YOUR LIFE FOR THAT TAVI. REAL PAIN to be WRY about it eventually. this type of cool takes YEARS. YEARS. more than 20 at least.

goddammit.

when i started clicking through her blog, my mind raced and raced to explain this anomaly. was she a front? was it actually some much older, far less cute older sister/brother pulling the heart strings of fashionistas and japanese people the world over?

but no. there was nothing. it became clear she is actually that cool for really realz.

i was just about to melt into a puddle of self-loathing until a convo with jade made it clear what her secret is:

Me: SHE'S JEWISH!
Jade: yes, 'Tavi' gave that away. But good point. over achievers
Me: they have that whole 'promise people' thing going for them with that yaweh dood
Jade: yes!
Me: promised people
Jade: she is Yaweh's puppet!
Me: i didn't pick up on the Tavi thing. damn. i must learn more about this god
Jade: the middle letters of his name are 'awe' short for 'awesome'
Me: DAMMIT
Jade: as in, if you follow him you shall be AWEsome
Me: I'm converting i must be a jew
Jade: is it too late to be circumcosed? *cised
Me: you need to have a peen for that
i will convert after dinner tonight

Jade: yes cheese and bacon burger first
Me: tomorrow i will be famous
Jade: or, you know, something non kosher veggies can eat
Me: i'm vegetarian - i'm halfway to famousness already. many famous poopl are veggies
Jade: excatly
Me: halfway
Jade: gimme the damn map

Tavi is now 13.

She talks about the Breakfast Club and references Marianne Faithful, Bob Dylan, Blondie and mag layouts from the 90s (she knows who kim gordon is. wtf.) with all the aplomb of association you'd expect from a thirty-something-year-old (read: me). She talks about her 'childhood closet' as if it was more than a month ago that she left the heady days of Grade 6.

she uses words like 'epiphany' and 'narcissistic' in their proper contexts.

i want to dislike her exquisitely 100% personality. i want to resent her so wonderfully immersed creativity.

but i just can't. she's just too awesome for that. so. onward and clickety click, plums - check her out here:

all pics, barring anna W, from tavi's site

i blame my parents.

Monday, February 1

post secret pic of the week

postsecret

my mother always says 'you don't regret the things you do, you regret the things you don't do'. so troo. happy mm plums. i feel a good one in my belly. mostly because mr hardman and myself (and two of his mates from mud island) are going away for a wee minibreak to nature's valley on friday. it will be fun. we will play in the treetops.

him tarzan. me jane. awesome.