27 March 2025

Frantic. Hectic. Tic. Sirens. Ambulance.

2 March 2025

Am I a separatist? I have an aesthetic that finds certain things beautiful—things that people with different aesthetics don’t. Where is “me” and where is “not me”? Where am I the same, and where not the same?

I want other people. I need other people. But I don’t want to sleep in the same bed with everyone every night. I don’t want everyone to live with me in my room all day long. What should I share—and what not share?

I think I want to live under one roof with other people who love my God. I am tired of being burdened with the absurdities of ancestor worship and witch doctors. “We are never tired.” When, Lord, will You come and judge the wicked?

I don’t want to share a country with communists. Can we have spaces for different tribes? Different cultures? Does every public space have to be colonized by black people?

Since the Tower of Babel we have been cursed to live separately. We cannot overcome the curse God placed on us. But should we try?

Am I so terrified of being called a racist? Why? Has a spell been cast on me? “We are despicable—but at least we’re not racist.” Is that the goal?

If you want to mix, mix. If you don’t, don’t. People seem largely unaware of the appendices they bring with them. They think they can mix, but then suddenly become aware that they can’t.

FU ASA. FU UP THE A!

8 April 2025

The power button. Switch it on. Schwank it. How far am I? How close? Can I measure it in meters?

The lizard under the awning has grown. The insects get trapped under it. I enjoy watching the lizard hunt. He runs along the beam and peeks over it. Unfortunately, the beam is painted white, so he doesn’t have the advantage of camouflage—but he seems to be getting on well nevertheless.

He’s ignoring a smaller insect, going for a big juicy fly—a much more challenging kill. Hah! Just caught one—but a small one! Wow, he moved so fast! I think he likes it under the awning I made. He’s just sunning himself now, arms stretched out perpendicular. Aaah! So close! He went for the big fly but missed. That fly is agonizing him. Now he’s pretending he doesn’t care.

23 April 2025

No. We have absolutely no money. William is in your face. He wants your money. He’s in debt.

I am writing an exam and everyone is wearing DA colours—as if they’re now the ruling party. Ducks in a row. With halos. Or ripples in the water. Rippling the water upon which they float.

This is more than rain—this is a waterfall. A serpent hangs within the waterfall. An icy wind blows.

Linda has a terrifying grin. A lazy, deadly look in her eyes. Kate taps her fingers nervously on the counter. David looks serenely at Kate. Linda is jealous.

Kate is in a fridge—except for her hand, which is reaching out toward Dave. Kate and Dave can feel each other through the table, their vibrations reaching through the wood.

Kate has five missiles, but six targets. Here come the last ten minutes.

It still seems as if the red lies behind the blue, even though the red layer was placed after the blue. Dave has a hand within a hand—his left hand, indicating his right brain hemisphere.