10 May 2025

Why am I thinking about Texas? Deep in the heart of Texas. America creeps into my mind. Custodians of the world. Era of American dominance. Don’t attack our country, or the USA will kick your ass. Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on what’s in it for them.

Perhaps if your skin colour is anywhere near mocha mousse, you should leave South Africa?

News24 has been bought. I often think the thought is too mundane, too petty, too peevish. And then I don’t write it down. It doesn’t pass muster. I hover above the water with God and judge the emerging thought: too obscene, too abject. Censor. Censor. Censor. Even just for me, in my own privacy. Too boring—not even I am interested.

And yet there are all these exclamation marks in the painting shouting: this is important.

I am white and male. There is nothing I can or would do about that. You have to accept it. This painting makes me think of skin—skin we call “white.” If anything, I would double down on it. Because: fu.

This is not the greatest writing, is it? Too selfish. Too esoteric.

Let’s think about the desert?

Am I not worthy of any thought? I am interested in what it is about me that brings us closer to God. I suppose a lot of that will lie beyond this white-skinned desert horizon of consciousness.

So I point.