Blogs

1. Sue anyone if they even look at me funny.
2. Carry around fact sheets disproving global warming for arguing purposes.
3. Tazer anyone who tells me that Candarel causes cancer.

After a week of temperatures around -3 my fish need thermals!

So, it's THAT time of the year agian. Here goes.

I, Nossie, hereby resolve to:

1. Loose 10 Kg’s.
2. Actually EXCERSIZE at the gym at lease 3X per week for at least an hour and not just rush in, swipe my card and rush out again.
3. Cook healthy meals for my family 7 days a week.
4. Not leave all of Sundays dishes in the sink for the maid to wash on Monday morning.

She's always run her life like it was a city park -
open access for the harried and green-starved.
But, filling yet another bag with carelessly tossed litter,
she realises: it's time to charge admission.

Sympathy addicts – R1 000 per hour

Need To Dump On You users – R2 000 per hour

Need Advice But Never Use It, So Tell Me AGAIN repeat callers – R3 000 per hour

R.I.P. Kachasu.

This one started two days before our trip to Zim. Phone calls from Violet Theresa, emails from aunt and uncle the general gist of which: "You will die of cholera and the girls will be raped by natives. In England, going to Zimbabwe with children would be considered criminal." Some email verbiage followed. Then, to ease everybody's minds and generate some reading of my Zim blogs, I made a fatal mistake. I linked my Facebook profile to here.

The image is true
but for what lies beneath
because of you.

Watch yourself outlined
in different traces of hue;
those are not your eyes.

Summer dress afloat
in fall's first brown and yellow
head of hair bobbing
where the reeds are thick
black pools rippling her anguish
in secret whispers.

What makes a life like yours?

What makes a life like mine?

A gooseberry bush, some blasphemous words. Thinking back now it was all so absurd. That walk round the garden when you said you'd never leave.

And the morning light through my window. Warm window. Open window. When the sun tumbled in I knew, yes I knew. It was through. You were done. You were gone.

I never blamed you.

Hey! Hey! Hey!

Happy holidays y'all.

Passion
Desire
The will to live
The right to wrong
Truth in lies
Tears they’ve cried
The hearts I have broken
Drowning my sorrow in their pain
Hanging on the coldness of their tears
Laughing at the honesty
In what they say
This is who I have become
This is what you made of me
Thank you for the pain
I treasure the lessons you taught me
I have grown up to be you
I am your son

The dirt road’s already asleep,
the sidewalk
(if one can call it that)
is paved in jukebox-pink
that shines through the gap
between the badly-fitted door
and blood-splattered concrete floor
at the heels
of my boots.

Harare:- I have just come back from four days in the Eastern Highlands. I have a whole lot of photographs of some of the most breathtaking countryside in the world. Part of the journey was a trip back to the town I was born in: Mutare. I feel such confusion after this trip.

A Christmas game for you lot.

I fucking hate brussels sprouts.

By nossie