Thought #1

Well, I never thought how connected I am with the characters that I obtain from reality until one passed away late of 06. The real life person; I have hugged, kissed&talked to. Our conversation helped me see&capture her thoughts. At least, I thought to myself cos wrote about her.
I needed to see her in her birthday fashion but being me, I needed to know a little bit of her sexual ventures. She was not clean at all but it was expected&I tolerated it cos with that kind of beauty that this Lolita could not go unnoticed in the Ghetto. My township&townships anywhere in SA are rough&our township was GhettoRuff to this Lolita.

Lolita was rough to the ghetto too because she was part of it. Her father was working hard in the city of gold&she had never seen her mother.
The bit that I found out did not deter, it in other ways, encouraged me to try&understand her a little but she was brutal in return, ruff as the ghetto, so ruff that it had went to her tongue. But tamed her with hugs&kisses or I thought that I did for that moment then I wrote her tale.
She died at the end of 06&a friend of mine said, “she was like a dog chasing its tail.” We laughed about it but I came in my thoughts when I was just about to rest then I could not rest cos the thought about her brought tears to my eyes. I loved her not for her mind blowing sexual escapades but because she was just a GhettoRuff Lolita caught in the ruff. The worse thing she could not help herself neither could I.
It makes it no better that I wrote about her, makes me sad&hate this life.

First post

I have a blog. I am not sure what really am I getting into as I am not sure if I am up to it, but I have a blog (the one that you are reading now, belongs to Kgebetli) I am the publisher and editor but I am not sure what I will be editing and publishing.

I think that this blog will be a window into my mind. I will express things in thoughts as it is a process of the mind. I will cry and you will see my tears. I will laugh and please laugh with me. I will rage, sometimes because I don’t have peace and go crazy as I often do. If you can’t handle my thoughts, just don’t look at them

This blog will probably breathe for a few months and if it doesn’t encroach on my unrest, it will breathe with me till something else do us part but if it does encroach – too bad, the window closes and I pull the curtains; my thoughts remains mine.

But it is underway because/for the love of words and the power that they have within them, the effects and the ways that they affect the consumer, affecting his or her whole life. The message and the ideas within the words become unnecessary.

Most of the books that I have enjoyed immensely have lived with me mainly because of how the words were knitted together:

Nkanyapa kua morago, Brook Benton, e kgakgamolla dipikara ka lentsu la yona le le koto. E ipolelela le mong wa yona. Ka lebaka la eng, Morena? Ka lebaka la eng, Morena? DH Bopape, Bogobe Bja Tswitswi

The moon was so bright that few stars appeared in the sky. Moleka walked along a path, his hands in his pockets. He had an appointment with one of his innumerable girlfriends but being in absent minded mood. He walk right passed her hut. His thoughts so absorbed him that he walked to the outskirts of the village.

– B Head, Maru

They are not as the authors knitted them because their power has been bestowed on me. They have been affecting me in ways that baffles.

Joey kicked a caravan door shut behind him. It was seven o’clock in the morning and a long walk to school lay ahead.

This opening paragraph (forgot who wrote it), that read long ago, has to this day been affecting me, all these years in bewildering ways. Not as shocking as, say Tsitsi.

This obsession that these thoughts defined as the power of language interweaved in words, have been there to console me from myself, reassure me about life and indeed they have relieved me from life. They’re similar to the addictives.