Theme: GRAVITY DEFIANCE
Diary entry 19.05.2021
Gravity is in the eye of the beholder.
I cannot bring myself to appreciate my sagging breasts.
They are constantly in my face.
Constantly chillin’ in my awareness.
Especially since I’m dating younger men, gravity becomes an issue.
My boobs were always average I guess.
To my taste they could’ve always been a little smaller.
I always envied perky breasted creatures who never needed to wear a bra.
I always fancied a pair of those.
But mine were a nice shape and since I’ve always been shapely, small tits would’ve developed other issues.
Dimensional ones.
I remember the happiest I’ve ever been with my boobs was when I was pregnant. The were tight and full and gorgeous.
I want them to be like that again.
I want to be in love with them again.
But how to fall back into love with them?
In the state they’re in?
Can I actually remember how it felt being in love with my boobs like that time I was pregnant?
I’ll try to remember next time I’m bothered and see what happens.
How about plastic surgery cruise ships?
I have encountered people here in Ghana who have skin which shines like gold reflecting in a black pearl.
Can I reflect black in a gold pearl?
That would be awesome.
I can try.
But how?
Some people complain: I don’t have a boyfriend.
Shut up, you got your personal space, Bitch!
Start treating your personal space like a boyfriend, then you won’t need one anymore.
Either way.
And neither.
Man in a restaurant:
This food tastes of nothing.
Chef: Something different.
Everything is itself.
And inverted.
Like a mirror self.
But we call it the opposite.
Everything around us is us, reflected back to us.
Simply in a slightly different angle.
Watch your world.
And you will see your self.
Completely.
Predominantly, invest in good quality and photo worthy items.
Look after them.
They will be your legacy.
They say Easy come, Easy go.
How about making your money easy come, hard go?
You’ll be wealthy.
Switch sayings.
To suit you.
Question everything.
To suit you too.
Who’s Easy?
And what is easy?
Lifting this plastic cup of milky coffee mixture to my lips?
How about drinking it?
And blinking?
Blinking is definitely easier.
So what would be the easiest?
Not moving at all?
Having no body functions?
No brain function?
No worries?
No thoughts?
That would be the easiest.
But we believe it’s the hardest.
Death.
The hardest and the easiest.
People who self destruct believe it’s the easiest while everybody else believes it’s the hardest.
Asking ‘How about it?’ is the easiest way to find out.
What we love, nature loves too.
So ask yourself:
Do I love rubbish lying in the environment?
Do I love messy people?
Do I love plastic floating in the oceans?
Both answers are valid.
Your reality is accordingly.
However fit.
Personal space
Appreciate a person for loving their personal space as much as they love you.
Love them for it instead of complaining you don’t get enough attention from them.
Instead go and love your own personal space.
For balance.
If you don’t give personal space, the other will have to make a decision at some point:
Who do you love most?
And they will decide in their favour.
Always.
Survival of the fittest.
So whenever the feeling of abandonment comes, I remember my personal space.
Everything is all AND nothing.
At the same time.
If something pisses you off, if you are fired up by something petty (if honest),
Pretend it’s nothing.
And if you want to get fired up about something important (to you),
Pretend it’s everything.
And the end of the World.
I want to live with less gravity.
To be light.
The least baggage.
I just realised that I’m taking myself far too serious.
Giving myself too much gravity.
I shall give myself less.
See what happens.
But make it fun.
There is an African Grey on the premises.
Africa.
She is positioned by the side of the house along one of the windows.
I pity her.
She is tucked away.
It looks like she has very little mental stimulation.
Very little entertainment.
Hardly any human interaction.
And I believe ([Freya) Freudian slip?] greys need to be stimulated.
Constantly.
Sure, she has one of the widows to peek in and watch some telly, but she is a timid thing.
Loves Miles Davis though.
Why do I pity her?
Maybe she’s a shy geeky parrot, who’s completely happy in her personal space.
Listening to Jazz.
Fully stimulated.
A short cut and gets you nowhere.
Fast.
The best moment is to look into each other’s eyes wanting to kiss.
But not go there.
Superman needs his personal space. Constantly.
Could you complain if you dated him?
Of course not.
Would you feel like complaining sometimes?
Sure.
Focus on what you want to see.
(Man of Steele)
Ghanaians are effortlessly cool.
It that because of the climate?
Benalyne cough sirop with Sprite.
That’s what the street drinks.
Pay 120 Ghana per bottle in the club
Bonkers.
I should open a small bar only serving cough mixture.
Import that stuff.
That would be fun.
Add some Sprite.
We went out last night.
For a smoke.
Was introduced Chief of Darkuman.
He looks after his hood.
Nice thought.
If something needs improving in the neighbourhood, I wonder if the chiefs are the ones who could mobilise people to get shit done!?
Screeching tyres.
The big boys drop by with their Range Rovers and distribute money to the little boys in the hood.
For blessings
New Fadama Rd
Omah Lay — Godly
Morning in Darkuman.
We’re off to grab some bananas and a drink for breakfast.
My mate has no toilet.
So I have the opportunity to experience Ghana communal toilets.
About 100m away from his place
To take a shit costs 1 Ghana Cedi.
You get toilet paper with that and a small bucket of water.
The toilets are cubicles with 120cm high walls and a wooden door.
To crouch behind.
Toilets like I have encountered in Thailand before.
After making damn sure that my trouser legs and mobile phone are well out of the way, it’s actually quite comfortable.
When you regularly do yoga and prefer lose clothing.
I presume that skinny jeans go with own toilet.
Naturally.
Not sure where I’m gonna sleep tonight.
Interesting concept.
