Lobey The Villain

Growing up in the 90's we had access to KTV before cartoon network.

What you are

"You're not pretending to be anything that you are not. You know what the hood is like, you've spent time there, you've slaughtered animals, had your dick chopped off. You're fucking African."

Ray Barbee

Passion for Passion's sake.

"I have a Question"

I was chilling with some artists over the weekend and the subject came up. This song has been stuck in my head the whole weekend long. Just the question of what one is really hoping to gain out of all of this... Passion for passion! I completely understand and get that. I for one am not a man who can handle too much attention. But then I think again, with the things I wanna do and dig doing, recognition would be a big part of it. So where would the cut off be? Not that I'm saying: One day I'm gana be famous!! Rather, if I should gain success through my chosen paths, how would I handle it?

The dirty artists I was with quite impressed me with their take on the concept. What was even more endearing for me I think... was the sincererity behind the calculated arguments they made. Which is to say that their modesty lacked the false edge of most. When I say most, I mean people and not artists, cause that would be generalising. I'm gana be really basic and say, it was really impressive to see them toss aside their egos for what they excel at most. The fact that they could say, that they didn't really wanna be made famous for doing what thy loved doing. It probably sounds like I'm writing about every artist you've ever heard of and to some degree yeah. But it's always nice to have affirmation that real people, who wanna do real shit, not for the sake of others approval but because they really dig what they do, actually do exist. And although I was just there, drunk and hungover for the most part, it made appreciate people just that much more. I also just wanted the opportunity to share this song, I haven't heard it in so long.

I also went to Kool Out on Saturday and this What They Do played. Oh Hip Hop, tell us what to do just so you can do the opposite. I think The lyrics are quite suiting for this theme so I'm gana copy and paste.

"What They Do" The Roots
(feat. Raphael Saadiq)

[Chorus: Raphael Saadiq]
Never do....what they do, what they do, what they do...
Never do....what they do, what they do, what they do...

[Verse One]
Yo, yo
Lost generation, fast paced nation
World population confront they frustration
The principles of true hip-hop have been forsaken
It's all contractual and about money makin
Pretend-to-be cats don't seem to know they limitation
Exact replication and false representation
You wanna be a man, then stand your own
To MC requires skills, I demand some shown
I let the frauds keep frontin
And roam like a celluar phone far from home
Givin crowds what they wantin
Offical hip-hop consumption, the 5th thumpin
Keepin ya party jumpin with an original somethin
Yo, I dedicate this to the one dimension-al
No imagination, excuse for perpetration
My man came over and said, "Yo we thought we heard you"
Joke's on you; you heard a bitin-ass crew but um..

[Chorus: Raphael Saadiq]
Never do....what they do, what they do, what they do...
Never do....what they do, what they do, what they do...

[Verse Two]
Thin is the line that run between love and hatred
The game is ill-natured, it's nothing sacred
Aiyyo, it's funny when I see some rap niggaz due to make it
A few'll blow up, or go as far as they can take it
My nine to five, is just to hit ya get the party live
I'm Black Thought, used to rap for sport
Now the rhymes sayin rent payin life support
I take it very serious-ly, within this in-dustry
It's various crews that try to touch me
But I come with the beautiful things, and I bless the track plushly
Around the world crowds love me, from doin tours
Recepient of applause from all of you and yours
Creator of original sounds to send to stores
you take home, to absorb and sweat it out your pores
Now who can stop the music runnin through these veins
Infinitely go against the grain, that's why my motto's to..

[Chorus: Raphael Saadiq]
Never do....what they do, what they do, what they do...
Never do....what they do, what they do, what they do...

[Verse Three]
Livin the life of limos and lights
Airplanes and trains, short days and long nights
Keyboards and mics, bass chords and drum kicks
And my mental thick to hit my head like brick
As I embark on a mission welcomin to the dark
When I first spark the arts, when the listenin start
Open your head wide, and let the Thought inside
My style fortified by all of Philadel-phi
I've dealt more stealth than all the wicked weal-thy
Mentality undetectable by the naked eye
Then I get paid when the record is played
To put it short "I want it made" like Ed, nuff said
Then after that, I'm puttin on my cousin Hamed
We let the ladies blend with the darkskin thoroughbred
and discover, my level is that of no other
And Roots crew reign offical and true while I'm continuin to..

[Chorus: Raphael Saadiq]
Never do....what they do, what they do, what they do...
Never do....what they do, what they do, what they do...
Never do....what they do, what they do, what they do...
Never do....what they do, what they do, what they do...
Never do....what they do, what they do, what they do...
Never do....what they do, what they do, what they do..


I suppose those who've never tasted or haven't been having it will wanna wet their beaks at some point. (Gotta love the politics they always have a way of getting themselves into everything) Um... So yeah that's about it hey. Stack that cheese.

021-012

So I’ve basically taken a year off and not done anything with it and now the recall back home. It makes sense. I’ve been living in Cape Town on my parents money and haven’t done anything of value or made a concerted effort to sustain myself. Jay Mazz put it in perspective for me I’m just being a child. So here go, back home with a full fridge DSTV, and I’m probably going to go back to school. Design college quite possibly, Copywriting seems like something worthwhile to study. At least with that I’ll be able to generate some sort of income and be self sufficient. So another commitment, three years later I’ll be 27. The real question: Do I wanna come back to live in this city? It has everything that I’m into, but is it really conducive to my progression as a person, I don’t know. Plus there’s the whole hostile environment thing that my dad keeps reminding me of.

“Cape Town is not friendly for people like you boy.”

While I fully agree, I feel like it would be a cop out to just up and leave for simply that reason. Why should I allow that to make me leave. I think the real reason I’m contemplating not coming back is because I feel like a failure. Four years in this city and nothing to show for it. Maybe school will help me figure this shit out. Also maybe a change of scenery for the next couple of months will be dope and help me find perspective. Friendly familiar faces. Either way I’m checking out for some time.  Gratitude to all those who helped me along the way. Establishments, acquaintances and real friends alike. Biggups!To too many to mention, I wish you all a thousand years of success J

Peace.

Amazing

Watch enjoy or don't.

Slippery Dancefloor

Knowing what to say, when and how.

Hello.
It's good to see you.
Sorry.
Thank you.
How are you?
Excuse me.
Fine thanks.

A game played by most, in different situations of course; but all for the same purpose. We want something from each other. How we go about getting what we want from each other is what counts most I suppose. Not that it's anything new. I mean we all know this. But the floor on which we dance, gets more slippery as we continue with the different interactions. Concealing for the most part the real reasons for these apparent interactions, it's kinda bleak to think that most of it doesn't really count. There's too much calculation going (mental rehearsals) for bona fide  improvised moments. Paranoia? Perhaps... It's been an all too fast jump for me from interacting, to socialising, to networking with the ultimate target being to reach some sort of networth. Different styles and methods but most have the same M.O. They just work it in different fields. Nothing seperates any of us. Not even 6 degrees. Now that I've bullshitted my way through a post, you can find something else to do.

God Loves Ugly

Some people have better ways of saying what I would like to. What a mess.

Bone V.S Muscle

Rondebosch, Main Road, 2009.

The fools decide to order a round of good guy burger's from the Steers downstairs from the grimy spot they had been drinking. They continue talking smack between taking mouth fulls of their burgers. A block of man walks by and makes some grand crass gestures which he directs to the women sitting at the table with the group of naughty stick men. Some of the nutritionally challenged object to the mans obscenities, by hollering and throwing wanna be signals of courting a physical challenge. One of these guys chews through his good guy burger and utters softly for only the table to hear "Izo toswa le chap." (This guy is gana get fucked up) between bites. The leader of the madness chases the beast out into the street( after judging that the man being across the road was at a safe enough distance ). He unstraps his belt and holds it out above his head having folded the strap to ensure it made slapping noises. Behind him a mindless sheep stands pointing and shouting at the man. Good guy watches all of this repeating over and over "Izo toswa le chap." The man, Beast turns to look at the commotion across the road and with total disregard for their numbers, approaches the twig men. Good guy decides to run out and get between the muscle and the bones, having amped himself up with his burger (much like Popeye does with his spinach) puts his hand on the Beasts chest and politely asks "WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM!?!" The beast being a man of few words but rather of simple action strikes a fist to the face of good guy who then meets the flaw. Another Idiot a part of the posse realises that he cannot stay out of this now that his kin has been struck and lands a few solid blows to the beasts face, making him speak for the first time between punches. "What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck are you doing?" Asks the beast very calmly after each mosquito bite to the face and proceeds to knock Another Idiot to the floor, where he goes to work. Somehow Beast must have made some sort of unheard resonance for backup, because all of a sudden the Somalian looking crew were mobbed by a bunch of men of the Beast's stature and larger. From there an all out war ensues. Bushbaby, a member of the Somalians tries to headbutt one of the Beasts, but is caught by his head in mid motion and thrown into the Mr Price window on the street. Fortunately his weight was not enough to fall through the glass. Benicio who had been around the corner taking a leak sees his friends in all out warfare and runs to join the fight but one punch from the Beasts directs his momentum groundwards. At the moment of impact a car passes by and for just that instant everyone thinks he was hit by a car. One of the more Fiery ladies with the crew braves the war to drag him out of the road. Once she secures his safety she too decides to jump in. If there is one lesson the starving children of Africa learnt that day is that the Beasts had no morals. She tries to jump on the original Beast's back and is easily thrown off and hit by the man. In the middle of fighting multiple men, Good Guy screams out "THEIR HITTING WOMEN!!" (This I think was meant to be another power up moment, like they do in the movies) Unfortunately for them real life doesn't quite work out the way it should. There's no physical power in moral standing, especially when being overpowered by Six or Seven powerful roughians who live to fuck up, drunk kids from the burbs chancing with their sorry excuses for muscles. The leader of the madness realises the reality of the situation and takes to try and stop the fight. His efforts are in vein. Twice he tries to walk into the centre of the action professing "Sto..."  and twice he is slapped making his knees buckle. The scene has gathered quite the crowd, including the Steers staff who are bent over in stitches of laughter. The beating would have continued had it not been for the blue lights. For the first time in their lives The Somalians disregard every Hip-Hop lyric they've sang about the police and breathe a sigh of relief. The Ogres make a quick getaway and the Somalians feel all the injuries they suffered.  They thank their lucky stars that there were no casualties, which they thought there could have been had it not been for the Bacon that rescued them. Benicio lives! But caught the raw end of the deal in terms of visible injuries. They realise that night that they had gotten fucked up and that as a crew the could not fight. Some manage to laugh it off that night, other's puke and go for check ups. A sad crew for sometime all wondering the same question No one had seen the mindless sheep that was shouting behind the leader of the madness throughout the fight. Was he finishing up his burger and watching as everything unfurled and decided to join the group when he saw the blue lights approaching? The fight was witnessed by the Store Owners at the DVD rental spot across the road from Steers who felt so bad that they cleared all outstanding debts on late returns. They probably thought that the crew had received their fair share of karma.

Moral of the story? Don't fight. It's just an embarrassing story to share.

http://andilesbored.com/ act like you know.

Get Angry Much?

 Using words as a way to break people as much as one can in the heat of the moment. Darren said Kaffir cause he was an angry racist right? But it's not about the fact that he used the word that bothers me. It's the way he used it. Ok so it's derogatory and all that and he probably throws it around when he and his family gather around the dinner table, or when the microphone for commentary is on mute or around the braai whatever. And when one is caught out, it is of course way inexcusable, hade for him. But I do understand that in the heat of anger one will say whatever it is that is most likely to do the person it is aimed at the most harm. I've said some horrible stuff that I meant in that moment, but regretted afterwards. Now don't get me wrong, I don't think Darren regretted using the word kaffir, nor do I doubt the fact that he continues to use it in a private capacity. All I'm saying is that I understand that in the heat of the moment a person is trying to say whatever it is that he thinks will break down the recipient in the hardest way possible. Take a look at Harry in this scene from the movie In Bruges. He later goes onto apologise to his wife by saying: "I'm sorry for calling you an inamate oject... I was upset." Which I think is the best and most honest apology on record. I'm not excusing what get's said in the heat of the moment. I'm just saying it happens.

No point in watching it twice, the slow mo kills the point.

The Simpson

you're only an asshole when you keep your secret inside. Or maybe you have one and use it regularly. Either way :)

5%

As she steps out of the shower her hand reaches for the purple and black towel that had been gifted to her by Thami. She dries her hair by rubbing vigorously. The wet curls stick to parts of her face, she gazes into the mirror and distorts her mouth into a sneer then pops her eyes out at the mirror. The glassy red in them is a reminder of the previous nights debauchery as is the mild headache accompanied by dehydration. She was used to going out on school nights ( as long as her parents were out of town, which was often enough). Happy enough that the shampoo was able to get the smoke out of her hair she dries off the rest of her body. Last night’s song pops into her and she hums the tune all through the dry off, the popping in of the contact lenses and tooth brushing process. She turns her head to look out the window and is greeted by the warmth of sunshine which aligns itself with the tile markings. The white tooth full smile sends a reflection that greets the sun back, and as if waiting for just this signal the star asserts its light to fill the entire bathroom. Usually after such a heavy night this would be too bright for her, but not today. “ Thank you for sending my parents away.”

In her bedroom she puts on the C.D player and tosses her towel aside. The swing jazz leads her hips to sway from one side to the other and her legs to move to the rhythm. She sings along as she get’s dressed. Step in, step in pull up. First strap, second strap and click. One sleeve, second sleeve then button up. Pull up long sock then fold over. Pull up long sock then fold over. Pull up skirt, tuck in shirt and zip up. Slip in foot and buckle. Slip in foot and buckle. Cross over one, loop through once, loop through twice , wrap around, slip through once pull, tighten and straighten tie. She looks into the mirror and sees a short curly haired, green long socked, black shoed, green tied and a white shirt, short sleeved wearing girl staring back at her. She puts her index and middle fingers together and presses them against her plump lips and flicks her wrist to one side. She watches her one leg lift in the reflection as she picks up her bag and blazer and exits the room.

“Ag maar jy lees mooi, dankie Nthabiseng jy kan sit. Pragtig my skat dit was wonderlik. Leonard more ons begin met jou. Goed stan op. Gooie more klas, reg julle kan gaan. Katlego kan ek praat met jou asseblief.”

“Jeez Nthabiseng what you do to get that right?” Monique asks as they walk out of class while opening a packet of sour jelly beans. Nthabiseng picks up on the ice at the end of the question and coolly returns it.

“ I don’t know, probably trying to get back into my brother’s good graces.”

Walking towards the bridge that joins the school’s C and D block buildings they catch sight of the others on the bridge. Monique’s retort is smothered by the guys’ raucous shouting about Saturday’s rugby game. Joan emerges from the huddle of large teenage males with big eyes and gasping for air. She lunges a hug to both Nthabiseng and Monique to express her relief.

“ I know. It's okay.” Nthabiseng whisper’s into her ear before Joan speaks.

“ I’m so glad to see you guys! You won’t believe how long I had to listen to this! First Tumi didn’t come to school, then Mr Prince was absent and so I had to listen to this all through invigilation! I mean ja I get why they like it, but to have an hour long screaming match just to carry it with you into break is just ridiculous!”

“ Jesus are you breathing yet?”

Monique says dropping her jaw and exposing a mash of jelly beans for effect.

“ Ag that’s disgusting! Anyway how Ms Van De Watt? Has she finally changed her tampon brand?”

“ I think she actually might have.” Nthabiseng replies pleasantly.

“ At least for her; she’s convinced that Van De watt’s trying to get back into her brothers good books.”

“ Jealousy is unbecoming Monique.” Sings Joan. Once again Monique’s response is stifled by the guys bursting into a new round of shouting.

“ Fuck that shit! Nate Cedar had his time, bring in the new blood Erick Nasieb is the heat!” Nthabiseng decides to jump into the rugby debate

“ Erick Nasieb is the only number one in the world who also serves as a loose forward. He’s like having two players in one. So whatever team he plays for have sixteen men on the field.”

“ Ag that just means he wastes energy running around the field and ends up too tired to push in the scrum.” Pieter condescends. Siya’s passion takes a hold of his voice once again

“ Kak! How many times did you see him pop Pier Hylic like a champagne cork all through Saturdays game?”

“Who cares?! Rugby is just a game that gives men an excuse to touch each other!” Monique yells while pushing herself through the huddle. This brings on a new frenzy of screaming from the guys trying to profess the manliness of the sport. Monique had a habit of pouring gas on a flame and she loved it. The guys loved it too, the girls found it annoying. Monique smirks and begins descending the staircase and crumples the packet of jelly-beans. A group of grade eight girls charge up the staircase pressing Monique up against the wall they’re squealing and giggling. They immediately stop upon the sight of Nthabiseng. She crosses her arms and allows her bag to drop and hang off her forearm.

“What’s going on?” she asks shortly. A little girl with a row of badges on each fold on the front of her blazer sheepishly steps forward. Her thin little legs edge centimetre by centimetre towards Nthabiseng while the others move backwards down the staircase. Her eyes evade Nthabisengs gaze.

“ Sorry Mam, Richard was chasing us. He has a mouse that he’s trying to put down our shirts.”

“ Can you see the matric in the stairwell that you’ve almost completely squashed into the wall?” The group of girls collectively gasp together and begin making rushed apologies. Monique waves them off

. “ Jeandre. You’re an RCL member and you’re playing on the staircase during break when you know that it’s out of bounds. Next time it’s a pink slip to all of you. Now off you go.”

A chorus of yes Mam’s and sorry Mam’s are made and the girls rush back down the staircase. The sound of the girls erupting into excited laughter once they get to the bottom is heard.

“ You really do have a way with people.” Siya remarks.

“Yeah… I know.” Is Nthabisengs nonchalant response. She slowly makes her way down the staircase. “ Let’s go get lunch and sit out on the field.” Monique barely gives her a smile as a means of saying thank you. “It’s okay.” Nthabisengs whispers as she walks past.

?

you don't have to be a genius to do rocket science but you do have to be rather diligent.

Rumour has it that Albert didn't work that method of science.

The Springboks Won Yesterday,

When I say I don't support the Springboks people take it personally.

"Why would you support the All Blacks? Those guys don't even care that you exist!"

"Is Morne Steyn or Bryan Habana aware of your existence?"

Stop taking it so personally, I don't hate the country, I hate it's Rugby and don't like most of it's rugby supporters. Springboks play winning rugby. twice the world champions and.... I don't know how much more ass kissing they need.

I hate Springbok rugby still. Am I not aloud to be an individual and enjoy the freedom of choice and speak my preference for the sort of rugby I enjoy to watch?

"You support the All Blacks why don't you just move to New Zealand then? Maybe they'll appreciate you there..." You're a FUCKING idiot I think, but I don't say. You know why? Cause I'm a fucking coward. Instead I smile and try bring up the history

Question: Who gives a flying fuck about history?

It's probably the aesthetic of the all blacks that I enjoy so much. Plus PE is considred the home for them whenever they play. Heinrich Brussouw crying tears of blood, while Luke was puking on the springbok jersey somewhere would He (Heinrich) have played under Jake's rule? Just asking.

They say that I'm too obsessed with race. Am I? There aren't any google images of Heinrich crying his blood tears so i'll use the all black logo which is actually capped.

For those who don't know that's Jerry Collins, Kevin Mealumu, Rodney So'oialo, Ali Williams, Dan The Man Carter and Sir Richard Mccaw. They need the titles cause their name's aren't enough.

oh yeah FUCK SRPINGBOK RUGBY AND ALL IT STANDS FOR

Yours Faithfully

Phumlani

ah

Get to the point of feeling what you suffer most then laugh about it, if you can't you're fucked. The more serious a person the more one has to dig to bury all their shit.

Who's got more line's than Dave?

Dave you and MC have more in common than your surname's :)

Who's the DJ here?

The crowd sits... Silence falls in awe of the gall that the muscle man figurine has to walking into the party...

Oh it's you?

He approaches a baffled little spectacle hunched in a corner over his black non apple device.

PC? That's cute... Listen I know you probably have good taste and what not, but can you please play me the song...

Laughter erupts through the lounge throwing the beef cake off. Realising for some reason that he's just walked into a house of people he doesn't know and hasn't even tried to introduce himself. He sniffs... courage makes it's way up his nostrils enough for introduction process making him forget about the David Guetta request he was still to request.

I'm Dane Hammer he says to the bemused faces beaming at him. (What is it about a smile that throws people off so much?)

"This guy's a dickhead" Says one of the dude's clicking his soft hand. Everyone laughs again and the vibrations in his nose force him to pipe up again.

Raaahht...(Right)

He says turning back to the rhythm enthusiast.

Is this really happening?

The people pipe up and start talking smack about the dude in the night light. Laughing at him live chucks. The stubborn plum tree pretends to catch joke's, slang and the occasional hand shake wondering the entire time if he started off on the wrong foot with the peoples.

I feel like things aren't going the way their supposed to here... so can I walk out and start again?

Being a bunch of motherfucker's that don't judge books by their cover's the group allows him to walk out the door to the flat and make his way back in.

Wasup my brothers...

That's his opener.

Dane Hammer should do standup at Vega Brand Communication College/School, in the alphabet c does come before S right?

Civilise yourselves!

and that's the way the world works.

The Baby of the Crew

22 years ago this guy came into being :), with super human powers.

Better than yours

"You talk so much shit! Don't you ever get tired?"- Every girl I know

I just had a phone conversation with a friend I haven't spoken to in ages. He's coming out of some serious shit and all we could do on the phone is talk smack.

"My asshole is my vagina."

We laugh over the phone and navigate the shit talk through the serious shit. Call it a coping mechanism.

Mine is better than yours.

ABC

http://andilesbored.com/

ABC Live

There's a new blog in town. http://andilesbored.com/

Dear Nici

Cause it's just that easy when you have a blog.

Pretoria bly Pretoria

“Kaffirs! Kaffirs! KAAAFFFFIIIIRRRRSSSS!” We eventually turn around and look back at the guys drinking on the bakkie before the game kicks off. “QUOTA SYSTEM!!!” We hang our heads and walk away, being a group of high school kids trying to raise funds for a tour to Argentina there’s no point in our saying anything back. Our coaches made sure not to forget the tell “us guys” that people were going to say ugly stuff and we were to just forget about it and carry on. Pretoria bly Pretoria, nie Tshwane nie! Pretoria!

Tuks FM have attempted to make a viral campaign via the use of Nazism. Apparently the point is to stand somewhere ridiculous, hold ones right arm out and fake a Hitler moustache with the other hand and have ones picture taken. Although this is not entirely unexpected from a city that boasted old South African flags every time they played the song Delaray at Loftus Versveld rugby stadium, it still does hit a new element of low. Are the youth of the city that far deprived of meaningful engagement with one another that the only recreation they find suitable is that of condoning and enabling hate? Nazi-ing apparently is the stations reply to planking. Yeah genii both suggestions are retarded but the difference is that planking does not perpetuate abhorrence of one to another.

Tuks Fm is based on the city’s university which means it is focused on the youth, what message is this sending out. Get their mushy minds now? Radicalize now, so they can mobilize later? Get them to admit the military genius of Hitler so that they can appreciate him as a genius in other measures? This may all seem like a stupid attempt to go viral on a whim but the truth lies behind the real coded message being sent out. The blog post that caused such a stir was only taken down a day later after Tuks FM listeners were up in arms via social media networks. The radio station did not issue an official apology though. Why retract and not apologise? Oh yeah because apparently the listeners did not understand the joke without context. Here’s a few jokes with context:

Afrikaans people are like rope; thick and hairy.

All the black people in our family tree are still hanging in the backyard.

Hitler: Today we’re going to play squash! Hans start the steam roller!

With the three jokes above which of them are slightly offensive and which are completely insensitive? According to history life was considered cheap for some. If you’re going to make fun of an atrocity make sure your context is clear for all to understand and have a point to your joke, otherwise you just become labeled a bigot and give the hood you’re repping a bad name. I would like to extend a huge Fuck You to both PJ Van Rooyen and Rob Forbes for once again fucking up the reputation of Pretoria. I had gotten people to believe that the racial tension was as relaxed as that of Jo’burg give or take a few designated whites only zones and curfews. Now you’ve put us right back to Bloemfontein.

Chris Rock Quote

Chris Rock: Are we so desperate for entertainment that we fall for a trickless magician? Saw a lady in half. Pull a rabbit out of a hat. Do something. What's his last trick? "I'm in a box and I ain't going to eat. I'm in a box and I ain't going to eat." That ain't no trick. That's called living in the projects.

Watched Never Scared again the other day and realised that his jokes still tickle me quite a bit. There's so much truth in them it's really hard not to laugh.

5%

“ I hate fucking Fridays!” Jason spits out to Thami as he lights up a cigarette.

Thami doesn’t lift his gaze off the floor, “Why? We make triple than what we do during the week.” He tells him calmly.

“Ja but during the week we don’t have to deal with as many drunk assholes! Especially those poppies that we’re not allowed to ask for I.D, look at them their fifteen. This is fucked.”

“You’re taking everything too personally. You’re not trying to get their money are you, so pay them no mind. Just get those pathetic fucks they’re here with drunk, stroke their ego’s and put your fingers in their wallet.” Jason opens his mouth but Thami cuts him off. “Don’t try talk about the morality of the situation of serving alcohol to minors and all that other kak, cause then you should just quit. Or go try give Leonard kak about his policy. But you’ll do neither cause you want the money. I’ve got a table.” He leaves Jason smoking in the corner of the courtyard.

Jason watches him serve a large man dressed in a khaki shirt, blue jeans and brown shoes. The man doesn’t look at Thami as he orders. Thami then says something and the man lights up. His thick white moustache unveils yellowing teeth. Thami says something and the man begins to laugh. Jason watches as a lady wearing a bedazzled denim jacket and a pink crop top underneath take a seat at the table. She gives Thami a look over and proceeds to look at her menu. As she casts her eyes down her blue eye shadow and bright pink lipstick give her a comical look. The large man then taps her arm and points to Thami using his thumb. When she brings up her head to look at Thami, the enormous gold earrings exceed colour and become a glaze. When she finally decides to smile the yellow of her teeth add to the colour display. As the witness to all of this he decides that the woman who is on the verge of being an optical illusion is too much for him to watch. He concentrates on Thami. The smile with which he addresses the people is not genuine but is enough for them to want to return it. Even the look he gives them seems patronising but they laugh and engage with him as if they were trying to impress him. A remarkable feat considering moments before they barely felt the need to acknowledge his presence. Thami makes his way back to their corner having wiped off the fake smile.

“ I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile.”

“There’s little to smile about.” Thami returns.

“Okay, so how do you do it?” “Like I said, play into their hands. Impress the one you need to impress. That’s hospitality.”

“How come you don’t have a problem with all of this? Aren’t you always going on about how much you think that capitalism is such an immoral system and how it keeps the poor people poor. You’re always on about how much white people still control the economy and still treat black people like shit and yet here you are.”

“What’s your point?”

“You don’t have to be here taking this shit. You don’t even have to be working. You didn’t even say anything about the fucked up situation of us selling liquor to minors! What if those kids went to our school?”

“You can’t be deep all the time.” Thami returns.

“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly that. There’s a time to be practical and a time to be philosophical. The trick is about finding the balance.”

“Whatever.”

Jason walks off. So exasperated by the interaction with Thami that by the time he reaches the table he went to check up on his frown clearly gives away his fake smile. Thami feels his phone vibrate and takes it out. He pulls it out and checks the message. “Pessimist.” He smiles and is off to check on his other tables.

5%

The night at the restaurant is crazy as Friday’s usually get. The waiters run up and down with little breaks between. Jason and Thami run a tight ship in their smoking section and do well in supporting each other. The owner Leonard makes his usual Friday night appearance. Slightly drunk and shouting at his staff. He steers clear of the smoking section knowing that Thami and Jason are his real money makers. The restaurant’s current reputation weighs on their shoulders. No matter how large the table the need neither pen nor pad. Their chemistry is unrivalled. Should there be a big enough table they make a performance of it and partner up to have the table served. After serving a table of 24 off memory and getting the restaurants biggest tip ever Leonard knew to leave them be of service to him. By all standards everyone working in the restaurant knew Leonard was a dickhead. He even took the time out to announce to his staff that he could afford to be cause he could afford to own the restaurant. But Leonard always knew that he could only go so far with Thami and Jason. He needed them both. So he always stayed in the non-smoking section when he came to the restaurant on his Friday visits. Not because they had said anything but because Leonard knew that when he was drunk he could not help himself. But there was more to it than that. Leonard never really felt he had real authority over Thami. The boy had a look that always made him wary of him. He also had a way of speaking that made him consider everything he said carefully. As if he was the one telling him what to do and when. Even the way that he commanded the staff was incredible. The kitchen did anything he told them to. And he even had a way with getting the cleaning staff to work immediately, without the brooding demeanor he got when issuing them with commands. There was something unsettling about the boy and Leonard wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what it really was. Thus always kept to the non-smoking section on Friday nights and waited to tally up the smoking sections earnings at the end of the night.

5%

“ Did you hear that the Siplmetons are…”

“Piet I’m pretty sure you were going for Simpletons.” Monique cuts in.

She takes a drag of her cigarette and smiles at him with an eye brow raised. Everyone laughs and Monique takes another sip from her cider bottle and continues to stare at Pieter. He looks back at her but drops his gaze and looks at Joan.

“ Are we going?” Tumi asks everyone.

“ I think I wanna go anyway. Their old stuff is so great!” she adds.

“ I’m not sure what I would be doing there as a man, you guys can go enjoy yourselves if you want to.” Is Siya's chirps.

“ If you ever want to get sex again in your life you’re going to that concert.” Tumi issues.

“ Yoh!” Jason slips out slapping his hand to his mouth.

“ I’m sure your balls are lonely and missing you wherever they are.” Nthabiseng let’s out as she grabs her vodka mix off the table in her zigzag to the bathroom.

The table erupts into laughter. Siya drops his bald head into his hands. With Tumi’s light brown eyes on him.

“Shame Siya.” Joan says as she patting his back

. On the slow meander down the corridor, Nthabiseng takes out her phone and checks to see if she might have missed any calls or messages while she had been outside. 2missed calls and 3 messages. She suppresses her excitement and starts by checking her missed calls. Her mom and brother. She immediately scrolls to her messages not thinking of her actions. Barely noticing getting into the bathroom taking off her pants and sitting on the toilet. The phone tells her of her two voice messages. She reads that her brother won’t be coming home again tonight. Not unexpected and her parents love and miss her. After she flushes the toilet she makes the voice call. Washing her hands she listens to her mother tell her to behave and that she was calling just to check in, since they hadn’t spoken in two days. She tries to save the message but the voice mail tells her the her inbox is full. Second call: the caller drops without saying anything. She picks her drink off the sink and makes her way back down the hall one shoulder barely pressed on a wall. She scrolls down to Thami’s number and stops halfway down the passage. She stares at the number and then looks at all her friends on her balcony. After staring at the number for a few more seconds she resolves to send him a message. Typed quickly as she can, she drains her glass and switches her phone off then staggers onto the balcony.

Don't Fall Off

"Craig Mack fell off, Yoda doesn't fall off!"

My little brother.

Don't Fuck Around

"All my homies that were fighters are either in hospital or in the morgue."

Someone told me last night, which made me realise that I really am not a strong motherfucker! Getting into fights to claim hardcore is simply retarded. The conversation continued to discuss that our egos only control us as much as we allow them to. Fuck your bullshit ego there's very little reason to ever fight.

"The only time I'll get involved..." he proceeds to tell us "Is for some real shit."

"Word." I say solemnly, checking out my shoe laces and reflecting on the stupidity that was the previous week. The more he spoke, the more I realised that at some point my luck will run out and I could easily either end up in hospital or in a morgue.

You never know who you're fucking with I think while we talk.

"I learnt my lesson through a golf club. My advice to you is don't fight. And if you have a dude in the crew pushing that shit, lose that homie. It's not worth it. And if you don't lose him don't back him and let him get taught a lesson." Are his words after we tell him about a fight we got into as a crew and got served a hot dish of knocked the fuck out.

"We were actually lucky not to have come out with more from that fight." We say to each other somewhat retardly.

I need to learn how to keep my temper in check or have it broken for me.

5%

“ Then I see this guy swaying on the dance floor drunk out of his mind! And some little girl whispering in his ear!”

The room erupts with laughter.

“ Wait…wait… then she puts her arms around his neck says something to him and this fool laughs at her!”

Howls of laughter fill the room once again reaching noise levels to disrupt the ear drum. Xolani is sprawled across the long sofa hitting his hand on the floor and digging is face into the arm rest. Jerry is bent over holding his stomach, jumping up and down to express the agony that the laughter is causing, his low voice transformed into a high pitched cackle. J.T sits behind him in a corner and smiles at the room from behind the mixing desk. Ndumo crawls in circles on the carpet gasping for his breath, with tears streaming down his face.

“Hau what was I supposed to do? She goes to school with my little sister!”

“No wait, what I wanna know is what that girl said to you...”

johnnyboardman.blogspot.com

Ndumo announces from the floor. He rolls over onto his back and still choking on laughter. A sneer slowly crosses his face. His big and lazy eyes concentrating on him, his afro makes a cushion for his head to relax itself without having to touch the navy carpet. He pulls out a cigarette box from the pocket of his baby blue skinnys that he sags just below his ass. He takes a cigarette out from the box, pops it into his mouth and takes a box of matches out the other pocket strikes a stick and ignites his paper cancer cylinder. Xolani sits up on the couch lays his head back on the rest, he slides his back down pointing his knees out while keeping his feet flat on the couch. He also reaches for his cigarette box and finds it empty after flicking it open.

“Skyf.”

He calls to Ndumo. Ndumo throws him the cigarette box which Xolani catches with one hand against his chest without having to move too much. After tossing the box aside he takes his lighter out his pocket and lights the cigarette on the second click. Once he’s done the lighter is tossed aside.

“ Kuluma ndoda, sifunu’kwazi!” Ndumo directs at him.

Xolani begins a routine that they were all too familiar with. It was described as X’s performance. It was the thing that made him such an endearing performer. The enigmatic ability to hold a secret from an audience yet allure them to the fact that they needed to know what it was, making them hunger for more while he gave them nothing. It started with his head going down showing the top part of his head while his dread acted as a veil. Then the cigarette disappearing behind the veil and his hand coming back empty.

“Hey! We’re not your fucking groupies! Hurry up and tell us the story so that we can get back to lacing this song!”

J.T had a way of controlling everyone when they let things go too far. Being the oldest in the group this didn’t really surprise anyone. Behind the spectacles a short and stout man with a bolding head. Xolani snaps out of his trance and whines in a high pitched voice

“ J.T why you always got to kill my buzz?” Xolani lifts his shoulders and hands to the side.

“Cause you’re buzz is killing me. Now what did that little chick say?” Xolani sucks air into his mouth placing his front teeth on his inner bottom lip to express his disapproval.

“Whatever man.” He says clearly deflated.

“She was just like I’m willing.”

The room goes quiet everybody holding in their laughter anticipating the punch line on its way.

“ And I was like willing to do what? And she was like willing to take it as far as you want as I wanted to. That’s when I laughed at her…”

The room stays silent except for a few awkward chuckles that come from Jerry. J.T and Ndumo quietly look at each other and shake their heads.

“So Xolani tell us again…” Ndumo begins “Why didn’t you do big things with this girl?”

Jerry protests on Xolani’s behalf “The man is recently married guy!”

“Since when was that an excuse?” asks Ndumo.

He gets up to put out his cigarette on the ashtray on the desk. He leans his backside on the mixing desk next to J.T sitting in the corner. The baby blue skinnys divide the white shirt from the his white sneakers almost making him look smurf like. His height and skin pigment give rest to this notion. Ndumo puts his drumsticks into the back of his sponge like fro making the seem like antennae, he then crosses his arms focusing his big and lazy eyes on Xolani.

“Truthfully what I really wanna know is, if the model older brother is indeed living the life that he projects to his little sister or if he’s fallen off the wagon.”

J.T stands up next to Ndumo and he too crosses his arms then stares and smiles at Xolani.

“Fuck off. I don’t need to explain myself to you guys. Let’s just finish up here.”

“Run all you want, you’ll just keep coming back to the same spot and we’ll still be here waiting for the answer to the same question. Hey! You could use that in a song lyric, that’s some deep shit right there. I love the shit I can make up on the spot.”

Ndumo professes clearly chuffed with himself. J.T sits down and turns to face the mixing desk. Ndumo takes the sticks out his fro as he walks into the recording booth to record his drumming. He begins to sing the words he just said to Xolani. He does a fast drum roll starting at his legs and making the last snap on his feet to accompany his horrific singing voice. Xolani gives him a look that turns him around sits him down and get ready to start drumming. All the while Ndumo lazes his gaze right back at him, without letting the sneer fade.