Easy does it. My firecrotch ginger cohabitant is a budding copywriter who made me appreciate the beauty of simple speak. I’ve always perceived myself an anti-obscurantist, vehemently opposed to useful information being hidden in a web of arbitrary procedure, verbose direction and nonconcomitant complexity. I try to be funny. Perhaps there is room in our sorrowful lives to explore what it could be in the proverbial vacuum, if everyone didn’t “expect” anything from you, if you could speak your mind – and not just use colourful language on Twitter when you get into a tiff with your bestie. Not necessarily a Bartleby-esque scenario, but rather Tom Hodgkinson’s Idler.

This year I’ve been fortunate enough to share a space with extremely creative people, it’s an unnerving experience. My days end with tales of awkward observations, a healthy hint of blasphemy (towards no particular imaginative deity), and a little far from politically correct discourse – yes that sounds like every kitchen conversation. This is where self-deprecation is expected and not followed by ego-boosting pleasantry, to reveal stories of how you opted to have lunch in a bathroom than face the twin-challenges of eating from a pungent lunch box and making nice with the people. The crush you wrote a poem, the acid rage, and owning up to ones gayer impulses. This may not be your kitchen.

What I’m saying is, I think there is a lot to gain from letting the inner gypsy out and taking on the simpler life. Smelling the roses. Taking time away from 5-point plans, mission statements and “I’m looking to move into …” talk – how about giving one’s nights to the now, taking time to rekindle the flame with words you had to leave in grade-school because they won’t give you A’s on essays or Ahs in high-level discourse. To always have to self-edit and self-censor in preemption of cool kids, “potential employers” who don’t have time to apply their minds to a profound remark, fuck’em.

My fire-crotch, Ginger friend said write like you speak and they will read it. I’ll give it a shot, but on some days I’ll revert to using “big words I don’t fully understand in an effort to make myself sound more photosynthesis”

I’m working on a piece relating to the hard-on for country every South African is expected to have, but I’m trying to educate myself on what makes a great nation-state, and whether we, South Africa, are a special case. I’m highly self-critical as it ventures into political science, an area I’m unfamiliar with but am always willing to give my liquored-up unlettered opinion on. It’s coming, don’t rush me.