You know how sometimes…

You meet someone who you used to know, and after one conversation you realize you have no idea who they are…and vice versa?
Then you go home and discuss them with the people who do know you…and all the people who know you agree that they are the crazy ones…but it is still bugging you…and then it turns into a post?

I met a girl who I used to know today. She bought and read my book – and paid me after 5 months, which is not the important part of the story (I’m lying. This is an important part because BITCH BETTA HAVE MA MONEY. DON’T ACT LIKE YOU FORGOT). The important part is when she finally picked up her phone (after changing her number and getting off Facebook) and agreed to meet up. After the niceties, she said, ‘I read your book.
It was so…sensual.’

Like sensual is a dirty, filthy word, a la paedophilia, or the phrase ‘Iggy Azalea can really freestyle.’

Then she tells me. ‘You’re not a sensual person. I’ve been reading you since you were 12, and you weren’t sensual then.’
Well, you just didn’t know it. Also, everyone is sexual/sensual from like age 5. Just saying. #Freud

THEN, she tells me. ‘You don’t have to put sensuality in your art. You can sell it without being impure. It’s the difference between a classical orchestra and a porn movie. It has to elevate your soul.’

And with that she launched into a Bible-thumping mission aka evangelical good deed for the day. #CaptainSaveAho

Apparently, I make impure art.

Apparently, I don’t elevate, and I can be likened to a porno (look, honestly, it depends which porno. I ain’t even mad.)

What did make me mad was the self-righteous know-it-all nonsense. See,this is what I don’t like about Bible thumping. About any thumping, really. Militant anything – religion, atheism, vegans, education – pisses me off. Because militant people are unwilling to acknowledge anyone or anything else as right, and feel the need to shove their rightness down people’s throats. Call them impure. #holocaust (you know I had to shout out)

Why would you tell someone how to make their art? That defeats the entire idea of art.

Why would you try and judge someone else’s art by your standards? As if your standard is the only one there is or that matters. Why would you diminish someone else’s shine because you don’t like their light source? (I really need to stop with Iggy, huh.)

How dare someone tell me what I am, as if I am incapable of defining that which I know best? Ati you’re not sensual. Are you preaching to the choir…ABOUT THE CHOIR??

Gaaaaah. I wish I could say she needs to get laid, but we all know sex doesn’t solve everything (and it is stupid to assume that everyone is mad/women are bitches because of the lack of it). I just kinda want to insult her back because she insulted me. Instead, I wrote a blogpost and blocked her on Whatsapp after I saw a message from her saying it was nice to see you today because IT WASN’T.

It’s hard out here for an impure poet. I waited 5 months for THAT. ****sigh****

p.s. I made a few impure poems in honour of the occasion, and I am seriously considering making my stage name, which doesn’t currently exist, IP. Like if you wanna find me, use your IP – I ain’t got no protocol, coz I’m an Impure Poet, doll-

-you call it impure, I call it being sure about what I DON’T want to talk about-

and finally, in case there was any confusion,

-you can forgive a lot of shit if the dick is legit-

I’m kidding. Mostly. I kinda like that last one.

I would like to (finally) conclude with something I saw on Facebook today from a friend I don’t recognize or remember making, that will be my mantra for when I quit my jobs (again):

Do yourself a favour.
If it’s unappetizing; do not eat, date or sign up for it.
If the mere thought of it is depressing; do not major in it, sit through it, or devote your life to it.
If it is not important to you, do not do it just because it is important to someone else.

I have now concluded.