The irony is that I am just now munching on some delicious wafer rolls with hazelnut and cocoa cream. They were next to my bed and seemed like a good snack but I have probably ruined my appetite now, and tomorrow I will constitute, just fractionally, a few atoms from decomposed chocolate instead of a cucumber. This revelation, when you extrapolate, is quite devastating. I am not a bringal pizza with extra garlic and parmesan. I am not a packet of biscotti or a toasted cheese

My most enlightened act of the last year was to cancel my credit card. I funneled all my modest savings into my education in the hope that this would pay off longer term in the form of an increased earning capacity. However, each time my earnings have increased the tide of takeaways, clothes, books, snacks, coffees-on-the-run, little gifts, etc. has risen to meet the new level. The pattern of each month is always the same. Just before payday I’m broke as fuck and full of remo

I rediscovered a note that I had written to myself at the end of 2015. I had divided the page into four parts and in each respectively I had written ‘Add’, ‘Remove’, ‘More’ and ‘Less’. Under each of the headings I had added a number of entries of things I wanted to try and change in the upcoming year. One such entry pertained to the incessant impulse purchasing of fast food and a disgraceful incapability to go grocery shopping or do home cooking. “Go fucking grocery shopping

Last December I took a long road trip across South Africa with my younger sister, which spanned more than 2000kms. That’s a lot of driving and consequently a lot of talking, but also a lot of silence. And silence goes hand-in-hand with that most dreaded of all pastimes: thinking. My introspection turned towards the notorious and unavoidable subject of mortality. Specifically, and my sister and I are both thus afflicted, mortality as it pertains to the psyche of the workaholic