Go on throw the word genius,
Drag that word in the mud,
With things that arent even married to intelligence,
Drug that name through cow poop,
By calling something genius or someone genius,
While the genius you are talking has nothing to do with intelligence,
No relationship at all,
Not a marriage,
Not an affair,
Not a fling,
Even not a domestic partnership,
Call Genius something that has had no relationship with Intelligence,
Drag the title Genius through mad,
Filth it up by soaking it in poop,
Defile the title so that it is no more.
A Genius must mate with Intelligence,
And they must sex and produce,
Not reproduce so much,
But produce,
If they don't,
Then they should be called something else.
Genius is not joining to wires,
Then accidentally inventing the bulb.
Genius is accidentally joining two wires,
To get the light from the bulb you seek.
Genius is not stambling upon waterless soap,
Like Detol has,
Genius is stambling upon the liquid,
That creates the stumbling soap I seek.
Genius is not creating a song that energizes people,
While the purpose of creating it was to make girls horny,
That's something else good but not genius,
Cause Genius is married to Intelligence,
And Intelligence is a Property of Purpose,
And Purpose is a Property of Goal,
So if Genius is Goal Achieving,
Then Genius is everywhere,
It's in the phones with no-buttons,
The first person to create it and not the imitators,
genius is the Boxer Engine in a Subaru,
The All-wheel drive that makes them the perfect inexpensive racer car,
genius is in their ability not to over steer,
Genius is in their ability to not under steer,
Genius is not in the books and test we do,
If I didn't aim and put my efforts in getting an A,
And I got an A,
That is not Genius,
That is Smart,
Or something I don't want to get into,
Genius is a Property of Intelliegence,
And Intelligence is a slave of Purpose,
In fact the essence of Intelligence is Goal,
then Genius is Goal-achieving,
If you invent Windows by accident,
While you were trying to make Ubuntu,
The world will calk you Genius,
But know in your heart that that is luck.
Heated Car Seats,
That don't have wires running all over them,
Genius is all around is,
It didn't die when Einstine did,
If I try to do something,
Whatever I choose,
And use unconventional ways to achieve it,
Then am genius.
If you did something as impossible,
As write a song,
That has no language boundary,
Like House Teance and what not,
And it topped all the music chats in the world,
Then know you are Genius.
Survival for the fittest right?
Not,
Not everyone is trying to survive today,
People want to drive with Punctured tires,
some want to collect donations for North Easterns Needy,
So when the Seal-liquid is poured into the inside of your tires,
And people Mpesa their donations to North Eastern,
Than I know genius lives today,
We are not growing thicker as some may say,
We are growing brighter and brighter by the day,
But not everyone is Genius I guess,
The more complicated the task,
The more impossible the Goal,
The more foreign the path and the goal,
The more legitimate the title Genius,
When genius fits like good sex fits,
Then call it Genius,
Like you call Good Sex,
Don't call it Genius,
When it misfits like a slut to a small stick!
Thursday 29 September 2011
Wednesday 28 September 2011
What's Your Longer List?
When the demon is within,
Then it's hard to win.
When the demon is within,
All it does is kill and destroy.
The demon is negative.
I went through Forbes a while ago,
Forbes is the place where John Grisham was,
Once next to Bill Gates.
But not too close,
Don't think I want to be John Grisham though,
The last time I read his novels was a century ago,
And if I want to be him I would have to skip law school,
And I am not going to quit,
Besides the jeans he wears are as old as suits,
Eighteenth century old,
Like suits are,
Yeah, suits were invented in the eighteenth century,
They haven't changed since then,
Jeans have,
And his haven't,
But he was on Forbes once,
It's been a while now,
I haven't been myself for a while,
For weeks actually,
Thank heavens I have had love to distract me,
From my troubles,
But come to look at it,
Life is always the same,
Sometimes it's just how you look at it,
The most outstanding characteristics of most on that list,
The list John and Billy are one,
John the one of the old jeans
Is that on those lists they are on,
if you sat down all those successful people,
And asked them to write a list of fifty reasons,
Why they might succeed in what they are doing,
Then asked the to write a list of fifty reasons,
Why they would fail in what they are doing,
Every successful person,
Will outdo the fifty reasons why they would succeed,
And under do to less than ten the reasons why they would not.
For the last three weeks or something,
I have had a longer list of reasons why I wouldn't succeed,
And am a person who sees the glass half filled.
You can try to argue out that the best business person,
Is the person that anticipates risks,
But when you see more risks than opportunity,
Their is no way you will kiss that girl you like,
Then you will not see competition as a chance to advertise,
Perhaps even get more sales now,
You will see it as a chance to coil up,
Run scared and sit down in the office worrying yourself to failure,
Bury yourself in your own worries,
I have come to realize than days aren't as different,
They are more the same,
Their is always a problem here,
And an opportunity there,
Same day.
Even when an economy is crumbling down,
Where do you think the money goes?
Do people burn it so that it is less?
Oil prices are running up to the skies,
Wise engineers are selling Kompressor engines faster,
Electricity bills are hitting hearts like gun bullets,
Solar-sourced electricity companies are having a field day,
It's like all days are the same,
I meet relatively the same weather everyday,
The same roads,
But my mind and my heart change everything,
I sleep really late and wake up too early,
Am tired the whole day weak and noisy like a bitch,
With the rest of the world upset at everything,
The shilling is losing value at an alarming rate,
There were guys who cashed up on that,
And who will anticipate a profit in such tragedy,
The next time it happens.
Cause they have learnt from this one.
But today I was the guy at the bank,
Waiting in line screaming and worrying like a bitch,
In my head not with my mouth,
The demons that destroy opportunity,
Were so loud,
"are you cashing in dollars now?"
"This is a good time."
And I was thinking the cashier was overstepping.
She is not the reason why money is value less!
For heaven sake Bobby chill out!
I can't kiss her if I can't walk up to her,
How will I kiss success if I don't walk up to it,
I can bitch on how everything isn't right or ready,
But am bitching from here and she is there,
I am here and my success is there,
I can't reach it cause I am seeing the river,
And not seeing my swimming skills,
How can I kiss the girl a meter away,
When am thinking about the risks of walking,
It's just walking dammit!
She is right there,
Success is right there.
If I only thought of her lips,
And not the walking so much,
If I only thought of how I don't care if she will not kiss me,
And decided if it doesn't work their is the next one,
And my careless ness happened to seem like confidence to her,
It's always happier to think of the lips,
Than the destructive demons,
Cause with them I can't move,
I can't walk,
And I will not kiss the girl,
If she wanted to kiss me,
Or if she did not,
But if I walk,
She might want to kiss me,
Or she might not,
Who cares,
I will live,
I must kiss success,
I need to fight these demons,
No wait I need to ignore the demons,
Put myself in a place,
Where I draw a list backing up,
The reason why I would succeed,
And completely a failure,
At coming up with reasons why I would fail,
Two lists,
One success,
Two attitudes,
Two lists,
It's just how creative you are on creating which one?
And one of them has the incentive of happiness,
Hand me utopia any day,
Give everyone out of the Forbes list Depression,
And Johnies awful jeans too,
Cause they too are depressing.
Do you want Billy's glasses too?
Those ugly glasses shouldn't be associated with that list!
Then it's hard to win.
When the demon is within,
All it does is kill and destroy.
The demon is negative.
I went through Forbes a while ago,
Forbes is the place where John Grisham was,
Once next to Bill Gates.
But not too close,
Don't think I want to be John Grisham though,
The last time I read his novels was a century ago,
And if I want to be him I would have to skip law school,
And I am not going to quit,
Besides the jeans he wears are as old as suits,
Eighteenth century old,
Like suits are,
Yeah, suits were invented in the eighteenth century,
They haven't changed since then,
Jeans have,
And his haven't,
But he was on Forbes once,
It's been a while now,
I haven't been myself for a while,
For weeks actually,
Thank heavens I have had love to distract me,
From my troubles,
But come to look at it,
Life is always the same,
Sometimes it's just how you look at it,
The most outstanding characteristics of most on that list,
The list John and Billy are one,
John the one of the old jeans
Is that on those lists they are on,
if you sat down all those successful people,
And asked them to write a list of fifty reasons,
Why they might succeed in what they are doing,
Then asked the to write a list of fifty reasons,
Why they would fail in what they are doing,
Every successful person,
Will outdo the fifty reasons why they would succeed,
And under do to less than ten the reasons why they would not.
For the last three weeks or something,
I have had a longer list of reasons why I wouldn't succeed,
And am a person who sees the glass half filled.
You can try to argue out that the best business person,
Is the person that anticipates risks,
But when you see more risks than opportunity,
Their is no way you will kiss that girl you like,
Then you will not see competition as a chance to advertise,
Perhaps even get more sales now,
You will see it as a chance to coil up,
Run scared and sit down in the office worrying yourself to failure,
Bury yourself in your own worries,
I have come to realize than days aren't as different,
They are more the same,
Their is always a problem here,
And an opportunity there,
Same day.
Even when an economy is crumbling down,
Where do you think the money goes?
Do people burn it so that it is less?
Oil prices are running up to the skies,
Wise engineers are selling Kompressor engines faster,
Electricity bills are hitting hearts like gun bullets,
Solar-sourced electricity companies are having a field day,
It's like all days are the same,
I meet relatively the same weather everyday,
The same roads,
But my mind and my heart change everything,
I sleep really late and wake up too early,
Am tired the whole day weak and noisy like a bitch,
With the rest of the world upset at everything,
The shilling is losing value at an alarming rate,
There were guys who cashed up on that,
And who will anticipate a profit in such tragedy,
The next time it happens.
Cause they have learnt from this one.
But today I was the guy at the bank,
Waiting in line screaming and worrying like a bitch,
In my head not with my mouth,
The demons that destroy opportunity,
Were so loud,
"are you cashing in dollars now?"
"This is a good time."
And I was thinking the cashier was overstepping.
She is not the reason why money is value less!
For heaven sake Bobby chill out!
I can't kiss her if I can't walk up to her,
How will I kiss success if I don't walk up to it,
I can bitch on how everything isn't right or ready,
But am bitching from here and she is there,
I am here and my success is there,
I can't reach it cause I am seeing the river,
And not seeing my swimming skills,
How can I kiss the girl a meter away,
When am thinking about the risks of walking,
It's just walking dammit!
She is right there,
Success is right there.
If I only thought of her lips,
And not the walking so much,
If I only thought of how I don't care if she will not kiss me,
And decided if it doesn't work their is the next one,
And my careless ness happened to seem like confidence to her,
It's always happier to think of the lips,
Than the destructive demons,
Cause with them I can't move,
I can't walk,
And I will not kiss the girl,
If she wanted to kiss me,
Or if she did not,
But if I walk,
She might want to kiss me,
Or she might not,
Who cares,
I will live,
I must kiss success,
I need to fight these demons,
No wait I need to ignore the demons,
Put myself in a place,
Where I draw a list backing up,
The reason why I would succeed,
And completely a failure,
At coming up with reasons why I would fail,
Two lists,
One success,
Two attitudes,
Two lists,
It's just how creative you are on creating which one?
And one of them has the incentive of happiness,
Hand me utopia any day,
Give everyone out of the Forbes list Depression,
And Johnies awful jeans too,
Cause they too are depressing.
Do you want Billy's glasses too?
Those ugly glasses shouldn't be associated with that list!
Tuesday 27 September 2011
Recipe a Bad Date
There I was, young at age, just a few months out of high school. Still amused by how easy it gets to date when you grow a little older. Your freedom becomes a little wider. Women become a little wider on the parts that make your shorts a little wider. Life is truly like wine.
Their I was, tasting wine, ready to taste her lips. I felt funny inside cause it was a blind date. Blind dates feel embarrassing to me even to today, but I guess since times have changed, we should change with them too. They are blind dates, yes they are, even when you exchange a million photos.
Their is always something you will not have anticipated, with blind dates, their is always something, like once, she was fine, but she had an off smell, which wasn't perfume. I almost cried for her, when I realized it was natural. At another time, she had bad smell, but this one, was just bad perfume. Some other time, she looked beautiful on her photos, but she wasn't in person. At least she had such a good camera. At another time, she was a pig, she ate. Then their was this one, she was as tall as embarrassment, literally three times taller than me, and two times taller than the tallest person you know. I have never had a problem with my height, but that day I had to. I almost had to stretch my hand in the air to shake hers.
It was a bad date at the start, it was Sunday afternoon, my place had a power black out. KPLC, was bad news even then. I was hungry too. I had slept for almost three days in a row, my phone was low on charge, so even chatting was not an option. As frustrating as that date would be, I knew I had no other place to go. So I got my jacket out, put it on the seat, and wore a smile.
"You look lovely"
I said. She smiled casually, and took a seat right opposite me. It didn't take five minutes to realize that she was like a Kiswahili teacher, she was a student, but was as boring as that. She didn't laugh. Boring chics laugh, it makes them seem interesting. So I started laughing at pointless things like a mad man, laughter is infectious. She laughed too. She was ready for plan B.
If I sat their waiting for pizza with her, and I was the only one talking, she was just listening, not engaging, not objecting, not laughing not smiling, just being a stone, I would be bored to a bad mood.
I wasn't going to let her know where I was taking her. Plan B was to be a surprise, I couldn't take No for an answer. So I didn't give opportunity for a No. She was laughing, therefore as slippery as butter.
It's always easier, to remove a pack of Rubber as a surprise, next to a bed rather than, remove a pack of Rubber at a restaurant. She might not just go with it. I was recipe-ing a bad date.I wasn't going to remove Rubber in the restaurant. I was going to surprise her.
I wasn't going to ask her,
"do you want to go?"
So that she has an opportunity to say No. Then what? Yeah? Then what? Then what if she said No?
I was going to take her, and when we got there she would know. It would be harder to say No. The temptation would be right in front of her. If she would refuse, which I strongly doubt she would, she was already laughing wasn't she? But if she would refuse I would ask her.
"Then what? You want us to go back to the Pizza place? Then what? Yeah, tell me then what?"
Then she would just accept the temptation. Whether it was the cinema or rubber. It's a surprise, and surprises are not question. They are surprises, the recipe to bad dates.
It was the most awkward walk of my life. She was so tall it was like she was talking to the clouds, and I was talking to the trees. We were trying to talk to each other, and it was simply fruitless, effortlessly fruitless.
But I knew what I wanted, it was damage control for a bad date. The damage control was the Cinema. Then I would not have to talk. She would not have to talk. We would watch the movie.
I stopped walking the entrance. She followed my lead.
"You want us to watch a movie?"
A movie is equal to kissing and touching, no exchange of words, their is food, and entertainment is passive. The screen will entertain her on my behalf, it would entertain me on her behalf. I will laugh, she will laugh, I will cry, she will cry, we will enjoy, she will enjoy, it would be a perfect date.
We got pop corns, she was standing at a distance away from me. More accurately I was standing away from her. She was beautiful that was a given, but we were a ridiculous pair. I love tall girls, even inches taller than me, but a kilometer taller. No way. What if in bed I reach up to her stomach instead of her neck, shoulder or lip?
"Do you want anything else?"
"No, that's okay"
The shop attendant chuckled. Is he serious that girl is so tall? Is she serious that guy is totally not fit for him? Or was he thinking. Heavens, that guy must have game, such a tall beautiful girl.
She was breath taking by the way. Breath taking girls mostly have no personality, all they have to do is sit there and look pretty, like a stone, or a beautiful sculpture. Sometimes, most times, that's all they have to offer. When you get bored. They just breath in air into their lungs, and then you are reminded of their chest. Their bosom. It's like a shot of energy to entertain them more. You want to get between them don't you?
Plain girls however, have personality most times. Trying to save a date by going to a movie is not an option. When they call you, you pause the Telly and listen to them, cause they are more entertainment. I guess adaptation is a fair trait.
The shop attendant chuckled, I hoped he chuckled thinking I had such enormous charm. That's the thought that made me feel nice. So I took that thought and put it in my pocket. He handed me the Pepsi, the pop corns and the Crisps. He also handed me a wink. That looked like a thumbs up. He definitely was proud of me. I walked with that thought, and the thumbs up. I wouldn't disappoint him.
We walked in. When we got into the cinema, I liked her more. Mostly cause it was dark. And the world would not stare at us funny. When we sat down, I even liked her more than I liked her standing, we were the same height. She wasn't talking to the clouds, as I was talking to the trees. We were talking to each other, and our lips were close. Could be close if I wanted to.
She was entertained, she was happy. She was willing, she looked at me with eyes to beg me to do something. Touch her, kiss her, ask her to touch me, kiss me. She was willing. And the movie was turning interesting. But the movie was turning interesting.
I forgot I was supposed to make the shop attendant proud. He had winked at me, almost given me a thumbs up. But I loved the movie. From the corner of my eye. I could see her with the Pepsi in her hand, looking at me, almost asking me to do something. Why else would she look at me while an interesting movie played on the screen. She was waiting for something.
I kept telling myself I will do something, but when I was about to, the actors got more believable, the plot in the movie took a turn, a twist, my attention was sealed on the screen.
People stood up. The music played. The lights turned on. It was over, it was too late. I hadn't done anything. I felt a little empty, I hadn't gotten some. The hole was quickly filled with the small whispers from everyone happy about the blissful ending. It was a good day to be at the cinema.
We were back on the streets. People were walking home from work. We were walking out from a place of entertainment. They were rushing, we were calm.
"That was awesome"
"yes, I loved it."
"thanks"
"so where are you off to?"
before we got inside, it had been so hot it was disgusting and tiring. It must have rained the whole time we were inside, at the cinema you don't experience weather like those outside. Thanks to the rain, it was cooler now and the air more pleasant. No dust just freshness. It had stopped raining a while back their was evidence to that, the roads were more grey and cleaner from the down pour. The sun was about to set. It was the mood that called for kissing and taking someone home. For company, for pleasure. For enjoyment.
"Am going this way."
"am going the other way"
She wasnt in a hurry to leave, she had hope in her eyes. She still wanted something. She hoped I would do something.
We hugged. She went her way. I went my way. Then I made the bad decision of going throw my Facebook. I unfriended her as I walked in trying to keep warm in my dark blue jumper. People passed me as I walked. But no one I was walking in the same direction with passed me. I guess I was fast. I saw beautiful women, that I would love to know, random ones walking towards and passed me on the same street. Most times you see good things and let them pass. Beautiful women. I erased her number from my phone.
It's been years, I cant remember her name, besides she is the kind to use 'Baby Sweetcheeks' as her user name. I walk the streets at the end of the day. I search the faces of the beautiful women that pass me. I can't remember her face. But I still search. She wanted me, she was willing. We wouldn't be more than lovers, but my life would be more interesting if I took her home. We would have stopped sexing some time. Probably when I feel in love with someone else. But we would text even after that.
I walk the streets, searching the faces of very beautiful women I wish I could know. But I can't. You can only admire, wish and let them pass. Mostly cause they are strangers, beautiful strangers but also cause...
She wanted me, she was willing, and I erased her from my life. I never gave her a chance.
Their I was, tasting wine, ready to taste her lips. I felt funny inside cause it was a blind date. Blind dates feel embarrassing to me even to today, but I guess since times have changed, we should change with them too. They are blind dates, yes they are, even when you exchange a million photos.
Their is always something you will not have anticipated, with blind dates, their is always something, like once, she was fine, but she had an off smell, which wasn't perfume. I almost cried for her, when I realized it was natural. At another time, she had bad smell, but this one, was just bad perfume. Some other time, she looked beautiful on her photos, but she wasn't in person. At least she had such a good camera. At another time, she was a pig, she ate. Then their was this one, she was as tall as embarrassment, literally three times taller than me, and two times taller than the tallest person you know. I have never had a problem with my height, but that day I had to. I almost had to stretch my hand in the air to shake hers.
It was a bad date at the start, it was Sunday afternoon, my place had a power black out. KPLC, was bad news even then. I was hungry too. I had slept for almost three days in a row, my phone was low on charge, so even chatting was not an option. As frustrating as that date would be, I knew I had no other place to go. So I got my jacket out, put it on the seat, and wore a smile.
"You look lovely"
I said. She smiled casually, and took a seat right opposite me. It didn't take five minutes to realize that she was like a Kiswahili teacher, she was a student, but was as boring as that. She didn't laugh. Boring chics laugh, it makes them seem interesting. So I started laughing at pointless things like a mad man, laughter is infectious. She laughed too. She was ready for plan B.
If I sat their waiting for pizza with her, and I was the only one talking, she was just listening, not engaging, not objecting, not laughing not smiling, just being a stone, I would be bored to a bad mood.
I wasn't going to let her know where I was taking her. Plan B was to be a surprise, I couldn't take No for an answer. So I didn't give opportunity for a No. She was laughing, therefore as slippery as butter.
It's always easier, to remove a pack of Rubber as a surprise, next to a bed rather than, remove a pack of Rubber at a restaurant. She might not just go with it. I was recipe-ing a bad date.I wasn't going to remove Rubber in the restaurant. I was going to surprise her.
I wasn't going to ask her,
"do you want to go?"
So that she has an opportunity to say No. Then what? Yeah? Then what? Then what if she said No?
I was going to take her, and when we got there she would know. It would be harder to say No. The temptation would be right in front of her. If she would refuse, which I strongly doubt she would, she was already laughing wasn't she? But if she would refuse I would ask her.
"Then what? You want us to go back to the Pizza place? Then what? Yeah, tell me then what?"
Then she would just accept the temptation. Whether it was the cinema or rubber. It's a surprise, and surprises are not question. They are surprises, the recipe to bad dates.
It was the most awkward walk of my life. She was so tall it was like she was talking to the clouds, and I was talking to the trees. We were trying to talk to each other, and it was simply fruitless, effortlessly fruitless.
But I knew what I wanted, it was damage control for a bad date. The damage control was the Cinema. Then I would not have to talk. She would not have to talk. We would watch the movie.
I stopped walking the entrance. She followed my lead.
"You want us to watch a movie?"
A movie is equal to kissing and touching, no exchange of words, their is food, and entertainment is passive. The screen will entertain her on my behalf, it would entertain me on her behalf. I will laugh, she will laugh, I will cry, she will cry, we will enjoy, she will enjoy, it would be a perfect date.
We got pop corns, she was standing at a distance away from me. More accurately I was standing away from her. She was beautiful that was a given, but we were a ridiculous pair. I love tall girls, even inches taller than me, but a kilometer taller. No way. What if in bed I reach up to her stomach instead of her neck, shoulder or lip?
"Do you want anything else?"
"No, that's okay"
The shop attendant chuckled. Is he serious that girl is so tall? Is she serious that guy is totally not fit for him? Or was he thinking. Heavens, that guy must have game, such a tall beautiful girl.
She was breath taking by the way. Breath taking girls mostly have no personality, all they have to do is sit there and look pretty, like a stone, or a beautiful sculpture. Sometimes, most times, that's all they have to offer. When you get bored. They just breath in air into their lungs, and then you are reminded of their chest. Their bosom. It's like a shot of energy to entertain them more. You want to get between them don't you?
Plain girls however, have personality most times. Trying to save a date by going to a movie is not an option. When they call you, you pause the Telly and listen to them, cause they are more entertainment. I guess adaptation is a fair trait.
The shop attendant chuckled, I hoped he chuckled thinking I had such enormous charm. That's the thought that made me feel nice. So I took that thought and put it in my pocket. He handed me the Pepsi, the pop corns and the Crisps. He also handed me a wink. That looked like a thumbs up. He definitely was proud of me. I walked with that thought, and the thumbs up. I wouldn't disappoint him.
We walked in. When we got into the cinema, I liked her more. Mostly cause it was dark. And the world would not stare at us funny. When we sat down, I even liked her more than I liked her standing, we were the same height. She wasn't talking to the clouds, as I was talking to the trees. We were talking to each other, and our lips were close. Could be close if I wanted to.
She was entertained, she was happy. She was willing, she looked at me with eyes to beg me to do something. Touch her, kiss her, ask her to touch me, kiss me. She was willing. And the movie was turning interesting. But the movie was turning interesting.
I forgot I was supposed to make the shop attendant proud. He had winked at me, almost given me a thumbs up. But I loved the movie. From the corner of my eye. I could see her with the Pepsi in her hand, looking at me, almost asking me to do something. Why else would she look at me while an interesting movie played on the screen. She was waiting for something.
I kept telling myself I will do something, but when I was about to, the actors got more believable, the plot in the movie took a turn, a twist, my attention was sealed on the screen.
People stood up. The music played. The lights turned on. It was over, it was too late. I hadn't done anything. I felt a little empty, I hadn't gotten some. The hole was quickly filled with the small whispers from everyone happy about the blissful ending. It was a good day to be at the cinema.
We were back on the streets. People were walking home from work. We were walking out from a place of entertainment. They were rushing, we were calm.
"That was awesome"
"yes, I loved it."
"thanks"
"so where are you off to?"
before we got inside, it had been so hot it was disgusting and tiring. It must have rained the whole time we were inside, at the cinema you don't experience weather like those outside. Thanks to the rain, it was cooler now and the air more pleasant. No dust just freshness. It had stopped raining a while back their was evidence to that, the roads were more grey and cleaner from the down pour. The sun was about to set. It was the mood that called for kissing and taking someone home. For company, for pleasure. For enjoyment.
"Am going this way."
"am going the other way"
She wasnt in a hurry to leave, she had hope in her eyes. She still wanted something. She hoped I would do something.
We hugged. She went her way. I went my way. Then I made the bad decision of going throw my Facebook. I unfriended her as I walked in trying to keep warm in my dark blue jumper. People passed me as I walked. But no one I was walking in the same direction with passed me. I guess I was fast. I saw beautiful women, that I would love to know, random ones walking towards and passed me on the same street. Most times you see good things and let them pass. Beautiful women. I erased her number from my phone.
It's been years, I cant remember her name, besides she is the kind to use 'Baby Sweetcheeks' as her user name. I walk the streets at the end of the day. I search the faces of the beautiful women that pass me. I can't remember her face. But I still search. She wanted me, she was willing. We wouldn't be more than lovers, but my life would be more interesting if I took her home. We would have stopped sexing some time. Probably when I feel in love with someone else. But we would text even after that.
I walk the streets, searching the faces of very beautiful women I wish I could know. But I can't. You can only admire, wish and let them pass. Mostly cause they are strangers, beautiful strangers but also cause...
She wanted me, she was willing, and I erased her from my life. I never gave her a chance.
Monday 26 September 2011
Cheers for Creating the Top
Am here already,
If only I could open my eyes,
And see all that is around me,
I have tried to get here for a while now,
And now am here I can feel it,
I can taste it,
I wish I could enjoy it better,
I will enjoy it,
I feel it in my gut,
The bliss that comes with it,
Instead of worrying too much about how better it could be,
Am trying to tell myself to relax,
That I am here now,
After running that much,
For all those days,
Am trying to tell myself to relax,
To sit back,
Am finally at the top,
But the top is never the top,
For anyone who is top,
The top keeps shifting,
Further and further up,
I know one day very soon,
I will enjoy where I am better,
I can almost smell it like you smell freedom,
We finally made it,
We are finally here,
At the peak of everything,
And we want to move up higher,
Cause their is no other place to go,
We cannot stay where we are,
Cause we are made in a away that we only enjoy moving,
Who likes to be on a stagnant horse,
We want the horse to run,
The speed that thrills,
I can't stay stagnant,
I want to move up,
But I want to realize too,
That where I am today,
Should be enjoyed,
Take a moment seat back sip something nice,
For a while and enjoy for a minute,
Then wait for next morning,
And go back to running,
To the top,
Where all nice things belong,
Aren't I nice,
Don't I deserve the top,
It's fun,
The fruits are big and sweetly luscious,
Everyone stares and wonders,
From down,
Some even envy,
Isn't the top the best place to be,
It's morning already,
And I am ready to run faster than everything else,
Their is some magic out of sweating,
Engaging every part of my being into motion,
That people not at the top don't realize,
A healthy addiction,
Addiction used in the same sentence as healthy,
Now that's blissful,
Their is something magical about motion,
That people at the top realize exclusively,
Frustrate me into the misery of running,
In the morning I know I will run,
And when evening comes I will try,
To sit down relax and enjoy,
This far I have come,
Watch as my heart beats to the pleasure,
I have created for myself,
It's a beautiful day,
Thanks to me,
Thanks to the heavens,
It's a beautiful day,
Thanks to me,
I created this,
I will have to create a way to enjoy it,
And create another peak,
Cause I am at the top today,
But I need to run up,
And since their is no up,
I will create my up,
Am not afraid of competition,
Mediocre is what is afraid of competition,
Am brave about the path I am on,
Cause I create the path sometimes,
I don't just ride on roads already made,
And I do it fast,
Like a shooting star,
I love the peak of everything,
Cause that's the only place I know,
My one way track.
We never let ourselves down,
It's a beautiful day,
Cause we am here,
It will be a beautiful day tomorrow,
Cause we will be there.
A toast to me,
For getting to the top,
A toast to us,
For having to create the top,
A toast to us,
For creating the top.
If only I could open my eyes,
And see all that is around me,
I have tried to get here for a while now,
And now am here I can feel it,
I can taste it,
I wish I could enjoy it better,
I will enjoy it,
I feel it in my gut,
The bliss that comes with it,
Instead of worrying too much about how better it could be,
Am trying to tell myself to relax,
That I am here now,
After running that much,
For all those days,
Am trying to tell myself to relax,
To sit back,
Am finally at the top,
But the top is never the top,
For anyone who is top,
The top keeps shifting,
Further and further up,
I know one day very soon,
I will enjoy where I am better,
I can almost smell it like you smell freedom,
We finally made it,
We are finally here,
At the peak of everything,
And we want to move up higher,
Cause their is no other place to go,
We cannot stay where we are,
Cause we are made in a away that we only enjoy moving,
Who likes to be on a stagnant horse,
We want the horse to run,
The speed that thrills,
I can't stay stagnant,
I want to move up,
But I want to realize too,
That where I am today,
Should be enjoyed,
Take a moment seat back sip something nice,
For a while and enjoy for a minute,
Then wait for next morning,
And go back to running,
To the top,
Where all nice things belong,
Aren't I nice,
Don't I deserve the top,
It's fun,
The fruits are big and sweetly luscious,
Everyone stares and wonders,
From down,
Some even envy,
Isn't the top the best place to be,
It's morning already,
And I am ready to run faster than everything else,
Their is some magic out of sweating,
Engaging every part of my being into motion,
That people not at the top don't realize,
A healthy addiction,
Addiction used in the same sentence as healthy,
Now that's blissful,
Their is something magical about motion,
That people at the top realize exclusively,
Frustrate me into the misery of running,
In the morning I know I will run,
And when evening comes I will try,
To sit down relax and enjoy,
This far I have come,
Watch as my heart beats to the pleasure,
I have created for myself,
It's a beautiful day,
Thanks to me,
Thanks to the heavens,
It's a beautiful day,
Thanks to me,
I created this,
I will have to create a way to enjoy it,
And create another peak,
Cause I am at the top today,
But I need to run up,
And since their is no up,
I will create my up,
Am not afraid of competition,
Mediocre is what is afraid of competition,
Am brave about the path I am on,
Cause I create the path sometimes,
I don't just ride on roads already made,
And I do it fast,
Like a shooting star,
I love the peak of everything,
Cause that's the only place I know,
My one way track.
We never let ourselves down,
It's a beautiful day,
Cause we am here,
It will be a beautiful day tomorrow,
Cause we will be there.
A toast to me,
For getting to the top,
A toast to us,
For having to create the top,
A toast to us,
For creating the top.
You Need To Go Out More
I wanted kids,
I told her,
I wanted kids from her,
I told her that all the time,
But she wouldn't listen.
You have to shower I told her,
Not with the rain like you like to,
Every time it rains there she was,
Playing outside then running inside the house,
To soil everything even the carpet with rain.
That carpet is fixed stedfast on the floor,
It runs permanently from wall to wall,
You can't remove it and clean it,
It's not like my white khaki pants,
That needs just a little detergent to restore then to white.
But she is a lover of life,
She is white,
She loves to feel the rain on her skin.
You will not get kids if you don't shower...
She swore never to shower herself,
Unless of course it's in the rain,
Even when the shampoo she used was gentle on her,
She still complained about the water.
You have to smell nice,
And when she agreed,
She started to look attractive,
Clean and beautiful,
She even shaved a bit so that she could get appeal.
I was happy for her,
She was going to get kids at that rate.
Then problem came when I realized she doesn't go out much,
I tried to plead with her to go for walks with me,
I tried to make her at least get out of the house to buy food,
Instead of sending someone to go buy it for her,
At least she could meet someone out there.
How will you meet anyone while all you do is stay in the house?
I tried to convince her to go to her doctors,
Maybe there she could get picked up,
Perhaps even have a one night stand.
I tried to get her into the car,
She refused.
I tried to ask her to go out to clubs,
But unfortunately she was underage,
So there was no way she would be let in,
She was barely ten but mature in all ways.
One day I got her into the car,
I drove her for a bit,
And she kept complaining of the awful smell of petrol,
I gave her milk immediately after.
Poor thing!
How do you expect to get laid while all you do is sit here on tv,
She didn't have a social life to start with,
You got to be out there,
Anywhere,
We tried Facebook,
We uploaded her photos,
Yeah, you guessed right!
She wasn't focused at all at the whole process,
All she would do is play around in the back yard,
Never posing for a photo.
We are not playing,
We are trying to get you laid,
I tried to tell her.
How will you get laid when you aren't around men even?
At least be around a couple that's where to start!
She just stared at the camera tilted her head,
She looks so cute trying to understand how it works.
It was definitely a machine more complex than the golf balls she used to steal,
And run around with as I played in the back yard,
I hooked her up with another dog eventually,
Cause that's what friends do.
They get their friends laid,
They hook them up behind their back,
And make them believe it was all their charm.
I hooked her up with another dog eventually.
They first fought together,
You know how it goes,
Dogs are very territorial,
Especially Scuffy my most playful dog,
She is smaller and fluffier than the guy dog,
A million times prettier and brighter,
She has personality,
There are things she loves and things she hates,
She loves to run even when you don't chase her,
Runs vigorously,
She hates televisions and mirrors cause they reflect her,
She doesn't know the reflection on the tv is her,
And she hates them.
When she comes looking for me in my room,
Then stares at my Telly,
In a few seconds I know she will bark her lungs out,
Did I tell you she is very territorial?
I almost hate that about her.
But problem is that I love her helplessly.
Unlike other dogs she loves water so much,
she almost drinks water out of flower pots,
but I make sure the guard feeds her with enough water,
Otherwise she might get a stomach ache from sipping muddy water.
I got her a guy to shag her into expectancy,
When he came they fought
After the fighting over territory,
I think chemistry set in.
I wasn't the first to know about her pregnancy,
I felt betrayed by her.
I got to learn about it the hard way.
The vet said she had a miscarriage.
And the complications of everything made her sick.
She is still at the vets,
She has been there for a while now.
He is taking care of her.
Please pray Scuffy gets better.
"she is strong courageous and intelligent,"
"beautiful sweet and passionate,"
"she loves play more than work"
I love her cause she warms my heart and all else,
She teaches me how to live sometimes,
And can read my heart so to cheer me up.
I have been afraid to got see her at the vets,
Cause the vet speaks on the phone with a low tone.
Please pray she gets better,
I miss how she chases a whole herd of bulls,
Makes sure they don't eat the grass where I play golf on.
While she is just as tall as their ankle,
"please get better Scuffy"
The big Pork Dog Sausage is waiting for you in the fridge,
I know you love it mixed with milk.
I don't mind if you run away with the golf balls,
Hide them in your house.
Try to understand that Fetch is a game where humans throw a ball,
Not the dog,
The humans throw the ball,
And you fetch it,
You fetch it all right,
Then you expect me to fetch it too.
I understand you want equality,
Sometimes I will fetch the ball like you like me to do,
And I will not get mad.
But you got to promise to get better and come back home first.
"please get better Scuffy"
I told her,
I wanted kids from her,
I told her that all the time,
But she wouldn't listen.
You have to shower I told her,
Not with the rain like you like to,
Every time it rains there she was,
Playing outside then running inside the house,
To soil everything even the carpet with rain.
That carpet is fixed stedfast on the floor,
It runs permanently from wall to wall,
You can't remove it and clean it,
It's not like my white khaki pants,
That needs just a little detergent to restore then to white.
But she is a lover of life,
She is white,
She loves to feel the rain on her skin.
You will not get kids if you don't shower...
She swore never to shower herself,
Unless of course it's in the rain,
Even when the shampoo she used was gentle on her,
She still complained about the water.
You have to smell nice,
And when she agreed,
She started to look attractive,
Clean and beautiful,
She even shaved a bit so that she could get appeal.
I was happy for her,
She was going to get kids at that rate.
Then problem came when I realized she doesn't go out much,
I tried to plead with her to go for walks with me,
I tried to make her at least get out of the house to buy food,
Instead of sending someone to go buy it for her,
At least she could meet someone out there.
How will you meet anyone while all you do is stay in the house?
I tried to convince her to go to her doctors,
Maybe there she could get picked up,
Perhaps even have a one night stand.
I tried to get her into the car,
She refused.
I tried to ask her to go out to clubs,
But unfortunately she was underage,
So there was no way she would be let in,
She was barely ten but mature in all ways.
One day I got her into the car,
I drove her for a bit,
And she kept complaining of the awful smell of petrol,
I gave her milk immediately after.
Poor thing!
How do you expect to get laid while all you do is sit here on tv,
She didn't have a social life to start with,
You got to be out there,
Anywhere,
We tried Facebook,
We uploaded her photos,
Yeah, you guessed right!
She wasn't focused at all at the whole process,
All she would do is play around in the back yard,
Never posing for a photo.
We are not playing,
We are trying to get you laid,
I tried to tell her.
How will you get laid when you aren't around men even?
At least be around a couple that's where to start!
She just stared at the camera tilted her head,
She looks so cute trying to understand how it works.
It was definitely a machine more complex than the golf balls she used to steal,
And run around with as I played in the back yard,
I hooked her up with another dog eventually,
Cause that's what friends do.
They get their friends laid,
They hook them up behind their back,
And make them believe it was all their charm.
I hooked her up with another dog eventually.
They first fought together,
You know how it goes,
Dogs are very territorial,
Especially Scuffy my most playful dog,
She is smaller and fluffier than the guy dog,
A million times prettier and brighter,
She has personality,
There are things she loves and things she hates,
She loves to run even when you don't chase her,
Runs vigorously,
She hates televisions and mirrors cause they reflect her,
She doesn't know the reflection on the tv is her,
And she hates them.
When she comes looking for me in my room,
Then stares at my Telly,
In a few seconds I know she will bark her lungs out,
Did I tell you she is very territorial?
I almost hate that about her.
But problem is that I love her helplessly.
Unlike other dogs she loves water so much,
she almost drinks water out of flower pots,
but I make sure the guard feeds her with enough water,
Otherwise she might get a stomach ache from sipping muddy water.
I got her a guy to shag her into expectancy,
When he came they fought
After the fighting over territory,
I think chemistry set in.
I wasn't the first to know about her pregnancy,
I felt betrayed by her.
I got to learn about it the hard way.
The vet said she had a miscarriage.
And the complications of everything made her sick.
She is still at the vets,
She has been there for a while now.
He is taking care of her.
Please pray Scuffy gets better.
"she is strong courageous and intelligent,"
"beautiful sweet and passionate,"
"she loves play more than work"
I love her cause she warms my heart and all else,
She teaches me how to live sometimes,
And can read my heart so to cheer me up.
I have been afraid to got see her at the vets,
Cause the vet speaks on the phone with a low tone.
Please pray she gets better,
I miss how she chases a whole herd of bulls,
Makes sure they don't eat the grass where I play golf on.
While she is just as tall as their ankle,
"please get better Scuffy"
The big Pork Dog Sausage is waiting for you in the fridge,
I know you love it mixed with milk.
I don't mind if you run away with the golf balls,
Hide them in your house.
Try to understand that Fetch is a game where humans throw a ball,
Not the dog,
The humans throw the ball,
And you fetch it,
You fetch it all right,
Then you expect me to fetch it too.
I understand you want equality,
Sometimes I will fetch the ball like you like me to do,
And I will not get mad.
But you got to promise to get better and come back home first.
"please get better Scuffy"
Thursday 22 September 2011
Raw and Sour
Why do I forget you,
My sweet consoling words,
Why do I forget you?
You are my therapy,
You are my way out,
I am having hard evenings,
I am trying almost everything,
To be happy,
To keep my head up,
To think happy thoughts,
To look forward,
To laugh.
But where is my smile?
I can't see it,
Where is joy,
I can't feel it,
Where is hope,
I am trying to look at it but it's not clear.
When tragedy sets in,
Love comes in full measure,
From a lot of people,
But for a while,
Then they all leave and forget,
But you are stuck with the memories,
And all you want to do is revenge,
You want justice.
Then other issues come up,
Beyond your comprehension,
You don't know from where they come,
But they are there,
Your body starts to shake,
And you feel comfortable watching it shake,
You feel maybe it's something unclean that has gotten in you,
Then you put your bible next to you as you sleep,
You say countless prayers,
Hoping that it will make up for all the days,
You havent been speaking to Heaven.
You switch on the lights,
Cause you can't sleep off with them,
At least not when you are shaking like you do,
And you do not know what's the deal,
It gets to a point you wish that it was a disease,
Probably something to do with depression or an over active brain.
But then you ask the doctor,
And he tell you it is stress or lack of sleep,
Lack of enough food,
You haven't been eating well,
You haven't been sleeping enough,
But have you?
Or it's the caffeine in coffee that causes the tremors?
Then you start to obsess over small things,
Like work,
And it's all you can think about,
The escape you seek,
But it doesn't stop the tremors you feel inside.
You start not liking who you are becoming,
Keeping to yourself,
Not returning calls,
You force yourself to do what you are supposed to do,
What you have planned to do when you feel like that,
Ignore what you feel,
Keep to the path,
I am ready for it,
Take all the sadness in the world,
And I will live with it,
Take all the depression in the world,
And I will stay with it,
Whether it makes sense to me or not I will fight,
I will close my eyes and sleep cause I will need to wake up in the morning,
I will pray until I bleed to beg for angels to be sent from heaven,
To sleep around me,
To watch my bed.
I don't want to fight with the ghosts I seem to imagine in my room,
At night when lights are off,
I will stick to the plan,
I will rise above all,
I will not give up,
Smile at the ones I love,
Sit with them and talk politics,
Turn the pages on the books,
Enjoy a movie or two,
Stick to the plan until this disease is out,
Until I feel inspired and fly in total bliss.
But I am afraid of telling her these things,
The girl I love,
Why should I put her through all this,
I can't be seen to be crying the whole night,
I can't be seen to be the guy who sleeps with lights on,
And a Bible at his bed side,
Afraid of ghost but they might just be a disease,
That causes me to feel to much,
But am not even sure of that,
But it's always good to fight something you know,
It's comforting,
So I would rather just name it like psychiatrists do,
If I dont what will I be fighting against,
Something I can't explain,
You would hate what you know,
The body language of science,
When you ask a doctor what causes the tremors,
And clearly you see that he doesn't know,
Or does he?
I can close my eyes and fake happiness,
I will force myself to fight with the struggles of everyday,
Cause I am not foolish,
I know if I give up now I will suffer later,
And I don't want to regret,
I want comfort and pride for good things,
A heart that has helped the world.
But what I am really afraid of is her,
She didn't sign up for this,
I can't be ruining her mood every night,
Sadness is contagious you know,
I don't catch mine from people,
I am the source of it,
If you were me you would realize the power of a joke,
Or a harty Laughter,
It really cools you down.
Baby I might forget to make you happy,
I might not smile as much,
But in this world I need someone who understands me,
Like the heavens do,
The heavens do I know,
But I can't see them really.
But you are here,
I love you,
Am afraid if I dont smile enough,
I will loose you,
No one want to be with someone,
Who bitches and smiles all the time.
I will not edit this,
Cause this is for you baby,
I don't want to edit my words,
Like the way I edit a frown into a smile for the world,
I want to be naked before you,
I hope I will remember to turn off the lights,
So that you do not see anything get depressed and leave,
No one deserves to be with me,
Am troubled and complicated.
I know you didn't sign up for this babes,
But if you would stick around it will mean everything,
The mind is weak it can forget to stick around,
I don't know about the heart.
I promise when I am in bliss I will not forget you,
I will remember the nights we spent keeping me afloat,
You will remember my unedited words,
And I will pour bliss on you like an ocean,
You will drown in pleasurable bliss,
I will make you so happy you might think you are insane,
Cause when am happy that's how my happiness feels,
Insane,
And uncomprehendible ,
I will make you feel like the most blissful girl in the world.
Then you can show me a girl who is happier than you out there,
And if you find one which you wouldnt,
I will put on my swimming gear,
Swim to the deepest ocean to look for happiness for you,
Get a rope and climb the highest mountain until you are blissful,
Heck, I will even go fetch you the moon,
But if I find out you want the world instead,
I will take you to the moon,
We will sit next to each other on it,
I will tie a knot like a cowboy does,
Throw it into the universe until it catches the world,
Then with all my might I will pull the world to where we are,
And put it in your hand,
Then you will have no doubt,
When I tell you,
No girl in the world,
In history, in present day and in future,
Will ever know bliss from a man,
As much as you will.
Sent from my iPad
My sweet consoling words,
Why do I forget you?
You are my therapy,
You are my way out,
I am having hard evenings,
I am trying almost everything,
To be happy,
To keep my head up,
To think happy thoughts,
To look forward,
To laugh.
But where is my smile?
I can't see it,
Where is joy,
I can't feel it,
Where is hope,
I am trying to look at it but it's not clear.
When tragedy sets in,
Love comes in full measure,
From a lot of people,
But for a while,
Then they all leave and forget,
But you are stuck with the memories,
And all you want to do is revenge,
You want justice.
Then other issues come up,
Beyond your comprehension,
You don't know from where they come,
But they are there,
Your body starts to shake,
And you feel comfortable watching it shake,
You feel maybe it's something unclean that has gotten in you,
Then you put your bible next to you as you sleep,
You say countless prayers,
Hoping that it will make up for all the days,
You havent been speaking to Heaven.
You switch on the lights,
Cause you can't sleep off with them,
At least not when you are shaking like you do,
And you do not know what's the deal,
It gets to a point you wish that it was a disease,
Probably something to do with depression or an over active brain.
But then you ask the doctor,
And he tell you it is stress or lack of sleep,
Lack of enough food,
You haven't been eating well,
You haven't been sleeping enough,
But have you?
Or it's the caffeine in coffee that causes the tremors?
Then you start to obsess over small things,
Like work,
And it's all you can think about,
The escape you seek,
But it doesn't stop the tremors you feel inside.
You start not liking who you are becoming,
Keeping to yourself,
Not returning calls,
You force yourself to do what you are supposed to do,
What you have planned to do when you feel like that,
Ignore what you feel,
Keep to the path,
I am ready for it,
Take all the sadness in the world,
And I will live with it,
Take all the depression in the world,
And I will stay with it,
Whether it makes sense to me or not I will fight,
I will close my eyes and sleep cause I will need to wake up in the morning,
I will pray until I bleed to beg for angels to be sent from heaven,
To sleep around me,
To watch my bed.
I don't want to fight with the ghosts I seem to imagine in my room,
At night when lights are off,
I will stick to the plan,
I will rise above all,
I will not give up,
Smile at the ones I love,
Sit with them and talk politics,
Turn the pages on the books,
Enjoy a movie or two,
Stick to the plan until this disease is out,
Until I feel inspired and fly in total bliss.
But I am afraid of telling her these things,
The girl I love,
Why should I put her through all this,
I can't be seen to be crying the whole night,
I can't be seen to be the guy who sleeps with lights on,
And a Bible at his bed side,
Afraid of ghost but they might just be a disease,
That causes me to feel to much,
But am not even sure of that,
But it's always good to fight something you know,
It's comforting,
So I would rather just name it like psychiatrists do,
If I dont what will I be fighting against,
Something I can't explain,
You would hate what you know,
The body language of science,
When you ask a doctor what causes the tremors,
And clearly you see that he doesn't know,
Or does he?
I can close my eyes and fake happiness,
I will force myself to fight with the struggles of everyday,
Cause I am not foolish,
I know if I give up now I will suffer later,
And I don't want to regret,
I want comfort and pride for good things,
A heart that has helped the world.
But what I am really afraid of is her,
She didn't sign up for this,
I can't be ruining her mood every night,
Sadness is contagious you know,
I don't catch mine from people,
I am the source of it,
If you were me you would realize the power of a joke,
Or a harty Laughter,
It really cools you down.
Baby I might forget to make you happy,
I might not smile as much,
But in this world I need someone who understands me,
Like the heavens do,
The heavens do I know,
But I can't see them really.
But you are here,
I love you,
Am afraid if I dont smile enough,
I will loose you,
No one want to be with someone,
Who bitches and smiles all the time.
I will not edit this,
Cause this is for you baby,
I don't want to edit my words,
Like the way I edit a frown into a smile for the world,
I want to be naked before you,
I hope I will remember to turn off the lights,
So that you do not see anything get depressed and leave,
No one deserves to be with me,
Am troubled and complicated.
I know you didn't sign up for this babes,
But if you would stick around it will mean everything,
The mind is weak it can forget to stick around,
I don't know about the heart.
I promise when I am in bliss I will not forget you,
I will remember the nights we spent keeping me afloat,
You will remember my unedited words,
And I will pour bliss on you like an ocean,
You will drown in pleasurable bliss,
I will make you so happy you might think you are insane,
Cause when am happy that's how my happiness feels,
Insane,
And uncomprehendible ,
I will make you feel like the most blissful girl in the world.
Then you can show me a girl who is happier than you out there,
And if you find one which you wouldnt,
I will put on my swimming gear,
Swim to the deepest ocean to look for happiness for you,
Get a rope and climb the highest mountain until you are blissful,
Heck, I will even go fetch you the moon,
But if I find out you want the world instead,
I will take you to the moon,
We will sit next to each other on it,
I will tie a knot like a cowboy does,
Throw it into the universe until it catches the world,
Then with all my might I will pull the world to where we are,
And put it in your hand,
Then you will have no doubt,
When I tell you,
No girl in the world,
In history, in present day and in future,
Will ever know bliss from a man,
As much as you will.
Sent from my iPad
A Promiscuous Mind
Am of a very free mind,
If my mind was physical,
It would be like a fluid,
Carefully surrounding every bit of an idea,
If it was invisible,
You could feel its effects like you feel the wind,
It would be like light,
Intruding every space around.
Am of a free mind,
And my mind is as optimistic as madness,
At least sometimes,
When I am not as depressed as disease.
Am of a free mind,
I believe what makes logical sense in my mind,
Must be possible in reality,
I have zero torrelance for superstition,
I don't believe in the magic of things happening;
I do a little when it comes to love and other unexplainables,
But when it comes to such things as blog statistics,
Viewers comments,
When it comes to accomplishments,
And career growth,
To some extent even happiness,
I believe in rationality,
Cause-and-Effect,
Like the workings of a dialog watch,
This screw hits the next one,
Then hits the spring,
Turns the miniute hand,
Then the hour hand...
I am of an open mind,
If the Cause-and-Effect makes sense in my mind,
Like the turn of an ignition key to light up a car engine,
Like the spread of a bill board in the streets to boost sales,
If the Cause-and-Effect makes sense in my mind,
Then in Reality it should,
But sometimes it doesn't,
Like the comments of a blog post,
Sometimes the Cause-and-Effect in my mind doesn't fit into reality,
Like the girl in a mini skirt I suppose wants sex,
There are many factors,
That make the logical cause-and-effect in my mind utopia,
Like the inability to comment on this post via mobile phone,
Like the girl in the mini skirt uninterested in sex but interested in attention.
It's a dynamic complicated world we live in,
And I am just not about to generalize it,
by making such absurd statements such as,
"all girls are turned on by the same thing"
It kind of sounds like,
"the sun revolves round the earth"
Am a creature of an open mind,
My mind is the slut of ideas,
But I don't screw them until I assess them,
Even loose people don't jump into bed with some people,
Though they do with a crowd of everyone.
My mind is the Biggest slut of ideas,
Though I don't screw each one of them before I assess them.
But what I am most closed minded about,
What you shall never change my mind about is love,
The simple joy of family and the scent of a rose flower,
The mystery behind 'Practice makes Perfect',
I am a creature of a mind a complete slut to ideas,
But my mind will never sleep with the idea that,
"There is something impossible"
If it makes logical sense in my mind then it should in reality.
If asking questions at the end of a post is recommended to force out comments,
Then asking questions at the end of a post doesn't sprout out comments,
Then there has to be another way,
It might be the bipolar that diseases my mind with utopia,
But from past experience I have learnt that,
If you cannot run to the top of mount Kenya,
You can try walking,
You breath more comfortably and tire less,
Any logical idea like that in my mind is a possibility,
Whether it hold water in reality like it does in my mind I don't care,
I can spend my life trying to climb mount Kenya.
Probably the impossibility of it is the impossibility of a 'flying man,'
'Man cannot fly?'
I just flew to Mombasa the other day,
Mount Kenya is my destination,
The logistics as to how to get there are the problem,
But I am a creature of open mind,
I will try to walk up it if I can't,
I will try to run,
If I can't I will remember that 'man cannot fly,'
Get a plane!
And if I can't find a run-way for it,
I will wait a few more years for the guys who are inventing the Aeroscraft,
The ones who have total disregard for the belief that,
Planes need a run-way to fly,
I hope I will never be the man who gets turned by the realities of this world,
To be a believer that impossibility is rational,
Or to believe their is only one way up mount Kenya,
I hope to be open minded to all beliefs,
But the belief that impossibility exist,
And the myths about presidential-candidates-campaigns,
I want to find the cause and effect,
Like opinion polls,
The rationality of everything,
Then to be a creature of open mind,
Believe that we do not reach the peak of mount Kenya by myths,
We reach it by calculated strategies,
That to those that don't understand it generalize it as a myth,
I am a creature of open mind,
And I believe I can turn the ignition key,
And explode the views on this blog,
But I am also closed mind to a few things,
The pleasure gotten from a lovers kiss,
The emotions experienced from reading a poem,
The bond between friends,
The joy of family,
And the mystery of the One path to heaven!
If my mind was physical,
It would be like a fluid,
Carefully surrounding every bit of an idea,
If it was invisible,
You could feel its effects like you feel the wind,
It would be like light,
Intruding every space around.
Am of a free mind,
And my mind is as optimistic as madness,
At least sometimes,
When I am not as depressed as disease.
Am of a free mind,
I believe what makes logical sense in my mind,
Must be possible in reality,
I have zero torrelance for superstition,
I don't believe in the magic of things happening;
I do a little when it comes to love and other unexplainables,
But when it comes to such things as blog statistics,
Viewers comments,
When it comes to accomplishments,
And career growth,
To some extent even happiness,
I believe in rationality,
Cause-and-Effect,
Like the workings of a dialog watch,
This screw hits the next one,
Then hits the spring,
Turns the miniute hand,
Then the hour hand...
I am of an open mind,
If the Cause-and-Effect makes sense in my mind,
Like the turn of an ignition key to light up a car engine,
Like the spread of a bill board in the streets to boost sales,
If the Cause-and-Effect makes sense in my mind,
Then in Reality it should,
But sometimes it doesn't,
Like the comments of a blog post,
Sometimes the Cause-and-Effect in my mind doesn't fit into reality,
Like the girl in a mini skirt I suppose wants sex,
There are many factors,
That make the logical cause-and-effect in my mind utopia,
Like the inability to comment on this post via mobile phone,
Like the girl in the mini skirt uninterested in sex but interested in attention.
It's a dynamic complicated world we live in,
And I am just not about to generalize it,
by making such absurd statements such as,
"all girls are turned on by the same thing"
It kind of sounds like,
"the sun revolves round the earth"
Am a creature of an open mind,
My mind is the slut of ideas,
But I don't screw them until I assess them,
Even loose people don't jump into bed with some people,
Though they do with a crowd of everyone.
My mind is the Biggest slut of ideas,
Though I don't screw each one of them before I assess them.
But what I am most closed minded about,
What you shall never change my mind about is love,
The simple joy of family and the scent of a rose flower,
The mystery behind 'Practice makes Perfect',
I am a creature of a mind a complete slut to ideas,
But my mind will never sleep with the idea that,
"There is something impossible"
If it makes logical sense in my mind then it should in reality.
If asking questions at the end of a post is recommended to force out comments,
Then asking questions at the end of a post doesn't sprout out comments,
Then there has to be another way,
It might be the bipolar that diseases my mind with utopia,
But from past experience I have learnt that,
If you cannot run to the top of mount Kenya,
You can try walking,
You breath more comfortably and tire less,
Any logical idea like that in my mind is a possibility,
Whether it hold water in reality like it does in my mind I don't care,
I can spend my life trying to climb mount Kenya.
Probably the impossibility of it is the impossibility of a 'flying man,'
'Man cannot fly?'
I just flew to Mombasa the other day,
Mount Kenya is my destination,
The logistics as to how to get there are the problem,
But I am a creature of open mind,
I will try to walk up it if I can't,
I will try to run,
If I can't I will remember that 'man cannot fly,'
Get a plane!
And if I can't find a run-way for it,
I will wait a few more years for the guys who are inventing the Aeroscraft,
The ones who have total disregard for the belief that,
Planes need a run-way to fly,
I hope I will never be the man who gets turned by the realities of this world,
To be a believer that impossibility is rational,
Or to believe their is only one way up mount Kenya,
I hope to be open minded to all beliefs,
But the belief that impossibility exist,
And the myths about presidential-candidates-campaigns,
I want to find the cause and effect,
Like opinion polls,
The rationality of everything,
Then to be a creature of open mind,
Believe that we do not reach the peak of mount Kenya by myths,
We reach it by calculated strategies,
That to those that don't understand it generalize it as a myth,
I am a creature of open mind,
And I believe I can turn the ignition key,
And explode the views on this blog,
But I am also closed mind to a few things,
The pleasure gotten from a lovers kiss,
The emotions experienced from reading a poem,
The bond between friends,
The joy of family,
And the mystery of the One path to heaven!
Tuesday 20 September 2011
What's Behind The Glass Window
"That man is crazy!" that's what they said. "He has ruined his life." that's what they told me. I lived in UpperHills those days. Yes I have loved in Upper Hill. That place with dogs in town. I can't tell you the details of why I have lived there. That would be a story too thrilling for now. He also lived in upper hill. He once was dragged covered in mud to his bed. The guy was a disaster. That's what everyone said.
There were rumors about him where he lived. No one was exactly sure about how accurate the rumors that surrounded him. Do you see that man? He has kids studying in really good schools. You see that man there, they pointed at him. They hoped they weren't seen by him as they pointed at him. They pointed behind his back. Does that sound like back stubbing? They were afraid of getting caught by him. Cause he had a loud mouth. He was the kind of man who would scream words at you. If he found you on the wrong. Then everyone would look at you. And feel sorry for you. I never wanted to be one of those people who that was done to. So sometimes, most of the time I kept my distance from him.
One day as I was walking into that well maintained building with a neat compound in UpperHill. There was an unfamiliar car. It was absolutely neat and stunning. It was nothing elaborate. But it was excellent. There are two kinds of people who drive similar cars to each other. But of the two you admire one. Sometimes it's the way the owners carry themselves, sometimes it's how well maintained their cars are. The vanilla aroma in them, that hits you even when you are out of the car, when the window is open, the almost shiny dash board. They make you feel like throwing your elaborate boots for canvas. She walked out of the car. She looked proper. She was not young. She was beautiful for her age. She was the kind of people you could tell how their house looks like. A hot house and I don't mean temperature wise, it's the kind that would be cool inside when it's too hot inside and warm inside when it rains cold out side; not as big as a castle, not as small as disappointment. The average size, only that it wasn't average. The floors must be polished. The house plants must be healthy, the lawn perfect. The tables shiny. She must have the house-help use Mr.Sheen. Very proper. That's how she looked. Healthy, beautiful and proper.
That's the wife. That's what rumor said. I was fascinated. I had admired that man. He wore slippers that were as dented on one side as a boarding school mattress slept on by a fat kid for years. They are divorced. Or separated. That lovely lady was his wife.
The contrast was absolutely stunning. Even you would be curious. I wasnt going to settle for the rumors. I had to know why this man had turned into buying cheap liquor. Being carried by the watchmen and the cooks from iron sheet walled bars. The ones that talked bad about him. How much he was a disaster.
"hi"
"hello"
I expected it. He was the kind to complete his "hi's" into "hellos" or "howdys". He was the kind to know such. Slowly, the conversation changed to how rainy it was. Strangers talked about the weather. We stopped talking about the weather. Most of the time he would do the talking. The conversations you have on the corridor when you meet someone going their way and you your way.
I hoped he would reveal something about himself. That was what I was after. Who he had been before worn out slippers and hard-unrefined liquor. He must have been somebody. He lived there for free. He didn't pay rent like we did. He never revealed anything about himself. But I started to listen to him. The guy was literally a text book. An encyclopedia. If Wikipedia is written by man, he would be the one who writes it. I mentioned planes. He explained Bernoullis Effect as wonderfully and as passionately as you would explain your first kiss. He explained it like he was seated there with Daniel Bernoulli writing ' Hydrodynamica' in 1738. And wasn't a physicist.
He also talked about the televisions with large asses. What's with this generation with slimness? Even women want to be flat screens? He explained the electrons and cathode rays. You would want to think he was a professor. And not the kind that are in Nairobi University. The kind we see on Telly, with the tweed jackets. The kind that walk into class with a bow tie and ask you to throw your books. Then they teach you something so profound. Like the origin of number Zero. Did Prof. Saitoti really explain where the number Zero came from?
This guy wasn't a lecturer but he could throw your books. Then teach you. Oh I wish he taught me. He could explain the origins of the number Zero. As well as clarify the rumor about Proff. Saitoti and his Zero. Alleged Zeros. He wasn't a mathematician or a history prof.
But he knew all this still in his pink worn out slippers. They must have been red when they were new come to think of it. He was an encyclopedia but most of all, he was an architect.
His work was doted around Nairobi. He was one of the first. His work was also dotted in Europe. He might have drunk like a lunatic. But the guy had passion. The guy was as intelligent as day. He could see everything. You would feel like a torch in a dark night around him, just seeing the grass as green. He was like a microscope he saw photosynthesis in grass. Just looking at it. He was the sun of brightness. How bright is the sun? How often do you just stare at it with plain eyes?
Yet people talked ill of him. I tried to fish informtion about him. The furthest I could get was that the office in one of the buildings was his. The office was just larger than a store. It's window ran from the floor to the ceiling, it had no petitions and it was large. He had designed it himself.
There was a large stand too. Like one used by pastors in church at the pulpit. Only that it was larger. Therefore looked like a painters drawing stand. There was a bar stool right behind it. There were a pair of shoes there. The ones you think ugly when young. All you want to do is donate them to charity, then later on when you become older. You start wearing them, after a little renovation. Inheriting father's old shoes. They didn't make shoes with machines those days, shoe-makers. I have never seen that room opened. That office open. But I could see it through the window. The large window. Everyone saw it. But no one was let in it.
Sometimes he would dress absolutely well. In a tuxedo. He had a tuxedo in his room. Aparently, you would never think he did. And he looked absolutely stunning in it. Tall, proper, elegant, slender like his wife.
But that was him, an office that looks so elegant from outside, no one is allowed inside. Maybe his art made him run partially mad? It wouldnt be the first time art ran an artist nuts?or maybe it was his intelligence? Geniuses ran mad right? But wasn't the man successful? Kids learning in good schools? Likes of Oxford? Strathmore? Wife properly taken care of? His works could be seen? Elaborate buildings? I never saw him bring strange women or any women at all to his house. He was neat. He showered. Decent. But when we he was drunk he blackout on mud. Upper Hill has hills and slopes. When it rained who wouldn't slip and fall, even when sober people slip and fall. He might have been ruined by love, artist get ruined by such things. Walking in Nairobi, Kenya, England, South Africa and maybe it was him that designed that beautiful building you saw. He must have, meet him and you would know. I admired him. Am I wrong to admire him? Why were the cooks hating? The watchman too? Aren't they the same men who lack commitment to anything? No passion and cause pain at home? What had they to show? Why were they hating on him?
Something must have happened? What happened. But even though something happened, how would I know, the arrogant guy was graceful. He never blew his trumpet. His personality and properness instead blew the trumpet naturally. He was a mystery. He is the rockstars of Architects.
I will never get to get into that office, but I saw it from a far, through the window. Sometimes when no one saw. I did a proper peep like small boys so passionate about cars, peep on the driver's window of parked cars, to see the cockpit of the car, what the top speed is? The gear box?
I peeped but all I could see was elegance, intelligence and mystery.
As mysterious as the moon, as bright as the sun. I am not wrong to admire him. I see more than the excess alcohol. If he was a politician he would be the kind to get his black simple well fitting elegant suit dirty in mud trying to get water, a library, a school or a dispensary in a village so maginalized it doesn't exist in the map. He reminded you of intelligence, courage, deceny, passion so much he would make shiny sleek big cars feel Yuck.
What happened to him? I will never know, or maybe I will one day, when he is walking out of the hospital after recovering from a bad accident, and the media and presidents say something brief about his courage. Then everyone would go silent and he will go back to his slippers. Like he didnt exist, cause he doesn't... What's behind the glass window I can't see?
Hurt By Trust But Caged
I was sore. And I removed it, I looked at my skin, it was red, It was almost forming a wound. But not yet. I was worried. I should have worn socks. He looked at me, "why didn't you wear socks?"
It was at 7pm. The streets were starting to turn dark. I had enough money to almost pay half-rent someone's rent. At that time on the streets, when everyone is rushing home. There are people who sell things. They put them out on display, so that as you walk down the streets, the darkening street after a days work, you spend your money on them. They don't open shop very early in the morning. People work at that time, they open shop late at night, when lust is high, they open shop at night after people are tired of the toil from work. They open shop on weekends, when people want to enjoy. I was walking down the streets, heading to do something, i cant remember. But I had enough money to pay half someone's rent though, and didn't know what to spend it on anyways.
There they were, most of them brown like light, some were chocolate like pleasure. Others were completely black but beautiful like some Sudanese. Some you could see their strings hanging off. Some did not have strings. Some were open, almost open. Some were covered. Most of them were beautiful, most of them were on display. At that corner of the street all of them were on display actually. Yours for the taking. So long as you got out your wallet. Whatever size you wanted, big small whatever suited you. Some you could wear without socks, some you could wear with. Depending on how much you were willing to spend.
There are different corners of the streets I hear, some where you can get new ones, young ones. Even some no one has ever worn. Even the ones that have never been worn, you could get at a price, to break into them. All you would need to do is ask one of the men who worked there at such streets to get you ones that are young, new, without any blemish on the skin, you had to pay more though for them. Cause they come from behind, they aren't the ones usually on display. You request for them. The ones on display sometimes you would find they have been worn, just to fit a few times.
But there is another end of the street where you find ones so used they smell. Some are infect too old to wear. You have to buy soap to clean them before you wear them. Dare you wear them without socks! It is all good cause everyone has priorities, they prioritize. It depended how much you wanted to spend, and what you wanted out of the place.
I was enticed by the first shop. The first shop I got into looked lovely. They had very nice brown ones especially, all of them were new, they smelled fresh. They had their own sort of perfume, but not perfume really. I didn't want to pick any of them from there though, cause I knew there was another shop ahead, with better lighting, where they even sell socks as they sell them.
I walked into the second shop. I was almost greeted with a smile. But I guess smiles are hard to buy when staff are paid minimum wage. He took me around, showing me around. I felt embarrassed. It is not a good thing to be seen walking in such a place for too long, especially if you are a man. I went round the shops looking. Then I zeroed down on two, the softest. I knew they were a bit pricey, they would be but it never hurts to buy experience. Even when it cost half someone's rent.
"Should I take brown one or the black one?" I asked the shop attendant. I held one, they wouldn't charge me to squeeze. I touched it everywhere, even inside, to feel how soft they were. How well they could absorb my fluids. I didn't care for such things. Things I bought. My aim was to use them. Pour my things into them. And leave them. I can use either this two without socks. I can wear them raw. I obviously couldn't touch all parts inside them. There was no time. Besides whatever glitters is gold isn't it?
I paid up. And I left. I paid as if I was paying to half-rent for an apartment reasonably priced out of town. What was I doing? I asked myself! Am a man! I already have enough! What was I doing here in the night on the streets picking up things on display ? What were people thinking of me as I walked the streets? They all knew I had bought. It had it's price written all over, they knew it. I rushed to get to the car.
I put myself in it. It felt nice. I put it in raw. I got turned on by the fact that I was ruining them. With my sweat. With my fluids. They would almost smell after I am done with it. Then I would rest and let myself air.
But then I started to feel pain. My skin was sore. How could they? I had gone to a reputable place, they pride themselves in variety, back then when I was in high school and primary school. I used to almost all the time buy my shoes from Bata. Then they didn't have variety. Now they do. Probably they should have just stuck to school shoes, leave the big league shoes to designers. They have loafer and sandals. They have boots and heels. They have sketchers probably even wedges. I dont know how those last ones look, it's girls who wear them. But I suspect they are there. They even have plastic shoes.
I am not a girl. I don't get to a shop and fit both sides of the shoes. Walk around the shop with my girlfriends to test them. I just pick the ones that look nice. Yes I touch and squeeze them a bit. But I don't get both shoes out, if the first ones fit. Then the second one must also fit. The second one fitted yes, but it didn't fit well. After I wore it at home. It pressed me. It hurt me. Bata had made one shoe tighter than the other. There was bad workmanship inside it. So my left let was mashed. As I walked. I got a sore. A red one almost like a blister. Even when I wore socks it was the same.
It had been two weeks since I had bought them. Am a guy so I unwrap my shoes after a week or two after I buy them. I don't buy shoes and the first thing I do is go dance or cat walk confront of a mirror; the day I buy them. Trying to look at what matches with what, in my wardrobe. It was after two weeks that I wore them, when I discovered the soreness.
I was having lunch with a girl. Yes, I take my mother for dates sometimes. We were having lunch. The restaurant had nice floors, just like I like. I got off my shoes so that I can let them touch the floor. It's a bad habit I have. The floor always feels nicer when my feet are bare. No one wants you to remove socks in a restaurant. So don't wear socks. The floor wasn't cold, so it was perfect. From enjoying soft raw padded shoes inside, to enjoying the earth, the floor, the wood underneath, everything raw is natural. Natural things even like pearls feel nice. Why should I wear socks when I wear such shoes? They feel so nice without them. Besides, it was Saturday, the day where you stop wearing the soft shiny leather shoes, that dictate you wear socks otherwise you would create, global warming in the office, like the smelly global warming in China or is it India?
On Saturday, you start wearing leather shoes that absorb. That do not use polish but evapourating suede to clean them. Soft. They are also leathered you know. But the kind that can let water on when you get into a pond. Therefore can absorb sweat in like a towel. I get turned on by spoiling such lovely pairs of shoes.
I let my shoes out. I felt nice on my left feet when I took it out. I was no longer a bitch. The food tasted better even. It was like my removing the shoe caused me to feel better. I looked at my feet and saw a red spot. It was like I had a thorn in my leg the whole time. So that was where my bad mood was from. How would I know? Bata is excellent. They always make the best. They are a class of their own, and very reasonably priced I must say. I kept putting on that left shoe and walking around the restaurant. There must be a mistake! After all those pairs, even the guys there knew me. After all those pairs of comfortability and perfection. I looked into the shoe. Trying to find the part that hurt me, I found it.
"Can I have some money?" I asked the lady seated next to me. My pockets were empty. I rushed to the shop anger driving me mostly, than anything else. Don't you love mothers? They always put your interest first? I left her there. We weren't going to have lunch before I had picked my bone with Bata Shoe Company. When you are angry, you take down giants.
When anger drives you also, you don't realize it is raining. I got to the shop, and I got smiles. I was back. They must have been assuming I was going to spoil myself with another pair. Sometimes I am embarrassed about the number of shoes I buy. Walking in the streets with a bag with Bata written all over it. Everyone knows I have been buying shoes. And am a guy, dammit! But if I feel nice who cares.
I wasn't feeling nice. And I let the whole shop know that. They sent the manager to me. When the other staff could not handle me. How dare he tell me to stuff the shoes with papers? I buy a pair of shoes to stuff with papers so that they expand. Even the manager pissed me off. I bought socks, such shops sell socks with shoes. I wore them there. And still screamed they hurt me. I touched other shoes, the black ones I had left. I wore them and they were different. They were comfortable. Mine were the same size as those, the exact same pair. But different cause mine hurt me.
What do you mean my feet arent the same size? What do you mean they will expand? After hurting me that much? What do you mean you can only replace them when you see a visible tear? What if the whole structure is wrong? I wanted to buy another pair of the same. But they were out of stock.
You see I am not foolish, I know that even though I stop buying a pair from them, and they have really nice pieces. They will still live. The company will not die. In fact I will buy more of their shoes. But I will try buy even more shoes at a different store. But when I go to Bata, I will not show them I am happy. I will not hide my anger and hate for them. I was hurt. And I will hit it where it hurts most, I will bitch and bitch until those bustards know their place. Their place is up there with good customer service. But that day their customer service was mixed up on the floor with poop and bad smells. Everyplace with poop and bad smells causes you to be angry, irritable to be exact. Bata is like that to me now, the irritableness that is caused by a thorn in a shoe that spoils your mood so much you do forget to say hi to people. Bata is a bad day to me now. Just rush in angry, get what you want. Walk around the shop since you dont trust them anymore, them rush out. Escape.
Maybe I will stop shopping there one day. Besides there are better shops that sell Clarks from England, on the same streets. Maybe I will shop At those places more often.
I went back to the restaurant with the thorn in the left foot still on my leg. I found my mother missing and got really mad. It is the shoes I reminded myself. They are the pain. I called her. She didn't pick up. It was the shoe, I reminded myself. It started to rain as I walked back to the car, I got mad. Mad at the weather? It was the shoe not the rain. The hotel staff who escorted me with the umbrella let a little rain pour on me by mistake as I got into the car. I reminded myself, it was the shoe not the umbrella, at least I was largely dry.
I drove home and just when I was about to write my heart out I remembered I had left my iPad in the restaurant. My mother must have it. Instead of thinking of how sweet it was for her to have had my food packed, I felt angry that she had sausages packed instead of molo chops. I felt angry I didn't have my iPad to write my anger away, therapy. It was the shoes, she was just trying to be the best mother in the world. When I kicked of the shoes and pulled out the shocks I was still red. When I touched the red spot I felt pain. Dirty hands on a bruise always feels pain. My hand had been touching Bata shoes... They were dirty, it was the shoes. It was Bata.
Someone get me out of this bad relationship I have with Bata, it's like the bad relationship I have with Safaricom? Or is it the shoes not safaricom? Always going back even when they hurt me? Which bad relationship are you trapped in? Or is it the thorn in my shoe that is making me see everything negatively? Is it Kenya Power And Lighting or the Bata shoes. What bad relationship are you trapped in? Or is it the Bata shoe that makes me look at everything negatively?
It was at 7pm. The streets were starting to turn dark. I had enough money to almost pay half-rent someone's rent. At that time on the streets, when everyone is rushing home. There are people who sell things. They put them out on display, so that as you walk down the streets, the darkening street after a days work, you spend your money on them. They don't open shop very early in the morning. People work at that time, they open shop late at night, when lust is high, they open shop at night after people are tired of the toil from work. They open shop on weekends, when people want to enjoy. I was walking down the streets, heading to do something, i cant remember. But I had enough money to pay half someone's rent though, and didn't know what to spend it on anyways.
There they were, most of them brown like light, some were chocolate like pleasure. Others were completely black but beautiful like some Sudanese. Some you could see their strings hanging off. Some did not have strings. Some were open, almost open. Some were covered. Most of them were beautiful, most of them were on display. At that corner of the street all of them were on display actually. Yours for the taking. So long as you got out your wallet. Whatever size you wanted, big small whatever suited you. Some you could wear without socks, some you could wear with. Depending on how much you were willing to spend.
There are different corners of the streets I hear, some where you can get new ones, young ones. Even some no one has ever worn. Even the ones that have never been worn, you could get at a price, to break into them. All you would need to do is ask one of the men who worked there at such streets to get you ones that are young, new, without any blemish on the skin, you had to pay more though for them. Cause they come from behind, they aren't the ones usually on display. You request for them. The ones on display sometimes you would find they have been worn, just to fit a few times.
But there is another end of the street where you find ones so used they smell. Some are infect too old to wear. You have to buy soap to clean them before you wear them. Dare you wear them without socks! It is all good cause everyone has priorities, they prioritize. It depended how much you wanted to spend, and what you wanted out of the place.
I was enticed by the first shop. The first shop I got into looked lovely. They had very nice brown ones especially, all of them were new, they smelled fresh. They had their own sort of perfume, but not perfume really. I didn't want to pick any of them from there though, cause I knew there was another shop ahead, with better lighting, where they even sell socks as they sell them.
I walked into the second shop. I was almost greeted with a smile. But I guess smiles are hard to buy when staff are paid minimum wage. He took me around, showing me around. I felt embarrassed. It is not a good thing to be seen walking in such a place for too long, especially if you are a man. I went round the shops looking. Then I zeroed down on two, the softest. I knew they were a bit pricey, they would be but it never hurts to buy experience. Even when it cost half someone's rent.
"Should I take brown one or the black one?" I asked the shop attendant. I held one, they wouldn't charge me to squeeze. I touched it everywhere, even inside, to feel how soft they were. How well they could absorb my fluids. I didn't care for such things. Things I bought. My aim was to use them. Pour my things into them. And leave them. I can use either this two without socks. I can wear them raw. I obviously couldn't touch all parts inside them. There was no time. Besides whatever glitters is gold isn't it?
I paid up. And I left. I paid as if I was paying to half-rent for an apartment reasonably priced out of town. What was I doing? I asked myself! Am a man! I already have enough! What was I doing here in the night on the streets picking up things on display ? What were people thinking of me as I walked the streets? They all knew I had bought. It had it's price written all over, they knew it. I rushed to get to the car.
I put myself in it. It felt nice. I put it in raw. I got turned on by the fact that I was ruining them. With my sweat. With my fluids. They would almost smell after I am done with it. Then I would rest and let myself air.
But then I started to feel pain. My skin was sore. How could they? I had gone to a reputable place, they pride themselves in variety, back then when I was in high school and primary school. I used to almost all the time buy my shoes from Bata. Then they didn't have variety. Now they do. Probably they should have just stuck to school shoes, leave the big league shoes to designers. They have loafer and sandals. They have boots and heels. They have sketchers probably even wedges. I dont know how those last ones look, it's girls who wear them. But I suspect they are there. They even have plastic shoes.
I am not a girl. I don't get to a shop and fit both sides of the shoes. Walk around the shop with my girlfriends to test them. I just pick the ones that look nice. Yes I touch and squeeze them a bit. But I don't get both shoes out, if the first ones fit. Then the second one must also fit. The second one fitted yes, but it didn't fit well. After I wore it at home. It pressed me. It hurt me. Bata had made one shoe tighter than the other. There was bad workmanship inside it. So my left let was mashed. As I walked. I got a sore. A red one almost like a blister. Even when I wore socks it was the same.
It had been two weeks since I had bought them. Am a guy so I unwrap my shoes after a week or two after I buy them. I don't buy shoes and the first thing I do is go dance or cat walk confront of a mirror; the day I buy them. Trying to look at what matches with what, in my wardrobe. It was after two weeks that I wore them, when I discovered the soreness.
I was having lunch with a girl. Yes, I take my mother for dates sometimes. We were having lunch. The restaurant had nice floors, just like I like. I got off my shoes so that I can let them touch the floor. It's a bad habit I have. The floor always feels nicer when my feet are bare. No one wants you to remove socks in a restaurant. So don't wear socks. The floor wasn't cold, so it was perfect. From enjoying soft raw padded shoes inside, to enjoying the earth, the floor, the wood underneath, everything raw is natural. Natural things even like pearls feel nice. Why should I wear socks when I wear such shoes? They feel so nice without them. Besides, it was Saturday, the day where you stop wearing the soft shiny leather shoes, that dictate you wear socks otherwise you would create, global warming in the office, like the smelly global warming in China or is it India?
On Saturday, you start wearing leather shoes that absorb. That do not use polish but evapourating suede to clean them. Soft. They are also leathered you know. But the kind that can let water on when you get into a pond. Therefore can absorb sweat in like a towel. I get turned on by spoiling such lovely pairs of shoes.
I let my shoes out. I felt nice on my left feet when I took it out. I was no longer a bitch. The food tasted better even. It was like my removing the shoe caused me to feel better. I looked at my feet and saw a red spot. It was like I had a thorn in my leg the whole time. So that was where my bad mood was from. How would I know? Bata is excellent. They always make the best. They are a class of their own, and very reasonably priced I must say. I kept putting on that left shoe and walking around the restaurant. There must be a mistake! After all those pairs, even the guys there knew me. After all those pairs of comfortability and perfection. I looked into the shoe. Trying to find the part that hurt me, I found it.
"Can I have some money?" I asked the lady seated next to me. My pockets were empty. I rushed to the shop anger driving me mostly, than anything else. Don't you love mothers? They always put your interest first? I left her there. We weren't going to have lunch before I had picked my bone with Bata Shoe Company. When you are angry, you take down giants.
When anger drives you also, you don't realize it is raining. I got to the shop, and I got smiles. I was back. They must have been assuming I was going to spoil myself with another pair. Sometimes I am embarrassed about the number of shoes I buy. Walking in the streets with a bag with Bata written all over it. Everyone knows I have been buying shoes. And am a guy, dammit! But if I feel nice who cares.
I wasn't feeling nice. And I let the whole shop know that. They sent the manager to me. When the other staff could not handle me. How dare he tell me to stuff the shoes with papers? I buy a pair of shoes to stuff with papers so that they expand. Even the manager pissed me off. I bought socks, such shops sell socks with shoes. I wore them there. And still screamed they hurt me. I touched other shoes, the black ones I had left. I wore them and they were different. They were comfortable. Mine were the same size as those, the exact same pair. But different cause mine hurt me.
What do you mean my feet arent the same size? What do you mean they will expand? After hurting me that much? What do you mean you can only replace them when you see a visible tear? What if the whole structure is wrong? I wanted to buy another pair of the same. But they were out of stock.
You see I am not foolish, I know that even though I stop buying a pair from them, and they have really nice pieces. They will still live. The company will not die. In fact I will buy more of their shoes. But I will try buy even more shoes at a different store. But when I go to Bata, I will not show them I am happy. I will not hide my anger and hate for them. I was hurt. And I will hit it where it hurts most, I will bitch and bitch until those bustards know their place. Their place is up there with good customer service. But that day their customer service was mixed up on the floor with poop and bad smells. Everyplace with poop and bad smells causes you to be angry, irritable to be exact. Bata is like that to me now, the irritableness that is caused by a thorn in a shoe that spoils your mood so much you do forget to say hi to people. Bata is a bad day to me now. Just rush in angry, get what you want. Walk around the shop since you dont trust them anymore, them rush out. Escape.
Maybe I will stop shopping there one day. Besides there are better shops that sell Clarks from England, on the same streets. Maybe I will shop At those places more often.
I went back to the restaurant with the thorn in the left foot still on my leg. I found my mother missing and got really mad. It is the shoes I reminded myself. They are the pain. I called her. She didn't pick up. It was the shoe, I reminded myself. It started to rain as I walked back to the car, I got mad. Mad at the weather? It was the shoe not the rain. The hotel staff who escorted me with the umbrella let a little rain pour on me by mistake as I got into the car. I reminded myself, it was the shoe not the umbrella, at least I was largely dry.
I drove home and just when I was about to write my heart out I remembered I had left my iPad in the restaurant. My mother must have it. Instead of thinking of how sweet it was for her to have had my food packed, I felt angry that she had sausages packed instead of molo chops. I felt angry I didn't have my iPad to write my anger away, therapy. It was the shoes, she was just trying to be the best mother in the world. When I kicked of the shoes and pulled out the shocks I was still red. When I touched the red spot I felt pain. Dirty hands on a bruise always feels pain. My hand had been touching Bata shoes... They were dirty, it was the shoes. It was Bata.
Someone get me out of this bad relationship I have with Bata, it's like the bad relationship I have with Safaricom? Or is it the shoes not safaricom? Always going back even when they hurt me? Which bad relationship are you trapped in? Or is it the thorn in my shoe that is making me see everything negatively? Is it Kenya Power And Lighting or the Bata shoes. What bad relationship are you trapped in? Or is it the Bata shoe that makes me look at everything negatively?
Sunday 18 September 2011
When Love Was Pure Adventure And Not Pricey Coffee
I was holding her hand. Her long hair was loosely jumping up and down. They should design bras for running. On second thought they shouldn't. We were out of the gate, running away together. If we got caught... We had to run.
My day started like a typical sixteen year olds should start. As horny as teenage hood. With movies like the Girl Next Door. Remember it? She was the girl next door by the way. What more could a sixteen year old ask for, except for no pimples on the face and a girl next door who wore lingery that were stringed?
Sixteen year old. On holiday. The house is empty. Except for the house help. But she doesn't count. House helps don't count to me, you can't do without them but you got to have them. They give keys to thieves. But you keep them cause you can't cook for yourselves. The house was empty.
I was sixteen. They had just invented mobile phones some years before. And did I love them. Just like that I could text her in the morning. And after the cars cleared away from the garage. She would ring the door bell. Straight to my room.
She was a year older. The girl next door. I was a year or two younger. She was more experienced. Probably it would be more accurate to say she was most exposed.
She ate things I didnt know could be eaten. I learnt what it was called after I was eaten. I closed the curtains to my room, all the time cause I was young. I was shy. You would have been to. She did things to me I was so embarrassed about I wished we would do them in more privacy that a locked room and closed curtain. I almost attempted to tell her we do it in the closet. I think we once did it there.
She had visited me the whole week. It was Friday. She visited me then too. We spent the whole day in my room. The only time I got out was when the house help flashed my phone. It was her way of telling me lunch is ready. Lunch for both of us was ready. I would leave her in my bed. Go get fries. It was fries everyday. And lots of water or juice.
Things were simple. Music. Bedsheets. I would walk her home. No drive license. Just simple black umbrellas with white polka dots and simple. Sleepers sometimes. Simple old shorts. T shirts. No watch on my arm. Just her simple lip gloss. Her phone. And her hair band which she wore on her hand. We exchanged movies. She knelt down in empty fields. And simply went down on me right there in the open.
When it rained. We splashed at each other water. From the muddy pot holes. We laughed. And made fun of people on the road. As I walked her home in the evening. We were afraid of mothers, you can tell a mother when you see one. They always complained we were indecent. With their eyes most of the time. She was a little older. Once I teased her a bit on how big her ass was. It was the most beautiful. She was beautiful upset. Decided to walk on the other end of the road. Parallel to me. She threw something at me. I held it. Then folded it into my arm before it was seen. It was to late. They pedestrians were shocked more than I was shocked. She was laughing. See I cared what people thought of me. She did not. I was sure the whole neighboorhood would gossip. 'eh... She threw at him a bra. From one end of the road. That kid is very immoral'
That Friday time flew. The house help flashed my phone. She wasn't giving me lunch, she was telling us good bye. She blow me for days everyday. That day she blew me for a century. It was evening already. Twenty more minutes I promised myself. The I will let the girl go home, cause soon my mum will be home.
She spoilt me.
I heard a hoot at the gate. She was in the house. Naked. The room smelled like pussy. You could almost feel the thickness of the air in your face. We were sweaty. I was sweaty. It must be my mum at the gate o thought. She was looking for the other half piece of her thong. Her thongs were the kind that allowed me to pull a string, then they would fall in two pieces. I knew one day we would be caught. I knew I was at the strings end. The car hooted continuously. That was odd.
I wasn't going to open for my own mother. How could I? I had a girl in the house. I went to the gate to peep. That time we had no cctvs. We had just discovered mobiles, didn't I tell you that?
"is there a problem?"
"no, no there is no problem!"
He didn't know how much I meant those words. Mother's car was grey and hot. A sports car. The one outside the gate was blue and a pick up. Written G4S all over.
I pressed the remote so that the gate would open. They wanted space to turn their pick up. So the gate lay open. As they turned. A grey sports car showed up. And I wanted to die. Our gate is a snail. It locks up in slow motion. Her car would already be in by the time it shut. Her car was already in.
"hi..."
"help me with the bags"
I acted normal. Like there was no girl in the house. We got into the house together.
"why are the curtains closed so early?"
She was pulling them open. The sitting room was dark. I was heading to my bedroom. Where my naked girl was. I would hide her there, or sneak her out.
"scream"
The bags I had dropped. I found myself holding her hand. Pulling her out through the door. We ran. When we were out of the gate. We still ran. Laughing. Shaking. Why didn't she stay in the living room? Poor mother she must have screamed her lungs off; I would if I met myself leaning trying to open the curtains. And finding a stranger sitted on my sofa.
When we got to her gate. She hugged me good bye. Then suddenly I felt afraid of going back home. I had run away. With a girl. And now I had to go back. I wasn't going back.
"when are you coming home. Mob love mum."
I stared at my phone. Maybe she did understand, or she didn't?
There was only one way to find out, I was going back home.
My day started like a typical sixteen year olds should start. As horny as teenage hood. With movies like the Girl Next Door. Remember it? She was the girl next door by the way. What more could a sixteen year old ask for, except for no pimples on the face and a girl next door who wore lingery that were stringed?
Sixteen year old. On holiday. The house is empty. Except for the house help. But she doesn't count. House helps don't count to me, you can't do without them but you got to have them. They give keys to thieves. But you keep them cause you can't cook for yourselves. The house was empty.
I was sixteen. They had just invented mobile phones some years before. And did I love them. Just like that I could text her in the morning. And after the cars cleared away from the garage. She would ring the door bell. Straight to my room.
She was a year older. The girl next door. I was a year or two younger. She was more experienced. Probably it would be more accurate to say she was most exposed.
She ate things I didnt know could be eaten. I learnt what it was called after I was eaten. I closed the curtains to my room, all the time cause I was young. I was shy. You would have been to. She did things to me I was so embarrassed about I wished we would do them in more privacy that a locked room and closed curtain. I almost attempted to tell her we do it in the closet. I think we once did it there.
She had visited me the whole week. It was Friday. She visited me then too. We spent the whole day in my room. The only time I got out was when the house help flashed my phone. It was her way of telling me lunch is ready. Lunch for both of us was ready. I would leave her in my bed. Go get fries. It was fries everyday. And lots of water or juice.
Things were simple. Music. Bedsheets. I would walk her home. No drive license. Just simple black umbrellas with white polka dots and simple. Sleepers sometimes. Simple old shorts. T shirts. No watch on my arm. Just her simple lip gloss. Her phone. And her hair band which she wore on her hand. We exchanged movies. She knelt down in empty fields. And simply went down on me right there in the open.
When it rained. We splashed at each other water. From the muddy pot holes. We laughed. And made fun of people on the road. As I walked her home in the evening. We were afraid of mothers, you can tell a mother when you see one. They always complained we were indecent. With their eyes most of the time. She was a little older. Once I teased her a bit on how big her ass was. It was the most beautiful. She was beautiful upset. Decided to walk on the other end of the road. Parallel to me. She threw something at me. I held it. Then folded it into my arm before it was seen. It was to late. They pedestrians were shocked more than I was shocked. She was laughing. See I cared what people thought of me. She did not. I was sure the whole neighboorhood would gossip. 'eh... She threw at him a bra. From one end of the road. That kid is very immoral'
That Friday time flew. The house help flashed my phone. She wasn't giving me lunch, she was telling us good bye. She blow me for days everyday. That day she blew me for a century. It was evening already. Twenty more minutes I promised myself. The I will let the girl go home, cause soon my mum will be home.
She spoilt me.
I heard a hoot at the gate. She was in the house. Naked. The room smelled like pussy. You could almost feel the thickness of the air in your face. We were sweaty. I was sweaty. It must be my mum at the gate o thought. She was looking for the other half piece of her thong. Her thongs were the kind that allowed me to pull a string, then they would fall in two pieces. I knew one day we would be caught. I knew I was at the strings end. The car hooted continuously. That was odd.
I wasn't going to open for my own mother. How could I? I had a girl in the house. I went to the gate to peep. That time we had no cctvs. We had just discovered mobiles, didn't I tell you that?
"is there a problem?"
"no, no there is no problem!"
He didn't know how much I meant those words. Mother's car was grey and hot. A sports car. The one outside the gate was blue and a pick up. Written G4S all over.
I pressed the remote so that the gate would open. They wanted space to turn their pick up. So the gate lay open. As they turned. A grey sports car showed up. And I wanted to die. Our gate is a snail. It locks up in slow motion. Her car would already be in by the time it shut. Her car was already in.
"hi..."
"help me with the bags"
I acted normal. Like there was no girl in the house. We got into the house together.
"why are the curtains closed so early?"
She was pulling them open. The sitting room was dark. I was heading to my bedroom. Where my naked girl was. I would hide her there, or sneak her out.
"scream"
The bags I had dropped. I found myself holding her hand. Pulling her out through the door. We ran. When we were out of the gate. We still ran. Laughing. Shaking. Why didn't she stay in the living room? Poor mother she must have screamed her lungs off; I would if I met myself leaning trying to open the curtains. And finding a stranger sitted on my sofa.
When we got to her gate. She hugged me good bye. Then suddenly I felt afraid of going back home. I had run away. With a girl. And now I had to go back. I wasn't going back.
"when are you coming home. Mob love mum."
I stared at my phone. Maybe she did understand, or she didn't?
There was only one way to find out, I was going back home.
Saturday 17 September 2011
I Am Forced To Share You
Where have you been Baby?
Why don't you want to tell me?
Did you slid something up you as you read his love notes?
Even when he wasn't there with you?
Am I not doing enough for you?
I got this room for you and me,
At the corner of the listings on the Internet,
It is small so I don't even pay rent for it,
They gave it to me for free,
But I got it for us and am working had to get another comfortable,
A larger one,
Better organized,
Tell me you were not in another mans bed love,
Please tell me you were not?
My voice is turning shaky,
And my tears are almost falling off my face,
"don't look away, look at me"
I touch your cheek,
Come on touch your cheek now,
Yes with your hands so that you feel what I feel,
Please. Tell me.
Did you fall for him on the first day?
Did you sleep in his bed,
Did you pleasure him even when he was asleep?
Stroke his very big ego until you liked it?
Until it loaded up shot up and showed it liked you!
Will he find evidence of your pleasurable presence in the morning?
How could you do that to his ego even when he was asleep?
And you don't do that to me?
I thought we were married,
What's with this affair business with that guy?
I thought you were my wife?
I have entertained you right?
I have talked to you,
We have shared together.
You spent the whole night in his bed didn't you?
What new is he doing that I am not doing?
He was asleep didn't even know you were there,
He will only find spills and your lipstick around his bed,
Cant believe you left him a note when you left in the morning,
Saying you will back in his bed again.
I know you will go back there!
You even saved his address on you phone,
How many times will I given you my address?
I have committed to you,
Understand I am here for you.
Did you think about him when he wasn't around?
And imagine going to his room again,
To see if he has hang a new photo or left a note for you?
How could you cheat on me honey.
I wanted us to have babies together.
This corner on the Internet is my bed,
I don't yet have other rooms all over the country,
like columnist have,
The like button below is my ego baby,
The very big ego I have down there,
Leave traces of your lips stick on it,
On my bed,
The comment box,
When I wake up in the morning,
And I find out you were here on my statistics,
And you haven't left a note on my bed,
I feel like it was just a one night stand,
Being left in bed alone?
No one likes being left in the bed alone,
Kwanza without a note.
Why are you reading someone else's work,
Liking someone else's work in your head phones,
Downloading their songs,
And not bookmarking my blog?
You don't even know my name,
Where I tweet,
Yet you spend the night here,
It's always a crowd on my statistics,
You would also feel used.
Did you spend your night in someone else's bed on the first date?
Left him a note,
Made him an orgasm,
When all I have done is try to make your day,
With the little bed I have?
Or am I not good enough for you?
This bed is not big enough for you?
Am I doing something new?
I thought girls nurture,
Made things grow...
You are my orgasm.
And I don't mind you going to another man's bed,
I can share you cause you are phenomenal,
Tell your boyfriend sitted next to you to tap my shoulder,
And leave just one comment this way.
Guys are always happy when another guy gets some,
We are not like girls.
Be a girl like girls are and leave one naturing comment this way,
Just one.
That's all I need.
One.
The crowded orgy behind this page,
Already overly compensate for my empty bed.
The statistics are overflowing.
And...it's okay if you always have an affair,
Just come back here to me.
Which other writer has told you it's okay to have an affair?
See... I put your interest first!
Why don't you want to tell me?
Did you slid something up you as you read his love notes?
Even when he wasn't there with you?
Am I not doing enough for you?
I got this room for you and me,
At the corner of the listings on the Internet,
It is small so I don't even pay rent for it,
They gave it to me for free,
But I got it for us and am working had to get another comfortable,
A larger one,
Better organized,
Tell me you were not in another mans bed love,
Please tell me you were not?
My voice is turning shaky,
And my tears are almost falling off my face,
"don't look away, look at me"
I touch your cheek,
Come on touch your cheek now,
Yes with your hands so that you feel what I feel,
Please. Tell me.
Did you fall for him on the first day?
Did you sleep in his bed,
Did you pleasure him even when he was asleep?
Stroke his very big ego until you liked it?
Until it loaded up shot up and showed it liked you!
Will he find evidence of your pleasurable presence in the morning?
How could you do that to his ego even when he was asleep?
And you don't do that to me?
I thought we were married,
What's with this affair business with that guy?
I thought you were my wife?
I have entertained you right?
I have talked to you,
We have shared together.
You spent the whole night in his bed didn't you?
What new is he doing that I am not doing?
He was asleep didn't even know you were there,
He will only find spills and your lipstick around his bed,
Cant believe you left him a note when you left in the morning,
Saying you will back in his bed again.
I know you will go back there!
You even saved his address on you phone,
How many times will I given you my address?
I have committed to you,
Understand I am here for you.
Did you think about him when he wasn't around?
And imagine going to his room again,
To see if he has hang a new photo or left a note for you?
How could you cheat on me honey.
I wanted us to have babies together.
This corner on the Internet is my bed,
I don't yet have other rooms all over the country,
like columnist have,
The like button below is my ego baby,
The very big ego I have down there,
Leave traces of your lips stick on it,
On my bed,
The comment box,
When I wake up in the morning,
And I find out you were here on my statistics,
And you haven't left a note on my bed,
I feel like it was just a one night stand,
Being left in bed alone?
No one likes being left in the bed alone,
Kwanza without a note.
Why are you reading someone else's work,
Liking someone else's work in your head phones,
Downloading their songs,
And not bookmarking my blog?
You don't even know my name,
Where I tweet,
Yet you spend the night here,
It's always a crowd on my statistics,
You would also feel used.
Did you spend your night in someone else's bed on the first date?
Left him a note,
Made him an orgasm,
When all I have done is try to make your day,
With the little bed I have?
Or am I not good enough for you?
This bed is not big enough for you?
Am I doing something new?
I thought girls nurture,
Made things grow...
You are my orgasm.
And I don't mind you going to another man's bed,
I can share you cause you are phenomenal,
Tell your boyfriend sitted next to you to tap my shoulder,
And leave just one comment this way.
Guys are always happy when another guy gets some,
We are not like girls.
Be a girl like girls are and leave one naturing comment this way,
Just one.
That's all I need.
One.
The crowded orgy behind this page,
Already overly compensate for my empty bed.
The statistics are overflowing.
And...it's okay if you always have an affair,
Just come back here to me.
Which other writer has told you it's okay to have an affair?
See... I put your interest first!
Friday 16 September 2011
Letter To My Favorite Celebrity
Dear actress,
How are you? Are people screaming when they see you. Do the cameras shine when you walk into a room? Does a bottle of wine get sent to your table when you go for a date in even quiet restaurants? Do people think you are such a phenomenon to the point you start questioning yourself on how good you are? Are your inboxes unmanageable? Do some people cry when they see you? Are they that overwhelmed. I saw you on the papers. Your career is just starting off.
I was running through the pages of a book. I love books you know, I don't have geeky spectacles. The big ones that look so simple I think a black felt pen and a silver metal cloth hunger is enough for me to design a pair. Those witty looking spectacles are like a Toyota Probox. All you need to design it the straight ruler, a divider and the yellow pencil in an Oxford Mathematical set. No need for a computer. As I was running through my irrelevant reading, I like reading irrelevant things cause some of them are bound to become relevant. Like the whole idea of blogging was.
I turned a page of a book that turned Obama president and J. f. Kennedy. You are a president, all actresses are. The ones as successful as coca cola. Show me a person who doesn't know about coco cola. Starting a restaurant and not serving coca cola is like starting a bar that doesn't sell alcohol. Though there is the trend of Mocktails in bars as forward as Customer Service. If you were as famous as coca cola. And for every restaurant to be relevant they would need you. Then know that your career is running up the hills, mountains. Simply to the top. Cause then if any director was to sell out a series, and you aren't present on it, then it is irrelevant like a restaurant that doesn't serve soda.
As I turned the pages, I understood things better. Celebrities are desperate people, as desperate as vibe-less horny guys who never get some. Celebrities are desperate for attention, especially the ones who look forward to beach houses. But it's those celebrities that are sent to hotels with a guest list, you just dont call and get a booking. You pull strings to visit them, when they send you some ridiculous bill, you get a loan gladly. I hear that's the case with Muthaiga Golf Club. Celebrities are desperate for attention, at least those who intend for their careers to fly up like a private jet, (competitors to the Air Force One), before you hate attention seeker, imagine being begged by every egyptian-cotton bedded hotel pleading with you to visit it. Just to get the publicity. When you have too much attention, then you are publicity. And your bank account turns obese. Put it on a weigh scale and it reads to millions. Then when someone calls you an attention seeker, tell them 'I have a plane to catch... This weekend I will be partying in another town, at some presidential suite, that's what I have to pay for my attention seeking, A useless bank account, I forget my wallet every time. Cause drinks are on them."
But dont be Paris Hilton, though she is a celebrity. She has her pussy all over, and she kind of feels like a whore to me. Probably be like J. F. Kennedy. Which president do you know that road in convertibles? That guy was a total movie star not a president. His dad worked in hollywood. So he knew how to be a Publicist as well as you know how to shit. He had been in the kitchen of hollywood all his life. Which president do you know who was a more sensation than J. f Kennedy, oh, oh. Obama? That guy who facebook-ed himself to presidency?
The next time you BBM me, my favorite actress, don't tell me how you are doing. Ask me to pick a magazine off the shelf to find out how you are doing. "which magazine?" I would ask. "any or all the ones that sell out" you would tell me.
Screw your C.V, see a new series on KTN. Walk to where they are acting. Sit the director down. "Pay me!" he might laugh. But he will not be when you tell him that his series will sell seventy times more if you were in it. "the public is hungry for me." Don't place, throw all the magazines and newspapers that have your picture and interviews on his desk. Cause that's what actors do. "they are all today's" make me rich I make you rich, I am good for your career, like you are good for mine.
Then after acting, tired and you want the make up off your face. Decide you arent going home that night. Besides you haven't shopped for dinner. Decide you are going to Mombasa, decide you are going to Nyali's Beach Presidential Suite. Even I wasnt allowed there. I am forced to live with the rumors I hear around. I know for sure it has a key card entry, almost like the FOB keys to a BMW. I know it must have a view to kill for, it is rumored they have a Pole. Not a basket ball pole, but almost similar, since with that pole you steal Score. The security is rumored to be Laser. Head to the reception, and since you are like coca cola, the receptionist should know you.
"I want to stay here tonight for free..." and she might tell you that "That doesn't happen in Kenya. We don't give celebrities free goodies."
On Sunday morning when you are checking out. "You were right, the restaurants were full, our rooms have been over booked." and you would smile at him. Then you will Tweet swearing their is nothing safer than a JKIA cab. And when your followers are as drunk as silly. There minds as off as an E in math. They will still pick the Airport cabs cause for some reasons they seem safer. " YES WE CAN! " now that guy is a true celebrity, how do you campaign in one country, then people in other countries want to vote for you?
How are you doing? I never want to ask you that in a letter like this again. Cause you are the celebrity on my BBM. You always on Telly. I want to hear how you are doing in a Ugandan paper when I go visiting my friend there. Make sure you BBM me the photos to the Presidential Suite. Does it really have a pole? I can't go on with life not knowing that. It kills me to have incomplete information and rumors. I love facts like this book am reading. My mind craves complete information. Suspense doesn't work well with me. Hand me that metal cloth hanger, I will shape it like spectacles, hand me that felt black felt pen. I paint this frame so that they look like plastic. Am a Geek. And I am cool. Cause I love reading, relevant things to make my life better, and irrelevant things to find opportunity, for me or for someone else.
Yours sincerely,
Bobby
@astoldbybobby
How are you? Are people screaming when they see you. Do the cameras shine when you walk into a room? Does a bottle of wine get sent to your table when you go for a date in even quiet restaurants? Do people think you are such a phenomenon to the point you start questioning yourself on how good you are? Are your inboxes unmanageable? Do some people cry when they see you? Are they that overwhelmed. I saw you on the papers. Your career is just starting off.
I was running through the pages of a book. I love books you know, I don't have geeky spectacles. The big ones that look so simple I think a black felt pen and a silver metal cloth hunger is enough for me to design a pair. Those witty looking spectacles are like a Toyota Probox. All you need to design it the straight ruler, a divider and the yellow pencil in an Oxford Mathematical set. No need for a computer. As I was running through my irrelevant reading, I like reading irrelevant things cause some of them are bound to become relevant. Like the whole idea of blogging was.
I turned a page of a book that turned Obama president and J. f. Kennedy. You are a president, all actresses are. The ones as successful as coca cola. Show me a person who doesn't know about coco cola. Starting a restaurant and not serving coca cola is like starting a bar that doesn't sell alcohol. Though there is the trend of Mocktails in bars as forward as Customer Service. If you were as famous as coca cola. And for every restaurant to be relevant they would need you. Then know that your career is running up the hills, mountains. Simply to the top. Cause then if any director was to sell out a series, and you aren't present on it, then it is irrelevant like a restaurant that doesn't serve soda.
As I turned the pages, I understood things better. Celebrities are desperate people, as desperate as vibe-less horny guys who never get some. Celebrities are desperate for attention, especially the ones who look forward to beach houses. But it's those celebrities that are sent to hotels with a guest list, you just dont call and get a booking. You pull strings to visit them, when they send you some ridiculous bill, you get a loan gladly. I hear that's the case with Muthaiga Golf Club. Celebrities are desperate for attention, at least those who intend for their careers to fly up like a private jet, (competitors to the Air Force One), before you hate attention seeker, imagine being begged by every egyptian-cotton bedded hotel pleading with you to visit it. Just to get the publicity. When you have too much attention, then you are publicity. And your bank account turns obese. Put it on a weigh scale and it reads to millions. Then when someone calls you an attention seeker, tell them 'I have a plane to catch... This weekend I will be partying in another town, at some presidential suite, that's what I have to pay for my attention seeking, A useless bank account, I forget my wallet every time. Cause drinks are on them."
But dont be Paris Hilton, though she is a celebrity. She has her pussy all over, and she kind of feels like a whore to me. Probably be like J. F. Kennedy. Which president do you know that road in convertibles? That guy was a total movie star not a president. His dad worked in hollywood. So he knew how to be a Publicist as well as you know how to shit. He had been in the kitchen of hollywood all his life. Which president do you know who was a more sensation than J. f Kennedy, oh, oh. Obama? That guy who facebook-ed himself to presidency?
The next time you BBM me, my favorite actress, don't tell me how you are doing. Ask me to pick a magazine off the shelf to find out how you are doing. "which magazine?" I would ask. "any or all the ones that sell out" you would tell me.
Screw your C.V, see a new series on KTN. Walk to where they are acting. Sit the director down. "Pay me!" he might laugh. But he will not be when you tell him that his series will sell seventy times more if you were in it. "the public is hungry for me." Don't place, throw all the magazines and newspapers that have your picture and interviews on his desk. Cause that's what actors do. "they are all today's" make me rich I make you rich, I am good for your career, like you are good for mine.
Then after acting, tired and you want the make up off your face. Decide you arent going home that night. Besides you haven't shopped for dinner. Decide you are going to Mombasa, decide you are going to Nyali's Beach Presidential Suite. Even I wasnt allowed there. I am forced to live with the rumors I hear around. I know for sure it has a key card entry, almost like the FOB keys to a BMW. I know it must have a view to kill for, it is rumored they have a Pole. Not a basket ball pole, but almost similar, since with that pole you steal Score. The security is rumored to be Laser. Head to the reception, and since you are like coca cola, the receptionist should know you.
"I want to stay here tonight for free..." and she might tell you that "That doesn't happen in Kenya. We don't give celebrities free goodies."
On Sunday morning when you are checking out. "You were right, the restaurants were full, our rooms have been over booked." and you would smile at him. Then you will Tweet swearing their is nothing safer than a JKIA cab. And when your followers are as drunk as silly. There minds as off as an E in math. They will still pick the Airport cabs cause for some reasons they seem safer. " YES WE CAN! " now that guy is a true celebrity, how do you campaign in one country, then people in other countries want to vote for you?
How are you doing? I never want to ask you that in a letter like this again. Cause you are the celebrity on my BBM. You always on Telly. I want to hear how you are doing in a Ugandan paper when I go visiting my friend there. Make sure you BBM me the photos to the Presidential Suite. Does it really have a pole? I can't go on with life not knowing that. It kills me to have incomplete information and rumors. I love facts like this book am reading. My mind craves complete information. Suspense doesn't work well with me. Hand me that metal cloth hanger, I will shape it like spectacles, hand me that felt black felt pen. I paint this frame so that they look like plastic. Am a Geek. And I am cool. Cause I love reading, relevant things to make my life better, and irrelevant things to find opportunity, for me or for someone else.
Yours sincerely,
Bobby
@astoldbybobby
The Photo Before Campus Life Is Over
Girl these other girls are diamonds,
They are rubies and all stones precious,
But girl you are a pearl,
Like the earrings you dress your ears in,
I wouldn't be wasting time heating your oven,
Taking time to prepare for a hot climax,
Other girls I would throw on my bed,
Like you throw fast food in a micro wave,
You baby I will pluck out the pearls off your ears,
With my lips,
Then drop them on the carpet next to my bed,
The ones next to your black heels with a red sole.
You will feel like you feel shopping for a new pair of heels,
When my lips pearl out your ears,
And my fingers slowly climb up and down your hills.
I wouldn't skip foreplay with you like a microwave skips cooking,
I will endlessly circle climb your two hills till their peaks,
Till they peak,
And prick.
Baby,
You are a pearl,
Pearls are not mined from the dirty ground,
They naturally are collected in natural shells and not branded boxes.
They take time to grow,
Like I take time with you until you turn into a bulgy juicy strawberry.
One day we will break the distance girl,
And we will not have to travel miles to kiss,
I will let your pearls rest next to my watch,
In the bowl where I sink my rings.
One day we will break the distance,
I will make my apartment as white as pure love,
From the bedsheets to the bed to the many pillows,
I know you like comfort so half the bed will be dotted with pillows,
We will spread them on the bed as we spread our bed,
A minute after we will spread them on the floor as we unspread the bed,
Spread your legs we unspread the sheets.
As the large walls are shouting white,
the curtains will be screaming red,
And there will always be a bunch of fresh scented red roses,
By the window,
So that they mix with the crispy fresh breeze from outside,
Making a cocktail of the aroma of romantic love.
Some petals will drop on the pure white surfaces,
So that they will match with the red carpet.
And on the wall we will have a big Photo of me and you,
So large we will bring it in a Pick Up,
And in the back ground will be the white sands,
An ocean with a peaceful relaxing sunset,
Me in cream white shorts with no shirt on,
You in a swimming bra,
And red stringed up undies,
A half drunk bottle of red wine in my right hand,
And the top of your ass in my left hand,
Your red lips on my beard cheeks,
And your white woolen shuka halfway falling off your shoulder,
Part of it touching the sand,
And it will be your camera that will have taken that photo,
Somewhere at a beach where we require a passport to be in,
As we walk bare foot in the sand,
We will meet the most beautiful sunset,
Some random kid will take that photo of us.
Back sun bathing in the hotel rooms balcony,
"baby, baby, look baby, baby look"
"oh my, that kid took such a lovely photo"
"oh my, look at the sandals in your hand and the sunset"
And when we fly back home,
The first thing I would do is to blow up that picture into a million times bigger,
Cage it in as a humongous frame as a seized memory,
Underneath that photo where the photographer signs,
We will have Cupids name,
"I wish we asked that Tanzanian kid his name"
My baby will say,
"I think he was Cupid..."
"he was too young to take such a lovely photo"
"leave alone hold a camera"
Then I would say,
"told you babes, he is Cupid".
Every time you feel,
I am not filling the inboxes as fast as you think I should,
Every time you feel I am a bit distracted from you,
Know that you are my pearl,
Not the cliche diamonds trying to be forced on ever one,
Sometimes they are just stones,
You on the other hand are growth,
Life like where a pearl is from,
Pearls have been there since princesses,
Diamonds haven't.
There is always something that they lack,
That you have,
Pearl doesn't cut through metal like diamond,
Pearl is naturing and soft muted colored like a massage,
Not screaming and reflecting light like a disco to get attention!
It draws attention in sublime elegant ways like a grand piano does,
It doesn't scream to draw attention but talks with humor and grace instead.
It doesn't need antics theories like Diamond Monopoly Corporation does,
"The less they are around people the more valuable they are..."
The more you are around the more I love you more,
You are confident to be around me excessively cause you know your worth,
Not like diamonds that feels worthless until they create,
Artificial scarceness like fuel prices.
I am not sure I want you to have my kid,
But the idea thrills me a lot,
And right now the idea is the evidence I have for you,
Don't let me give you a kid,
But make me believe that you would want to have my kid,
I see the world as a one night stand,
I see the world as diamonds,
But you I see as a pearl,
As beautiful as pregnancy.
But today we are young and irresponsible,
today we fuck,
Make love,
You take photos,
I write,
We travel,
Red is love,
White is purity,
Our room is our world,
Our love is to die for like red blood,
And as white as the symbol of peace on our flag!
There is the world out there where we walk into in blue,
Where we club in black grey blue and pink,
Sometimes green like growth,
However complicated the world is out there,
Remember white and red.
Remember home.
Our world in this world,
My apartments bed room doesn't look like that today,
You are miles away but see the white bedsheets that much cum,
See the velvet deep red curtains that match your lips,
See the very red soft carpet that matches your very soft red lips,
See the red petals dropped from the white flower vase soiling the white table red,
Aren't you allowed to leave red lipstick on the bed sheets?
"babes, I soiled your white pillows, maybe I should sleep on the red ones"
And I would throw a white pillow instead of red at you.
"I asked for the red ones honey!"
You would say with you hands akimbo.
"I know"
I would say back.
Aren't I allowed to spill some cum on the red carpet?
As the red petals kiss the white tables,
Let your red lips kiss my white...
My apartment doesn't look like that yet today,
we will break the distance one day,
The world is a cruel complicated place,
But our world is simple.
Hold onto your red lipstick no matter what,
I will hold onto your white pearls no matter what,
until we break the distance!
Until we break the distance!
Until we break the distance.
Like we broke other thing.
That left part of my white shorts red.
Thursday 15 September 2011
Throwing My Life Away?
3:00pm
I had left the ignition key in the car. The car engine was running. I was in the loo at Dalamere taking a leak.
3:03pm
I found the car still standing at the gas station the way it was when i left it, only now it was fueled up. That's the thing with working people. They fuel the car to the brim. I never fuel the car i drive to the brim, it senseless to me to spend all that money and having nothing to show for it but a stick that now points up. (I mean the fuel gauge) But it was her car. So who cared if the car was so full it was throwing up fuel.
3:05pm
Back on the road, I had one more hour to go. If I could drive faster, I could actually slice that one hour drive by almost half. I knew that for sure,
I needed to get back home on time. There was something waiting for me, oh heavens was I eager for it! The moments I tried to slice the hour left of Tarmac, Pressed the accelerator a bit faster, the passenger I had on the co-driver's seat would scream. Scream words that is. My mother is polite, she handles everything with utmost grace, she just doesn't scream. At least most times. I tried to tell her we had as many airbags as a Maybach, On the seats, On the shoulders, on the doors. You know cars have shoulders by the way, and their shoulders have airbags. Does yours have airbags? Shoulders I mean. She wasn't convinced. You can trust mothers to be economic. We weren't going to waste airbags. So we let lorries overtake us. But just before you think she is not cool. When I mentioned a Maybach, she mentioned a Rolls Roys. I almost fainted right there on the steering.
4:00pm
We got home, and when I say home, I mean town, and when I say town,I mean shops. Women love shopping, no matter their age. I left her shopping. She would find her way home. Her other half was in town anyways. Then I could drive with an aim to use the airbags. I flew. Short distance. But I flew.
4:15pm
"open your boot, it's procedure"
"really?"
"what do you think I am carrying to a rugby game, guns?"
I was trying to be funny.
"no, we don't care about that. It's drinks we are searching for..."
And she was not trying to be funny. Did I mention she was not trying to be funny? Such a waste of our police force. I got out of the car escorted the police woman to ransack my bags. That is democracy for you, people interfering with your privacy as you watch! My boots lay there covered in mud, And a few suitcases. Not guns! No booze! Though I wished it was tidier. But the car demanded respect, so I wasn't embarrassed for it or for me.
"I was traveling...for heavens sake"
But in her head I could still feel her judging me.
4:20pm
So there I was driving in. Once long ago, I had promised myself never to attend such events alone, It can be painfully boring, and absolutely lonely. Here I was, In the car alone. Here I was a few years after, Alone.
I packed next to a two door Audi, Black and sleek, I felt closer to it than any things else, everyone around was a stranger. All the cars around were also strangers, But the Audi wasnt a stranger, I had parked next to it many times before, mostly during lunch at the Club. A month ago, for almost a week, I had passed it on the road at a T-junction heading to court, for a whole continuous seven days, a week. Everyday. If you were me, You would park next to it.
In that place you have so many people around, so many people who know you, it is still amazing how you still feel so lonelier than you feel if you were by yourself somewhere else. I stayed in the car and rang the three or for people who had invited me. They weren't around. Some had left, probably got tired of pretending to watch the game, some came the day before. I was going to be alone. I knew that for sure. Looking out of the window I saw people genuinely happy. Most of them were. Actually all of them,
4:40pm
I stopped listening to songs alone in the car. I wasn't going to be a freak like that. Seated alone in a car at a rugby field parking lot. The car wasn't fully tinted. People could see me! People were seeing me! I walked out.
I started walking away from the car, away from the black Audi I felt so comfortable close to, away from the open door cars with loud music,
and the girls in slutty net outfits.
I was passing people waving silently at them, girls I had shagged, even a girl who had refused to sex me cause she was older, Or something to that effect.
She hadn't grown prettier. But all of them were with people, I felt small walking in such a large field, It normally feels like that when you are walking with no aim, I wasn't going to watch the game, I have never got the logistics of rugby anyways. Even keeping score. I just know muscled guys with funny shorts fall with their ball. And hurt their balls most times.
I tried to walk slower cause I didn't know my destination, but then walking slower would mean I walk alone in that large field which was thoroughly uncomfortable. I am not a witch. I don't walk alone around places where everyone is in groups.
I felt like I had been walking for an hour. I was away from anything friendly. I could see the friendly Audi that I had parked next to my car far away from where I was.
Just 4:41pm
"hi"
"howdy"
The hi sounded sincere because it screamed glad to see you! and Oh phew at least! Someone to get me out of this boring misery. Yes, I got all that from hi. But there was also that fact he jumped eagerly out of the circle he was with to greet me. I stretched my hand, We exchanged a firm weird hand shake.
"what's up man, it been long?"
He was still a stranger,
Until,
4:42pm when,
"how did squash go that day?"
He became instantly familiar, a friend of a friend whose friend I play squash with.
"I won"
A half truth.
"so who are you with?"
What did he mean who was I with. I had come to 'watch' the game!
The conversation he had with me for the next two minutes lay strongly on the assumptions I had women in the car, many women that is; that I had just been heading to the washroom or something, and would be heading back to the parking soon. He didn't know my car was parked empty. And the only woman there was the Audi, I considered the Audi a woman cause my car looked more many.
First of all the Audi was two doored. Mine was five, it was larger than a sedan, so it matched with the coupe, In engine power and in youth. They were a young couple. Ask the number plates if you don't believe me. That's all I had in the parking lot. But who was I to tell these fella that, at the time it was okay for him to be my friend for whatever reasons, I couldn't stand alone waving to people I know; Whispering look at that lonely witch.
I was slightly offended by the fact that he assumed I must have had left, like a dozen of women at the car park, with music shouting out of the car and perhaps a camera flashing lights at those invisible bent-over-women who in his mind must have been trying not to spill any alcohol on the seats. I guess your reputation always proceeds you.
We engaged in small talk. He is quite an interesting chap. He has read my blog so that also helped to make him interesting. I pretended I was heading to the loo, he pretended he was heading to the bar, so we headed there together. The beer in his hand was almost full, he didn't need another. But you know guys don't state the obvious.
Now I could wave at people louder, I even tapped a couple of hot girls I used to know and said hi; tapped on the shoulder, I am not filthy in public.
We met a perfectly girl, arrogant but rightfully arrogant cause she could back it up. She was younger than me and even more unfortunately she was days taller than me. I immediately wished I wasn't in flat sandals. I should have tip toed. But that would have been plainly silly. She was an acquaintance. She was standing in a circle with other girls. The other girls didn't notice me cause they were laughing together. She was laughing alone, alone cause her laughter was fake unlike the rest. You do not notice people as easily when you are laughing or when talking to your friends.
She is endowed with confidence that girl. She touched my person, She touched my button-down sweater. Flipped it to display the horse on my shirt.
"that shirt is fake, Marco polo designs smaller horses"
She said.
Who is Marco Polo? I thought it is Raulph Lauren.
"i like fake things...haha"
I lied. I was completely caught by that comment off guard.
I laughed about it. And before we both wished she would say a goodbye. Drug us out of that awful conversation.
"so wearing slippers is your thing?"
I walked away from her like she was a disease. Toxic to my moods. I looked at my sandals, looked at his slippers.I was shocked. I hadn't seen them before. But his black leather jacket would have been a range rover if it was a car. He looked sharp. I was in sandals cause my boots had just seen a party where there were boats and mud. He just seemed not to care. But why bother explaining that to that stupid little girl who has a problem with my horse. She hadn't come there to play sports. She was there to social climb. That was her sport. I wish she was at least good at it.
In fact its our grand fathers who wore shirts with tiny horses on them. We wear bigger ones ourselves. We are young. And no we aren't fake. How could bigger horses be fake? Even if they were fake, everyone likes big things. I like big booties. Bigger tellys aren't fake. They are still Sony. Wake up girl. Who doesn't want a bigger..., you don't want a bigger...to ride?
He headed to the bar. I headed to the loo.
While we headed to the car he scratched his head confused. I could tell it. His surprise. I had tricked him there were no women.
It was to late to turn back, conversation was good. The guy has seen the world. He has seen Kenya. There are parts of Kenya that are like Somali. War to the end. He has been surrounded by successful people. So he came of as mighty ambitious. I guess that's what you get from working for NGOs. He sat on the co-driver's, I sat on the driver's. He mentioned the Audi next looked sweet too.
We decided it was in order to move close to the pitch. Then we could watch the game better, from inside the car. He liked coldplay. Enjoyed them. He definitely had good taste in music. I shamelessly drove into a crowd of spectators, they got off the way obviously. I then stopped and some of them looked at me angrily. Is he seriously going to pack there? Where we were standing. Yes, I was seriously parked there and I was staying there. I was going to watch the game from there.
"so these guys contract with you?"
"Yeah I work part time for the car hire company,"
"but my full time job involves going into disaster zones"
I imagined the camels I used to read about in history class, crossing the desserts. Being ridden by violent men. Then I imagined the convoy of land cruisers they travelled with. Always an armed police land rover tailing them, escorting them. The bandits have a network in those zones. They are pirates, not like pirates of the caribean. Real pirates. They kill and rob.
"if you travel un armed news will travel, and you will be attacked, robbed and killed"
Infact there is a story about some father, He was taking food to a children's home, And he was caught by one of those bandits, I imagined the conversation went like this;
"get out'a the car mon, get out get out,
"...will shoot you. Get'a out"
"it's alright mate, no one has to get hurt"
"so you are a father, you think you better than us?"
"no am just going back to my missionary school"
"that's where I am taking these bags of maize"
"good, carry one bag and walk on, I will keep the car"
And he let the priest walk infront of the car. He drove behind him slowly pointing a gun at him. Poor thing, he wasn't accustomed to carry such heavy language. He fell quite a number of times. He dragged himself until he started crawling.
"when you tired, you tell me, ey?"
And he would laugh waving the gun at him. That's what pyschos do. They have an evil loud laughter. Ask the cartoons bad character, they will show you it! Haha haha haa haa!
"I can't make it, I am tired"
"what did you say..."
"I am tired, I can't make it"
Tush! And as he dropped down bleeding from his back. He said "God bless you" and died.
After that the thug drove over him, laughing perhaps. The strong dessert winds and sand buried him. He was buried by the heavens.
"The man is cursed now. His whole clan is. His children are deformed. They can't stand. It's like they are kneeling all the time. If you look at them. Their bodies are shaped as if they are begging for their lives. Even their hands. The man is cursed."
We were still in the car. He sounded composed, believable. Even when he talked about Peace Keeping NGOs funding wars so that they can stay in business, his voice was calm, confident and collected. But then that was his what bottle? Six? Fifth?
It was already 8:00pm. I couldn't believe it, I had lost track of time! He dropped the empty brown bottle of beer out of the window. We weren't going to return it back to the bar.
9:00pm
He texted me he had gotten back home safe.
9:01pm
I lie on my bed thinking. I would love to go to war zone places. They offer such good stories. Adventure. Would I almost throw my life into a den of lions just for a good story?or my attending a rugby game is a good story enough?
9:03pm
I answered that question.
9:04pm
My day ended.
Here is the other post I promised;
"When Love Was Pure Adventure And Not Pricey Coffee"
Check it up.
I had left the ignition key in the car. The car engine was running. I was in the loo at Dalamere taking a leak.
3:03pm
I found the car still standing at the gas station the way it was when i left it, only now it was fueled up. That's the thing with working people. They fuel the car to the brim. I never fuel the car i drive to the brim, it senseless to me to spend all that money and having nothing to show for it but a stick that now points up. (I mean the fuel gauge) But it was her car. So who cared if the car was so full it was throwing up fuel.
3:05pm
Back on the road, I had one more hour to go. If I could drive faster, I could actually slice that one hour drive by almost half. I knew that for sure,
I needed to get back home on time. There was something waiting for me, oh heavens was I eager for it! The moments I tried to slice the hour left of Tarmac, Pressed the accelerator a bit faster, the passenger I had on the co-driver's seat would scream. Scream words that is. My mother is polite, she handles everything with utmost grace, she just doesn't scream. At least most times. I tried to tell her we had as many airbags as a Maybach, On the seats, On the shoulders, on the doors. You know cars have shoulders by the way, and their shoulders have airbags. Does yours have airbags? Shoulders I mean. She wasn't convinced. You can trust mothers to be economic. We weren't going to waste airbags. So we let lorries overtake us. But just before you think she is not cool. When I mentioned a Maybach, she mentioned a Rolls Roys. I almost fainted right there on the steering.
4:00pm
We got home, and when I say home, I mean town, and when I say town,I mean shops. Women love shopping, no matter their age. I left her shopping. She would find her way home. Her other half was in town anyways. Then I could drive with an aim to use the airbags. I flew. Short distance. But I flew.
4:15pm
"open your boot, it's procedure"
"really?"
"what do you think I am carrying to a rugby game, guns?"
I was trying to be funny.
"no, we don't care about that. It's drinks we are searching for..."
And she was not trying to be funny. Did I mention she was not trying to be funny? Such a waste of our police force. I got out of the car escorted the police woman to ransack my bags. That is democracy for you, people interfering with your privacy as you watch! My boots lay there covered in mud, And a few suitcases. Not guns! No booze! Though I wished it was tidier. But the car demanded respect, so I wasn't embarrassed for it or for me.
"I was traveling...for heavens sake"
But in her head I could still feel her judging me.
4:20pm
So there I was driving in. Once long ago, I had promised myself never to attend such events alone, It can be painfully boring, and absolutely lonely. Here I was, In the car alone. Here I was a few years after, Alone.
I packed next to a two door Audi, Black and sleek, I felt closer to it than any things else, everyone around was a stranger. All the cars around were also strangers, But the Audi wasnt a stranger, I had parked next to it many times before, mostly during lunch at the Club. A month ago, for almost a week, I had passed it on the road at a T-junction heading to court, for a whole continuous seven days, a week. Everyday. If you were me, You would park next to it.
In that place you have so many people around, so many people who know you, it is still amazing how you still feel so lonelier than you feel if you were by yourself somewhere else. I stayed in the car and rang the three or for people who had invited me. They weren't around. Some had left, probably got tired of pretending to watch the game, some came the day before. I was going to be alone. I knew that for sure. Looking out of the window I saw people genuinely happy. Most of them were. Actually all of them,
4:40pm
I stopped listening to songs alone in the car. I wasn't going to be a freak like that. Seated alone in a car at a rugby field parking lot. The car wasn't fully tinted. People could see me! People were seeing me! I walked out.
I started walking away from the car, away from the black Audi I felt so comfortable close to, away from the open door cars with loud music,
and the girls in slutty net outfits.
I was passing people waving silently at them, girls I had shagged, even a girl who had refused to sex me cause she was older, Or something to that effect.
She hadn't grown prettier. But all of them were with people, I felt small walking in such a large field, It normally feels like that when you are walking with no aim, I wasn't going to watch the game, I have never got the logistics of rugby anyways. Even keeping score. I just know muscled guys with funny shorts fall with their ball. And hurt their balls most times.
I tried to walk slower cause I didn't know my destination, but then walking slower would mean I walk alone in that large field which was thoroughly uncomfortable. I am not a witch. I don't walk alone around places where everyone is in groups.
I felt like I had been walking for an hour. I was away from anything friendly. I could see the friendly Audi that I had parked next to my car far away from where I was.
Just 4:41pm
"hi"
"howdy"
The hi sounded sincere because it screamed glad to see you! and Oh phew at least! Someone to get me out of this boring misery. Yes, I got all that from hi. But there was also that fact he jumped eagerly out of the circle he was with to greet me. I stretched my hand, We exchanged a firm weird hand shake.
"what's up man, it been long?"
He was still a stranger,
Until,
4:42pm when,
"how did squash go that day?"
He became instantly familiar, a friend of a friend whose friend I play squash with.
"I won"
A half truth.
"so who are you with?"
What did he mean who was I with. I had come to 'watch' the game!
The conversation he had with me for the next two minutes lay strongly on the assumptions I had women in the car, many women that is; that I had just been heading to the washroom or something, and would be heading back to the parking soon. He didn't know my car was parked empty. And the only woman there was the Audi, I considered the Audi a woman cause my car looked more many.
First of all the Audi was two doored. Mine was five, it was larger than a sedan, so it matched with the coupe, In engine power and in youth. They were a young couple. Ask the number plates if you don't believe me. That's all I had in the parking lot. But who was I to tell these fella that, at the time it was okay for him to be my friend for whatever reasons, I couldn't stand alone waving to people I know; Whispering look at that lonely witch.
I was slightly offended by the fact that he assumed I must have had left, like a dozen of women at the car park, with music shouting out of the car and perhaps a camera flashing lights at those invisible bent-over-women who in his mind must have been trying not to spill any alcohol on the seats. I guess your reputation always proceeds you.
We engaged in small talk. He is quite an interesting chap. He has read my blog so that also helped to make him interesting. I pretended I was heading to the loo, he pretended he was heading to the bar, so we headed there together. The beer in his hand was almost full, he didn't need another. But you know guys don't state the obvious.
Now I could wave at people louder, I even tapped a couple of hot girls I used to know and said hi; tapped on the shoulder, I am not filthy in public.
We met a perfectly girl, arrogant but rightfully arrogant cause she could back it up. She was younger than me and even more unfortunately she was days taller than me. I immediately wished I wasn't in flat sandals. I should have tip toed. But that would have been plainly silly. She was an acquaintance. She was standing in a circle with other girls. The other girls didn't notice me cause they were laughing together. She was laughing alone, alone cause her laughter was fake unlike the rest. You do not notice people as easily when you are laughing or when talking to your friends.
She is endowed with confidence that girl. She touched my person, She touched my button-down sweater. Flipped it to display the horse on my shirt.
"that shirt is fake, Marco polo designs smaller horses"
She said.
Who is Marco Polo? I thought it is Raulph Lauren.
"i like fake things...haha"
I lied. I was completely caught by that comment off guard.
I laughed about it. And before we both wished she would say a goodbye. Drug us out of that awful conversation.
"so wearing slippers is your thing?"
I walked away from her like she was a disease. Toxic to my moods. I looked at my sandals, looked at his slippers.I was shocked. I hadn't seen them before. But his black leather jacket would have been a range rover if it was a car. He looked sharp. I was in sandals cause my boots had just seen a party where there were boats and mud. He just seemed not to care. But why bother explaining that to that stupid little girl who has a problem with my horse. She hadn't come there to play sports. She was there to social climb. That was her sport. I wish she was at least good at it.
In fact its our grand fathers who wore shirts with tiny horses on them. We wear bigger ones ourselves. We are young. And no we aren't fake. How could bigger horses be fake? Even if they were fake, everyone likes big things. I like big booties. Bigger tellys aren't fake. They are still Sony. Wake up girl. Who doesn't want a bigger..., you don't want a bigger...to ride?
He headed to the bar. I headed to the loo.
While we headed to the car he scratched his head confused. I could tell it. His surprise. I had tricked him there were no women.
It was to late to turn back, conversation was good. The guy has seen the world. He has seen Kenya. There are parts of Kenya that are like Somali. War to the end. He has been surrounded by successful people. So he came of as mighty ambitious. I guess that's what you get from working for NGOs. He sat on the co-driver's, I sat on the driver's. He mentioned the Audi next looked sweet too.
We decided it was in order to move close to the pitch. Then we could watch the game better, from inside the car. He liked coldplay. Enjoyed them. He definitely had good taste in music. I shamelessly drove into a crowd of spectators, they got off the way obviously. I then stopped and some of them looked at me angrily. Is he seriously going to pack there? Where we were standing. Yes, I was seriously parked there and I was staying there. I was going to watch the game from there.
"so these guys contract with you?"
"Yeah I work part time for the car hire company,"
"but my full time job involves going into disaster zones"
I imagined the camels I used to read about in history class, crossing the desserts. Being ridden by violent men. Then I imagined the convoy of land cruisers they travelled with. Always an armed police land rover tailing them, escorting them. The bandits have a network in those zones. They are pirates, not like pirates of the caribean. Real pirates. They kill and rob.
"if you travel un armed news will travel, and you will be attacked, robbed and killed"
Infact there is a story about some father, He was taking food to a children's home, And he was caught by one of those bandits, I imagined the conversation went like this;
"get out'a the car mon, get out get out,
"...will shoot you. Get'a out"
"it's alright mate, no one has to get hurt"
"so you are a father, you think you better than us?"
"no am just going back to my missionary school"
"that's where I am taking these bags of maize"
"good, carry one bag and walk on, I will keep the car"
And he let the priest walk infront of the car. He drove behind him slowly pointing a gun at him. Poor thing, he wasn't accustomed to carry such heavy language. He fell quite a number of times. He dragged himself until he started crawling.
"when you tired, you tell me, ey?"
And he would laugh waving the gun at him. That's what pyschos do. They have an evil loud laughter. Ask the cartoons bad character, they will show you it! Haha haha haa haa!
"I can't make it, I am tired"
"what did you say..."
"I am tired, I can't make it"
Tush! And as he dropped down bleeding from his back. He said "God bless you" and died.
After that the thug drove over him, laughing perhaps. The strong dessert winds and sand buried him. He was buried by the heavens.
"The man is cursed now. His whole clan is. His children are deformed. They can't stand. It's like they are kneeling all the time. If you look at them. Their bodies are shaped as if they are begging for their lives. Even their hands. The man is cursed."
We were still in the car. He sounded composed, believable. Even when he talked about Peace Keeping NGOs funding wars so that they can stay in business, his voice was calm, confident and collected. But then that was his what bottle? Six? Fifth?
It was already 8:00pm. I couldn't believe it, I had lost track of time! He dropped the empty brown bottle of beer out of the window. We weren't going to return it back to the bar.
9:00pm
He texted me he had gotten back home safe.
9:01pm
I lie on my bed thinking. I would love to go to war zone places. They offer such good stories. Adventure. Would I almost throw my life into a den of lions just for a good story?or my attending a rugby game is a good story enough?
9:03pm
I answered that question.
9:04pm
My day ended.
Here is the other post I promised;
"When Love Was Pure Adventure And Not Pricey Coffee"
Check it up.
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