Sunday, February 20

The Holy Bible, the gun, the vodka


Fuck it, fuck it fuck it!!! FUCK IT!! Moving too fast, faster than the rest, the moment doesn't fit, it never does. The wheels just……… he had no control over anything. Their faces joined almost at the tip of their eyes, unsuspecting intent. Her words just a whisper, his words get in his way. He was her, she was him, and they were them. All they prayed for was a healthier today than yesterday, a safe place to sleep at night, enough money in their pocket so they are not hungry and a feeling that they matter to someone. The Holy Bible, the gun, the vodka. Never should have picked the phone but he did, not that he cares, or anyone else, especially them. The heart and the brain are never supposed to agree on anything.

The Holy Bible, the gun, the vodka. Head trauma, depression, awesomeness was what he felt. Too many days just disappeared too many times in a year, minute after minute and nobody even notices that she smiles different when he’s around. She loved him but she was not his to keep.  Eternity, things go on forever, what does that even mean? Things were moving too slow, slower, clearer, recollection, all the things that matter in one frame. The picture, soul in a dungeon, the picture is a little hazy, there is no picture. Catching grenades, trains, head on a blade, who the fuck loves that much? Who knows the difference between wrong and right any more?

He needed it to be still, still enough to listen to the humming of the cosmos. It’s loud; he can’t listen to himself, to God. He needs to talk to God and explain himself, or rather his actions. How come we rejoice at a birth and grieve at a funeral? It’s probably because we are not the person involved. He was not feeling guilty; he didn’t understand why, correction, what he felt. We are human, sinners, sin is part of us. At this point, they didn’t remember whose idea it was in the first place, it was wrong, but they didn’t care that she was someone else’s woman. They took the risk, hoped and prayed there was an afterlife; the only place they didn’t need to sneak around was in another life.

The Holy Bible, the gun, the vodka. She still won’t hear him; she lied there and smiled, not quite the same way. She was waiting for him in another life. He loaded the gun. Let’s rewrite the book.



Wednesday, February 16

In Arsene we trust

We are heading here.........
This great man
Deserves something close to this
Or a beer named after him



This he brought home.................

..this too

.......plus this...

This great man

........ created speed...


........a rhythm
Cesc he did



.......more of this

.....these

...................and more of  these

that's why we do

..........more of these

.........the invincibles too

Legends


........and more legends












Upgrading needed


I’ve being studying myself for a while now. Am a pretty interesting fellow, regardless of the fact that almost everything I do is routine. All I do is eat, drink, work and sleep (and a few other things that would give you a reason to judge me). The study shows I need a tad bit of upgrading. This was not necessary of my own making but getting into the details of how this crossed my mind won’t exactly make me less of a man, but neither will it improve my image in the social scene. I need some upgrading but my upgrading should however not affect my awesomeness, which means no one, and I mean no one should touch my after 1800 hrs schedule.

I was looking at my bed this morning, same as I do every morning and the art looks a little different. It had additional features. There was a sock, another sock, an extra t-shirt and where did that other sock come from?  The reason I study my bed every morning is to try and understand why anyone would like to destroy the masterpiece you’ve being making all night by making it. The beauty is legendary. I know this would be affected if I ever decide to leave my manhood to the mercies of a woman. Am not sure if it is a bad or a good thing, but the raging debate in my head isn’t leaning on the feminine side. My sister always tells me that I need a woman in my life and as much as I love her with all my heart, the fact that she suggests it makes me a little more wary of the species from Venus.

When I say upgrading, from my point of view, it’s more of home cooked meals and curtains. For the curtains, there is no sense of urgency since the kikoi has being working out alright so far. A home cooked meal is a problem not because I can’t cook (am a terrific cook, so I’ve being told), it’s cooking for one that doesn’t work for me. It makes me feel a tad bit lonely, it’s sad actually. I do cook if I have a friend over but with my hours, there is really no point of inviting people over at that time unless you’re getting some. Now here comes the big question, between the cooking and the “business”, which is of importance? If she’s visiting for the night, cooking doesn’t make a lot of sense, unless it’s a quick mix of vodka and coffee. Maybe it’s just me but hey……… I’ve never tried to win the battle of the sexes, too much fraternizing with the enemy has happened.

At this precise moment, I just realized how much of a feminist I sound. It is not my fault exactly since in the world we are brought up in, the emotional, sexual, and psychological stereotyping of females begins when the doctor says, "It's a girl." With the women having accepted the position right below, it’s a little difficult to wake up today and just change the way men think. Personally, I am all for compelling her strength, not doubting her courage or her toughness, not believing her to be naïve or innocent, and gathering the courage to treat her like a woman. That may make me a lesser of a man in front of other men, but what does a man gain from treating a woman as a lesser being.

Getting to yes, that’s the yes on that soft bargaining, negotiation of positions rather than interests, offering concessions easily in the interests of preserving (or creating) a good relationship with the other side she also has to learn a few things too.
  1. A drink with the boys is not cheating on her. If am out with the boys, I would appreciate if my phone does not ring after every five minutes. I am probably in the middle of a story of how am cheating on you with my imaginary girlfriend (just to prove to the boys am not whooped)
  2. You have your book clubs, swimming thingies, South American soap operas and church stuff with the girls, I have sports. If I can’t watch them in the house, you are kindly asked to refrain from getting mad, and if you must get mad at me, at least act like you’re not. I do understand that all the nice games fall in the weekend and you would love us to go out too, but if only you would give me a little space, i.e. 1500 hrs to 2200hrs I will dedicate the rest of the night to you.
  3.   I do understand that all your life, circumstances beyond your control (being born a woman) have forced you to imply rather than express how you feel. I would also want you to understand that the opposite applies to me, and a breakdown in communication will be a constant feature in this arrangement.


I know am not supposed to be thinking about these things right now, but since I did, a few things came to me. After all this thinking, I do believe am going through a period of nostalgia, and I seem to think yesterday was better than today.  I don't know if it was, and I would advise you not to wait ten years before admitting today was great.  If you're hung up on nostalgia, pretend today is yesterday and just go out and have one hell of a time. Am going to join those who can laugh without cause, for they have either found the true meaning of happiness or have gone stark raving mad.

How about that upgrading ladies. I just realized I don’t know what I want.

Monday, February 7

Mututhos visit to Lamu

His time piece read noon. He alighted to a different atmosphere, he couldn't understand it since where he came from, they hadn't felt it in a long time. Bliss was what was happening to him now. The scenic ideals that surrounded him in every of our lands; carriers of a nostalgia for heavenly bliss and eternal calmness were overwhelming. He felt he was close, too close probably for a step inside this piece of paradise, he may never gather enough courage to walk out. It was out of this world.


He knew it was the wrong decision, but he put the right foot in front of the left, the left in front of the right. He kept doing it for a couple of minutes and saw the first source of happiness. Loud laughter could be heard from afar, he held a moment in his hand, brilliant as a star, fragile as a flower, but he didn't realize it, at least not then. Curiosity can do more things than kill a cat; and if emotions, well recognized as feminine, are inimical to feline life, his would soon leave the whole world cat less. The first and simplest emotion got the best of him. Inside the first floor he walked, the patrons turned to watch this unfamiliar face. With suits and office shoes, he didn't blend, he didn't belong. He scanned the room and a sense of displeasure befell him. Not a single soul recognized him. It saddened him to watch these people this happy.


He walked to the counter and asked for the manager. The hospitality of the people struck the first blow when one of the local populace bought him a drink. He took a quick glance at this vile man breaking the law with disgust only to notice a set of handcuffs stuck on his belt. This was a policeman offering him a drink. It was difficult to differentiate, or rather, to categorize this crowd. They were clad in shorts, vests, t-shirts, open shoes… light clothes. Their mood was light too, so was their hearts.


He couldn't stand this sight, he had being standing in front of lawbreakers for more than two minutes and his conscience was getting the better of him. He was afraid of standing too close for fear of affliction with evil. He started to walk faster, but the more he walked, the more he noticed it. He was not willing to let go of the life he had planned so as to have the life that was waiting for him. Faster he walked, and the smell, that unmistakable smell of the heat on the other side of bliss could not escape his nostrils.


Mary Jane was conducting a therapy session. A few boats sway as the class in session sat there listening to the waves. He couldn't believe his sight, Mary Jane had being banned from seeing any more patients, Betty Brown had also faced the same wrath, but here, she was bold enough to conduct her sessions in broad daylight. He felt like he'd arrived late for a movie, having to figure out what was going on without bothering everybody with a lot of questions, and it was becoming a problem. He didn't know who to talk to though as it seemed as if everyone was sailing in the same boat, even those who didn't bliss ride.


He decided to talk to the area police chief, if only for the sake of clarification. On arriving at the station, only a few officers were on duty, who informed him that the chief had just stepped out for a quick meal. His sense of urgency kept pushing him, he wished he'd relax but he had ants in his pants. The officer noticed his impatience, and pointed him to where the chief was having lunch. On arrival, he was surprised in the most extreme possible way……….the shock was crushing, he fainted.


The chief ordered a double shot of vodka, he made him breathe the fumes and when he came to, the shock wouldn't allow him to utter a single word. He took the double from the chief, drowned it, ordered another double drowned it and looked at the chief.


"Do you know who I am"


"Not from here definitely"


"John Mututho"


"Oooohh, so you are that guy that is scaring the shit out of your fellow Kenyans?"


"Isn't this a part of Kenya?"


"Geographically it is. This is Lamu; they follow the laws that work for us and discard that don't. These are a bliss loving individuals and neither we nor your rules will take that away from them. Nothing is more important than reconnecting with their bliss. Nothing is as rich. Nothing is more real.


"It took me a while to understand it, but a few more days in this blissful island might change your mind. Or you can send reinforcements and see how that works for you, but I'll tell you this, we were sent as reinforcements." 

Saturday, February 5

Love, loyalty and blood.



“I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion - 
I have shuddered at it. 
I shudder no more. 
I could be martyred for my religion 
Love is my religion 
And I could die for that. 
I could die for you.” 

 
~ By John Keats ~

His breathing was heavier, and his legs were giving in. He had run for too long, not fast enough and they were catching up too fast. Fast forward this story and it becomes a story of war. Take a step back and it was a story of loyalty. Two steps back it was a story of love and a few more steps back it was still a story of love, the forbidden kind.

His name is not as important as what he represented. He was a loyal friend to his and when one of them was killed, he couldn’t let it slide. He went to the local where the deed took place and watched his victim as he laughed with his. They were joking and laughing about it. He was a child of royalty, which meant him and his walked on air, water and through walls. Untouchable they were, not like him and his. His were not very affluent but had learnt to cope, keep their distance from the arrogant that had and it seemed to work until she came into the picture.

Love can sometimes be magic. But magic can sometimes…just be an illusion. She was the girl of his dreams. When she walked she made them all look and that made him feel important, at least when they were she did. He had never felt this way about a woman before. When they were together, they were naked in the clouds and in their world they had their feet in the sand and the beach was their ground. Do you ever put your arms out and just spin and spin and spin? Well, that’s what their love was. Everything inside of them kept telling them to stop before they fall, but they just keep going. She was however making too many people look. He knew, no, they knew roses wither and dry but still held on hoping that they will last.   They did until he came into the picture and stole a kiss from his love. A lawful kiss is never worth a stolen one, but its worth is worth if you’re not caught, he caught him.

He was the quiet kind, loveable too and well mannered. His were cowboys and though his mama always warned him about them, their loyalty to him would not let him betray them. His always brought him the best laughs, memories and in times of uncertainty, clear mind. Like that one time when his heart was first broken, the liquor store blues with his and exposure to a few more pussycats courtesy of his was enough to aid the pain and heal the wounds. He couldn’t let his difference of opinion with his mother get in the middle of that.

His mother had aged gracefully. She was beautiful, caring and most importantly, she was the kind type. When she was much younger, even more beautiful and although she was modest, tales of her beauty had travelled far and wide. She had made more than her equal share look and a power did look. He came from royalty, rolled with royalty and was expected to marry from royalty, but he didn’t. What lied behind them, and what lied before them were tiny matters compared to what lied within them. He promised she would marry her but the father would not stand by and watch royal blood tainted. So he ran away from her, but deep inside he knew if she didn’t come after him, he would die, and he died. Everyday he died a little inside until this one day she came calling, crying.

She told him about his son, their son, their only son. Their son loved this woman; he killed for her, died for it and lost one of his friends for it. Their son reminded her of him, they had taken the only thing that he loved and reminded her of the love of his life. He couldn’t sit back and watch her heart breaking; it was breaking his heart too.
Rage was what was happening to him now. He gathered his troops.

Tuesday, February 1

I will endanger my own life to pleasure a woman

I definitely knew this heading will catch your attention. Let's get it on then.

I have a good friend of mine, for the sake of anonymity, let's call him Jack. It could be Daniels, Sparrow or Bauer but it definitely has to be Jack. Just to warn you, if Jack forgot his meds (his mood stabilizer), or for some insane reason didn't  want to take them, he would probably be more hyper, offensive, angry, arrogant, creative, swinging in trees, ten times hornier and easily annoyed. Jack lives in an imaginary world as someone else as well as in the real world, where he's ………. (Anonymous). He writes stories about the person, his alter ego, and paint pictures of him and his friends etc. He's rather involved in his world as well as……… (Anonymous), this may not make any sense to anyone, but some people might understand.


So, Jack and his guy in the real world are currently having relationship problems. We shall call his guy in the real world Johnnie, the anonymous dude that is. They've being fighting a lot and according to Jack, the intensity causes everything else in his life feel like it got the volume turned down." Don't you have other things to do? Is your life so empty that you honestly can't think of a better way to spend these moments? Or are you so impressed with authority that you give respect and credence to all that claim it? " "Yeah, you're sorry, I'm sorry, everybody's sorry, but... I can't do this anymore. I can't. And I won't. I'm gone." is pretty much how their conversations have being ending.

Sometimes Jack and I have go to therapy together, sometime I take Johnnie (none knows about the other). Since Mary Jane decided to take my sessions, as Betty Brown decided my issues were too complex for her (actually, I think she just ain't experienced enough to take up more than one client at a time. Unfortunately for me, I have to take some friends to avoid that confusing shit these guys, shrinks, tell you) we've being making a lot of progress. You see, Jack has a seasonal bipolar, he'd probably be trying to hang himself whilst he smoke his last joint or write depressing stories about death in his blood.


Mary Jane defines Johnnies' alternate universe as quite complicated, from Jacks' description of it. It seems to Jack it would be hard for him to keep track of something with all that complexity without "complications" occurring now and then. Johnnies' alternate universe differs from Jacks' in that his is a retreat from the outer world, has nothing in common with the outer world and is just for Jack, not for the head shrinks or any other folks outside of the wrong planet. 


To be honest with you guys, Jack and Johnnie are battling alter egos in my head. I know everyone has an alter ego, but this is a little weird. Am honestly really nervous and anxious and my waking/real life starts to suffer, because so many things I do, are about them. Maybe I'm relying too heavily on them to get through things and should stop worrying about them.


I would love to finish this story but Jack and Johnnie are at it again, apparently there is a new alter ego called Jennie fighting to be heard.


Note: I know they are just voices, but calling them alter egos makes me look less crazy.