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| blissful spot |
I want to wear my head phones, listen to some house and trance as I write this. But I will not, cause I can hear the sound of nature outside. The birds chapping, not to noisily, I can hear the trees, they kind of relax me. I can see the clouds, they are blue and clear. The moon is out too, and it's during the day when the sun is out too.
It's half a moon, I don't need the breeze to tell me am happy and this is perfect, though it is telling me exactly that. I can hear noises from different birds, different sounds together, they make the perfect song, very rich. The hanging lines are dangling from the wind. My new neighbor upstairs has a child, I can hear her, or him laughing. I love my balcony, I love my new house. It is perfect, I am lying on my hammock in the balcony and am relaxed.
It is Sunday, am glad I made it to church. Probably it's part of the reason why I am feeling so elated. Or is it cause am wearing my favorite black t-shirt with Jomo Kenyatta drawn tastefully on it. Women love this t-shirt. They say it brings out my eyes, though am made to believe my eyes are brown, which apparently is not very usual. But who notices eyes? Who notices curly hair? One girl complements you, then another, then another, then the other, then you start staring into the mirror. That's when you notice you are different.
Let's talk about eyes, my eyes are brown. That for the ladies, but all I know right now is that my eyes are useful. As I said am on the balcony in my new apartment, lying on my harmock so that I can write better.
I need my eyes thoroughly cause there are birds all over the sky, and the building. I am directly under them, and need I tell you more... Okay, let me tell you. The thing about birds is that they sing, they are adorable. But the other thing about them is that they shit. As much as I have placed myself strategically under the dish which acts as an umbrella, to protect me from bird pop. I still feel afraid, that if I sat here and wrote this I might forget to use my eyes, and no sooner than later bird pop falls right on me.
It's a beautiful day, except for dodging the birds' bad behavior, I promise I will tell you the day a bird does bad manners as I write, then you can laugh at me. But let me promise you this, if a bird, whether a scary one like a craw or a sweet one like a dove, poured anything on me as I wrote, know that it will be dead. In fact I will arrange a few small stones here. A heap next to this hammock. Yes dames and sirs, a heap and the bird that pours. Let's take a moment and just sing...
Three birds standing, standing on the wall, and when one of the three birds pours, it will accidentally fall, then there will be two birds standing, standing on the wall, and when those two birds are standing and one pours... It will not accidentally fall. No dames and sirs, I will stand up, pick a stone and hit it so hard it will fall screaming "Bobby Bobby it was a joke..."
And I will not save it, cause no one shits on me.
Enough bird business, or bird watching. As I said, the clouds are clear and am wearing my favourite pair of boxers. What can i say, it is my damn balcony. Come to think of it, wouldn't it be nice to have sex here? As in in the open... With the birds singing, the skies blue, your lips moist? What comment would you give about this Jomo Kenyatta t-shirt am wearing? Oh it would be sweet, but dames will we ever know? Will you ever lie on this hammock with me? At least I talk and you listen.
So damsels and sirs, as I said today I went to church, I was there to listen to Heaven and Heaven's word. I heard it all right, and it was refreshing. I think it is good to go to church. You listen.
Dames and Sirs, I was listening. Is there something like too much of something is poisonous? I think am reading too much, not so much law stuff but that too but more of psychology, body language and such. Let me tell you something about my pastor. He is quite the chap. Sharp, eloquent and has a sense of humor that could make you look forward to church. Who does that? He brings one joke so easily and before you are done laughing the next one is there then the third and the fourth is already on its way. The end result is that you feel happy, so blissful you forget it's lunch time, again, who does that? Awesome ain't it. Talk about 'man shall not live on bread alone' but the jokes thy pastor makes as he preaches. So that his message is so sweet it touches a thy young man's heart. And takes thy young ladies eyes from thy Facebook that lies in thy phone. Who does that? Awesome!
He made jokes today as usual. But somehow I sensed he wasn't in his element. He talked about some guy, umh in his early twenties that had made it to Senior Management in such a short time. He said he was proud of him. But then I could feel a tear in his voice. I laughed when he made a joke about this twenty-something-year-old, everyone did cause he made a joke about it.
But then my laughter died before every-ones' else. I started to think, to take out bits and pieces. You see that change in voice triggered something was a miss and my mind responded, it got to overdrive and I started asking myself questions.
I cringed at the thought of it. I was thinking, how dare he reveal in church, to a whole congregation that he almost wished that twenty something year old manager was him? How dare he? Isn't it exposing to much. I sank in my seat embarrassed. Then when I looked around, I realized no one had noticed. Everyone was laughing. So I let it slide, and let my superstitions sink.
Just when my mind stopped racing, he gave another example, as he preached. He talked about how his kids always complain that they don't have clothes. And that he actually walked them to their room and asked them what was hanging in their drawer. I think they told him something like
"I mean I don't have any shirt to match with my blue trousers."
And when he mentioned the price of the dollar, and the shilling, and how he spent time talking about the fuel prices. I felt his heart? To me it seemed like he was telling himself that "we should try to appreciate what we have, be thankful more than criticize."
Everyone was still laughing, you know that guy is good. He talks about things you feel them. He ties the beginning of the summon to the end so that it feels complete like a good story. He realizes that people forget so he keeps on repeating "we should try to appreciate what we have, be thankful more than criticize." and he makes people recite it, so that during the week those words come out of your month and your actions like they were second nature. He is good, I promise you you could listen to him the whole day. A sugar coat here and there so that sourness feels sweet. Who doesn't like candy, even medicine coated in candy if you must be healed? Who wouldn't want criticism wrapped around a little laughter, in a sublime but sound way?
But today, this Sunday, I felt as if he was frustrated. the way he spoke, what he emphasized, the change in his voice at times sort of clicked in my head. Maybe I have been reading to much, I can't believe I am a lawyer and am supposed to be reading law book and here my mind is acting all slutty and bugs me so much I can't sleep. I wake up unable to sleep until I solve a question. Why can't I read more law books, or watch more Telly like I used to or like everyone does dammit? I don't want to be that guy who rather stays in the house alone keeping google company or some random books rather than getting out of the house. But I guess when you start to love something...
And now look at what these stupid books are making me do? It reached a point he talked about Transfer paper, and leaving them on some restaurant table. We don't know what they were for, he didn't tell us, but they were important, that part we got. Then he asked us to be thankful for the cars we have. And then I remember he had gone to hospital. Then I started to all of a sudden think that the papers were for the transfer of the car or something, then I started to think that thing about fuel prices, then that thing about his kids wanting new clothes, then that thing about him being in hospital. Probably he had to foot the bill, and you know pastors... And I thought maybe he sold his car, or his wifes car, and I started telling myself. Stop. Stop thinking. Stop stop dammit. But I couldn't.
"let me vent out here, you know this is the only place I can vent out, soon enough I will get home and I have to be grateful "we should try to appreciate what we have, be thankful more than criticize." And no one laughed, it was meant to be a joke sort of. He laughed alone. And everyone's faces was neutral, it was only mine that was concerned he was exposing to much. And I wondered was he really?
And when he brought out that 'a few' people have told him he is a good pastor, he is not sure he is good. That I felt just gave him away. But then again, it was as if I was the only one noticing this. The voice, the words, you know what Word Clouds are? See, dames and sirs. I know, and I formed his Word Cloud in my mind, venting out... Wives leaving their husbands cause they don't have a bigger car than anothers... Be grateful... Venting out... Let me venting out... In all the laughter I felt sadness.
How dare he ask whether he is a good pastor. I asked myself when I normally feel I am not a good writer. And most of the time it's when stuff is happening to me, bad stuff. I promise you he is good. Why was he doubting himself? Was stuff so screwed up in his life he started losing his confidence even in what he was good at?
He promised to greet everyone as people left at the end of the service. It wasn't standard practice for people to do that. At least not in that church. And I hoped people will wait. Be thankful. Cause he had asked people to be thankful. I felt somehow at the back of his mind he was reaching out... Giving us the opportunity to talk to him. Didn't he say he was venting out, and at home he has to be grateful? He couldn't be seen to be ungrateful even when it seemed his whole life was falling apart?
He said he would greet people as they walked out. And I waited to see whther anyone greeted him. I guess people thought he was joking.
Once upon a time there was a girl who I caught looking at me frequently. You know the kind of things you see at the corner of your eye. I started to talk to her. And as I talked to her she touched the edge of her eye. I complemented her about her make up, that mascara thing worn around the eye. No sirs, no make up is worn in the eyes, that color is cosmetic contacts, not mascara. If you wear mascara in your eyes, you will not dodge the pop from the birds in the sky... She smiled, it's like she was waiting for that complement. Then there was this time she wore some really hideous shoes. She was seated on her desk. I watched her. And you know writers, you notice the details. Her legs were always under the desk. This time they were under the desk but she had stretched them so much out there. I saw them, I hated them but I complemented her regardless. And then after a while. Her legs went back to the normal position.
At first I thought psychologist , and behaviorist theories were ridiculous, though I read them anyways, what do you do when a question bugs you to the point you can't sleep? They claim ridiculous things like most times when you want to reach out, when you want to impress for example, there are certain things you will do.
What do you do when someone points something? Your eyes are directed there. That girl wasn't pointing at her eyes. She was touching them, and I looked at them. I noticed them. She stretched her legs, I saw her shoes. She was trying to get me to notice them. Then later I found myself seated next to my girlfriends. You see this things are subconscious. I touched my hair before my mind noticed I was touching my hair. As in I found my hand on my hair. She complemented my hair. And suddenly the starching sensation I felt on my hair went. And then I started touching my eyes... And found my fingers touching my eyes. It's like I was reaching out.
Bang! When you hear a loud bang, do you think to cover your head? You just find yourself protecting yourself. Facing the door. Ready to run. That's a bang, it's immediate. Then tell me, when the danger isn't immediate what do you do? Nothing. You might think that... But if you ask me I don't think so. I think when you are frustrated, like the pastor was, you will talk about how just a few people have told you you are good at preaching. And when people don't respond, you will not ask them directly to tell you that you are good. You will try to get people to shake your hand hoping, hoping that someone will finally get the oppourtunity to tell you you are good, after striking a conversation shaking your hand.
And when everyone walks out, no one wait for you to get to the door to greet your hand. You feel there is still hope and you take your time closing your Bible and stuff before you leave,and hope at least someone will come shake your hand and tell you. "that was a good summon, or everything is going to be okay..."
And you know what Bobby walked out, after he noticed all this, maybe it was all superstition. But then things like the fact that a child doesn't cry when you fall at times until you give them attention noticing they have fallen. Are some of the things that make me feel that maybe my pastor is going through stuff.
I don't know whether too much reading might make me run mad, problem is I cannot stop. But maybe it's a good thing cause if I notice all this I can be the perfect boyfriend, enough to read my girl's heart in ways she cannot read them herself. Babe, remember that time I noticed you were bitchy cause your blood sugar was low, you were hungry. And after you ate you were back to your element?
Babes, I wanted to send my pastor an email... Ask him... Hey are you okay? Oh, am sure he would be surprised. And maybe give him specifics on why he is such a great pastor... A public speaker and what not... Cause at this rate he looks like he is not confident in his abilities,and that is bad energy... He might quit, and he is changing the world, only that he doesn't notice it. Should I baby? Is this emotional intelligence? (google that)
Or too much of something is poisonous, and all the books I am reading are almost driving me to the verge of madness. Is it madness i feel right here or genius. Madness? It has to be... Oh, I need help. Or do I need to help him?
I will email him something. I have decided.
