Friday 30 December 2011

But I need a hug right now, anyone?

Why is everything so hard? I just want. Why can't I just have? Is that so much to ask. I planned it right. Why can't everything just fall into place? Ever been so disappointed in something everything felt disappointing?

Am at that point when am in my room. The lights went off again, you know, shitty electricity companies. I made a blunder today. I was too much out there, I exposed myself a little too much, and some people just walked away. I am supposed to be okay without, cause now am just a writer, cause I have fans, and no one is supposed to be too attached to their fans. Its like am an object, i can be dumped without a phone call, email or even a text. Its okay though. This is what I wanted, to become an object right? An object of perfection. I make mistakes, wrong decisions, and when I make one, everyone is in your space. When everything is okay it is as quiet as a grave, up to a point you think everything is wrong.

The lights are off, but I know they will turn back on like hope does. I get out of the bubble everyday, the one that gets everything, I am attempting at the real world, and the real world out there is mean. It doesn't always tell you you are on the right path young man. It just let's you find your way yourself, or lose it, no one cares. But maybe if I write some more, I might cut through someone's heart and stay there forever, and they will care, and tell me that oops that's the wrong path, but hope more that most times they will pat my back, kiss my cheek and tell me am their hero.

I want to be someone's hero, that's why am here. But being a hero is empty, making heroes is a more worthy cause. The fastest way you can find peace within yourself is find away to make someone else find peace. Is all this worth it? Why do I always lose my path? I want to build. I came here to build, never to destroy, but it's okay if am destroyed, if my destruction will build someone then it's okay with me. Nothing feels greater than raising a child. Can't wait to raise one, and give it all the love and comfort this world is about. Then make sure it finds eternity, cause good lives find religion, they find Heaven. The religion I subscribe to.

Sometimes I drift off my path so greatly and I get rooted to my bed building my ulcers. The only way to destroy them is building castles in the air. How does everyone else does it I wonder? Am I too detached from everyone to notice that I am the only one that suffers? Or is it that I actually suffer than everyone else? Or is it my sick bipolar mind that makes me ask all this depressing thoughts? I wonder sometimes whether I am being dramatic... Am i too detached from the world? All these problems I have. First world problems, you know, reputation and all, success and stuff, depression and all. While there are other people who are starving out there, they don't have the energy to get depressed, run to work and all.

I am seated here, and maybe I have too much time in my hands. The first job I ever had was telling people to work. Then seating down and sowing what they ripped. Maybe if I was busier searching for my own I wouldn't be too depressed. I love where I am though.

I promised myself once, that with every negative thought I will think two positive, for that's how you develop good attitudes. That's how you find opportunity, being ready for positive, you look at opportunity in the world and when you look you find. I want to see more opportunity but you know how had that is. My mind always wants to analyze the reasons why things aren't happening as I want.

Enough talk, let me preach water and drink it. 

Am happy that am here, and even happier I will be further, am happy that I am here. But I remember listening to Lupe's song. One that brought out the fact that he is not yet there. And you know what I got depressed, cause there are some people you look up to (I don't look up to Lupe by the way) and for a moment they state that they think they could be better. And some stop being fans.

I don't want those people that look up to me feel like am not perfect even with my perfect imperfections, but what can I do, I break down a big one. I need hugs, I need love, I need all those things that sound mushy, cause at times I feel drained and hopeless.

I have so many people around me, sometimes I don't get me, cause I try to push them away when am like this. But those that stay I reward.

I know going to Heaven is a good thing. I will end once, I know it scares me stiff, but I like to be prepared. If a good deed was a coin in heaven, I would love to be a billionaire in heaven. That's where we spend eternity! If hell is more painful than what I feel right now, I want a relationship with Heaven. So one good deed a day, one prayer a day, for me and for a random person crossing the street, until I am a billionaire when I die... After I die... Both.

And since we talking of me being dead, I wouldn't hope to find the right words to form a book when am dead. I don't want to turn into a book at my death. I want to turn before my death. I want my funeral to be that of a loved person. I am too embarrassed to define it, cause the worst thing you could do is hope for something in public then it doesn't happen.

Sometimes things are so messed up in my life I can't pretend that I am okay. There are days am on it, as in I feel like I run this world already, and sometimes I actually feel everything in my plans fall into place. You know love, books, even the simple things. But then probably I crush like this when one thing goes wrong and my mind goes all negative attitude on me.

See, I can't even balance two good thought with one bad one yet...

I have convinced myself that I should not be too positive in my thinking, cause there is a place called utopia. Dangerous place my friend. Things might take a bad turn, things I can change and I ignore them cause its negative energy, then no sooner than later I find that if I had just listen to haters, to critics, i would have become better.

But again if I think about them too much, I die. Then you know you think everything you are doing is wrong. So, I thought three thoughts, one negative to keep myself to reality, and two positive to keep me hopeful about the future.

It's time to be positive. I have tasted good things too long to not be able to have them for myself. Let's be real, how can I not explode this little hobby of mine into something big? How? How can I fail now? Is it possible? No.

Okay. It's tiring. I just want to sleep now, or talk to my girlfriend hoping that tomorrow I will wake up with such energy, I will try to make everything right again. 

For now, hugs anyone? 

River Road



It was a risk. There was a chance I would be ignored. Do you know how rejection feels? It feels like stretching your hand with a smile to greet friend only that your friend publicly ignores you. Humiliated, you have to retrieve your hand back. It was a public place I was talking to her from.  I took my chance, I didn't pull her hand and drag her to a private room. I could but I wanted her to want to join me in private. I made sure she saw me walk into the private room. I hoped she would follow...

Let me tell you something about this dame. She is the kind you hear complain that as she walked along River Road doing her business, she met so many hawkers trying to sell her sliming pills, an stolen elephant, diet machines, lotions to soften her skin which eventually kill her esteem. She acts like it doesn't affect her, even though I know she needs compliments like mothers do. I couldn't compliment her in public out loud. Am not in a movie, I like food in my stomach, not butterflies. I wanted to compliment her. Tell her that actually those are just sales people who want to sell their products, and they just want you to believe whatever provided they make a sale.

I wanted her to follow me to a private room, which would be more quiet, where I could tell her the truth. The truth which she knows but needs to be reminded. That actually if she went on and did what everyone told her she would lose herself. Taking diet pills and all. I wanted her in private so that I could tell her about the day I saw her seated on a desk in a lecture hall. Her beauty actually comes from her having a little weight. How else would she have fitted so nicely in that black dress which turns white at her chest? She curved that dress seated so innocently on that desk. She looked so beautiful she could easily tuen into a blackforest cake, but you know when you get the wrong compliments from ill meaning people, you end up wanting to ruin that rack that makes the perfect cleavage by staving yourself. Cupcakes. I hope she doesn't go through with it. What happens when she loses those curves and that's what makes her so appealing? What if her curves become loose in the process? Baggy jeans are as fashion forward as spinning wheels. Remember that?

Since we are talking about curves, let's talk a little about curving through traffic. Did you know their is another park in Nairobi. Lets call it Lake-In-The-Middle-of-the-road. Thanks to my GPRS I got to know about it. I was trying to run away from traffic, and in my mind I was thinking, all these motorist are so stupid sitting in traffic. They should be like me, actually use maps to evade traffic, what I didn't know was my maps will lead me out of Tarmac roads, to Tarmac roads with potholes, then to earth roads, then next to roads like look like a maize plant nursery bed, there was even a road I went through that I might as well got out of the car, gone to see the pothole in the middle of the road which was so big it could have as well had a crocodile living there. Take a photo and post it on facebook. Probably ask the crocodile to tell it's friends about my blog, you know Nairobi Culture. Lesson: leave the GPRS alone! Anyways, I escaped traffic and got to the mall. It even directed me to exactly where I should park, the second floor. I got out of the car and headed in. 

Have you seen a shop so Kenyan? Green, black, white, red all over... I had to walk in.

"You have everything Kenyan!"

I started to flip through the rugby shirts. Then started to walk away after finding nothing for me.

"we have things that aren't Kenya too..."

"what?"

"I actually walked here cause I liked all the Kenya in this shop."

"oh!"

"come on... I love my country..."

"your shop looks like my country, why wouldn't I like it!"

"Oh, sorry I thought... So are you going to pick something since you like my shop?"

"Sorry, no. I don't play rugby or follow soccer. Do you have anything tennis or squash now that I will buy!"

"no."

"...don't worry, I will come back when I want to pretend am a soccer fan or pretend I play rugby."

That hot shop attendant laughed a good one. Me play rugby, nice one.

I went to woolworths. That's where I was headed actually. The one at junction is quite large and I am not a girl I don't go around looking for clothes. I go looking for girls. Cause girls want everything, boys want ladies. I went to the hot lady behind the counter. (yeah shop attendants are always hot)

"hi."

"hi."

"I want navy blue chinos like the one am wearing..."

She followed me around the shop. I like hot women follow me in shops. Why? Cause the smile of a woman cures a thinning wallet. My wallet was about to go thin. But...

"no, I want the plain ones."

"but these are nice... They are plain."

"come on, they have pockets all over. That's not plain."

I started walking away.

"you know these ones with pockets all over would be good for you..."

"you know make you look..."

"what?"

"you know a little big."

I laughed a good one. 

"You have a sharp marketing wit."

She laughed.

"you almost talked me into it..."

"am serious..."

"gosh you are good. But no thank you."

She started swinging the trouser on the hanger with her hand. (flirty)

"told you you are good, you could sell socks to a mosquito..."

I left her happy. Do you know how bored high end shop staff are? Easy prey.

She was sure I was complimenting her. She blushed so much the specs on her face melted, the metal and the glass. I swear. She didn't misinteprate my complimenting her like that sales girl in the Kenyan shop. Oh she ate it up plus a little more.

Later as I was getting something to eat. It affected me a little. 
"you know it could make you look bigger..."
I have never had a problem with finding women, for others or myself. Though I served a little more chicken only not to finish it cause my appetite is something else. Besides, again I don't have a problem with women. Ask that sales girl, she would totally... Even without my wearing those pants with many pockets. I told you about her melting specs.. Yes. Women aren't a problem. 

Let's get back to where we started. I was at a noisy place. There was the hot girl, who thinks she is not as fine as the curviest letter of the alphabet in calligraphy. All she wants to do is turn herself into Times New Roman, turn herself skinny and skinny will not work on her. 

I was behind the door to the private room. Don't look through the key hole Bobby. If she is going to follow you she is going to follow you. If she wasn't meant to she will not. Don't show desparacy Bobby. Don't look through the key hole. What if she caught you looking? The moment Bobby puts his head on the keyhole the door opens and he is caught there bending unable to explain himself, she will be gone forever.

I looked through the key hole. I saw her talking to people around. She was working the crowd. Talking to one of the stars on one of the Kenyan drama series on television. She wasn't coming.

You know what desperate to you, right? Makes you look urgh ugly. It never works well. Try lying all your cards on the table and watch people lose interest in you. After that get so frustrated you become patient. Watch yourself sending one text good night, being the first to say good bye today tomorrow and the next day after making people happy then look at how they all turn desperate for you. Desperate people aren't cool most of the time, sometimes they are, but when you are patiemt. It says, I have everything, I want us to get to know each other closer then we can share in my beautiful life. But thinking about opening the door and asking that girl to follow me in, while everyone was watching would have made me look desperate, even wanting! Ugh. I would look like a total loser. Birds of a feather flock together. Even losers want to fly together with winners. Women choose, men pick.

I had three options. One, to sit there in the private room without letting anyone know I had been ignored. Which would save my face. Would you have done that? Yeah, typical. I thought so. 
Two, I could open the door call her aloud hoping she would not ignore me. If she did then I would be sure everyone knew. Dead rat!
Three, I could got take her hand and pull her to the room. Over my dead body!

I decided to look desperate.

There were over a thousand people there. I was sure at least seven hundred would see me make a fool out of myself, or become a hero. 

I walked up to the stage, stood on a table...

"everyone quiet!"

"excuse me, can I have all your attention?"

I pointed her.

"I want that hot girl in the black and white dress and blue light cardigan to follow me to that room."

Everyone was staring at me now. They didn't think it was cute, leave alone romantic. I felt like dying. I walked back to the private room. She didn't follow me. I had completely embarrassed myself. I was going to wait for everyone to leave before I came out. I couldn't face anyone. I hoped someone would walk into the room, pat my back and tell me something reassuring at least, but no one did. 

I looked through the key hole. Everyone had left. I could leave...

She met me right at the door.

"hey..."

"I thought you left."

"no Bobby."

"can we talk? You know I just wanted to talk to you and tell you that..."

"...Bobby, wait first. I have to ask you something."

"no let me tell you something first dear."

"Bobby, ladies first, and don't call me dear again."

She started to move away from me.

"okay. Ladies first."

"Bobby, is that the kind of writer you want to be?"

"come on, let's not talk about my blog..."

I wanted to tell her she was beautiful the way she was. She was perfect. That she has to believe me. I didn't want her to start ruining her body and start looking like someone she was not. I wanted to tell her that her appeal was her own, and she was right listening to people asking her to lose some weight, which she had, she had turned perfect, and she had become bored, she wanted to loose more, lose herself and her appeal, I wanted to stop her... But she wanted to talk about...

"...Bobby, I am not into porn!"

"what do you mean?" 

"is that the kind of writer you want to be, write such stuff like those goons who write porn, why ruin your reputation after all that?"

I just stood there.

"What were you thinking even calling that post 'Read Again...' ???"

I swear I tried to pull her back. But she left. She left the room, and she left my heart. She left my heart cause my heart needed her. You know it takes a certain level of resilience to put up something I have written, it's part of me, my ideas, sometimes even more. I didnt mean to be that bold, that arrogant, but all that arrogance and boldness dear is just a hard skin one grows when they do something that requires people's approval. And she was the only person that really complimented me. You know, you write something with hundreds and hundreds of words, and all one tells you is nice. Just nice! After all that... Or two words, thats nice.?

I love those two words, cause they have come from so many people. As in you wouldn't believe. But sometimes you want the girl that tells you exactly what parts of what post they liked. They ask questions... They remind you you are a good writer... You found an excellent hobby. And I had written a post that offended her. Even though it pleased so many they wanted me to please them back. As in act out that post with them.

You see walking into a shop and being asked to pick a pair of trousers with more pockets to make me look big is something I can handle, ask that shop attendant, she would bang me. Did I tell you I saw even her specs melt? You can walk through the streets and people try to sell you stuff that makes you think you aren't good enough, sometimes you need to change, sometimes you think the grass is greener on the other side and it's not. Instead of working on your garden you want to leave it for something you think is better...

I can handle a lot, but sometimes when I seem arrogant, bold even, remember that it comes from an empty place. In this business of having to put myself out there in the open lonely for people's approval and like, it kind of helps me to survive. 

She left you know. She didn't let me say anything to her. I didn't look through the key hole. She ignored all the messages I sent her. We had walked together down a winding road in search of something true. Together we grew. But now our journey has come to an end and it's on to something new for me and you. So goodbye, my friend, until we meet again some other day. I know so much will change but looking back I can say I wouldn't change a day. I hope you can say the same. So many memories we got to make... the challenges we met... I'll never forget cause those lessons made us who we are today. Now we're taking the next step without a regret. No regrets.

This post is dedicated to misinterpreted compliments like the ones to the shopkeeper in the Kenyan shop, and to you my readers. I will miss you and your black white dress, curves and blue sweater seated on the desk in the lecture hall.

Without a regret. No regrets?

...to you without New Year Resolutions




He handed me the cd. 

"thank you."

"that will be thirteen."

And I was thinking something must be wrong. My pops had called me a while ago. Found out I was at city centre, he hates city centre by the way, and now that he doesn't have a driver he took advantage of my being in town. Children obey your parents, so that you may live long. I do that, but mostly I do it cause I love him. So there I was heading up the stairs in some building in town... Urgh. I hate town. I got the package. It was a cd. In a shop. 

Knowing my pops. He pays the electricity bill for half a year in advance. Buys stationery for his office for two years in advance, all at once. Which costs a small car, that he has not bought me. I expected he has no pending bills around, everything is paid in advance. What I didn't know was I am now all grown up.

"that will be thirteen..."

I wanted to return it, call my pops tell him I couldn't pick his package but I thought it would be embarrassing to do that. The problem with people is that they don't ask. If you pour red wine around the private parts of your white dress everyone who walks by assumes you had your periods carelessly. Dirty! They don't ask what happened! They just jump into conclusions and judge you. There were people around, I had been handed a cd from a shop and I was leaving without paying. The other customers in the shop just looked and judged, they did not ask what happened? Why am I just picking things from the shop without paying? They were jumping to their own conclusion. So I got my wallet out.

I handed him one thousand three hundred bob.

He didn't pick it up.

"thirteen thousand... Not thirteen hundred."

See what yes-dad-no-questions-asked had brought on me. He doesn't tell me their is a bill collecting the package. Software CDs are not cheap, especially when you are a student and your pops thinks it is okay to not give you prior notice.

Thank God for mpesa. I just drained my account like that, knowing very well I will not be refunded. Once bitten twice shy. I am no longer picking packages for people.

"babe, am done picking the package... Where are you?"

"sarova. Stanley..."

"where again?"

"Stanley..."

"have you parked close there?"

"no am inside."

Oh shit. Now baby is running bills. I felt like I would die. I was walking with a tiny paper bag that had wiped my account clean. Stupid small paper bag. Stupid cd. Idiot software. But it's okay, visa. It couldn't be that bad. But the Stanley. I just walked there reluctantly.

My eyes searched the place. Then found her at the corner of the room. I caught her smile. She caught mine. Our eyes met. If we were at some other place I would have run using the shortest route to hug her. The shortest route at a dining area is on top of chairs, on top of tables, through people, stepping on people's food, toppling over tables, breaking cups and glasses, only to jump at her from the skies in a hug and kiss. That is how I would have done it. But the people around having coffee looked like the serious kind. No, they weren't jokers, the suing type aren't, yes really. And the guards, oh the guards, as polite as they were looked like they could easily become raging bulls. In fact one of the guards looked like he had two horns like a raging bull has. Sorry, that was his eyes. They were raging. Ready to kill. 

I didn't use the shortest route as much as I had missed her. I didn't run over people's cakes cause... You know the guard. I went round and round the human and chair traffic, until I hugged my baby.

"I ordered something Bobby... I hope you dont mind."

"No it's okay... Was actually hungry." I lied.

"you look lovely babe." I said.

"thank you."

"You see those earrings you wear, that's me."
She chocked off her coffee. "what??"

"you see that dress you wear, that's me!"

"what the hell Bobby?"
She was trying to wipe the coffee she spilled...

"you see what you are wiping, that is me."

She wiped harder, her mouth open but I guess she was too shocked to speak.

"am the man, you heard me. Babe. Am the man, am it..."

"Seriously?I  don't even know what to tell you Bobby. I don't."

"so you want to say you didn't wear those earrings for me?"

"Seriously Bobby, you think women dress up for men?? What cetury do you think this is?"

My eyes started at the door. Some girl in a short dress walked in. Her eyes followed mine.

"You want to tell me she isn't wearing that short skirt for us men?"

"No, she is wearing it too look good for herself..."

The waiter came. Babe sent her back. Apparently she had asked for white forest, and they had brought black forest. And at that very moment I was happy. I thought we were having lunch and a bottle of something. I felt something massage my leg, the area around my pocket, i think it was my wallet. I think it was happy. You?

The white forest there is nuts. Oh my. It is as nuts as the heated swimming pool my pal always asked me to visit upstairs there. Oh. What a work of beauty.

She took a piece. My eyes wondered to her camera on the table. I love the way her white dress held her breast. And I thought, designers must be wonderful. As in they know exactly where a woman boob starts and ends. So that the upper part is left to the open. To drive men nuts. My eyes wondered to her eyes, oh her eyes are beautiful. There she was eating cake so innocent at how sexy she looks. And some white from the cake was spilled on her lips. Oh she looked sexy.

"Do you want to take a picture of this?"

"what???" I startled. 

"do you want to take a picture of this, you know as a souvenir when am gone."

She looked at me. She was puzzled.

"I mean the cake..."

Oh 

"you have something white on your lip."

She wiped it off. By the time my eyes were actually seeing and not looking... By the time my mind was back... She was returning the bill. We were waiting for change. I exhaled a big one.

We were standing at the car port. (can't wait for our new house, it will have one of those thanks to those stupid thieves). They all looked the same, dressed in red blazers, wearing black pants with red lines on the side. Each one of them was as busy as bees, driving into the car port and handing owners their cars and their car keys. I guess I will never know where they park our cars.

It was raining. Everyone was leaving, so we stood out there waiting for princess's car. Anticipating to the left, every time a black SUV approached our hearts flew off to the skies, then down to hell when it came closer and found out that it was not her's.

I was holding that large brown bag that looks like the bags you have gifts wrapped in. I gave them that. They have style. Take away feels like... Dancing on the clouds. Only that, I noticed the bag had been dripping right on my shoes for a while. Fawn colored shoes, with a dark patch of coffee.

"babe..."

"oh shoot, sorry..."

"let me wipe it."

"no, it's okay, it's raining anyways..."

"let's just walk back in and wait for the car from there, these guys are taking a while..."

We walked in. Sat on one of the green leather seats. The lighting is perfect. The wall art I will steal when I have Double-O-seven gadgetry. 

My eyes went on her lap. I loved the way that loose dress turned skin tight when she sat. So smooth, like her skin. White and creamy. I let my eyes have that candy.

"Bobby, can I take a photo?"

"what???"

"Something you can take as a souvenir?"

She took a photo of the Christmas tree. I was afraid she had read my mind. That she had seen me look at my lap.

We finally got the car keys. They had parked it right on the road. But who cares, they call the shots. She drove me to Odion Cinema to board a Mololine shuttle back home. She kissed me and let me touch her legs. She must have read my mind. Bye.


The year ends today, and I want to ask you why you are single. Yes, one day you will be married, and you will have someone who will care for you, buy you coffee when you are sent to get softwares unexpectedly. (I still don't know how to ask for a refund btw) Why are you single? Why do you have to wait to get married so that you can have someone dress up for you? Start dating, and not just for sex, for all the other reasons. We all need a little love. And if you don't have sex, we look up to you and your straight morals, and if you don't date and don't have sex, it's no reason not to have love in your life this new year. Make friends that escort you to the bus station. Especially when you find that everyone neglected the car you drive and it has three punctures and the car keys can't be found.

Everyone wants to be loved. Don't go to the bus stop alone, don't carry those bags alone. Be loved this new year. And love those that love you with sugar, spice and everything nice. Can i be that person? Do you want me to love you with sugar spice and everything nice?

Monday 26 December 2011

Just another Blackberry addict...


It's five in the morning, this thing on my bed is totally stressful. You sleep next to your phone too, so don't act like you don't know what am taking about. Pretend doesn't look good on you!

So, I gave my small my phone to put in some new music... Drake actually, his new album Take Care. That Toronto kido is talented. I like his music, it is so real. My small however, decided that he will put every song Drake wrote, even in his head. He somehow downloaded the song and beats out of Drake's head, even the songs he is about to write in the future he downloaded them, now my phone is full and fat it needs to go to the gym.

No, I mean it. It's at night, am here with it and it can't even last one round. I open Facebook, I open twira, I open memo pad (most productive app on BB by the way) and the phone faints. Can you imagine, it doesn't sweat, it doesn't heat up like it does when I use a fake charger. It just closes it's eyes right there in my face as I write a text or charge it. Then blacks out. How rude is that? Guys are asking me whether the hotel I am in is shags... They think it's no network. How do you explain your phone just switching off during a phone call. That is very rude BB, that is very rude. Find your own time to faint and black out, not during office hours. Okay!

Know what brb means? Be right back. That is in chat world, the days I used to mig, (mig33). These days I blog. If I am vibing women, I vibe them by the masses, then select. It's easier. Sorry. Tmi. (to much information.) ey, tonight am on fire. Sad thing my phone is not. Stupid phone. One minute and you faint. Stupid phone.

So, I have a crack on the screen. I will say this now, I did not crack the screen today. I did not pick up the phone, then it did it's faint routine after opening two text messages then shut it's eye. I didn't slam it in the wall out of rage. I am okay with it's fainting, in fact I just gave it two pain killers. Don't call the cops. But I didn't slam it on the wall or anything out of anger. The phone didn't break into pieces separating itself from the battery or case. I have been totally gentle with it. Yeah right?

There could be a million things that are causing my phone to black out so frequently I literally can't do jerk with it, you couldnt even jerk with it, (i mean use it as a car jack, yeah thats what i mean, that is so what i mean) There could be a million things that are causing my phone to black out so frequently I literally can't do jerk with it, you couldnt even jerk with it, even call Jack. Not that I know of any Jack. Excuse me, it is just the word play, the rhyming and all. Definitely not a joke. Yes? I have stopped.

My mind tells me this is clearly a software problem. Not pointing any fingers at the parson who put music in it. Not him, I am pointing my fingers at random mosquitoes in the room, they are to blame. Them, not small downloading Drake's album, the one he produced and the one he is still creating in his head. My BB clearly has a software problem. The phone either has worms in it's stomach or viruses in its nose.
 Let me explain, I think my phone has worms and needs to be de-wormed. When was the last time you got de-wormed? Can't remember... Just go see a chemist right now. Probably you are eating for yourself and small thingiez in your stomach, soon they will be adult thingiez then they will share your food, and cause you not to share it with your real friends, and when baby thingiez eat enough of you food to have teeth... Do you want teeth in your stomach. Teeth anywhere on your body on you that are not yours?

 If my phone has worms in it's stomach I think those worms have teeth and kids, and the kids are teenagers with kids born. How else would you explain the bloody thing fainting and screaming of low battery after I have charged it for how long again? I must be feeding a country in there.

Maybe my phone has a cold, I hear viruses slow you down. It loads like an idiot. But let's be fair, some other phone with an application for tooth pick and underwear took that name, idiot, let's find a fresh one for mine... Suggestions?

I could google suggestions but guess what, my BB can't last that lap. Screen goes on... In put password... Open browser application... Input something on google bar... Faint... Black out... Restart process... Phone meets the wall... Phone now knows what the meaning of fainting is... Phone falls down needing an ambulance to tie it's parts together... Bobby does all that... Then phone pulls the fainting stunt again... Phone meets wall... Phone wonders why it's screen feels like cracked... Phone realizes it is not the only crazy person awake... Phone starts to work better as phone realizes it will be no more of it continues wasting Bobby's time... Phone wonders how to tell Bobby Phone's problem whether it virus, whether it worm, whether it firm ware, whether it battery... But phone doesn't know. Phone realizes it too late to talk, Bobby don't want no nonsense... Bobby taken nonsense for too long. Bobby need Bobby's crackberry... And Bobby causing Crack on BlackBerry face until Bobby get Bobby's crack berry. Phone meet wall. Phone realizes things thick. Phone want Drake or virus or worm out now. BB slowly realizing Bobby not a software guy, Bobby a hardware guy... Bobby deal with BB software problem and hardware problem both in a hardware way. Mechanical. BB meets the wall. BB feels like it not special anymore. Me BB, me handle with care. But Bobby dont give a fudge. Bobby is Crackberry. Bobby is BB addict and BB is not irreplaceable like Beyonce song. BB meet wall. BB want to repair itself before BB is replace. And BB knows Bobby kill it and Bobby pick another BB of same make in the morning and act like nothing happen!

Merry Christmas! 

Better late than never. At least I gave you a tree. That tree is from the Stanley with pleasure. It's now yours, since we are all stars, how about we sit on the tree?

Saturday 24 December 2011

Read again...

It happened. I am to blame. I should have asked her first.

Let us begin. She got into Nairobi University cause of her grades. The government pays her tuition fee for her. I pay the government.
Good grades pays for your tuition fees and accommodation, this dame is not your average student. Yes, she collects rent from her hostel. Talk about subleasing and entrepreneurship. What are the odds the same economical minded dame would make me pay for her cab from some place from south coast to main land? Nil? Wrong.

Let me tell you something, I was in class five. We took a cab from the airport with my old man and those bastards charged us a six grand. That was how many years ago? Mathematicians... It was at night time at the airport we didn't have an option. She had an option. She couldn't just take a damn matatu?

The bill was there right in my face. I looked at the cab guy and laugh. I thought he meant it as a joke. I swear. Fuel prices are up man, I understand, but gold prices are not up. There is no way that cab was fueled by fuel, it must have been gold. I gave him his gold. Hope he went bought himself a heart.

"So you decided a cab..."

"I though it would be easier."

"Why, there was a tsunami?"

"No, Bobby, you are so funny..."

"why are you walking like that Bobby?"

"Sorry, I just paid that guy with an arm and a leg."

She didn't find it funny. She brings a whole new meaning to economist. Regardless, man shall not dwell on his troubles. It was going to be a good day. She looked lovely. She had told me she was around for a school trip. She told me she loved seeing me again. I didn't tell her I loved seeing her again. But I did. I was still touchy about the cab thing, try to understand.

She was wearing a light brown leather jacket. The small ones. It went well with her light blue jeans. She must have paid for them with rent. Such a land lord. Only that it didn't go with the weather. It was morning yes, but it is Mombasa. It rains warm over here. Our idea of a joke is a house with heated showers. But we gave her a free pass, every man staring at us as we walked back to my place gave her a free pass. She had a bulging behind. So without words we let the jacket thing slide.

I opened the door and she let herself in comfortably. It was expected. She must have felt very comfortable with me. We had had sex on the backseat before. A one time thing. She wasn't different. She still had her coffee stained teeth. I didn't love them, in my defense she is complete. Her voice tastes like mature cherry. Her skin looks like she covered herself in oil then took a shower and now looks so moisturized, soft and freshly healthily creamy. A quiet glow. That's not what I can say about her breast. They are everything but quiet. She is a proper diamond. Only she has some cloud in her stone, coffee stained teeth; regardless she will cut through the economy one day like diamond cuts through metal and she will make it big. If she doesn't use cabs mindlessly like she did... Sorry, am still touchy from the cab thing!

We sat on the bar stools in the kitchen. She watched me make her breakfast. She teased me about my being too quiet. I just rephrased everything she said and it felt like we were having the most tied up conversation ever.

I decided it was going to be a big breakfast cause I didn't want to have lunch. I don't have the cook gene. I lit a match box, switched on the gas, and fire busted into flames around the circle of the cooker. I poured a little cooking oil into the pan and it made that cooking noise it makes. And I threw sausages into the pan. I wanted everything to be ready at once, you know women get impressed by good cooking. I put slices of bread into the toaster. They always scared people when they got ready and jumped up out of the toaster. I put the milk in the microwave and set the time. I found strawberries and put them out on the table. I opened the fridge got two oranges, you know breakfast is best with some fruit and I put them right there on the mat. The smells were already appealing. You would get hungry unhooking her bra. You would feel crazy not being able to taste those two oranges, all you could do is touch them like you were trying to tune a radio. And what is breakfast without good music in the background. Until she screamed a nice one, I turned, squeezed until the music was legit, not the fake one. I tuned into the fake pleasure scream station, and I retuned and retuned until I got the right station.

I was going to take my time. She thought I would go straight for the kill. What she didn't know was that I wasn't even going to taste her oranges until her screamed tuned into a legit station. And then the loud screams went after a long while of tuning. They became more softer, more real, less intentional more natural. She got comfortable when she knew I wasn't going to move forward until she was ready. Her eyes shut. She forgot about me. She moaned real ones. I know cause she has little pulses around her neck area. I had the same around my zip area. I knew I could move on, she was comfortable. And that is when I pulled her bra from under her.

Her boobs are bouncy, they are huge for her. I have never seen nipples so desperate and eager. I took advantage traveling everywhere but her peak. That's when she got a bit violent and squashed my head into them. I could hardly breath. But that's not a bad way to die you know. She reached her peak. I sucked them a good one. I didn't die. But my tongue died. It has never felt nipples like that ever.

I turned her around, suddenly. It was almost rough. Part was revenge for trying to drown my face between her boobs. I bet you right my cheeks smelled like her boobs. She had totally squeezed me. As I said, I wanted to match her heart beat. So I tossed her like you would toss pancake on a pan. I threw her hair to the right of the back of her head. She looked sexy. She could melt a cloud right from there.

I just had to start where her hair stopped. I let my lips go down her neck. She felt ticklish first. By the time I was using my tongue I saw madness on my bed for the first time. It was like she was mad. Shaking her head. Trying to sink herself in the pillow hysterically. I paused. She didn't forgive me for pausing.

I know women are about oranges, bulging behinds and mostly the bulging strawberry that hides close to the majestic pink velvet. But that day I learnt that dames were also about shoulders. I touched her shoulder and her body gave the expression of fear. It's like she was afraid she was becoming weak. I ran my fingers up and down her back. Then followed it with my tongue. That's about the most flawless part of dame. Why hadn't I discovered that before. I took my time, cause that's what you do when you go treasure hunting.

She was sweating. My body was dry. Only throbbing but my mind, oh my mind was sweating like an ocean.

She had lost herself. Moments on her ear. It was like a chic can have an orgasm from every part of her body if everything cooks for long enough. After a while it was as if everything her I touched, her body got warmer. She melted more, grew more weak and her screams sounded like they came from very deep in her body.

I played with her everything. I played with her elbow even. I held her hand sometimes. I sat on her ass. I leaned for her neck. Her shoulder and I finished her when I got off and played with her thighs. I undid her belt. And made it clear I was the one to remove it. She surrendered a complete one.

I loosened it just a little. It had become fun playing with her like that. In that state. I slide my hand in. It was a mess in there.

I turned her. I made her face the wall. My bed is on the wall. And I faced her back. I pulled down her jeans which she seemed very excited to finally get off. That kicking. Oh my. She was really motivated. I didn't want her to stop half way. She wanted to leave her jeans at her knees. I had other plans. So I made sure they were out.

It was my way of getting my sheets dirty from the mess she had made. Did I tell you she made a mess? There was no way I would let her know I meant to get her a little dry with the bedsheets. I didn't want to spoil her bliss. I had spoilt her that much anyways.

She was ready. I was ready hours ago. Yes, I was counting. I got out all my clothes and my watch. The counting was over. She was ready.

I was behind her, I squeezed myself between her pink velvet. She calmed down. I pushed in slowly. Putting a few inches first and pumping them. Then adding more as a surprise. Yes she liked surprises.

From behind her I could be her bra. I could find her neck and her ears with my lips and tongue. I could slide my hands down and spank her ass. I could play around the strawberry. And when I played with it. She got really slippery. She moaned real ones. I could eat her moans if I wasn't busy eating her ear. Or rather gasping around her ear.

I watched her drain sweat from her back onto my chest like rain. We were in a swimming pool. It made me bang more. She sweated and made noises with her body even. I thought it would be best if I spanked her in the same motion. Sometimes I pinched her a little when she got too wet. She allowed it.

And when I got back to her strawberry it was as if it had done a little magic. It was as if it had come out completely from the wood works. If I didn't know biology well I would have thought it would burst.

I pulled her by her hair, so that her neck faced up, so that her boobs were first. Then I pushed her to the cold wall. Told you Mombasa is hot. Her body was all on the cold wall to her toes. She moaned a conclusive one. Then her velvet walls weren't velvet any more. It was as if they were trying to milk. They milked alright. I got the hot steamy milk out of the microwave. Poured it into two cups.

We enjoyed the oranges. The cereals in cold milk, the sausages. The strawberry. She asked me where I learnt how to make her brown curved ass jump like that when I almost got into the wrong hole. Sorry, I meant she asked me how the brown hot curved slices of bread jumped out of the toaster so violently until she was scared.

"This is the best breakfast I have had..."

"thanks, told you I was a good cook."

I picked a glass of water. She picked her phone. She talked on the phone as if nothing had happened.

"Gosh, you have a boyfriend???"

The glass of water slipped off my hand and broke right at my feet. I bleed a little but the cut didn't feel as painful as... It happened. I am to blame. I should have asked her first. I am never returning the necklace you left at my place.

Be Extra_ but a Little Ordinary



What is worse than trying to make a mistake? Repeating the mistake.

I never learn. I sleep in between my two pillows cause I am now in a relationship. The irony of things. I never learn, you know why? Cause here I am again trying to write uninspired. As tragic as a broken egg on a carpet.

Everything I have written feels like rotten bread. It's all in good handwriting neat on the outside like the crust of bread but slice it in, read past the first paragraph and you will notice the green. Check out this handwriting, don't I write well? Cut through seemingly nice looking bread but green on the inside. The off taste. And you will be like... This is not Bobby, who wrote this? It is stale, it is flat, it is as disgusting and aweful looking as bad bread. Throw your phones in the bin, cause I am writing uninspired today. No, bad economy don't throw your phone, get off the net, save some money for real entertainment.

I want to write about horses, sorry ponies, the ones I and princess were on yesterday. Oh Naivasha is a beauty. I want to write about my lack of inspiration. It is so intense it feels like constipation, not that I have ever had constipation, but I have hear of people who have had constipation. I was in boarding school, one loo was next to the other. And when I say I heard about constipation I did.
The ahhhh ouch and other pain sounds coming-out of the next loo. Di you make noises in loos? What if you are alone?
You know someone is in pain but they can't be helped. Kind of like me, you can see that I am in pain, I can't write anything, and you can't write for me cause then that would nullify the purpose, you want to help me, but you can't help me, cause my inspiration is constipated, and I can't even write shit which can inspire inspiration. Please tell me you would help someone constipating, even if it is a hot chic. Leave the damsel in distress to her distress. She will thank you later.

What do you want to hear dames and sirs? You want to hear about how great the last year has been? The travel? What not... Guess what, I don't feel like writing about that. Just as much as you stars don't feel like commenting often. Only to find out you read, and I often hope you get embarrassed, but none of you is ever embarrassed about not commenting. What did you just say? I write for who? That I write for you? And that you can even leave this page right now? That you might even decide to spray paint my blog so that no one else reads it cause I was rude...
 That am not the only blogger around... What are you telling me, I can't talk like I want to? That I must keep you thoroughly happy to stay or terribly sad for you to stay?
That I can't talk about small things, I have to talk about things bigger than life? Dramatize everything? If a small puppy barks at me I should not write that the small puppy barked at me and I ran. I should write that I ran like I was a dog with a tail between my legs. I should dramatize it and state that the dog was the size of a calf, it could jump so high even go over my head then stand in front of me with it's mouth open ready to eat me; and that that dog had plastic surgery, instead of teeth it had knives in it's mouth like it was a rapper dog with shiny teeth. Do you want me to write about that? Dogs that have had plastic surgery? Dramatize things like that...
Write that I ran so fast it wasn't my tail between my legs but the wind blew my dic backwards from the speed I was running I looked like I had a tail? You think that's a rich story?
I will not write that, however uninspired I am, if I was chased by a puppy so tiny it was still toothless, (even though I think puppy's are born with teeth) and I ran wetting my pants I will say it. And I will make sure i rush to Dexter's laboratory get of my clothes, squeeze all the piss out of them and tell you how many liters that toothless dog caused. After I write that I hope someone will laugh. And if you don't I will ask you to laugh, come on laugh. Laugh. Laugh. Laugh now. Please. And if you don't we move to the next paragraph.

We are in the next paragraph. I am uninspired. And I am not going to try to fake inspiration by being crafty. They say a bad story is a good story if the characters in the stories steal your heart, Is it true? Yes it is. You watch your favorite television show cause it has that character that you have fallen in love with, or one that you admire. That person is greater than life itself. She is extra ordinary. She is as beautiful as everything beautiful but most of all she is different.

And the writer makes that character extraordinary by making her own boats, and houses, gives her the best career, makes her the most sort after girl in the town, and you love her, and for the dames watching her, who might hate her, she makes men break necks and dames turn heads.

The writer makes her have a fault no matter how perfectly beautiful she is. She makes her have a past that always threatens to ruin all she has and all she will become. Who doesn't like a woman with a future and a past, and a little attitude to make it last, Drake does, do you?
That is why we love celebrities, cause they seem larger than life, they seem to  lead extraordinary lives, but not too extraordinary so that we can't relate to them, they must walk on the same streets we do, travel on the same roads, but they must travel in cars larger than life or something. So that we are connected, like a country is connected with good roads.
Then just before you hate on them for having it all and a little more, they are in rehab, they are having a divorse and you love them. Isn't that why gossip is a successful industry in itself. You get fascinated when you hear some movie star was hit so hard with misfortune you start to think that if it were you in her shoes their is no way you would shave your head like that.

After the writer has made you decide that having everything comes at a price you must lose something like true love to have it all, it becomes the perfect ferry tale. The price of fortune and fame. Not just fortune and fame. Fortune and fame is arrogant. The price of fortune and fame is romantic. Oh prices and sacrifices, the helper of good literature besides vampires.
Is that what you want me to write? Is that what I write? Do you want me to be technical and build characters in my head, ones larger than life, extraordinary enough for you guys to look up to, and yet ordinary enough for us to relate to? Do you want classic conflict? And suspense... Do you want me to ask you whether the gun have bullets on the first paragraph, then tell you whether it had bullets or not at the last paragraph. So that am sure you finished reading. Or should I offer loli pops at the end of the post? (pun intended) even better, should I offer icecream? (now here I intend pun very much). But stars, allow me only today, I feel greatly uninspired.

Or do you want me to end this post right now wait till I am inspired to write something? When I am inspired, emotions are so heavy, I am stuck in a room and it is as if I am seeing ghosts. A ghost of jealousy standing next to me, one I just want to tear it's heart open and spit in it. A ghost of love which is a pretty girl carrying flowers only that she doesn't know she is creepy by virtue of her being a ghost. Imagine a ghost stalker, if it comes to that fcuk love right? Or not? You helpless romantics.
The ghost of hate which I think would have a long beard. Or the ghost of anger which I think looks like a bull which has smoke coming off it's nose eyes and other places I can't mention.
Should I write about how all this ghosts which are very real to me like anger is, hate is, love is, lust is, jealousy is, so real but when I try to touch them they can't be touched. When someone tells you that you don't have to be jealous and you believe them the ghost disappears... You re-read that post about jealousy and you were wondering if you were high that whole time? Or cringe... Only to find someone really related to that ghost of jealousy. And to her is was as live as a slap she sent on someones face that made us all think she is a tattoo artist.

If I wrote about such raw emotion would you listen? Would you read? Would you go through my other posts and try to find more? Or do you want me to seat here like a constipated boarding school student who has been eating bread and no vegetables and now is in the loo in the middle of the night making noises.

Ohhhh ahhhh ouch trying to get shit out of his system cause sometimes when you have no inspiration, and as if that is not enough, you also don't have shit. And sometimes when you are talented you can make shit sound so inspired. But look at the situation as it is now, no inspiration, no shit!
It's one thing to have misfortune, then it's another thing when people don't laugh at it, what can I say, no matter what you believe, misery loves company forks. Ask Tom, the actor in Tom and Jerry. (don't google I mean the cartoon) At least laugh at my lack of inspiration, don't ignore my constipation.

Would you rather hear about ohhhh ahhhh and ouch or a story with characters I made up in my mind so extraordinary you are attracted to them like people you are attracted to in real life, the extraordinary! Yet they are so ordinary you can relate to them?

If you ask me, you would rather hear about ohhhh ahhh and ouch cause maybe it's not uninspired shit I write about, maybe I crept up the loo and found the guy wasn't constipating but jerking off to some...

This is the end of my uninspired post. I hope it ended leaving you curious to know what I write about when I am inspired. Go on, take a look, I have so many post i might keep you company in jam the whole of next year.

Happy new year!

Sunday 18 December 2011

My Life Is Nothing


There are things that happen to you or to those that you love that kill you. I am dying day by day, I forget sometimes the hurt and anger I have, but all I need is a trigger and the feelings and emotions come spouting out. I fear for my sanity, I feel with every fresh reopen of the wounds caused on me I feel a need to react, take matters into my own hands. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

Those I love have suffered, money is the root of all evil. We live in a world where the more money you make the more you have to hide, show the world you are poor, cause if you do not it will be your undoing. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

I have done bad things myself, I am not perfect. They haven't done any bad things they are perfect. Then why the hell do they have to go through these? These are scars that cut deep and seem to heal on the outside but you are scared about them for life. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

If I got a scar right across my back, a large one that hurts me everyday of my life how would you feel? Imagine you loved me with all your heart. Imagine I sacrificed my last slice of bread so that you may have something to eat and didn't die of starvation. Imagine if we were on the street, misfortune had caught us. Imagine I was cold but I saw that you were sneezing and I took off my coat so that you would sleep in comfort and I slept on the cold floor for you. Imagine if your eyes got sprayed by a toxic substance so that for three days you started to become blind, and you knew there was a cure, you had no one around you and I was there, and I listened and I searched for the antidote that would cure your blindness. Imagine I did all that for you, all in the name of love, never, never ever, listen, never ever wanting anything in return. And you would go back to your life after all the trauma is over, and you will promise to keep contact, but you didn't manage. But in your heart you know I sacrificed my life for you.
You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

Now, imagine I took off my shirt and you found a scar, a scar running from my back to my neck. Two bullet wounds, that pain me to this day even though I wear a smile you know I have been through a lot. And I told you that some mindless bustard did that... Scared me for life, cause all this person wanted was the coins in my pocket. He beat me, he made blood oze out of me, he knocked off my teeth and left me with wounds all over. Not that I am a drug dealer, no, not that I am a bad person, because I believe I sweat and my sweat gets me everything I have. And during my spare time, I treat blindness, I go throughout the earth no matter how much it cost me to make sure the blind have sight. And I lend you my coat when I don't have a spare, we are both homeless in the street, I take time to warn you that if it is streets we will sleep on, we should not sleep on this one but sleep on the next, cause it is safer. I just care for you cause you are human like I am.
You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

If you loved me then you would hurt from hurt, you would cry for my tears, they would be enough to make you sad. If you loved me you would go angry and you would want to make things right and as you get frustrated at the system of making things right, you would...
You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

I am hurt from her hurt. And I have been frustrated by all that is around me. I call to Heaven cause I need an answer, but you know Heaven is the Boss, God runs the show, no He really does. I can only ask that He sorts things out. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

I feel myself become another person when I think of somethings. Love is a great thing, now I know the power of love. It could be winter and I could have a coat and I promise I would give someone my coat and be left with none knowing I would die in the next ten minutes. I would make my peace with God, pray for forgiveness through His Son cause that's the only way Heaven happens. And then I would let someone I love live in comfort even if I have to pay it with the risk of losing my life. I feel dead already from this hurt. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

And since I don't have a coat to give someone who is cold I will find me a coat, and I will cover those I love in protection. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

And those that hurt her, those that hurt me, I will run after them as pur law commands and trust me I am a lawyer, I know how to work within the law. I need my peace of mind. I hope Heaven gives it to me. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

But more than everything I want to do, I want to react, I can't just seat here watching people I love hiding hurt. I can't just sit here watching a face cry without tears, cause it has run out of tears, I see the faces cry without tears and these are faces of people I love. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

Am going to be twice the man I am meant to be in twice less the time, and I am going to turn my hurt into good even though the extent to which it is could cause me to become a full manic with two personalities cause that's what I feel like right now, like I am another person opening the wounds. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

I know my destiny, my destiny is a bright future which started fifteen minutes ago. But even as my destiny happens and my plans fall into place. I will forever hate anyone who chases money in ways that cause blood to shed, I have had everything, believe you me, especially years back and today, trust me on that one, but it's not all that you better believe me. It is not. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

It all comes down to love, movies are fictional, most of them at least are, but I tell you this they are not that fictional. Love carries the day no matter how much you don't want to believe me. Yes, it is good, it flavors it, love is much better when the bedsheets are of higher thread-count, when the wine is pricer and the chocolates come better wrapped and the dates over look a cricket match even though the much I know about cricket is that they dress in white and they make sure the grass is so well taken care off it feels like velvet I bet it is dyed, but love is king I swear. And every time you wake up and go paper chase, and do it in a way that hurts me, sheds my blood know that someone is watching you shed my blood and this person loves me, and they are not happy. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

I want to hide this down like heart break, bottle it up, but I can't, I promise you I have tried, so am moving to the next option. Am a bright guy, as much as I am waiting for my destiny to happen and take over the piece of the world that I am meant to have if I go by the plan, I remember it all ends one day, I hope my children don't squander everything I build. It all ends one day, and when it ends I want to know that I had love all my life, I might have not have been given it like I wanted it given, I hope I will have it given as I want, I have had it anyways, but what I want to make sure is I have given love. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

And my hurt aches at those that hurt like I do, I know Heavens ways, so I will not take a gun and walk into a certain house and release showering bullets all over, cause that not what Heaven wants and that's not what Society's law advocates. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

I will however use the right channels, to rid off the streets of paper chasers, mindless hooligans, the demons that roam the streets, I am a lawyer I know-how the law works, so when I say I will screw them up, I know how best. And if I die at it know that Heaven will know I played by it's rules and the Laws of the land. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

Trust me on this one, I don't need any motivation to screw them over, I have seen a loved one hurt. And am coming for you, hold a knife ready to kill me, I will still come, you should have known better, at least you should have hurt me instead of the ones I love, now you have caused me to blow the hurt you caused them out of proportion which is in proportion cause I love them, now look at how you will have to live looking over your shoulder? Was it worth it? Hide behind all you bought from your little paper chase, I dare you hide. That's not how wealth is made, have you lived it? You need to sustain it, yes, you need to make everyday. And you just made one night by snatching away. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

In fact hold two knives and look at my face, see if I care. Watch how numb and pointless my pain becomes, watch me hear about all the other innocent people lives you have ruined and watch me determined to ruin you. No one will ever hurt cause of you, and those that seek to join that career in paper chase world will change their minds after they see what has happened to you since me. I will never stop, even when am as old as justice. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

No, I will not kill you, cause Heaven asked me not to, I will not revenge, though that's what I want to do. I will just turn into a braver, more sensitive angel, and I will rescue everyone from you. Everyone else is busy, trying to make it for themselves, I will also be busy trying to make it for myself, but even more than that I will be even more busier trying to save everyone. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

I am brave as death now, see what you have done, you have killed me, it is your fault that I am dedicating my life to being in your bad business and ruining it. You should have known better than to have hurt those I love.

My everything turns me to nothing which will turn to my everything, if I don't end up nothing.

Thursday 15 December 2011

Adult Bedtime Stories







It usually was late at night when my bell rang. Probably hours to midnight. That's when we usually met. All the time. Damsels and sirs, I go nuts over some kind of dress and skirts. As in I literally lose my head. One, two three madness. Sirs, there are dresses that are lose but yet show shape. I watch a dame walking in front of me in such a dress and I want to jump up and down making a fuss like a cartoon. Unfair! Its very hard to contain yourself when you can see, it's not obvious the shape, but you can see the line and the two bumps. I get lost. I get really lost. I can't contain myself. She usually wore that kind of dress when she showed up at my door some minutes to midnight.

Women are complicated. Men want sex. Women want everything. Some dames actually just want you cause there are dames around you. There are dames who fall for you cause your phone seats on the table and every time another hot girls caller ID flashes on your screen. She doesn't like me solely cause there are other women around me. Maybe she does, but she likes me for other reasons too.

Dames and sirs, there is a generation of men walking around on earth who can't take compliments. How did they grow up? Somewhere around the age of my uncle. 

"Nice car..."

And the guy gets speechless with his big belly. It's like he wants to become a drill and sink into the earth or turn into a rocket and go to space. If you want to scare these guys, turn them speechless, just spread a compliment over their face, in public especially. They dont know how to react. How the fuck did they live like as teenagers?  Culture is some whole other thing.

Since we are talking about compliments, this girl with the red dress with a line, that shows a line... Oh my. She chokes telling me how awesome I am. As I said there are people who can give compliments, people who can give it so well you skip lunch, then there are people who can't take them even if you spiced it with everything nice. She gave me compliments but choked on them, I could see her look at me thoroughly fascinated by what I am, and she was trying to express her fascination, and she would choke. Like the girl from my class, she always says
 "thats a nice post"
Every time but if you look at her face you will know some post are nicer than others.
I could see her look at me thoroughly fascinated by what I am, and she was trying to express her fascination, and she would choke.And she looked adorable always, she held a smile, she didn't look away, she looked at me as if in deep positive thought, then tried to tell me what she found amazing about me sometimes though, she hit it right once or twice, but sometimes she wanted my ears to read it but got frustrated cause she couldn't speak it. Express it. What she doesn't know is that I read it off her face, and sometimes it made me spray white off my dic easy, the compliments.

Dames and sirs, have you ever had that? That someone that you know likes you? That person you know has a crush on you but doesn't know it or knows and hides it? Do you? That person you are not an item with but you know they will never let you down? If you are around people and they are in a crowd you can be sure they will laugh at your jokes even if no one else does; however lame or corny they can be. That guy that always notices you look more beautiful on Fridays. He let's you know; cause even when he is pissed at the world, you walk in, his face warms up. He doesn't have to tell you but you know. 

My bell rang at night, and if I didn't hear it, my phone rang. Every time my phone rang at that time it brought memories. It brought emotions. I knew in a few minutes I would have the best time of my life over and over again. That's why I have a slow choke as I write this. I feel the upsurge of happy emotions walking into my heart with every memory that walks into my mind right now. Horniness is not walking, it is running, cause every time I hugged her welcome  I grabbed the top of her booty, and my mind ran to bed.

She is a chef, at one of the nicest hotels at the beach. Ask me cause I know... She always promised to make me seafood, she never did, but she brought me chicken and fries some nights, she cared for me. She liked me happy. She didn't ever bring raw lobsters and cook them for me like she always promised, but she brought something sometimes when I told her I was hungry. My friends keeping half the promise is better than keeping no promise. Half seafood pizza is as good as two Meat Delux pizzas on Terrific Tuesday. But no pizza at all is as bad as no promise. I will keep the promise i made her one day? Cause like half promise is better than no promise, its better late than never. She kept half her promise and I loved that.

I took her to bed, sometimes it was a few minutes to midnight and waking up from sleep at that time to a girl with an ass as big as hers on your door. You skip the living room, walk grabbing her and stambling over things intil the kitchen, open the fridge and get her a can of Redds with one hand on her and the other trying to open her drink. You almost tip over cause her legs and your legs are not in sync or is it cause they are too close to each other? Or you are too close to her falling over is easy?

If we make it to bed, without falling with each other. Then it will happen in the kitchen. If we don't make it to the bedroom, and we fell off our legs, we wouldn't never get hurt, cause her body is not like anyone else. It is bold and makes you throb, feel your heart beat at the spot that makes you man. She is so woman, she sometimes feels unconfident about her boobies, those tiny little things. One day she actually admitted that part of the reason she likes me is cause I appreciate her, and this is after I found a way of banging her little cute boobs. And sirs and dames, I found them very easy to bang, cause holding her and them came easy to me.

I still run in my head like a crazy person every time I reopen the photos of her on my bed. As she lay naked facing down. On my bed at night. And nothing was flat even as she lay flat on my bed. She was a perfect dame. With hair nice and all, her shoulders high, her back sinking slowly from her shoulder to her ass in a curve, and all over a sudden her body rose up in an ass so large I it jumped. And her legs had soft curves and sinks. Sometimes they would fly in the air as she talked to me... 

"I have been waiting you took so long in the shower..."

And I would let her stay the way she is, and I would slide myself from under her. No not on her. Am not strange. She is lying on the bed facing down, so it had to be under her. She would turn and she would wrap her legs around me, and that would urge me to finish myself. 

And there I would be fighting at the very edge of an orgasm to finish her first, sometimes I would succeed, and we would both be as glad as blossoming flowers are.

Most of this times we would be banging in the living room, and I could hear the   Watchmans footsteps wishing he was me from outside. She screamed a calm one, one that didn't wake neighbors up, she screamed a good one, one that would creep up in your neighbors ears, they would not feel noice but deep envy, and the envy would last like our nights did. And sirs and dames, she is worth envying over a billion times over.

I used to stare at her photos in my phone every time she left. Not immediately she left cause she satisfied. And I can confidently say all those nights we spent together I was satisfied. She is a high profile chef some place by the beach somewhere i have never been, every time i thought about her my heart had some exercise and i raised a flag, Attention! She cooked, spread her chef skills over my kitchen a little, and it was night but I understood why she didn't cook lots... she spent most of her time between my thighs sucking me. Food you can buy, that you cannot. But if for some strange reason you buy get the fuck off this page.

Don't ever forget me dames and sirs... I will never forget you. I will never forget her. Especially while she lie on my bed, her boobs pressed together me between them having the time of my life back and forth back and forth. Her hand pushing me further deeper in her mouth, pulling off such skillful performance she let me thrust like I thrust between legs. Sometimes I would be the one lying on the bed. She let her fingers run over me in ways, and her tongue. 

Sometimes she blew me till I fell asleep. Think bedtime story for adults. Sometimes ate me up where things are cooked... Think kitchen, do I really have to tell you the positions?

Will you ever forget me? Guys? Will you? I will never forget her, infact for the next so many chics I banged after I banged her, for a split second I would think about her, specifically think about the way she would notice I was about to cum, I would be between her boobs, or even better, I would sometimes be in her mouth, and I would pull myself out and she would pull me back in her mouth and I swear I would come another.  And she swallowed. And as I thought about her, about what she did to me, even between another girls legs, I would cum easier. So don't think I came because of you... It was because of her.

The girl in a red dress.

Flashing Lights!





Look at the life I have painted for myself, go on come on in, you can take a second look, In fact go on take a photo. Its okay. I want you to remember this. Look at the life you have a painted for yourself. Let us take a look, in fact let us come in, let us take a photo, so that we can remember this. Don't be afraid, take a photo, it's real. Look. Take a photo. No, not with that aweful camera. Is that a camera you are holding even? That thing is as old as the awful shoes long distance traders used to wear. Don't know what am talking about, exactly my point! Get that shit out of here. We have done this year, yes it has done us too, but we did it more. Oh yes we did this year a good one. And the next is almost here. Wait till it sees how we are going to do it. And we are going to do the next even better than this one.

So please, don't bring shitty cameras over here. Take those awful cameras to those that broke down parked and gave up this year. 
These are perfect pictures, pictures with color. Look at us, look at the picture we painted all this year. Look at the color, look at the texture... Look at that painting. You can see texture on the painting, the emotion, the motion. Don't dare try touch it... Just look don't touch. See how far we have come?Yes... It's real. 

I can see, I see you haven't done much, that's what you think. But am looking at you from a distance. I can see you haven't quite painted your life as you wanted to, but look around... Where did you get all that? Wow you spent the whole year collecting cans of paint and brushes, nice! Take the complement... No, take it. Nkt! Take it dammit... Good. Com' on, don't ever pretend that wasn't hard work. No... Don't!
 It has been hard my friend, it's hard, i don't know how you made it this far, i honestly thought you wouldn't make it, but i guess i under estimated you, you are here, it is hard to paint, it's hard to even decide you want to paint, why wouldn't collecting the cans of colors be easy? It's hard... But you made it to year's end. And with all the paint around you. I know next year will be a walk over. Next year will be what? A good year. A very good year. A very very good year. Taste it... Taste the good year... Smell it... It's there for you. A good year. Next year. Yes, yes... Yes!

Please get another camera... Don't take our photos with that shit you are holding. Bring better. Or we kick you out! NkT.
We have pulled ourself from January to now. We still standing. Tall like a bottle of something nice.
I have painted a colorful life for myself, and I have more colors here with me, I collected them throughout the year. I see you started to paint, but more than starting to paint I see you collected brushes, of different texture, for different strokes... I see you paid for them with lack of sleep, your sweat, your reputation, your ego and stress. You almost even paid for all you have right now with your blood. Your very blood. Come on, no one can tell you shit! You have... But you havent... But relax now, it's okay, year is at it's end and you have all those cans of paint with you.

It's going to clock midnight on new years eve, and it will be a blank fresh start for everyone. We will have a new year, and we will all be on the same level. 

I know what colors I have around me, I know the painting I want to paint. Question is can you see the painting you want to paint for you? I can see the life I want to paint. And when we... Ten...

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

Scream: Happy new year!

I will raise the bottle of champagne on one hand in all the fireworks, hold a paint brush on the other under the night stars, splash hard a stroke of paint on the plain new white canvas everyone has on new years eve. And i will stroke it well like a young breast is stroked. Hold those cameras up high, point them on us, you might want to... Cause this is the next big thing...

On your marks. Get set. Go. Cause everything that was meant to happen, finally happens and it happens this year.

Flashing Lights!

Who takes your photo Anyways...

L&L



Whose fifteen minutes are these anyways?

Damsels and sirs. Good morning. Bright morning, birds chapping, freedom cause the holidays are here, and we love it. 

Let's talk about love. Not the kissing kind, the passion kind. Not passion the drink, which is very nice by the way, but passion the emotion. Let's talk about love.

She loves her camera, she is not me, but you could say she is, cause we are one and the same. You know, that stage in a relationship when you are thinking, that's a good idea by the way. And you stop for a second and think, what does my girlfriend feel about this? It's not even something related to her. The color of my boxers she has a say about, the scent of my perfume, definately. The kind of framed photos I hang on my wall she has a say in. Guys, come closer, shhh what if I decided to hang very large framed photos of Kate, sorry duchess Kate and her sister. She has a booty, and she smiles helplessly when the camera is following her. They say whatever duchess Kate's sister decides to do it will be a success. Why? She is now royal and not like the Kardashians. Dammit, I used the K word on my blog. What of I hang photos of the Kardashians in their skimpiest outfits. All over, and even get spot lights to illuminate these photos. Right now I can see my girlfriend turn into a fire, wondering what the hell... You ain't getting any tonight or the nights after... Next time know better than to... 

Let's talk about the sister, fine ass right? Now let's talk about her helpless smile when the camera is following her, she loves the camera right?

This post ladies and gents is about cameras, making love to cameras, remember that day in your life, when you stretched out to the world grabbed yourself a piece of happiness and that became the happiest day of your life. Can you remember it? Yes... This damsel I talk about can remember it better. Cause she loves her camera, she seizes life's sweetest moment in timeless measure. Youth is beautiful and broke, youth is also flitting, age has wealth and wisdom. And what better way to tell the story of your life, the places you have been, the struggles you had, what you were without the fruits of a camera? What better? She loves her camera cause it seizes moments like these for a little longer than forever.

Do you love your camera? Do you? No... Does the camera love you? Does it? Or are you getting it to love you? Are you? Are you? If the camera loves you, then damsel, I am Bobby, can we be friends? If the camera doesn't love you, or you have no photos on Facebook please keep off, no really keep off, I don't like creeps around my comments or my updates. In fact am at the moment talking to the founder of facebook, one of the perks of being a blogger, you get to talk to this guy. He is trying to get the paper work done to allow me to have a couple of security dogs around my wall and an alarm at my status updates. So just in case some faceless bustard (masked) tries to write on my Facebook wall or tries to send me a message, the security dogs will jump off the screen of her phone and let's just say after that the camera will not love her afterwards and he or she will definitely not love the camera. Probably he might prefer to be behind the camera?  But never, ever in front of the camera. Never!
So please, no faceless people around my Facebook. 

Let's talk about being behind the camera, who is behind the camera? My girl is. As things progress, as I write on this new blog, I have made a decision not to find photos from the Internet. That's a scary place, just go picking photos on the Internet then publish them around and see what kind of dogs those guys have. Am a lawyer ask me I know... Copy rights and all. On this blog I intend to put up my own photos (without threats of dogs), in this place we like to hang out woth you dames and sirs, wouldnt you like to have photos framed up here? You deserve it. Yes you do. I know you deserve it. You should know it too. This place has to be beautiful, doesn't it... To keep you coming back? So that we enjoy better? To feed your curiosity? To fuel you emotions so that you enlargen the photos and stare wondering what happens there? Or happened?
She is the one behind the camera. Most photos are hers, the other bit are mine, if I was behind the camera, and you were in front of the camera, you would pick up a stone and make me skip town. Cause trust me I can take a photo of a flower and the end result will look like a sewage. Bobby then why do you even bother to take photos? Cause I want to seize moments, Bobby which are your photos then? I can't see any sewage photos. That's cause this damsel, that takes photos also edits them, she puts a little make up on the photos, powder over here and over there, move with the times, with all the competition, who is too good for make up? Yes it's all about the balance this days, natural and make up. Sometimes this, sometimes that, tell them to grow a pair, those who don't believe that!
 I send her photos of sewage and they come out as flowers, that's why you want her behind the camera when you are in front of a camera... You are a guy and looking at the fruits of her photos you feel like you were wearing make up... Cause it's so picture perfect.

Let's talk about perfect. What is perfect? Nothing. Yes, that's what I believe, except for heaven and all, that is perfect. I believe however in things on a scale, as in you could be on one end, either close to perfect or very far from perfect. Sometimes it doesn't matter where you are on the scale. Say for example when am on the tennis court, not the squash court, the lawn tennis court. I don't give a rats ass about being perfect on a lawn tennis court, the lawn tennis court does't give a rats ass about my being perfect cause even it can sense I am there to have fun. Yes I had a tennis instructor for a while but tennis to me is just one of those things I do for fun. Not business, never for business, for pleasure. Business or pleasure? Come on dames and sirs, am asking you, what do you do and what you do do you do it for business or for pleasure? Have something you can do for pleasure... Life is not all about business. One, two, three... You are getting sleepy... Unwind. Relax.

Let's back get to lights, camera action, or lights camera flashes. I love to write, and just so that you know I write for fun, look at my spellings. Yesterday I did a test on Creativity. You will be shocked at the things you can find on the Internet nowadays besides naked frames on my bedroom walls. No I don't have that, I have good taste. If I wanted a naked woman on my wall, it wouldn't be the Kardashians, or their friends, it wouldn't be my girlfriend, cause I don't think she can send me that, as much as she loves the camera. 

You would send me that? Oh my am so flittered. Make sure my girlfriend doesn't catch you. You will not love the camera after... What did you say? Question is not even you being naked? its how you want me to stand taking the photos? Oh my. Oh my! 

As i said it wouldn't be a naked photos of my girl hanging on my bedroom walls. I would not hide a naked photos of a woman in my bedroom. I have good taste, I would make a roundabout at the entrance of my house. If the wall photo was as big as floor to ceiling space, I would take the photos to a professional sculpture, so that he can jerk off to it or on it or at it, which one is it? To jerk of to, or or with. Whatever it is, the important thing is that  I will not need that photo again. All i will want is that he uses it as the guide to what he will mold. All I will want is a large sculpture of the naked woman right their at the entrance to my house, three times as big as the distance between my floor space and the ceiling, so that everyone that walks in or drives around the roundabout sees it, and for you who do not notice my spelling mistakes, chances are you will not notice the naked woman, so I might make a fountain off her, I was thinking probably water should come out of her mouth, but wait a minute that is a turn off, either you will notice the sight of the water of its noise. Provided you notice her. What about between her legs? when you squat too much it stops becoming what it is and now it is susu... So no! Did you say yes... Disgusting. Maybe on her head like a shower... That's better... But I have time to think about these things, you know, the time between now till tittles and lion sculptures on the gate.

Let's not talk any more about naked women pictures. Let's talk about things that Facebook allow, let's talk about photos on this blog. Let's talk about the photos you will see. They say all work and no play makes Bobby a dull boy. I am not dull, why? Cause as much as I am about to hold a law book and get bored to death after this post, I am here, creating this post. You need something in your life that you can do on an empty stomach, and the pain of the empty stomach will go away. You need to do something that turns the sun into a moon light (you remember astoldbybobby.blogspot.com not astoldbybobby2.blogspot.com, that day when I wrote about having written for hours and nothing came out of it)
You need that in your life, something, anything, preferably something you do well, better than the average person, cause that might be just what you are good at. For business or pleasure? Are you kidding? Definately for pleasure!

The best photos are not born from a bad photo or a good photo, the best photos are born from hundreds? Thousands? Millions of photos? Yes... Such numbers, cause practice makes perfect. However bad you are, their is no way you can try five hundred dresses from two hundred different places and end up with one that doesn't make you the most beautiful thing in the world for that hour. It's always the degree of motivation. 

"excuse me, why doesn't your dictionary have the word impossible?"

"I had one customized to fit my personality."

"that's impossible?"

"Pardon?"

"I said that's impossible!"

"Sorry I can see your lips moving but I can't hear the last word you said."

"nice one."

"Now I heard that!"

"hehe you are impossible."

"pardon?"

(let's laugh, no really let's laugh)

All photos pass by her, even mine. You know girls, they are quite the decent creatures and when they are not they hide it between bedsheets. On the other hand us men, no sirs, be easy, put those stones down, Now!, this is a relaxed place, what do you think this place is? ...let me talk, us men, we can be a little indecent. If my photos didn't go through her you would be seeing naked...

But since I stand behind a camera and click, the light flashes on the flower I am taking a photos of, and the end result looks like a photo of sewages. And since none of you want ugly things here, I hit send on email and the photographer on the other side of the email turns it pretty like Cinderella is. And you my friends have a photo to go with the stories I tell you. So that you see what I see and what this world is about to me. 

Tuesday 13 December 2011

Miss Understood



Dames and sirs, that title. I love it. It speaks volumes. Miss Understood. Look at it, enjoy the revelation of it in this post. Genesis is the beginning.

Shall we begin...



Therapist: why are you here?

Her: cause I want to be fixed

Therapist: what makes you think you have problem?

Her: numbers

Therapist: what number

Her: the number of people I have had sex with

Therapist: how many are they?

Her: silence

Therapist: why do you think your numbers are not good?

Her: cause I believe in one girl on boy

Therapist: what is a healthy sexual relationship to you?

Her: a couple have sex

Therapist: would you like that?

Her: yes, very much. In fact that's why am here.

Therapist: what do you intend to achieve once you are done here

Her: I want to have a healthy sexual relationship with one person, arent you listening.

Therapist: ok. Why can't you just have one sexual partner?

Her: it feels better having many.

Therapist: better than a healthy sexual relationship?

Her: I... I... I don't know.

Therapist: do you have a healthy sexual relationship?

Her: I dnt want to answer that.

Therapist: you said you want to have a healthy sexual relationship, but you like having multiple partners, I want you to know you can trust me. Okay?

Her: okay

Therapist: that we can work together to help you.

Her: okay.

Therapist: that we have to work together to solve...

her: come on, I already get it, just cut to the chase and fix this

Therapist: are you in a hurry?

Her: yes.

Therapist: why are you in a hurry?

Her: cause I am meeting Bobby

Therapist: who is Nobby?

Her: someone I like

Therapist: why don't you just leave now that you in a hurry

her:  cause it doesn't make sense, I am here for him

Therapist: so you want to have a healthy sexual relationship with him

her:  maybe...

Therapist: why can't you just do it on your own, why did you need to come here.

Her:  dammit. You're the doctor, you tell me.

Therapist: why are you getting angry.

Her: ...come on, get on with it already doc.

Therapist: I see you have something you want to say

Her: yes, I want to know why I am this way... I love someone and yet I want to sleep with someone else, other people.

Therapist: what excites you about this people you want to sleep with?

Her: they are good looking

Therapist: just the fact that they are good looking...

Her: yeah, don't other people do that too... Get attracted to good looking people.

Therapist: what if they aren't good looking. What will you do?

Her: find a good looking one.

Therapist: so it's about the sex more than the person, you know if you don't like this one you move on...

Her: I guess..

Her: but how is it about the sex than it is the person if I have to look for a good looking one?

Therapist: you told me you have someone you love right?

Her: yes,

Therapist: you are attracted to him?

Her: yes. He is so...

Therapist: you see even when you are attracted to one person, it seems to me that you keep on looking for another person, and specifically a good looking person.

Therapist: when did it start?

Her: i can't remember

Therapist: most of these things have their root in childhood?

Her: ok

Therapist: should I hypnotize you?

Her: hell no.

Therapist: do you like being in control?

Her: what does that have to do with anything, you know am in a hurry right?

Therapist: I think you like being in control maybe that's the reason why you are so apprehensive about hypnosis. I think you like to be in control cause when you mentioned sex, you don't see it as something that just happens, it's something you look for, i think when you have sex, it's a conquest to you, that proves to you are attractive. You have intertwined attraction with sex, so one cannot exist without the other. You might love someone, but even as you love that person, you want constant compliments you are attractive, and those compliments are the numbers from your sexual conquest.

Her: now doc, I see the reason for this. Now you sound like a professional, all theoretical. But that is not entirely true.

Therapist: what is it then?

Her: never mind. Now, fix me...

Therapist: I have to find out what the root of this belief and...

Her: come on, I told you am late. How long will this take?

Therapist: probably months...

Her:  months? Really? Am leaving...

Her: so what do you suggest I do for now?

Therapist: I want you to talk about it with this guy you are going to see. You trust him right?

Her: yes. But that is ridiculous... I cannot... I cannot tell him...

Therapist: why?

Her:  don't want to look troubled that's not attractive, okay in small amount it is, but when it is too much it is not.

Therapist: attractive?

Her: am leaving.

Therapist: see you next week, I think we have made some progress.

Her: thanks doc.

Therapist: don't forget your phone.

Her: thanks again, bye.




Me:  hi doc

Therapist: hi Bobby

Me: that's very bright of you. The chairs, the flowers, the aroma, the big windows, the homely lay out... It's very relaxing.

Therapist: thank you. You know your surrounding very well.

Me: it's something my mind always rashes to do

Therapist: why do you think you mind does that?

Me: aren't we supposed to be discussing sex?

Therapist: yes, we are but we can talk about other things to, usually they have a connection. Do you want to talk about other things?

Me: I guess, if we don't go too much out of topic.

Therapist: why do you feel you have to know your surrounding?

Me: it just happens

Therapist: can you stop?

Me: why would I want to stop?

Therapist: why wouldn't you want to stop.

Me: I like to know what and who I am dealing with.

Therapist: so your looking at my office layout is what made you believe that I am a professional and not the title 'Dr' that comes before my name?

Me: I have never looked at it that way... I guess.

Therapist: I think you have trust issues.

Me: that's such a cliche doc, everyone has trust issues.

Therapist: yes, but not everyone notices the details of an office like the way you have...

Me: doc, sex. We talking about sex...

Therapist: we have to talk about other things too.

Therapist: why are you in such a hurry?

Me: I am seeing someone in an hour and there is jam

Therapist: is this person more important than this?

Me: don't be ridiculous please, no offense though...

Therapist: why do you think am being ridiculous

Me: I didn't mean it that way...

Therapist: how did you mean it?

Me: come on, let's leave beating around the bush. Let's talk about sex, that's the reason am here, or I leave?

Therapist: do you always leave when you don't get what you want?

Me: yes, in fact it is very good you have pointed that out. Am not wasting my time here anymore.

Therapist: why are you speaking like that?

Me: I thought this is a comfortable place I can speak how I want to, doc, is it not?

Therapist: so you are testing me?

Me: get to the point doc. Someone is waiting for me.

Therapist: we have to...

Me: this has been nice doc. But bye

And I arrived first. It was an awesome restaurant, the tables were black, marble? They have incredible food, though they spice it too much, which I don't find very impressive. Who am i to judge, those who try to murder their taste buds with taste? Half of the things on their menu, mostly pasta you cannot pronounce. Have you done French? That's why am doing French, that and for France sake later on. I called her and asked her how far she was. She was fifteen minutes away.

The restaurant was more of a patio than anything else. It was quite pricey but to tell you the truth I really thought she would love the ice cream sundae. They were large, other places don't often serve icecream with a whole lot of stuff added on it... Here, they always had it smeared with chocolate syrup or strawberry syrup. Or chocolate sprinkles, banana a cherry on top, a grape, and waffles, yes the ones you take as plain biscuits. They are ice creams accessory you know.

I had ordered myself something I can't remember what, and I had ordered food for her. In fifteen minutes seated at a table you can even read a Chinese menu. Yes you can. That's a lot of time. I saw her from a distance, she looked lovely. I stood up, went to get her, and planted such a serious hug on her, her nipples must have felt braless.

I pulled back the seat for her, she sat down, placed her hand bag on the table and held it, not a good sign. In my mind I remember screaming, leave the hand bag, alone, please leave it. I like this place!

"I grew an extra beard just seated her waiting for you..."

She didn't find that funny. Shoot and I had already  ordered food. She didn't leave the hand bag. She was not yet at ease.
I could see her look around, her eyes wondering around the place shifty, not in a calm way.

It had to be the restaurant I was sure it wasn't me, I took her to too an elaborate place too fast. No one wants something too elaborate on a first day, she wanted casual. Everyone wants casual. And I felt awful, it was going to be a bad date.

"so, I have ordered something for you already, hope you will like it..."

She left her bag, she placed it on the seat next to her. I felt a slight glow. When a girl stops holding her bag, she wants to stay, or she is at ease. I felt a light glow.

She then placed her hand over her breasts, as if to hide them. Bad news. She brought her legs under her seat, and I knew there was no way this was going to be a good date. I was talking but she could hardly hear what I was saying. Take me to an asylum, a mad man talking to himself, thinking he is to a girl. She repeated my words, but it was so mechanical, she didn't talk, it was a monologue. And she was so stiff and uncomfortable a bird could have landed on her head, thinking she was a gagoyle.

Was it my bad that she was in jeans? Should I have told her where we were going? But other people were in jeans, very short jeans skirts actually, okay maybe most were in dresses, was that what made her feel comfortable. Five minutes and she hadn't touched her food, and the food was nice. You could even eat its aroma. That's what you get for paying a fortune for food, attention to detail.

"should we pack and go eat somewhere else?"

"oh yes, yes, yes!"

It's like she was dying to hear that. If this were a movie and my words were a bocay of wedding flowers, and these flowers were thrown by the bride to the brides mates to catch. This damsel would have literally grown wings like angels have, she would have taken off like a jet, and grabbed the flowers like a hungry dog in a crowd grabs a bone in the air before it lands. None of the other bride mates would have a chance. She almost said oh yes, yes, yes before I had completed saying... Should we pack the food and...

"waiter, I think we will carry this, please wrap it up thank you."

I wish I had an electric key. As in I put in a password and the door opens. Now, that would have been lovely. There is always that awkward moment when you are at the door with a damsel and you are trying to open your door, and it takes time. It kind of gives you time to think, that stupid non electric door. What are you doing Bobby? Why are you bringing this dame to your place? I shut the voices of my door. I opened it.

She walked in, almost dropped her bag at the entrance. She was comfortable at her first step.

You know, once, in a book, it must have been a behaviorist book or something, don't question my reading habits. Let's just say my mind is fire and when there is petrol vapor, leave alone the actual fluid, just petrol vapor, the vapor...
 As I consumed the book I came across something thoroughly fascinating. An aha moment. (I just made that up, the aha not the book, no one can make up a whole book, if you can write one) this book wasn't made up cause it was fact. Walk into a club, find a dame, in the magic of your words, the best thing you could do is convince her to go to another club with you alone, and in the next club I promise you she will hold your hand tight, why? Cause in the club before she had her friends, in the new one everyone is a stranger except you, then visit like three four clubs and she will be good to go!

We moved from the restaurant, where she was as uncomfortable as fuck without a hard on. Now she was at my place, she was overly comfortable. It was my place, she had never been here before but she was walking around opening doors like my apartment was on the market and she was planning to move in.

'I wouldn't mind getting fucked here by the way, this is lovely. I love the kitchen, it's so big, and has everything, I love the way even the dustbin matches with the kettle and the fridge and microwave, grey chrome and shiny. And the windows, oh my, the palm trees outside, if we slept here for the night, if I slept here for the nights, maybe weekends, mostly weekends, I would wake up to the sunrise. Has he placed the bed facing the windows intentionally? Has he? I bet he has, he is very intentional, that's why he noticed I was uncomfortable at the restaurant? Is he? Or am I just seeing my own things. I have to be ready... I hope my therapist works on me in a hurry, cause he is different, and I have to give him different, he is not a number, just like the rest are, she should not be a number...

"so should I serve you?"

"yes please..."

She followed me to the kitchen.

"by the way sorry, I can get a little snoopy, but I guess I get a free pass cause am beautiful, attractive you know..."

"don't be funny! Haha"

And in my head I was thinking, wow, she is finally talking. She is walking around, her hands are not on her boobs, she doesn't even know in what room she left her hand bag. We are going to have sex today. She will give me everything I want, and I will love it.

"should we eat here or the sitting room?"

"here is good."

And the food tasted lovelier in the kitchen. We sat on the bar stools, and I am glad I had them, cause then I could see her seated, and see what she sat with, and her thighs, her cheeks were full, and unlike the restaurant, she smiled often here, I didn't have time to talk, she was doing all the talking, and she was seriously curious about me. What do I do? Who do I live with? In what town are my folks? Who do I live with? What is my favorite food? Who do I live with?

Food was over. The Telly was on, I put something sublimely erotic, I needed her in the mood. We left the plates and glasses on the table, then left the tv on, we got onto the bed, but we still had everything on. It was time to turn her on.

I remember looking at her, she was in a red top. It was bare on the back, it just had string, it must have been the best top she had, cause it looked lovely. That top, you didn't wear with bras. Am not on fashion police but I know it's tacky to have you bra cross your back wearing such a top. She was on my bed, she was on my freakin bed. Oh yes.

I was going to get what I want. I was going to get it bad. Yes. And once I got it, I would get it again and again. Cause relax be patient, once you get it, you will always get it from him or her again whenever you want. And I looked out of the window, I looked at her. I knew I would want her here on weekends mostly. I knew I would want to let my hands run through every inch of her jeans, from the hills as bold as watermelons, to the valleys as deep as a condom. What I didn't know was that she wished for the same...

She looked at me, she was touching my eyebrows, and my hair and I was facing the ceiling, she was seated. She smiled as she thought...

'I know am sexy, I know he finds me sexy, I know he could make me happy, he knows when am uncomfortable, he knows when am happy, he opens doors for me, and serves me drinks, he has taken his time, he texts easily even though he doesn't pick my phone often, but he can't be a number, he can't be just another man I screw so that I feel better about myself, so that I feel yes, I can have him, am hot!'

And sleeping on her lap, looking up at her I was seeing her boobs. Sometimes she would bend and they would mash my face. Oh they were the perfect size. I could pour things on them... Oh yes I could, and would, they would almost think they were plants and start growing, and even so, they were the perfect size. She was here, she liked me, I liked her, she was hot yes, but even more than that our conversations were easy, I couldn't leave my phone since I got her number. They had laughter, sometimes she initiated it, sometimes I did, and when you laugh you are in a small trance, and you brighten up, I had brightened up lately, oh yes I had, she had laughter, and now I was ginally getting what I wanted... We were on my bed, weren't we?

I pushed her flat on the bed all at once.

You know the urgency.

Did I tell you she wore a red top that demanded it shouldn't be worn with a bra? Her boob fell off. The one on her right. It was round, it looked at me, and before I could kiss it for making an appearance, she took it back under her top.

We kissed, and as we kissed I thought first about how her lips tasted, then I started letting my hands wonder. And my heart said, on your marks, get set, go!

I kissed her and started thinking, if this ass is this full, how beautiful would it be, her on the bed on Saturday morning completely naked with the windows open, fresh air running in and the curtains wide in this big room. How would it feel to watch her back arch, her head on the pillow, my hands holding her by her waist, her booty sticking out to me, and her hand swimming in the air trying to find mine? I would let it look for me, as she drew herself into a perfect bend, think number, then think number 7. And when I held one of her hands, I would hold her booty with the other and we would try to break the bed together.

If it happened now, I thought as I kissed her and as I got more daring touching her. If it happened now, it will happen again. That's what I wanted. Sometimes you just look at someone, you just suck their lips and you know you would want her with you most of the time, like addictive bliss.

And I thought up to a time in the future when she will have slept on my bed so often it would have been normal, normal for us to wake up to open windows and open curtains, fresh air and fresh sunrise immediately break in a bang before we broke for breakfast. Our eyes would clear up from their blur as we came together. Talk about knowing a good day from its start.
We would have hang out so many times together she would set the channels on the radio and tv on Autotune for the channels she liked. She would almost give me suggestions on where to hang what and which... And even though we wouldn't be serious, our lives will be better. And on Facebook she would update her status less, and I too will update less, not to stop updating but just not too frequently. She will turn her lipstick from deep red to a lighter color, shop less for clothes but still maintain shopping for shoes cause she is finally happy. Even if she searches for Romeo and I am not him, she will not search as vigorously. Why?

Cause I am kissing her and I see where this will be months from now. We have never had sex but here she is, in her blue jeans and her red top breathing harder. She has kicked off her shoes carelessly and placed herself better on the bed. Am about to have her.

"This is the beginning of a great semester..."

I said.

She paused for a second. I was starting to undress her or undress me.

She drew a fist with her hand, her body became still, she opened her eyes, she didn't drink air as she was before, in small fast amounts, she took one deep breath and exhaled loudly and slowly and not from her mouth.

Oh shoot. Oh shoot. I went on thinking it was something I had said or done.

'numbers, he is not just a number, I must fix myself, that therapist must fix me. Tell him, tell him... The doctor told me to share with someone like this guy, I don't want to lie to him, and I don't want to tell him, why, I will just do it, I know it might ruin, but I just have to do what I have to do...' she thought.

"I have to go!"

She just stood up and left.

I was still very hard.


I had not got what I wanted. She had not given me what I wanted. She cannot be trusted. I thought she liked me, why did she suddenly leave without an explanation?

I had not got what I wanted. She had not given me what I wanted. I wasn't going to waste my time with her.