9Litre Engine

There comes a time in every man's life that he realizes he has to find for himself. He might have, yes but that is given. Man doesn't have as many parts as a woman to flaunt, man cannot give birth, that is a reserve for women. And I am disgusted by those who attempt to. 

To me a developed country is a country that allows for women and men to develop. Therefore, I find it thoroughly annoying to learn that we have countries that have very high suicide rates and high levels of loneliness that aren't us but yet, some stupid indexes call it development. As much as it's about roads for development to happen, as much as it's about such infrastructure what is the point if people are killing themselves for no good reason. Is that development? Is development loneliness? Is it? Here we are, a friendly country, people spend more on airtime talking to one another, then some idiot says we are underdeveloped, boss, we watch news too, and the corruption levels in your countries are ridiculously high too, you have slavery and all that shit. You have never mined minerals and what not...let me not get fired up, but please, underdeveloped? I am questioning the whole concept, include suicide rates, include broken families, include all that in your calculation, and tell me what you have at the end of the day...

Regardless, as I was saying, there comes a time in life when a man becomes a man, and in a man their is that desire to use muscle, only that we are now in the information age, were information is power, so the muscles we use are our mind, we are leaving the information age though, moving to the specialization age. Where, more than information you want consultant experts for even your image, you know publicist, you paying entourages. Your hair has to be done by someone who went to hair design school. See where am going with this? 

A proper country to me is a country that enables people to develop, in whatever ways they please. That allows people, women, men to quest for something put their energies towards it, and accomplish. 

We are here, and we are in this country, this is the jungle, it has paths know by everyone to excel, but the most popular ones are the ones advertised on television. You know Politicians are thieves, cause all they talk about wherever you read or watch news is a politician stealing. So, in an attempt to become a man, get for yourself a piece of this world for you and those you hope to bring to this world, you look for ways to get it. 

You try this, you try that, you get frustrated trying that and this. Your wallet feels like you going to the gym, you keep on paying to get bigger and all you do is get smaller muscles. Then you leave going to the gym and become ordinary.
Unless an extraordinary path avails itself, a chance to get into politics, all you want to do is jump for it, for the money, for the power and for the influence. Why? Cause that is the definition of politicians you have heard about, no one will talk about the good, they will talk about the bad, and the bad being embezzling, which is good cause you get to get a piece of your world in half the time.

I never look at office as a chance to make a piece of the world for myself, I try to resist that urge as much as I can. If I want to change the world and serve people on a full-time basis, I will run for office, but if I want to grab a larger chunk of the world I will run something. 

Not the ones I have been given, how would it sound...

"dad, so when did you get this?"

"that is your grandfather got..."

"daddy, what about this?"

"this your grandmother bought, she decided to rent it out cause she didnt like the stairs..."

"what about you daddy, what did you get..."

And right there you sit in a house your parents bought you, and live in it with the wife you got for yourself. No pride, no stories, interesting ones or boring ones to tell how the economy hit you sometime, and you had to struggle, and you had to take the bank manager for lunch so that he could give you sometime to pay back, none? Where is your pride? Please don't throw that party and talk about what...sex...we are tired of hearing about your conquest, no? Then why should I stop? Cause it is nothing you can stand by and be completely proud about, maybe a little proud but not completely. There is your reason to tone down or stop.

So, what am I saying. I have my moms blood running through my veins, I have my pops energy running through me, I have everything it takes.

You try grab a piece of the world for yourself, and the first thing it does is that it frustrates you, cause everything seems like a goldmine, and the same everything seems nothing like a goldmine, or a goldmine already taken. I am not waiting for a time when the economy will be just right, or when am older, I am ready now to go through the five stages of loss in everything business.

Denial: I am ready to be in denial, cause when I am in denial that the best you can do is have what was built for you, rather than build for yourself, then that denial is what is going to make me a champion, cause that's what having the balls to do something is, if you thought a lion was a cat you would fight with it, sometimes even win, but the moment you aren't in denial that it is a lion, then you will not fight. I want to be in denial, that politics is not equal to money for me, I want to stay in denial, so that I make mine and never beg for votes to keep it. 

Anger: Then I will fail, and I will get angry that the structures we have in place are meant to favor some people. That it is easier for me to make a million backed by family than it is to make it on my own, I want to be angry that I can't go to the jungle looking for my fortune alone, that is after I have come out of denial.

Bargain: After moving out of denial followed by anger, I want to move to bargaining, I want to start bargaining with myself. Okay, maybe I could learn Kikuyu, advertise tribalism like politicians do, then grab a chunk for myself. But in bargaining that I know my friends, my family will give me a cold eye. I will take the next option since all else has failed, I will go back home, ask how home made it, and tell them I want to do the same, not that I am ungrateful about what they have done for me, cause I owe it to myself to make it for myself.

Depression: And I will become depressed, I will become depressed that I have tried, I have thought of ways, and I have run out, I will have been put to a place where I can't rise up without help, that I can't do it on my own, cause we have a stupid government that ensures that if you want to have, you must have first, which is kind of like a rat having a cats ball. Yes, I mean paged!

Acceptance: And I will enter into the last stage, acceptance, I will accept that that is the way things are, that the world pushes me down with as much extra force as I am trying to push myself up. But I will not give up, I will redo the cycle again, I will never accept that I can't grab a big chuck of the world on my own, I just can't. Then what will I do if I accept, no seriously, tell me, sex? That is what is going to determine how much a man I am? For how long? I will always be in denial that I have to be a politician to make it, always! That is why, every time I am in the stage where I accept the realities of the world, I will go back to the denial stage.

And after denial, I will become angry, I will become angry at the world and at systems for not letting me grab what is in the world that is mine but someone else has it, or the that is in the world that I haven't discovered yet. I will get angry, then I will get to the bargaining stage, and every time I am at the bargaining stage I will look home, and realize that I don't have to get my hands soaked in blood to make it, and I will ask for help, and I will make sure I ask it in a way that home doesn't get offended by seeming not to appreciate what home has given me.

And I will go to the stage of acceptance, and the cycle will end at acceptance for 90% of the world, cause 10% of the world owns the world, but my cycle always begins a fresh at acceptance, it will continue again until...

"Daddy, daddy... What is this car called?"

"this is a Bentley my daughter..."

"daddy, why can't I draw with a sharp object on it?" 

"let me tell you a story..."

Once upon a time, I started a business, and all my employees were thieves, I fired them all, I was eighteen at that time, just like you will be in ten years...

Have Once, Yours Always.

L&L

You either look at the dark skies, or the stars. I hoped for a way to express myself, I looked for a way to create, express, release...and I wrote about it. What hadn't hit me was that I was already writing; the irony. And it's that very writing that has put stars in my eyes, and put my heart on the moon.

So when you see the moon up in the sky, just remember my heart is chilling there. We were two guys, she was one girl, she is a beautiful dame, with tights and all. You know, the flat plastic shoes from Bata, blue in color, black stockings, not fishnets, stockings, navy blue skirt,skirt jeans even. She was beautiful. I write, he talks. It has taken quite a while to reach this far, cause writing doesn't speak loud. He talked to her, I texted her, he sealed the deal faster, therefore. If I was to chase after her again against him, I would still not talk, I would still text her, cause I was done changing myself for women years ago, you easily lose yourself when you do, I would still text her if I was to do it all over again, cause that's me, a writer. I best express myself on paper, and if she doesn't like it, she can fuck off, she probably wasn't right for me from the beginning, besides, how else would I have my princess if we worked out?Now she is my biggest fan.

As I said, we go through phases, and I was at a phase where I was unsure of my path, and some of my fans were not very happy, you write without a care at the start, then people start to read, and they start calling you Bobby, and dare you disappoint them. They sound like princess when I haven't called her or when she is drunk.

"it's not such a big deal..."

"what do you mean it's not a big deal, how could you just do that Bobby?"

"...it's just a hobby."

"just a hobby???"

Have you ever seen a dame coz. As in, she opens her mouth half way like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out. So she closes it. I find it so embarrassing to have to close it, but no one notices but me. I wonder why people never flee when they are being made noise at, just walk away. I just stood there, then she says something that totally doesn't make sense flipping her handbag, and Bobby just stands there taking it all in. And am looking at her, she tries to rephrase what she said, but it still doesn't make sense, and I stand there waiting for her to construct sentences that are meant to reprimand me. Why can't we just run out of the slaughter house? You know you will be screwed but you still continue.

I guess silence speaks louder than words, and even though she lacked words, I got everything she meant. And girl, I will not act like that again, I will be a completely professional writer. Yes, I will, they are paying me fifty thousand per post. I am writing a hundred, so that I can fly to that country and spend at BigTree by Hilton.

I love playing with words, like you love playing with yours yours, or just yours.  Especially at moments like this when exams are really close, why are exams always right at the corner while parties aren't. I hate double standards. I feel most like writing when I have something as boring as studying to do. Just listening to myself speak, listening to my heart, listening to my mind, pouring it out on paper, it's feels like you feel when you take a photo, you know sometime in the future you will look at it and it will draw emotion off you like a water well. Writing is taking a photo of my thoughts, leave photos alone, try record your thoughts and watch you laugh off your seat. You thought old photos make you laugh, try an old journal.

Seven years I have written not knowing I was writing. So as much as I convince myself I will stop. It's all wishful thinking. I have blogged for roughly one year, seven minus one. Six years I have had a relationship with words. Even if we were not meant to be, you just don't break up in one day with something you have been with for five years. It's okay to call some ex's things. Isn't it? No? Yes. Whatever...

You cry, you make up, make out, break again, cry make out, make up, break again, you bitch, you bitch! but never do you just walk out of something you have been in for five years like it never happened. Boss, we humans.

And am glad a lot of ladies are in my past, I remember us talking in private, then once in public at the cafeteria, things changed, we acted like we didn't know each other. Something to do with coolness I think, on her part. Who is cooler than who, who can't be seen with who, who makes more than who, who fucks up school more than who, who went to party where, but especially with who...and the conversations that basically are tailored to put people out of place, their is democracy, but even in the democracy their is equality, but not everyone is given half the chance to be equal, some are given half that chance and grab it, some are given half that chance and they let it go.

And that's why we couldn't happen at least publicly, looking back now I know, but then I didn't know, that there were boundaries we should have crossed and we didn't. And after we crossed those boundaries probably we would have a wonderful fling with her, you know, something to put a little taste to what would be a boring evening.

But...spilled milk is spilled milk, now I know better, there are no boundaries whatsoever, if there were I have the power to pull them out cause I know they are there. Now I know better, that there are no boundaries, the only boundaries are the ones I inflict in myself, sell it, believe in yourself, disregard the boundaries.

When you find something you love, however you are, follow it, if you don't get it in five minutes, you will get it in five hours, if you don't get it in five hours, you will get it in fifteen, if you don't get in in fifteen you are probably pathetic but you will get it in five months if not five minutes. But in the end, even if it wasn't meant to be, it will become, cause time changes shit. Literally, Scuffy my puppy shits around, i know time changes even the smell of shit. What you can be sure, is that if you make no attempt, you will never have it.

I rather spend all the time in the world, chasing after the dame I love, than spend all the time in the world moaning over her. Because once you have her, as in have her, you know really have her... Once you have her once, you can have her anytime, anywhere, anyhow, forever. With love.

Make up, Make-up!

There are two kind of people in the world... Those in denial, and those that aren't.

She is the kind in denial. She does her hair, but she lets it stay. She wears a white top, and her long hair runs on it leaving the shoulders and the back where the hair was look like a car that had just been racing in dust. Please wash me! She doesn't wear make up, she has a mirror that could fit in her hand bag hung on her wall. So light and small, it could just stick on the wall with those stick-on hooks sold at the mall. Not the hardware store, the supermarket. 
You don't need to nail it on the wall, it's too light to be nailed on anything. You wouldn't want to nail her, even if you did, she wouldn't be nailed in your heart, she will just stick, stickers fall off, nails don't come off, but since nothing is impossible, if a nail comes off, it comes off with the whole building, you know attraction is about what you see, unless I tie my vest around her face, unless I wear gloves to touch her un-moisturized skin, there is no way I am banging dames in denial. Maybe we can be friends, you know even though she is a dame, we are boys with her. And even though she fills up jeans really good around the pockets, it reaches a point even though she sat on you, no hard feeling. Really, no hard feelings. Nothing happening down there!

And you are with your boys...
"So, Bobby, who would you do out of those three?"

"Man, am in a relationship."

"Cut that crap or will beat you up. Now that you in a relationship you think you have the license to be a wuss. Bobby sema."

"first of all, that dame that looks ovyo... There is no way I would do her. Those other two.."

"Bobby, she has an ass don't jifanya over here."

"...I promise you I wouldn't do her even if she stripped."

"with lights off and you are really drunk?"

"...it's not that, the way she carries herself, no way, it's just that I don't think she would get me hard."

"Who would you do yourself anyways cause you asking me?"

"They can make a really good threesome, if am doing all of them together, then it's okay, I would also do the chic with the smelly hair..."

"Dude, you see the reason why we aren't close friends..."

"am joking man."

"I will also not do her..."

And you know she is cute, not beautiful, but with that booty, she easily turns necks, though she doesn't turn her's while she looks at herself in the mirror. She is in denial, that everything will come her way. Wake up, we live in a competitive world, heck, who would have thought charity organizations would become the best marketers and advertisers? They run an advert, you want to cry, you don't open your wallet, you give it to them.  

Love is blind, but my friend attraction, attraction is anything but blind. It really breaks my heart when you love someone and they just don't love themselves. You know there is an extent one can get to where you just know, oops this one, no way. I love her but, I need to breath, I love her, but please, I just saw you walk out of the loo, and you took a while, the tap is there, can't you see the tap, please see the tap, cause I am going to pretend I don't mind when you come over to say hi, cause we are friends, but the tap is there please. Love is blind but attraction is not, and if you are in denial of that, please change, wash your hands!

There, looking at the spec in people's eyes, I have a log in mine my friend. First of all, I wash my hands before I take a leak and after, it has to be clean, some people eat him. Besides, you don't know what you pick up on door handles, especially in night clubs. Now everyone who reads this blog will open loo doors with elbows. Good. I hope no germ is reading this, cause those little disease-causing bustards can really be vengeful. Everyone has an embarrassing moment, and those disease-causing bustards perpetrated the whole thing. Hague, sio?

That's what am talking about. Image, you don't walk around telling people you have a stomach ache, here I am trying to talk to this damsel, total stranger and the first things she is telling me is how indigestion and fluids, and shit like that, that image quickly forms in my mind. Writer's imagine things, i wanted to imagine other things girl, come one, Bye bye.

"You don't want my number anymore?"

"I was asking for the numbers on your watch..."

"but you have a watch. What do you need the time for?"

"...nkT just take a hint, bye."

I am a strong believer of taking such things slow, when you meet for the first time, give them the good hide the bad, image is everything, as time passes, let the bad reveal itself slowly, but before that, stand in the mirror, put on a dress, toss it out, put on another, toss it out, do a turn, look at yourself from your back and when you feel in your heart you are right, then I bet you someone will. Charity begins at home, if you can't turn your own head, good luck trying to turn another's.

And when you don't have what it takes, you still pretend you have what it takes, cause when one person says there is no way they would have sex with you, then everyone will not want to have to have sex with you, tell me who doesn't want the best for themselves, whose that raising their arm back there, get the fuck out of this blog and go see a shrink, no esteem issues here, cause that's how it works when you write, the posts most talked about, get the most views, people refer, and this is not a private blog, why the fuck am I getting strangers viewing it, we aren't friends on facebook, you aren't on my fan page, not even in this country and you are here? if six of your friends started staring into the clouds, then trust me everyone around you will start staring at the clouds, when one dame turns you into her boyfriend, every dame wants to have you. 

I have always known that people are too lazy to go through things, all they want is an opinion on how good something is from someone else and they will be all over your space. But it has never downed on me right like it downed on me last night. 

I am not standing in front of a mirror, I am seated in front of this screen, and I am making decisions, like you are going to make yours at the end of this post, and your life will change, my life will change, it's almost as if we are waiting for the end of this post to take charge. Well, here it is...

The End.

Bad Boy Charm.

L&L

Your greatest strength is your greatest weakness. I love words, they are my strength, I throw them around and make those I write about weak, and they through back words at me, and I become weaker. How dare you throw it to my face, I am weak to your complements. Those names you call me in private that if found themselves on this blog the whole blog I will shut down. That, that you use to charm, is what will completely charm you. Just epic how life is.

So don't damn tell me what to write about! What I wrote on these pages has meaning and purpose to me, if I wrote something else then where will the purpose and the meaning be? I should betray what I feel so that I can be like some other writer? And all I see is other writers trying to speak in my voice? How would you feel if I told you you should try to be someone else? Yes please go screw yourself. Is it a reserve for dames to say stuff like..go grow yourself a pair? Yes, no. Okay, go grow yourself a pair, am writing what I want to write. Let the right reader come, like the right girl came. (pun intended very much)

But arrogance is the beginning of everyone's down fall. So, talk, give your opinion, we are in a democracy, listen to all the advice, pick what you want and run with it, but listen. If I picked everything everyone told me, I would lose my heart, which I have been losing over time. Yes it jumped of my chest and just quit, I saw it. I swear. It had two legs and it looked like a heart on cards, not that thing in biology books.

There was a time, remember troubled teenage hood. Oh those were the days, hair was growing at strange places, people were swelling and those swells made you swell, swell ain't it? toys turned into toys of the naughty kind, hide and seek turned into show you mine I show you yours, chamama became more practical and boys started liking it again, where did our balls go? I know, I know, they went slamming back on, back then I had a big heart, I would literally put myself in trouble to save someone undeserving, I would put myself in people's shoes and try to make them more comfortable, when everyone attacked a dying course, I would side with the dying, I would stand with the outcast, the stranded, save them, somehow I was able to still run the show which still puzzles me, even though I spent my time trying to save losers. Birds of a feather flock together.

And there was something extraordinary about it all, when someone called you an angel, knight in shinning armor, I remember that dame I met at some remand centre for kids I was making a donation to, and you know, i heard it so much until I believed it, I looked at people as people, I pained when I imagined that guy selling newspaper had a family, and I tried to make sure his kids went to school. Sometimes I suffered doing this, sometimes I had nothing, sometimes I was sad and angry, but those I was sad and angry at, I still rescued them from whatever it was they were facing, if it was shame, I took it away, I put it on myself, I didn't want anything in return, first cause I flipped the pages of the Good book, and second is cause I got people, I got people's pain.

But life changes, and people change, you always have shoes and bags, and when you start liking them so much, flipping pages of magazines to much, trying to become someone so much, it all becomes about you. And there is no fun in that. There is fun in trying to save a life, and almost losing yours trying to save another. Adventures...stories...

There is deep pleasure in secretly knowing you are the reason the people around you are okay, you watch them laugh, you watch them talk, and the feeling you get inside when you know if it wasn't for you someone would be a mess, is a greater feeling than walking into the shop and buying everything nice for yourself.

I miss those days, when I drove a town away with a boot fall of shoes, clothes, food, foot balls secretly, and I got into gates and donated stuff, and the kids would surround the car, they would say hey to me, and when they gave me the book to sign my name, I ignored it, I didn't want the show, I wanted the smiles, I want that for them, for everyone, and the more reason I had not to act like an angel, the more compelled I felt to be one.

The paths we walk, the books we read, the words we hear, the food we eat, we become, and I have been feeding myself junk, I have been walking the wrong streets, and I have changed into something I don't want to be. I want to go back to being larger than life.

I miss standing for the right things, not in a Lukewarm way, in an extreme way. The extremes are the kind that seize us, in a world were everyone wants to be a bad boy, I want to be a good, like I was, and everything came, I suffered yes, but everything I reached for came my way. The worst thing you can do is not reach out, cause that way you can be sure you will not have...do you want to be sure you will not have? Then my advice to you is do not dare reach out.

Besides, if I can't have, simple, just buy, it's bad manners to talk about money, but mom isn't looking so, the thing about it is that money is like water, imagine putting water in a container, whatever container you put in, it will take the shape of that container. Open your wallet, cause wallets turn everything into whatever you want.

I know travel changes assents, changes customs, changes ideas, changes people, alters relationships, that's why this words are very dear to me, cause when I read this later, I will remember, I am not trying to be a bad boy, cause it's benefits don't last long, am trying to be a good boy, like angels are.

And not just a good boy, cause that's boring, that's ordinary, am trying to be an angel in the extreme, the effects aren't felt in the present like bad boys are. The effects grow like a stable father, see what I mean?


I have three empty flower pots in my balcony, and I bought them cause at the worst place of my life years back when I had better handwriting, I wrote something in my journal, which I call Miss.D...

'...you put seeds in the ground, you can't see anything for a long time, but you water them even when you don't feel like, cause if you don't you might kill something that was meant to bring you beauty, and it will become a routine to hope and to water them, but before you know it, all the hope, all the wishes, all the sweat pays off, and the plant sprouts out up from the ground.'

...if you want to hear the craziest stories, ask anyone who is someone what words made them something. So, babe, when you are here again, leave my house plants alone, I am the only one who will water them, care for them.


I just don't want to be a little good, I want to get back to where I was when I was at my peak which was my lowest, when I was a teenager which defined me, if living at the edge, will be what it will take, to get everyone who is at the edge to a safe place, so be it. And that my friends, will be my charm.

The beginning starts at the end.

High maintenance.

L&L

It's not easy to be confident. That's why everyone knows they need to be confident but they still aren't. I want to be confident about my writing, but I just can't. I know am supposed to make you relate some place about now, or you will leave through that door like a bad relationship. Unless of cause somewhere in you you feel love or pity for me, or you know am actually good at what I do, love doesn't require much confidence now does it? But a night out at the club does.

So, they say if I had perfect confidence I would attract everything? I think that holds some water. If a jeweler had pure gold and you were the buyer like you will be later on, if the jeweler wasn't confident that that piece of gold he was selling wasn't as beautiful as you, if somehow you saw doubt in his eyes, or you sensed it in his voice, wouldn't you walk away thinking, he must be a con man, or am really getting my monies worth?

Maybe that's how it works. That dame walks up to me, she is beautiful, she fiddles with her drinking straw without confidence, her voice seems unsure, and before you know it I have started to doubt her. Why is she afraid? What is she hiding? Is she good enough for me? Can I do better? And her unsureness rubs on me, and it's bye bye pretty lady.

Is it bye bye Bobby's writing? Is it? When I am at this point I am at right now, disappointed I don't get as much talk as I want to. Who knew I would want people talking behind my back? No...not back stabbing. (house helps relax) Just talking. Probably if I exuded much more confidence, probably bras would come off and I would be too busy writing my next post to touch those goodies.

But come to think of it, with this little hobby of mine bras have come off, I have touched some of those little boobies, I remember the big ones too. Are you reading this? I remember... Oh how could I forget. She felt my words big, her friend felt my words deeper and it was a party of three, on a writers bed, beautiful.

Have you ever...and after you were satisfied an emptiness creeped up on you like a cold ghost? That's how it was after the champagne bottle popped, even though I recovered after I bragged to my pals, I still quite didn't recover from the emptiness of that very dreamy night. Never again, chapter closed. But how many times do we say chapter closed and we are back to the wrong arms?

Those arms. Do I really need a strangers arms to tell me way to go Bobby? Love is a beautiful thing. Only unfortunate thing is that love is as blind as fuck. Babe? Do you think it is that you love me that you read every sentence of this in sheer pleasure? Or is it that you really love this? Compliments are good, but let's talk about their authenticity, their effect. If you tell me you like the shirt I wear ten thousand times, it's not the same as ten thousand different people telling me they like the shirt I am wearing. I love you, and it's awesome you remind me that I am brilliant. But I feel I need different eyes on this...

And those different eyes have been around, oh so many, actors to musicians, bloggers to strangers, at the bar, at restaurants, in super markets, yeah that day I flew off the planet, some random guy told me he loves my blog. I flew my all, and humans don't fly. What can I say? I was a bird, I was on another level. Ever heard of bird watching?

That's how the world works. If you were to get interested in a bird, then that bird has to have something so fascinating to interest you. Think of everyone everyone knows. Yes, she is beautiful or not, then she is really ugly, or not, then she is really smart, or not then she has really nice shoes, or not then she is brought to school in a chopper, or not, then she kissed you once, or not, then she refused to kiss you publicly, or not, then she is a rat, or has a face that looks like a rat or sharp like a bird, or not, or then she dates someone who is someone. Noticeable.

I don't want to do that... Be a bird so extraordinary that people crave me therefore find my writing chocolate. I want them to find my writing chocolate then crave me. Love the person, then love the many, love the money then love the person, then bye bye. Find the writing chocolate, then notice me not find me then find my writing. But as beggars aren't choosers, and the end justifies the means, am not complaining.

It makes perfect sense in your mind. He is happy, he loves you. Then one day he just wants to leave, and you know how to keep him, but he still leaves leaves you with tears and a ruined face with make up all smeared like kindergarten-color-in-the-lines.  And for the next days you live life like that freak with the smeared make up all over. And you stop believing in your logic. If you thought she wasn't cheating, you are sure, then you find that she was, it messes up that logic you had in your mind. Feed him, eat him, blow him, hug him, wear nice for him, so that he keeps you in his mind, and when he forgets his pals will always remind him their is nothing hotter than you, envy, and he is happy, you are happy and you can see everything is perfect. And he takes you out of your comfort zone when he cheats, and you question everything, and you are right to question everything, cause we are human, and we can be wrong. And when we are sure we are right then find out we have been wrong, it feels like lights off, with no one to fight in the darkness, therefore let it all out, cry, that's all you can do, let it all out, cry, that's all you can do, let it all out, bang that stranger senselessly, cause that is all you can do. Nice? No am asking, is my writing nice? I know... I know...

My logic could be wrong, someone is slamming their faces on the screen thinking what the hell? What the fuck is wrong with Bobby? He is delivering all this so nicely, look at the sleekness of the words, they slide, they feel like running, I wish he knew he was this good. But since he shut the comments field on his blog, and his fan page is too many links away, I will just leave this page and wait for the next post.

Well... Look at this page, look at how this words sound like they were drunk off truth serum then got run over by a lorry, wait...run over by a train (that's more thorough isn't it) run over by a bus but unfortunately they survived and now they are here. I am not taking any of this for granted, I have a very strong fan base, oh I do. Some even pretend not to read and drop the name Bobby somewhere in the conversation, but you know awkward moments, they embarrass both parties, no discrimination. So pretend she didn't call you Bobby.

In this relationship, I would love to be the selector, like dames normally are, turning guys to try prove themselves deserving to her. In my mind I have a logic I am working with, be loud enough, colorful enough to catch your attention, then get interesting enough to keep your attention, you are very high maintenance dames and sirs btw, then make my writing available to you, not so much push it to you cause as I said, I don't want to be the one doing the chasing, I want you to think about it when you are doing anything but reading it, and slowly it will grow on you, and you will ask me for my next post, and I will have the confidence to write, cause with beauty comes confidence, with confidence comes beauty, but it's always easier to become beautiful and have confidence erupt from your beauty, than to find elusive confidence first.

Bottom line is that it is never that serious or is it that I got free drinks and touched boobies cause of this?

Paprika.

L&L

When it's about lunch time and the aroma of food touches your nose, it catches your attention no matter what you are doing; with only the exception of if you are being attentive to sex, or you just moved, or are buying a new phone. I should get me an iPhone by the way! BB and iPhone, maybe if I had both it would help me get over my addiction, or will it accelerate it?

I talked about lunch cause am having myself some crips. That guy on the Pringles container just frowned at me, apparently Pringles are not just crips. They are Pringles Paprika. Hungry yet? Exotic names make people hungry, jacket potatoes, custard, ravioli, pasta... Pringles? Hungry yet? Aren't this things just delicious. See, we have crips, then we have Pringles, Pringles are packed like jewelry in packaging attractive enough to eat, you could also say they are packed like eggs, in a rigid container, so none crack, the day you find a broken Pringles crips. I owe you.

That's a good addiction, the yellow crips turning orange at the bottom cause they must have been dipped in powder sauces, I never chew Pringles, if you do you miss the powder flavor you get when you place one on your tongue and squash with the top of your inner mouth, and it just calls your saliva, it commands your body to acknowledge the awesomeness of Pringles Paprika. That is an okay addiction.

But the one I have, I can't even engage in publicly, cause people will pity me. Watching me waste my body away in small pricks all over me. And addiction is bad, it's like a break up, you are okay until you are idle, when the movie comes to an end, and all you want to do is text your ex, my addiction makes me forget to text, it makes me forget to read, it makes me forget to sleep, all I want to do is get high, and no one knows about it, but my girlfriend. And it brings me to my knees, but that's the beautiful thing about true love, it sees you through things, it sees you through growth.

Attraction is positive, I am hot, I have a sense of humor that replaces sad tears to happy tears, I am confident, I am smart, I am stylish, I have class (I don't believe in the word classy, btw hate it, you want us to be friends...) attraction is positive, she is attracted to me, I am attracted to her, but I can be unattractive with her, I can tell her about my addiction, cause she is not apart of my life, or a part of my life, she has turned into part of my life. And she is helping me through it. How? You read, you will know with time.

I have grown, the more exposure you have, the more you literally see, the more you grow, the more you touch the world, the more your mind opens up. My mind has opened up, really? You want me to repeat about she being part of my life and not a part of my life? Really? See, I have seen more now, and I am seeing more, and it's now that I realize being addicted, wasting away my body is not the way to go. I have seen more, and now I don't think it cool to be an addict, it might give me a better post, the high I get from my addiction, but how many more till Bobby comes to an end? How many more times will I engage before I am done?

I met this chap, he blogs, yes that's why I asked him for his BB Pin, no I wouldn't Ping him or anything, heck I wouldn't even ask him for his Pin cause when guys meet, they hope to meet again, they don't exchange texts profusely, they give space, and those that don't, let's just say they are playing for another league, which I will never play for. I can't outrightly say I am against those who are in it, cause then these words become evidence and could end up biting me up in the ass. Society...nkt! As I said, if he wasn't a writer, there was no way I was going to get his number. But I needed to know why his blog scoops such popularity, not that mine is doesn't, you can be a star anywhere, question is in what league, and if you asked me I thought his writing was weak. In this game, you must believe in yourself cause then if you dont, where is your voice? and when you don't know where your voice is, where the hell do you expect to get your words? Ever had a moment where you had to believe in yourself until others believed in you?

When you meet your competition you get curious, you want to know what makes their work sparkle, but then it's a spy thing snooping, you can't get caught cause your ego is at sake. Am not a dame, I don't have boobs or ass, ego is all I have, and I cannot wear tight things to show people I have an ego no matter what, it all depends on whether you believe it or others believe you have a really big ego.  If i got caught snooping and lost my ego, then what the fuck would I have left! So I put on my spying clothes, I wore my black boots, black pants, black gloves, a black face mask and went online, careful not to leave any comments no matter how much I liked his posts. It was a successful spy mission. 007 are you reading this?

I concluded that his blog does better cause he has fashion going on, yes, photos and stuff, nice ones, young things in short skirts and heavy make up, no make up, wiered dresses, nice dresses, sexy dresses, color, okay, that he got together perfectly. Then I found photos of cut outs of him featured on the newspaper, and he gets like nine hundred bloody comments updating his status. I thought his wring is weak, he must think mine is too, you know that's the only way you can write, probably his popularity is what makes him so successful, either way, fuck it...I have way more sex than he does. Opinions opinions.

"so, why do you think your blog does so well?"

"Lol, the way I see it. There are too many blogs going on right about now. If you write like you're forcing guys to read it, you'll be disappointed. Good content speaks for itself."

Lol, thats really nice mister, thank you, the way I see it is Wtf &&@;$$(!&:!3)8;!);!;8;!;74!4$; fuck off..

I caught feelings. You know I have always wondered why my ex catches feelings when...

"Yes, Bobby, so what do you like about your new girl?"

"As in, it wasn't like I was with you, you know you were a part of my life back then when we were together, but my girl right now, she is part of my life..."

"Bobby, the way I see it, wtf... &&@;$$(!&:!3)8;!);!;8;!;74!4$;!"

I guess it's the same everywhere, when someone you compete with asks for your opinion and you start giving it to them, it's not the question of whether they will snap, it's a question about when they will snap.

I snapped here, I know he will not read this cause writers get bored reading anyone but themselves, unless...it is Sidney Sheldon, or that other Blogger I have a link about on my old site.

I still have an addiction that is making me lag behind, causing me to waste myself away from everything. But I also have direction, do you have direction? Direction can be very refreshing and exciting. Who doesn't like journeys planned in the right way? Even though that journey comes with other writers who think you should stop posting your links too often on Facebook.

Let me get back to my Paprika.

Reputation.

I have a very bad habit. No, am not going to tell you about it, why? Simple. You don't tell me about yours, and if you told me about yours, then it wouldn't be a very bad habit. It would just be show me yours I show you mine, no biggie. It would just be a bad habit, not a very bad habit...note the difference? And bad habits, unlike very bad habits can be cool. Think about it, perfect imperfections. Imagine that very beautiful dame without a single blemish but one; she has the saddest eyes. Her perfect imperfection is those beautiful sad eyes, that send every man from grace to grass trying to make her happy. That's just but a bad habit, you almost can be prideful about it, but the bad habit I am talking about is a very bad habit. You know it is very bad, when you can't tell about it and you laugh-pretend too hard when people joke about it...

I want to stop. I want it to stop more badly than a smoker wants to quit. I want to stop more badly than Michael wants to break out of prison. Yes, I mean Michael Scofield. For all those episodes, remember the tension? They say addictions are all in the mind. I think so, but only in part, if it really were all in the mind then tell me why it brings out the animal in us? takes away the mind we have? brings us right to our knees? Your mind can't let you kneel but the animal in you can bring you to your knees. Babe, can you relate? Bed? You are a good addiction though. I don't want you to stop. Don't stop. Don't stop. Oh yes. Oh yes. Right there. Good addiction, but my bad addiction. I hate. 

What I keep telling myself is that...if you hate someone, it is a relationship, if you love someone it is a relationship, if that person becomes invisible to you then it is not a relationship. Get it? The word is relationship. Relate. That is why I want to stop relating with my addiction, cause fighting with it is a relationship. All I want to do is give it a cold shoulder. That's the first step in breaking up.

Enough about relationships we want to break. Let's talk about the ones we want to keep. Now, that's something to write about. The relationship between me and water. Please don't get any ideas. I am not a fish, I promise you Bobby is not a fish. I don't live in a pond, and mostly I sleep with my eyes closed. And I don't write under water, I repeat, I don't write under water, I am a full mammal, I am a land animal, and the only time I am with water is when am taking a shower. That is the relationship I am talking about between water and me.

Let me let you in on a secret, the better your idea, the better you live. We are creatures of our thoughts and ideas. And that's what makes you more you than the next guy. And the best ideas come from the shower. Remember that Eureka guy. You know him right? He had an epiphany taking a shower. And he ran in the street screaming I found it, I found it.

I try not to think in the shower, cause unlike then people now have camera phones. So I do my thinking as I wash my dishes. Good reputation, that's what I was thinking about. No, I wasn't thinking about your bosom. No, I wasn't thinking about how that foam of soap kind of looks like things I would pour on them. Who does that? (shaking my head pretending am puzzled and shocked.) I was thinking about what good reputation is.

They say you need it to make it in your career. That stupid ghost called reputation, why can't you come down to earth and be touchable so that we can steal you. Mr. Good Reputation? Is that too much to ask? Mr. how long does it take to build you, five years, six, seven, then how long does it take for you to break? Five, six, seven minutes. I thought about it, did the math, if it takes seven years to build a good reputation then that could only mean it will take me seven years to become a star in my industry. Go shove it!

Did I say I was with water, dishes... I had my eureka moment. If I started writing about politics, I started talking about politics, you found me walking down the streets and even my perfume smelled like politics, wouldn't I have build my reputation as a politician?

If I worked in an office, and I very publicly surrendered twenty thousand bob that I claimed I found lying on the floor. Asking who it belonged to? Wouldn't you start thinking that guy must be such an honest fellow? I can trust him. If I didn't need money, but I just pretended I needed some, then asked you to lend me twenty thousand, and you gave it to me, and I promised I would return it after a day, and I took your twenty thousand, put it in the cabinet and on the third day gave it back to you, wouldn't you think I am honest? What if I did that like five times? You will trust me wouldn't you? Don't believe me? Ask a con man.

That's a bad example, (do not do this at home. Hehe) but I wanted you to get my point. Reputation is built by actions. I act in an honest way, the more I act in an honest way, the more the times, the more firm my reputation stands. And when there is no opportunity to act in an honest way, create one. Real opportunities come over seven years, that's how long it takes to really build a reputation, if I ran after opportunities to build my reputation, or created some, would I build a reputation in way less the time? 

Why all this? Why reputation? I asked the dishes I was cleaning this. It is good to live alone you know, you can talk to your dishes and no one will tell you jerk. You can sing in the shower and you will never hear giggles outside the door. You can look at yourself in the mirror more longer than a girl would and your dame will not dump you. You can decide that your face is too oily and buy soaps that Oil Control and leave their wrapper in the open. You can talk to your dishes, and ask them what is the whole point about a Good Reputation.

And your dishes will ask you what is the bigger picture? And you will tell the dishes you want a Law Firm with many lawyers working for you. And the dishes will ask you what kind of Reputation will attract you to the point of employing a certain lawyer. And you will stop for a second and wonder why the fuck you are talking to pieces of ceramics in soapy water. But you will realize you are alone, so you can be mad. It's not madness if you do it alone. Madness is just doing what society doesn't expect, like walking completely naked in the street. Society is not in my house, I am alone. So let the dishes talk.

And I told the dishes that the most important reason for employing ten other lawyers instead of working alone is that I get ten times more the profit as I goof around at the tennis courts instead of the office. And if a potential employee walked into my office and...

"What is your most defining characteristic?"

"Mr. Bobby, what do you mean? Are you asking me what my reputation is?"

"Yes, you are already giving me reasons not to employ you by your asking me that."

"Mr. Bobby, my reputation is that I always deliver."

"What does that have to do with law?"

"Mr. Bobby, nothing."

"Then why should I hire you? You are a lawyer aren't you? Not a post man delivering parcels." (I can talk like that cause am the B, yes Boss)

"Yes I am, but I can see what you want to do is make money Mr Bobby..."

"So..."

"I will deliver that."

And I will laugh, rocking in my chair, (I didn't say rocking 'with' my chair, I said 'in', something about the chair) I will call in the secretary and have some coffee for both of us.

"If you can do that why work for me?"

"...cause you have the resources, you know how hard it is to make it out there. Besides, if I started from scratch, let's just say it will take a while before my kids go to private school. And I know if I do well you will give me a commission or something..."

And I wouldn't even waste time looking at his cv, first of all cause I have people for that, and second of all I will be too impressed to. I will not question why he didn't show up for work at 8 in the morning. Heck, I wouldn't care a damn, provided at the end of the month he has brought in those clients however he got them, I have bought my S600 (that bitch is a 6L and still a sedan, V12, shove that into a Range Rovers rare or exhaust pipe whichever hole you wish provided you shove it) I wouldn't care at all if he slept with who and not with who, provided at the end he has continuously acted in a way that reinforces his reputation to deliver and not acted in a way that damages it, like not bringing in profit at the end of the month.

And that my friends, is why you should think around water...

Eureka baby!

Share.

First of all, fuck it. I am a lawyer first, and that's what is going to pay my bills. Wait...do I even need that law? Business is turning out now better than ever. So, fuck it, I love writing, if my readers are quiet, so what? I don't comment on every page I visit anyways. Let's be real, it is sad, I wish people talked to me more, my viewers, my readers, wouldn't that be sweet.

But not everyone, I don't like talking to everyone. I think it is my girlfriend that has made me feel complete, of late the little sucking up I have always done in my life, letting some people treat me badly and I keeping them cause I don't want to be lonely; it is all gone. I guess I am loved enough. Not by my readers, but by the world I live in. You guys still need to do something. Think I am kidding? I was walking along the corridors I walk ordinarily, and I found myself plugging my headphones in my ear, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone, trying not to smile at anyone, cause I just don't want anyone to say hi. I am completely loved now, I don't try impress anyone, I don't force a smile when I don't want to smile, I don't pretend jokes are funny, if I don't like it I walk away, if I like it I stay, the truth has set me free. 

The truth is I am discovering myself better, I can't quite say am changing cause I am still the same, I like my old things, like the old chunks of artificial grass I bought one time I was bored in the shop. It's become very useful now, cause I have a room I am using to practice a divot. You need grass for a divot, and am not going to grow grass in the house. I definitely don't want to be writing this from an asylum. Do you? So mean.

I want to write this from where I am writing it now. Oh my! Do I love this bedroom, I don't think anyone gets it better than I do, kind of like when she is down there, and she is doing things so perfect for once, and your flying piece by piece, and she doesn't get why that's just the wrong time to stop, she just stops. And you cant explain how you would have gotten finished if she continued just a little longer, you can't just explain it, cause she wouldn't just get it. She wouldn't, explain it to her and see, she wouldn't just get it. I bet you a million bob. Just like as much as I explain this bedroom to people, they get it but they just don't really get it!

Let me break it down for you, this building could be about a hundred years old or something close to that. The distance between the ceiling and the floor is a whooping figure. It's a building with history, a hundred years ago, I bet you right the people who lived in this ran this country. A hundred years after, a writer lives in it, the floor is a little rough, but it has been fixed, the walls are perfect, and I have done a lot of work in it. If it were in my power, I wouldn't build my own house later, okay, I would but let's assume I have more than one house later, I would make sure the most precious property I own is property that has history. Come on, think about it, if I pushed the right people and bought Lord Egerton castle in Njoro. I gave it electric gates, electric fences, fresh coat of paint at some places, and glass tables here and there, a pool. Then what? Then what the fuck would anyone tell me? You can build a house from North pole to South pole, but it will not have the magnetism mine will. Talk about the lengths one can go to for a limited edition.

This apartment I live in has a story, you would walk in it and say it's okay, but you don't get it like I do, great men lived here, and now this is owned by descendants of men who had a plan. The work they did has lasted generations. It's a hundred years after and it started about a hundred years before. Old is gold I tell you.

They don't make shoes like that any more. In a world where good taste roams wardrobes hand-me-downs work as wine does. In his foot steps right? He flew out to get a pair tailor made for him, not mass production. The fruits of hard work and proper priorities. And I too want my son to pick proper leather shoes from my shoe racks and place them on his. Nothing that looks like anything you see in the street. Fashion is the most ridiculous of culture. Agree? You will walk down the streets wearing a blazer over squash clothes cause it's cold, and people will look at you funny, even laugh. It always depends where you are.

And where I want to be is where I am, but it's an up hill task maintaing number one you know. I wrote very good pieces as compositions in school. Remember those days? And from then on, I have been trying to out do myself. There were times when I thought, why do anything, if you had everything, would you do anything? Yes... You would.

You would and I would, cause looking at the world, come on, you must have seen it, the more fuller a life, the more engaged it is. It's about losing yourself in something until you find yourself. It's Monday night as I write this, and I am wondering whether if I took a shower right now at one thirty in the morning, would it make me feel clean? Will it free me from the bad habits I engage in? 

I don't quite need to engage in my books, if the purpose is to make some, so much I never look at price tags. But the world is such a place nowadays, at the blink of an eye fates can change, so probably I should be more serious, put some effort. At least to prove to myself I have what it takes, at least to have a shadow that someone can bask in, and not spend my life basking under someone's shadow.

Let's talk about shadows, there is always an appeal to a quest, if history is anything to go by, I think if we take out the bad and look at the good in history, you will see that kings actually went out of the comfort of their homes for a quest. Not like leaders of today.

Sometimes to just prove themselves, sometimes to get the ladies love them better, sometimes to tell a good story of how they made everything expand, sometimes to tell of the lives they saved, of the times they were caught between a wall and a hard place out there in the wild, and at that moment they found a prayer.

And that is my prayer, that's the person I feel myself becoming, it's still me, but I feel it more clear, as much as your shoes get dirty when you buy a piece of land even though you were in a car with leather seats, by the way, you know why I hate about this new places, they want clean new shoes, shiny shoes to treat you well, yet they don't have cutlery for fish, yet they have fish on the menu. They can't tell hand made stitching from machine stitching, they can't tell blue band from butter. As I was saying, as much as I feel myself become the man that is a man, I understand things better now.

I understand that I love to write, I understand I will do very well this semester cause a plan is good but two plans are better, I understand that challenge excites me, and when such a hobby feels like an adventure to my heart, I want more escapades. I understand now the funnier the kind of dame you sleep with, the more likely you will look forward to throw the pillow case in to the laundry basket when she leaves the morning after, the less funnier the type of dame the higher the probability you will just turn the pillow upside down the night you sleep alone after the night you slept with her.

I have this pillow case, I don't want to replace it, cause I chose, and I picked one out of all the dames in the world, and you can be sure I picked the best for myself, her hair smells right, and it only leaves her nice scent on the pillow, I nose hug it when she is gone, her smile sinks my sorrows, and her cooking drowns them dead.

You got to agree, as much as life is a bitch. It is the most precious thing. I have just shared a piece of my life. Share yours...

Set In Stone

Be very picky on the cab you choose to use, cause they may have more danger than the danger on the streets at night. By being picky I don't mean choose a cab that has shiny rims where the cab guy realizes you are the kind to seat at the back left and not the co-drivers seat... I mean at least use a cab that has been used by somebody you know, or at least have the cab guys numbers, why? cause once my pal was held at gun point somewhere in the dark streets of Westlands. He is okay don't worry. He told those thugs that he had exams the next day and he was already fucked up. I guess with all the depression in the world, no one can tank a guy with a sense of humor. 

Yes, since we talk about cabs let me tell you why I love cabs, I love cabs cause you can ride to a bank broke in a cab, try doing that with a bus. I love cabs cause cab drivers are the most interesting of characters. Gone are the days when you could tell your berber stuff. Now you tell your berber stuff and he wants keys to your vacant houses, why... cause by virtue of telling him stuff you are friends, and then when he gives you a bad hair cut, let's just say you can't have the management fire your friend. So, I stopped telling stuff to my berber, I don't tell him hello, I don't tell him how I want my hair done, you might be wondering how my hair looks right now, don't worry cause I fired his sorry ass! Okay, I haven't yet, but I will fire his sorry ass. Once I have the balls to walk around firing people who I am not even the bosses of. Where can I get those balls? I want to buy them. You can buy everything nowadays right? Once I get them, the first thing I would do is fire everyone in some other Total Petrol station in Mombasa, every one there oh yes, followed by cops, I would just walk into a Police Station shouting, You, You and You, You are Fired, get the fuck out! And it is possible, especially when your shoes are worth a small car, thats what society has become, mine aren't though, they are probably worth... So let me stick with the balls I have, since you dames and sirs have bluntly refused to direct me to the shop I need to visit to buy balls that will give me the balls to fire staff I didn't hire. 

"Wow, your car sounds like a safari rally man..."
And that's how I started the conversation. You give a person a complement first, and they will listen to all the bull about yourself you want to talk about. Oh he listened, that cab guy listened, what I didn't know was that he was also chatty. Diarrhea right out of his mouth. Dammit. I say this, he says something back. It's not okay to have an answer for everything all the time, but to have the wrong answer for everything all the time. I didn't damn ask you for your opinion, if I wanted opinions I would have asked my blog readers for some, oh wait, sorry, I meant I would have bought a newspaper, or updated my Facebook status. Who the hell do you think needs a cab from lifestyle to galitos during the freaking day? I got into your damn car for you to listen to me, and not for you to give me your stupid opinions about the stuff am telling you. But you know, when you think before you talk you come up with stuff like...

"Am sure one day you would love to drive a Subaru..."
Yes, instead of... 
"shut you... And listen to me."
But guess what we were talking about him instead of me. Cause I got into a cab during the day to talk about the driver nkt! But you know, when lemons, something, something...make lemonade.

I decided I will listen to his opinion, and they contrasted with mine much more louder than his exhaust pipe. He talked about something something learning to not want for himself. Something something it is painful to wish then not have, so he just wants to not wish for anything but just live. It felt wise at first, everything feels wise at first, until you close your eyes and let out curse words in your head, quietly. What he said about contentment felt wise at first but then you know too much of something is poisonous, he was to complaisant and passive. He seemed too flat. He could have been blowing his nose or something like that all that time for all i care, to me the noise his mouth was making sounded exactly like a bad cold. I didn't tip him. I just walked out of his cab in traffic.


And the next morning I woke up feeling like I wanted to run, jump or fly. I woke up so sure of my destiny like I was sure I was sleeping on a bed with her. Just to confirm it wasn't all a dream, her and my destiny, I pinched her somewhere private. She woke up with such great alarm, but I shut the alarm.  With a kiss. She smiled. I had touched her, and felt that she was real, I tried to touch my destiny but realized it was invisible. And they say that girls see the future better than men do, when you are thinking sports car equals to more sex, they are thinking house equals to home. And if it is true that the girl of your dreams is the one that can feel your destiny in her heart, then I had to know mine. At that very moment I kissed her, and that kiss felt as fresh as our first kiss, she is definately the girl that stole my ribs, so I asked her, if she knew whether  I would be a success? 

"one minute..."

She jumped out of bed and left the room. I was on the bed, I don't sleep with the curtains open, so help me...if you ever disturb my view. Palm trees danced outside, forming shadows from the security lights pointing at them, there were no stars in the sky, their is a hotel with flashing lights at a distance though, a complete sky scrapper, they could as well be stars, and let's imagine the airplanes in the night skies are like shooting stars, I could really use a wish right now. And those birds, oh those birds singing at night must have been really drunk. No, tell me what bird do you think sings at night? High birds.

She hadn't come back yet, probably she had gone to get me something to eat, midnight snack or something, yes, my babe is a real sweetheart. I didn't want to think about it, but I thought about it, I thought of grey scarfs, I thought of rich maroon leather gloves, I thought of superstar diamonds reflecting off my wife's earrings, I thought of large powerful glass tables and me seating on the most comfortable luxurious seat. I saw myself in big courts, I saw that the judge almost dare not to oppose me cause I had made my name speak like reputation does. You know, it's reputation that cleans the desk for you, reserves for you parking spaces in a crowded seat, marks your tables RSVP at breakfast in foreign hotel. It's not good help, it's not good hotel service, it's reputation that paves your way. Bobby is on his way, fix that, move that there, buy that, spray this, Bobby just goofs around his rocking chair before he takes a really long lunch break at the club, he let's his junior lawyers do all the work only to take the credit, but it's okay, he pays them really well, and they get him really big clients, oh I loved it, problem is it was all in my mind, and my baby had not yet come back to bed to assure me that that was my destiny.

Yes, she came back empty handed, with a long tshirt. No cake with castard, the one she makes a fuss about, no soda, no water, just her, she slid back to bed, almost ready to sleep. And I was thinking, what the hell, I didn't want to spoon, I wanted to know what she felt in her heart about my being destined for greatness. My grandmother said I was destined for greatness, my mom repeats it more than you breath, I wanted to know what the girl of my dreams thought.

And what did she do? She curled up like comfort does and took a deep breath ready to get to part two of her sleep. Yes, I pinched her again.

"Seriously?"
And she sat up in the bed, she hugged my head, and she told me, babe...just look around, you already are great, just look around baby, you already are great, just look around babe, you already are on the way to everything great... And I could feel something stir up in me, and as she hugged me tighter, and assured me more, I felt it. I could see it in that dark room with curtains open and the bedside lamp shining as dim as a bright candle. I didnt feel it completely but she said it so many times I believed it more and more. And as she described it better, I could see it, and I can't remember what she said last but what she said last made me believe she was the girl of my dreams completely and at that very moment I felt I wanted to run, I wanted to fly, I felt like everything was meant to happen, all I had to do was stretch my hand and seize what is for me.

And I reached out and I grabbed her, and we banged a good one, and there is something that creams real romance, music, and the playlist she had made for me, made it love. 

It was different from the night before, the night before was lovely yes, it had a little dress and she did a little dance, she turned and faced the three large windows that my bed faces, did a little drop of clothes and her giggly things, now you see why I have that soft carpet there, now you see why I love large rooms, now you see why I like her hair like that, now you see why I like things large like that, it had taken me sometime the night before before jumping on her.

But this night patience was an alien I was running away from...

Dames and sirs, here you are reading another of my posts, you are here but you feel it best that you make me feel like my words should be lonely. Just kill my destiny readers, go on, let your silence reject my heart until all it's confidence is gone to the point it's words are shaky.

With love,
Bobby.

...especially in bed!

Hold your breath until you can't hold it anymore. Then let yourself breath. What you feel in the middle of your chest is how I feel when am about to meet her. No, its not the first time am meeting her. We have traveled together, to places, we've ridden horses, we have eaten sea food, we have run out of gas, we have shopped together, we have been on the same bed, but every time, every single time am about to see her. I feel... Breath in deep, hold your breath for the longest you can, repeat that for three times, and feel that thing you feel at the middle of your chest. If you ask me, I think scientist are mad people, ask a writer, ask poets, ask lovers, our hearts are in the middle of the chest. And I feel it, am about to meet her, not for the first time, but it feels like the first time.

Is there a way you do things? A way you have always done things, sometimes do you feel even though you do those things the way you do them, you want to do them differently just for one day, before you go back to your old routine. I feel that way now. When I meet her, even though I feel the same way I feel every time I meet her; like it's the first time, I want to do things a little different with her.

Definitely, it starts with the bed. Yes, Cosmopolitan is the magazine that re-wrote the sex positions in my mind, and a new Kamasutra is what I will be writing about by the time she is packing her bags leaving my place once it is time for her to leave until we meet again.

Who said long distance couldn't be fun? Who said? Bring that person here. No, really, I could use extra viewers. You know, you get seven hundred, you want fourteen hundred, you get eighteen hundred you want twenty eight hundred, you get twenty eight hundred you want her to swallow, you want her to swallow you feel like you are a good enough writer to spread books on shelf for sale.

I want things different this time, not so much sending gifts wrapped in designer boxes and cared in red velvet sponges, yes, I want that too, but I crave kisses more. Yes, we will eat out at nice places, but now babe my kitchen is so much larger, that white horse you want us to steal could actually dance in the kitchen. I want us to stay home, you know in a restaurant you get cravings and all one can do is throw their legs up the others legs. But at home, in my kitchen, throw my legs up your legs, and throw myself under your skirt, whenever the urge boiled up, whenever, as in anytime I want, anytime I want...

I want us to do the thing we did at that place with a chimney, you remember? That romantic place completely out of the city. Oh, that was a moment. It's a shame we got there at three in the morning, thanks for helping me drive though. I want us to do that, I want us to sleep, sleep together, doze of under a blanket and let the television re-run that series from episode to episode.. Until morning light appears, and catches us.

And it's only with you that I can sit at the balcony and be myself, I love the way we switch topics. You know a girl is meant to be when you can really talk to her about everything, as in you know the conversations flip like the pancakes that I know she will make me for breakfast when she is here. And she talks fabric, I talk fashion, she talks shop, I talk stocks, she talks family, I talk friends, she talks babies, I shut her mouth, we talk dowry we fight. It's so beautiful. Stop thinking far, we are still young and reckless, still have the world to see, so no babies baby.

But I want you to trust me like a baby trust it's mother. It's a cruel world we live in you know. Remember that guy at the beach, the one who refaced to take photos, remember the requests you kept on getting that day on your BB, you were as scared as fcuk, and I carried you home to a safe place. 

You remember that night at that place, I liked the guy after he spread tonnes of cigar brands, they must be smuggled, his vodkas were as awesome, must have been smuggled to, but I hated him after the party came to an end, was it to much to drop as at Nyali Cinemax. Was it too much? Where the hell were we supposed to get a cab back. You know friends of friends are not always good hosts.

Babe, I handled it well, I took care of us, but you babe, you were a complete bitch after that bathroom incident. I admit both of us were disappointed, but what the hell? Or was it the alcohol, cause you and alcohol are not friends, I don't know why you always try to be alcohols friend. And after you have talked together over a few drinks, babe you turn into a nightmare, crying one minute, laughing the other, bitchy as hell, and it's not very comfortable for me, especially the part where I have to carry you. 

But maybe alcohol is your friend, you know it's important to vent out. You are a perfect angel babe. Do you remember as we were walking past the tents at that place with the lake we didn't get time to properly see. I was the one with issues, but I blamed it on you. Oh my, these days it's as if every time my emotions don't even out on a scale, am calling babe, and am complaining at babe, instead of complaining to the world. But you take it in, like you take me in, cause you are my care giver, and am your fairy tale giver.

Come to think of it, I think thats what relationships should be about, a key and a lock, keys and locks are different, oh come on readers, even you know keys and locks are different, but they need each other to be complete. She does her math so well, while I am thinking about my profit she calculates it, when she is thinking about the cold weather, I surprise her with a scurf. 

I can't wait to see you, and as I want us to spend more time together at home, talking about the color of my walls, and not so much the colors of the walls in restaurants that actually have fish knives, there is a place I want us to see, to eat from, and please make sure you stand up in the middle of dinner to visit the wash room. They actually pull your seat and escort you. How about that?
Heard, you must powder your nose.

Am still anxious to see you, I know you asked me for a diary, or was it a journal when you called and found out I was at the bookshop, but you wouldn't believe what I found instead... Yes, that should teach you a lesson, don't give me instructions, hint things, especially in bed. 

Don't Close Your Eyes and Swallow

Dames and sirs, it's been a beautiful journey, and you know how journeys are... You reach some point and you discover a shorter route to your destination. What do you do? You take the shorter route. Who goes round the field a lap to get across it. No one! Just cross straight the damn field. No one is giving you a price for burning more fuel. Am crossing the field ladies and gentlemen, therefore I have stopped blogging about the things I blog about, and now am going to turn this blog into a farm thing.

I will be telling you the number of stomachs cows have, cause this blog is tailored towards farmers. Yes, guys in Muranga and Loitok Tok. You know, those are the cool people, not you guys, those guys are so cool out of every a hundred you will find ninety nine percent stating their hobbies to be viewing blogs. Yes, they do. Believe me. They read magazines and watch E! So I will be writing on the best gel you can use to wank cows tits. I will actually review them, and my viewers will explode, no one will leave this blog cause of how irrelevant I have become. 

Tell me what do you think? How many fans have... Just cause of the paragraph above, five hundred. Six, seven... A thousand? Bye bye?

Am just playing with you. I know my niche. It's very important you know your people. I know my people, Friday night where are you? Come out come out wherever you are? Friday come out this instant! Friday is always in jam. It's Monday and we are all seated  waiting for it. But it has to drag it's feet every time, not for an minute, not for an hour, four five whole working days before it gets here. Where is justice, where is justice my friends? Show me justice. And when it gets here, party people knock at my door. You know, life is good when. Your phone vibrates so much on friday your trousers get holes. Yes, mine have. You know all the texts, all the calls. The knock on the doors. If you can write a good story, you can't possible live a flat life.

This Friday dare you knock on my door with three girls, two for me and one for you. And just like that we are a party of five. Dare knock on my door with five bottles of something something. I swear dare. And you will tell me whether we are in campus to unhook bras and play golf at the beach. 

Let next Friday dare arrive too soon, before I have visited the library and things as such. I am ready with my golf clubs Friday night. Come over here I show you my swing. I will slum you right in the face, and you will know that's not a poor swing. That's a swing that has seen practiced. You can be sure Friday night will not come home next week. What a short week it will be.

Actually, I am done with all the partying. I don't want romantic novels, I want novels that talk about the constitution and democracy. That's what I want. I am doing things differently now. Actually if I text you to come to my place at night, please show up with five, not five drinks, five damn books. Large ones that look like they are five in one.

And if you come with books with pictures, I will roll those pages with pictures and stick them up your ass.

Good? Good.

Am a changed person, I will be opening the campus gates. When do they open them again? Eight. I guess they will have to give me the keys, cause I will be there at five o'clock. Watchmen... Are you reading this? No. Don't worry, I will be opening the gates, so you can take your time in bed reading Bobby.

In fact, am never buying coffee. Never, why? Cause coffee is for people who work. I should be taking coffee that taste like mud, nothing fancy, just shit like instant coffee. You know, the small granules one, not the posh large granules one. The fake coffee, with a metal taste, that taste like industry and smell like that country without an ozone layer. I shouldn't even touch good coffee, that sends it's aroma from ground floor to fifth floor when it rains and it's cold. I shouldn't take good aromaed coffee cause that's for my future.

Is that okay with you guys? My party people, is that okay? A party without Bobby? Friends with benefits, how about we stop getting orgasms and start attending remedial classes? How does thai make you feel? Makes you wet, right? Yes. We do everything today with closed eyes until we greet our beautiful future and marry it? Hell no. It's not okay. I have one life, and as much as I want a future to die for years to comes, am enjoying today. 

Why? Cause what's the point of wanting a certain life, with parties, friends and family, love and sweat, toil and hugs... Then living today like you can't see those things are around you? Am enjoying now, and I will enjoy my future. And with that said, yes I might visit the library some more, all I need it to reduce the party a bit.

So dude, don't come with three chic, one for you and two for me, come with two, one for you and one for me. Why? Cause I need to wake up early on Saturday, you know, Equity Law class. Yes, that class we never attended last year cause of... You know. Some energy to party today, some energy to withstand that boring Saturday class, cause that's how you are making your future. Enjoying your past and present and not closing your eyes and swallowing.

Longterm is wise, but between the future and the present is the short term which must not be forgotten. One life people, one life.

A Broken Heart

L&L

It is at night, and a nightmare seizes my night. I had a dream, there was a crowd and the crowd was young and cool. So cool, they wore shades at night. How cool is that? They all sat on grass, waiting to be entertained or something. And there were a group of entertainers, and I was one of them. I was all fired up to speak, I was ready to entertain. I sat on one of the chair stools, ready to do a Spoken Word, like poetry writers do, I hope you know what that means.

So how did it become a nightmare. That you will come to know as this post comes to an end.

So here I am in my bed, it's five o'clock in the morning, a new year, if it was a car it would still have that new car smell, the fifth day of the year and I woke up in great fear. The problem is that when you wake up in slow motion one tends to mix the actual sounds outside and his dreams, and that sometimes can be dangerous. Especially what you were dreaming about was more of a nightmare than a dream. I always wonder, do people who like horrors like nightmares? No really? Do you...

In my horror movie, sorry, nightmare, I heard voices, and for a moment I thought everyone had left for Heaven or something and I was left alone. I feared. But then listening to the voice more keenly as I got more awake I discovered that it was only the television. And I was glad, I was glad cause it wasn't too late. Again, I had another chance of having a relationship with Him.

So I did what I would do best, work on it that moment. You know when you need to fix a relationship the best moments are fixing it yesterday. I could sleep a little longer, wait for morning to come properly, you know, after sun rise and right there I would mend my relationship with Him. But as I said, I just woke up thinking I was left alone on earth... Everyone had gone. The world can come to an end at anytime, you on the shower and whup... The world has come to an end. Everyone has gone. I needed to fix that relationship immediately, no taking chances!

So I opened the door to my room... As I said the television was on and was loud, so I wasn't the only person awake.

"hey, good morning Bobby. You never sleep..."

"Morning, sorry I was asleep."

"it's such a shame you have sleepless nights Bobby..."

Really? Didn't i just mention I was asleep. And all I wanted to do was rush to the loo and finish my business. And here he was, family, trying to have a conversation with me which I was not in the mood for.

"no... I have been sleeping. I just woke up." I said sharply.

Actors, is there any actor reading my blog? How do you fake a morning face if you don't have one. Hey, readers, i think there are no actors who read my blog. I know my heart is broken too. Where was I? In the living room. And I walked away, before more presumptions were made, and he dramatized everything. You know the kind of people who make your sorrows seem like tragedies or your battles won feel like wars. I knew he would dramatize anything little I did, and maybe that's what made me hide what I was doing. And no, am not talking about hiding the fact that I was going to the bathroom. Imagine I tiptoed even after being seen.

I knew where I could get one of those books that would keep me company. But you see, this is the house we live in before we build that new castle will be living in. And this place kind of forces you to meet people in corridors and all. The thing I had to do was rush to my smalls bedroom, pick his Bible which is on his table arranged using one of those fine files blue things. (looks like a spaceship, a little...) Today you can even buy neatness. What a gadget...

If there was a way this guy who was still doing his work on the dining table, if there was a way he would see me walk out of my smalls room with a Bible, and he had already jumped into assumptions that I hadn't slept the whole night I would be done. As in completely finished. Oh, this little thing about my picking a Bible from small's room would be dramatized in ways you couldn't imagine. So I had to be skillful about it. Hide.

"you don't eat well..."

"I ate. Come on, I ate more than everyone else."

"you know if you ate more you wouldn't be awake at this time..."

"I ate enough."

And yes, I had a full plate of food the night before. A cow with it's million stomachs would have been embarrassed, actually blushed. Am surprised I wasn't chewing curd in my sleep, you know, after all that food. Aren't cows weird, chewing card? Who does that? What does that? It's like eating vomits. Next time you meet a cow, tell it it's weird, give it a chewing gum, that is what is chewed, not thing out of the stomach, things to the stomach. But you know what? Let them be, cows! Weirdos.

"are you hungry?"

Then I thought, saying that am not hungry would be sort of a lie you know, kind of, come on, hear me out. I hungered to open the good book, you know turn through pages and all. Have God talk to me, then after I am done I could talk to Him, ask Him to sort out things for me. Was I hungry? Did he mean spiritual hunger or literal hunger for food?

"Are you hungry?"

"not really..."

That felt more a sincere answer.

It was in a box, (the looked like a spaceship thing again, not funny, okay?) you got to give that to us, if you showed passion for God by collecting fancy Bibles, we would have taken that home. As in, beautiful, as in this one came in a case, and the lining was golden, it had that feel of ancient times with it's leather, it had a feel of the slim modern sleek pages. It was brand new, it was beautiful, all I wanted to do was open it and read it, again and again. I got it out of the case it came with, you know, packaged with care, in a case that looked like that of a board game, I think it was meant to care for the Bible, it shouldn't get hurt, the pages, the lining. You know, when you love something, usually you take care of it. When someone you love gives you something, you usually care for it... (I used the word 'usually' it has something to do with common sense not being so common). Usually.

I pulled it out of it's carton, rearranged the carton back onto the table with the fancy file thing that makes books stand on their own in a shelf and walked out. I know my small wouldn't even notice it was missing if I left the case there. I will return it when am done though. And I hope when
 I return it he will notice it has been read a little. You know one or two dog ears on the pages, unintentional, probably even deliberate, you know, if he notices that the book was opened he might open it too.

All that remained was sneaking into my room without being noticed. If it was discovered that I had a Bible, oh my, at night when it was assumed I couldn't sleep everything would be blown out of proportion, as in everything. First of all, the conversation would start with oh no... Or woiy... Or any other utterance that makes one feel intense pity for themselves, is that what woke you up? Do you need us to seat down and pray... Or can I help... Or are you stressed, and right there I would be finished.

I wanted to do it alone, go to my room, lock the door where I am not seen and read alone. I didn't want to be seen carrying a Bible around, no. I didn't carry a Bible often, it wasn't usual, and a big deal would be made out of it.

It couldn't fit in my pocket, but I hid it in between the newspaper. Somewhere in me I hoped that I was seen more carrying a Bible to my room rather than a newspaper. But what can I say? I had a relationship that needed serious mending, it was uncommon to see me with a Bible heading to my room.

And since the Bible is complicated sometimes, and sometimes you need help, I had one more task. The Bible was safe on my bed and no one had noticed. No one had blown it out of proportion, no one.

There is this book, Daily Power, I had seen it in the living room. If I had been not so busy walking through woolworths in sarit center, or that other shop next to it with nice ties, if for a second I would have planned not to spend all my time in the Apple elite shop downstairs, I might have been the one who stopped by keswick. Yes, the Bible shop downstairs, and I would have picked up a few Bible things, or things related to that, and you know, when you love to write you want to read literature books, you want bumper stickers that say 'I am a writer', generally you are attracted to things related to writing. If I had been attracted more to things related to Bible, I would have been the one that got that Daily Power, you know that book that helps you read the Bible.

As I said, I had seen it in the living room, I sneaked out, I went back to the living room.

"Bobby, hasn't been sleeping."

"oh, why do you say that..."

I was there and they were talking about me like i wasn't. I was the subject of conversation. Two minutes weren't done, and things had been blown out of proportion.

"huh?"

I would have gone like... I have been sleeping... What do you mean.., how do you know... I wanted to tell them that I was so dead asleep, my pillow envied me... But what would that do? Extend the conversation, turn it into an argument. I let it slide.

Books, books everywhere, that is how the living room is, psychology books, whatever books, you name it, don't be surprised I write. The book I wanted was a Daily Power, and all I could see was the Daily Power 2011 edition. It is 2012, and I wanted the 2012 version. I thought God would speak to me more currently through it in synch with the Bible.

And you know where I find it, right where the television is. In the open. And the television was tuned into family, cause at night that's the only channel to watch. I don't know why these guys even pay subscription for the three decoders that seat there, and no one ever watches anything. In fact, one of the decoders has not been connected to the television for what? Three months... And I was sent to pay for it. Anyways, Family tv was on to keep company, people were reading work stuff, at what time, like five in the morning.

I picked it up with one hand, using my body as shield and I put the book, Daily Power 2012, right in my pocket. I finally had found it. And I escaped, I got into my room safely.

It is at night, and a nightmare seizes my night. I had a dream, there was a crowd and the crowd was young and cool. They all sat on grass, waiting to be entertained or something. And there were a group of entertainers, and I was one of them. I was all fired up to speak, I was ready to entertain. I sat on one of the chair stools, ready to do a Spoken Word. And you know what I asked when it was my chance to talk... I asked if I could pray. I anticipated an obvious it's okay. But...

"if this guy has come to pray just ask him to leave..."

And my heart broke. As in into pieces, not so much cause I was rejected, mostly cause these cool young guys refused to talk to God, as in come on.as in God, you are listening right, they didn't want to just say a short prayer and my heart broke. As in, I know am not a good person, probably even this post has issues, but look at my heart, when people don't see it a good thing to have a relationship with you my heart breaks. Isn't that love?

Either way, I knew what I would do. I sneaked it in a story on how it is important that this relationship works, (am good at sneaking in stuff you know...) I talk to you in a prayer, I thank You for stuff, and ask You for even more stuff, then I listen to what You have to say, so I flip through the pages of this fancy Bible. And that is a good relationship my friends, each one talks and each one listens.

And God, I hope I haven't offend you in this post. But if I have, forgive me through your Son. You know my heart was in the right place as I wrote it.

That would be all folks. Now, it is already seven thirty and did I tell you we when I woke up? January has almost settled in fully, let me enjoy these last days of my holiday sleeping in.

I know. I know...

Trust Issues

There is your chance, watch it walk away from you... Watch it go... She is the slim kind, twenty six, and I fcuked everything up.

We were to meet up at two o'clock. Some person here lost car keys, yes, to one of the cars that just lies around, that I happen to drive during the holidays. And you know what? Sharing... 

She was done at two with the errands she was running in town, and it was time to hook up with Bobby. And where was Bobby, he was all dressed up and ready to meet this damsel. 

We had talked, spent New Years talking to each other. Happy new year happened when she opened my inbox happy new year and I opened her text happy new year, and it felt like a total new year. And we talked around sex, but never about it, that's seduction my friends.

Here I was ready lying on my bed, it was two and she was in town done with her errands and I was at home on my bed ready to see her.

I knew she would wait for me for thirty minutes... So I asked her to. She was okay with it.

"where are you? I also want to use the car man..."

"give me a few minutes am almost done."

Dialing tone.

I thought I should try that thing I was trying. Reading while chatting. I want to get used to it. You know combine a very boring activity (reading law) with a very thrilling activity (chatting with friends). Yeah I know... You think it's impossible. But am ready to make it possible. You like coca cola with food. Why? They advertise coca cola with food. It's a mind game, it's building a habit. It's January, so it's going to be hard, I might chat more than I read but by December I will chat as much as I read; while I read. And you know what? Every time I feel like chatting I would feel something is a miss until I have a book. A page, then chat, a page then chat, until it sticks like coca cola and food. And I will have A's, so many I probably will change my name to Abby. Okay, maybe that's a chics name. Understand, I couldn't call myself another guys name, it feels off.

So I tried the study while chatting thing, it felt off but as I said, habits as hard as they are to break they are equally as hard to build. Cheers to happy library time this year.

Three o'clock. Car is not here. Dammit! Sharing cars... 

Her: you know am texting this waiting for you
Me: am just waiting for the car, he told me he will be here in fifteen minutes

"where are you man, I need the car."

"give me fifteen minutes am coming..."

And it was four when he showed up. I stopped studying long ago. You know, that moment when someone is waiting for you, but you are more anxious about them waiting for you...

She: where are you? You know am alone?
Me: five minutes I will be there

I was sure I would be there in five minutes. As sure as you are that tomorrow will be morning and that exam will be sat at eight in the morning. I was that sure I would be there in five minutes, and I told her. I was not going to drive, I was going to fly. In a car still... You know what I mean.

"dude, I got to pick something I left where I was?"

"what?"

"my phone man, I left my phone."

And you know, when someone leaves there phone, especially if it is a Samsung Galaxy, you go pick it up. And I was getting into a small flame watching him drag his feet serving himself a glass of water. There was a hot dame who had been waiting for me in town for over an hour and what was he doing, sipping his bloody water. It was like he was trying to lick honey with his tongue from a beehive. We finished his damn water and dragged his shoes to the car. I didn't say I was in a hurry, I looked it, it works better.

I didn't stop for the bumps. I imagined the road was flat. Power of positive thinking!

Her: You said five minutes, ai, it's another thirty minutes already.

I didn't stop for the second bump. I thought about texting her back, but what would I say? I am not driving to her, am driving towards some phone someone who made me late carelessly left some place? What is she left? Maybe I should ignore her text and text her just before I get to where she is, maybe receiving a text then will make her feel like I didn't take that long...
I didn't text cause if I texted at that speed, as much as I was flying, I wouldn't be hitting a cloud. I would hit something more earthly... solid, like a tree or something. I didn't want to get into a collusion with a tree, cause that just looks bad. As in this guy just drove off the road and miles away met a tree head on. Not cool, no one says it's cause you were driving, they always conclude other things.

We picked the phone. It was fifty minutes later than one hour late. Oh my, I would almost be happy....if she just texted me she left. I had been so unfair to her. He had his phone but I still had to take him back home. No, I couldn't leave him in the streets, but I actually thought about it. Man, I was late, she would be furious.

I sped back home and left him there. The car wheels did a spin before it could move, if there was dust around you could have as well called some kids and told them Safari Rally.

Yes that was how I got back to town, Safari Rally. (stupid iPad just autocorrected Safari Rally to Safaricom I laughed, you know the way you laugh when someone insists you love the person you hate, I laughed that design) I drove with loud music, high adrenaline, doesn't need high music, you don't feel the music so much, you just try stunts, overtaking when you aren't supposed to, braking too much, accelerating faster than a bad stomach ache.

I could feel it. Finally. Finally. Finally I could call her and tell her I am close by and I meant it. Finally. As in my heart beat beat differently. It's like the first time you stop sleeping in blankets and started sleeping in comforters, everything felt lighter.

I slide through the streets like a skater slides through ice, and I pulled emergency breaks so loud that when I parked she came out of where she was waiting to meet me. I didn't need to call her, my entrance did.

I could see her from my side mirror. She had the shades Paris Hilton used to wear before someone wore them better than she did. Who wore them better? The dame in my side mirror. She always has this walk, she is as tall as high spirits. She is as slim as popular culture, she is as cool as ear phones in the ears, the cool ear phones. She wears jeans in the slim size designers created them in. She has tiny boobs and the most light skinned cleavage I have ever seen. She is a bitch. As in the kind of dame you would think is, slim, slender, perfect, beautiful, model, with baby dread looks. If she was to eat steak, her's would be the slender type. Oh she looked amazing. She pulled the door open like it was something heavy, and it looked like it looks on television. Like a dream.

She sat. She was in blue jeans, slender, a top, designed with care, blue hints, she had a jacket, woolen with padded shoulders, so she held it with her light skinned hands (she looked like a powerful bird with shoulders) that didn't look very different from her palm, as in her skin and her palm almost matched, delicate. She sat, her eyes hiding behind the shades. Oh I died.

And I loved that music played loud in the car, and my cars horse power was bigger than the average car. Cause she is not average, she is over average and over what over average is.

"hi..."


"you.. Hi."

She was composed. She didn't start cursing. She was twenty six. And I was in one of those skinny ties. And I kind of felt she was cool, she was different. She was composed. She was proper, she was sure. She was mature, and as cool as fuck. You know how cool fucking is... She showed it dust and she was even cooler than it.

I sped off, cause she had this way of not making me feel like a writer she made me feel like a rock star. Screw writers. I sped off. And we started with Nakumatt, cause one, she didn't want to eat, she is the kind of dame that doesn't eat, she runs on fashion or beauty. Maybe she just looks at her self in the mirror, sees her face, eats that beauty up and is too satisfied for meals. I went to the shop to buy, one rubber, for sex. Two, two sodas, cause we were going to get thirsty after the ride, three chocolate. Energy bar.

"Where are we going?"

"to catch a drink..."

"where, please don't take me to the country club, those people are so stiff..."

"so where?"

"waterbuck is cool..."

And I was thinking, everyone can go there, even carjackers... The club, no one can get in, you know that whole finger print thing at the door.

In my head I was thinking, okay. If she wants us to go to Waterbuck, probably  there are people there waiting for me, and she is one of them. No wonder she is making so many phone calls when I leave the car. Probably that's why she went to the washroom, to inform them that I have decided we are going for drinks. I know what I will do, I will change course...

I drove to Tuskys Highway. Very pointless endeavor, I had told her I was going to get her drinks, then I turned to Tusky. Oh Tuskys has never tasted alcohol or wine, do they even have old Jamica,you know it has rum. I left the car, I wanted to leave one of my phones connected in the car then walk out of the car with the other. You know, spy on what she was talking about when I left the car. Maybe her conversation would go like this...

"yes, am in the car with him. It looks like we are heading to his home. Be there."

"we can wait at the gate? What car is he driving?"

"...the blue one."

"keep your head down, we will attack when he gets here."

"got to go, I can see him coming."

Nakumatt didn't have durex. Can you imagine, so I had to go to the chemist in Tuskys to get a pack. 

I walked back to the car. And no, that conversation was in my head,i didn't connect a phone in the car and listen in on her conversation. I just made that conversation up in my head. Especially when I found out that she had opened the door and was leaning outside talking on the phone. 

"hey..."

"hi."

I got in, and drove off. Direction, farm house. It was a smooth ride, I was thinking how paranoid I was... At times thinking how pretty she was... Other times thinking... How I was going to save myself. 

"hey... Their is something for you in the bag."

"icecream, nice..."

"by the way, you know that's the problem of getting used to cars. You should have just taken a matatu or a cab as I waited for you..."

And I wanted to say that, you can't get a cab where I live. You can't get a matatu, but I thought against it, cause no one want to here that except the people you live with. 

I knew what I was doing, what I didn't know was how stupid I looked trying to dodge things that are in my mind, if they were, where they? Was I going to drive home, and right there at the gate, the moment I pressed the gate remote, the gate would not open, then everyone would show up all of a sudden and surround the car, with guns, in broad day light, and probably the dame I was with had a gun in her hand bag, did she? I must take it away from her reach. I promised myself.

I took an unexpected turn, am sure she though I was so bright if was right about my suspicions, or very unpredictable if she wasn't. We went some place, and I packed. 

"This is not your farm house..."

"yeah, I know, picnic..."

She kept on getting this texts. She claimed from Safaricom. (no autocorrect here). And I was wondering, okay. How many of those are you getting?

And before five minutes were done, I was asking her to leave. We drove off, towards the route that the farm house is at. And I saw everyone around us on phone. On the road, and I though probably they are woth her, they were all plotting against me. And I felt fearful. I was sure.

I missed the turn to the farm house. Do you know the expression one gives asking What The Hell? She gave it. But not looking at me, she gave it at the window, and I could swear that there was no one there. 

We got to town, I took her to Bontana, the swimming pool upstairs. Guava, Nakumatt, Tuskys, some other places... Now another hotel. The pool is at the roof top. Heated pool you know. I slept on on of the pool side things people sleep on to sunbath or dry or whatever, she sat facing me. I felt man.

"Can I have your phone?"

"No..."

We did that thing for grabbing phones. You know it right, nice. She deleted some, then gave it to me. Normal text, call log, unsaved numbers here and there. But safe. I think? There was no way anyone was going to take me down, the hotel wouldn't let it. It was bad for business.

"hey, pretty... You know I have trust issues."

"women?"

"yeah... "

She curled back. She suddenly felt cold and needed to cover herself wth the jacket. Her awesome jacket. She looked so pretty. The sun set reflected so nicely on the pool, through the town and trees to us. Golden. A golden moment, even the water was golden, the skies...

"Emotional issues with women? Financial? Spiritual?"

I dint get how that last one got into the mix. And she did a very shoddy work explaining it.

"we closing the pool." said the stupid waiter.

"we want drinks..." I told him.

I meant it as a joke, but I think he saw it as if I was trying to exact authority on him. You know, I was in a tie. He tried to explain, which he didn't need to. Yes, I know he was just working, he wasn't the one who said when the pool should be closed. He just executed. I didn't want to cause him stress.

"I though we were going to have drinks here..."

"I thought I should drop you home... Its late you know."

And I took another turn, back into town. I packed outside Gilanis. She hated the club.

We got into Enigma.

"wow, this place has changed..."

And she had a Chocolate Orgasm, which made her orgasm. I had a Redds.

"You know, Kenyan men aren't romantic, that's why..."

"But I opened the door for you?"

"which door, lies!"

"every time i get into the car, I push the passenger door open from inside for you to get in..."

"that's not being a gentleman, you supposed to go round."

"hey, am not dating you, and I think sometimes its too much to go round..."

"what about these seats, why didn't you pull it for me?"

"I touched the back of your seat before I sat on mine..."

"hehe"

"that must count for something..."

And it did, cause the seat I touched the back of, as if to pull it out for her, she sat on it. 

"gentlemen are about gestures... Not pulling things."

Okay, come to think of it I should have pulled. Maybe? And...

"why you taking Redds?"

"to build rapport..."

And I told her we had seen the sunset as we talked about trust issues, she had held my hand, we had had a picnic for seconds and it was fun. And I think she decided I was romantic. But I didn't care, cause... Newsflash, not my girlfriend.

And my oh my, I felt at home. I was safe, even if guys came brandishing guns, there was no way they would dare show up where I was. And I felt safe at it's exclusivity. I talked, oh my, was it the beer or was it the location, I tales, I lite up, I was happy, I was no longer fearing for my life. 

And when I walked to the loo, I wondered. Was she really part of some gang... You know, you never know these days, equality. When she talked about trust issues, she just jumped into relationship stuff, and gold digger stuff, that I can handle, even the parts I can't handle, but kidnapping stuff, and car jackers stuff, no. And I started wondering, probably she erased some text from her boyfriend, funny text, or embarrassing photos, probably she wasn't erasing her call log that had strange characters, probably the conversation she had at the shop was with her girlfriends, telling them she was finally going to bang me, you know, in bed, we texted a little nasty. The ones you read into, not just read nasty on them, those never bore.

You remember that expression she made, the What The Hell? One when I didn't turn to the farm house. She made it at the window, probably there was someone scouting outside the car who was wondering why we weren't heading to the house, probably it was body language, you know, your mind can ask What The Hell? And instead of showing it to the person who said it, you say it to the window subconsciously... You know like when you smile at someone  until you look away and you frown not meaning to.

You thought you had trust issues... There are mine... Whatever glitters like gold might not be gold.