Saturday 31 March 2012

Honey...



I strived to get something's for a while only to have someone rob them from me. I have tried to catch them but stopped when it started to change me. I have watched the ones I love hurt by the ones I trusted. I have been forced to walk on the street by ambition and I have been shown that the streets don't have humans but has snakes, vultures, poison like a jungle. Concrete jungle yes Nairobi streets are.

I have been promised a night in arms that will love me, yet stabbed in the back by those very persons. I have been promised loyalty and my heart wasn't dealt with like it was an egg or a wine glass, not gently, steal my heart and hit it like a nail and a hammer through wood.

I don't know whether all these has been done to me so that I develop a soft spot every time I see someone whose been shown the not so fair part of the world when my world gets better. Nothing can heal a heart better than a broken-hearted song, Adele do you hear me?

I survived all these, playing the victim mentality for less than twenty seconds of a minute, the rest am trying to pull myself up to happy. Simply put it's okay to be sad, but even better is to be more happy than sad.

And when I stand again after the cruelty the world shows me... The worst happens.

Love is about acceptance, discrimination, rejection, inequality and all other graces and disgraced masked under love so you can't attack it.

I love you, I don't love you so don't talk to me. I love her cause she wears her hair better. I will offer her a hug and offer you a handshake cause I love her but I don't love you.

I will make advances at you for today, tomorrow I will notice your friend then you will find me locking lips with her, but it's okay cause it's love. Right?

One of the worst holes I have fallen into are in the name of love, my ego has been dealt with in a manner that when it falls in the mad it doesn't want to get up. It has gotten up about a million times. What is the point of pulling yourself up whilst every time you have not given up pulled yourself up you got hit back down to the ground before you started walking again. A million consecutive times.

That happened to me, simply ran out of hope, my heart locked up, and I started commanding myself with my mind. So that falling into mad and raising up was no longer a decision I made. It was a habit, you fall down everyday, you wake up everyday and strive in the same way you wake up and have a shower, it's not a decision, it's a habit.

And as I was living life mechanically, without passion whatsoever. I found her. She saved me. And it made me happy that I always picked myself from the ground every time I fell.

I tried to walk cause am a guy that believes in better, everyday that time, I tried to walk every time I fell into the mud. I stood up wiped the mud off my shirt and tried to walk again in spite of the number of times I fell. Imagine if we met and my shirt had mud all over it! Like a hobo, a loser or something! Yuck?

My shirt was clean, I was standing, and am glad you met me like thuat, cause first impression do matter. You never get a second chance to make a first impression, and I made my first impression. You later came to find out that I was dying inside. But that's okay, cause I was already in your arms.

Why do you still stay with me? When you are sure that what all I want is the future? Is it cause I also believe in the comfort of today? Why do you not walk away when you find that even though I say I love you the first email I check is NIC Bank's Summary of the equities on the stock counter and not your email? Is it cause you understand am a man and I find my worth in performance?

Why do you stay with me? When you keep calling and I just stare at the screen not picking it up... Why do you stay when I am afraid of actually stating the details of how my heart was broken and how that has changed the way I relate to others after them? Why do you stay whilst am the one who says we must communicate to keep this relationship alive while in fact am the one that doesn't keep the other end of the bargain? Do you notice that am a guy and I find my value in being the best, so no girl can be seen to say she dumped me, am me dammit! Am the best.

If wishes were horses, we would be in Naivasha every weekend riding horses. I know you like the white one. If wishes were horses you will let me spend the first hours of my morning trying to find gold, build an empire and what not. Some mornings you would make breakfast, some I would.

If wishes were horses, everyday we would bang a little a lot.

If wishes were horses, we would go eat out every now and again. A little shopping here and there.

If wishes were horses, you would let me turn a law book or two everyday, cause I don't like disrupting my life for exams, besides, I want to be as good as my Suits when I start to practice... Suits season one? Or suits of fine wool and excellent stitching? Sir Henry's?

If wishes were horses you would let me host a party here and there, support me as I did it. Seat with my two left feet at a club cause I cant really be king on the dance floor, but my table. Don't worry, I will be king, all drinks on me.

If wishes were horses, you would be here, but since you aren't. I love your blackberry as much as I love mine.

Hug her now dammit!




We were at a seminar. After every hour and a half the person speaking to us let us have a short break. A tea break with no tea! Anyways that's besides the point, you know how tea breaks are. While you at the seminar everyone is in one group, at tea break people separate, they form subgroups talk in circles. Unfortunate you if you have to stand alone during tea break... If you not in a group of more than three you look like an outcast. You can socialize they say, but you can't just walk up to a gang of friends introducing yourself, normally the networks are too tight to break into. If you came late...sorry.

She didn't come late, she was around her group of friends, I was around mine. She couldn't just walk up to me even though she was a few steps away from me.

"hello..."

"hello."

"look behind you."

"pardon?"

"look behind you."


I hang up, I broke out from my group, she broke out from hers. We hugged. There is always that weird moment when you say hey to someone, you not sure whether it is just a hi. Or you plan to talk for a while. We were at that stage.

I had only come to see her cause I wanted to talk to her friend. She was the link, so technically I was using her to get to someone else.

She noticed.

I could see she could tell I was not concentrating on her. When ones eyes start to wonder away from the person you are talking to then know that most probably you should get the person you are talking out of their misery. I didn't want her to leave, I wanted her to continue talking at me, not to me as I weighed on what moves I would make on her friend.

She noticed.

See, they say that we are all equal. Yes, we are isn't it. That is why there is nothing like beauty contest. Beauty what? I didn't even know what you are talking about. Our eyes are all the same and they are all beautiful, our hair is all the same, our body mass is perfectly the same, we are all equal. Yes we are.

That's why I over looked her and looked at someone else, cause we are all equal. It's not that her friend had a bigger ass than she had, what do you mean they are all equal. She always keeps her face up, always, but that day she literally didn't raise her face up, it just sank, she looked at the floor.

"Bobby, do you want to talk to her..."

"oh yes."

I said that until I saw her, she was looking down to the floor, all her excitement had left her. She had accepted defeat again, like she knew the drill too often. Everyone passing her by.

"no, no, I want to talk to you."

I felt for her, she was sad.

And I started to imagine what she goes through. It all started to hit me. No one asks to be born the way they are born. She had told me about her being in class three. It's like she was stack in those years. Every time I was with her she talked about the way everyone just loved her while she was in class three, she told me about boys writing notes about marrying her, saying they loved her then throwing them of the window, fighting and being kids about it. They said these, then denied it. She found flowers in her desk never knowing who dropped them, she found dead rats. She was the centre of attention. Boys craved her attention, she told me she realized that later.

Twenty three and all she talks about is class three always. I figure it must have been her heyday, she might have been pissed at all the attention she got then, she was favored by everyone like beautiful women are opened for doors by almost everyman. But it seems that puberty played a bad number on her.

You are never sure on your looks until after puberty, so don't laugh yet. You never know what could happen.

I told her she was cute, I never told her she was beautiful and even that compliment she wouldn't just take. I don't blame her, she felt good about it, a smile but a second later she would come back to earth and I guess her mind would convince her truth is she isn't really beautiful.

Rats will be walking on streets before someone hits on her. Elephants will weigh as heavy as mosquitoes before someone gave her a second look as she crossed the road.

"hey, come here, that's not true..."

I hugged her.

"no don't interrupt me, am tired of all these lies."

It is true, they were lies. She told me she hates valentines cause everyone gets gifts but her, heck even from strangers. The girl she walks with in her estate gets all the presents, she gets none. She doesn't even get a whistle when she crosses the road... She hates that is has been reduced to expecting some whistling to affirm her self.

It's a known fact that most people show off cause they want to be noticed. Hey, look, am in a bikini contest and all my clothes are off. Check me out. And the rest of the world staring is thinking, slut, or, worse. Let's just say, or worse.

It's also a known fact that people show off cause they believe that someone has perceived them in a negative way. Tell her she isn't beautiful and after a week she is all in new dresses and stuff. She tries to make it known to you that there are other guys who think she is beautiful, showing them off.

But how cant she not show off? She had the attention growing up didn't she? She has tasted the other side. The greener side, she knows how it feels, so will she spend the rest of her life trying to go back to the greener side?
While the damaging effects of puberty are so?

"hey, it's okay..."

People were watching us now, and I felt like I should let her go. Cause then people will start thinking am having sex with her, and I wasn't. But for once I didn't know what to tell her, I saw no point of lying to her again.

"no it's not okay."

And for a second I wish I could split myself into like more than one hundred men just so that I could hit on her. I would be twenty random men who walk by the streets and give her a second look. I would be twenty men who send her text until she has to block some. I would be twenty men that she has to say no to cause she knows the twenty of me only want one thing. But she would feel okay, cause she is wanted, it would irritate her a bit but more than that she is wanted.

So, what do you tell her? Don't talk about her not being hot stuff? We are all equal? We all get hit on by the same number of people? We never go home alone?

Or do I tell her...

It's okay. It's a cruel world here, some are born with everything, some are born with nothing and die that way. But you my darling, wear that short skirt, wear those tall heels, splash yourself with make up like that chic on ktn, give head better than everyone else, dance better than everyone else, try harder than everyone else, sometimes run into my arms and break down, but then go back to the world and make yourself everything from nothing.
It better to live with consistent failing ambition, than to live with a victim mentality, cause out of the two their is only one that has a chance of becoming a queen.

"...you are beautiful, I don't care what you think, what everyone thinks, what I think, you are fucking breathtaking!"

Wednesday 28 March 2012

Perfect Gift For the Perfect Girl


I went through a lot looking for the perfect gift for you. I walked through Woolworths at City Mall, I found a lot of good stuff I could get you, I did a round at City Walk, checked out the bags and shoes, good stuff but nothing felt enough for you. I was tempted to walk to Cartier upstairs they have a nice advert on BBC, there jewels are the epitome of jewelry. But it didn't feel enough. I saw the way you looked at that convertible Bentley as we walked in for a movie at Nyali Cinemax, if my wallet was obese enough I would get it for you, maybe in the future it would  but I don't think it would be enough.

But hypothetically, say I got you the RangeRover Will it make your life perfect? Will it give you everything you wanted?

If I were to give you a gift, and for some reason I had the ability to do that I would give you something else, I would give you two boys and one girl. And an adopted one cause then it would be one less child in the streets. And more than that I would give you kids that were as bright as As in school. I would give you enough to take them to the best school in the country where they will be free from purnishment, no one will tell them to kneel down when they don't do their assignment. I would give you enough to take them to a school they are treated like princes and princesses. And their abilities are recognized. And their school visits are meaningful. And I would ensure a trust fund is kept for them that will last them from kindergarten to the best university in the world. And I would ensure that they get through the best school no matter what their grades are cause I would make sure you sit at the boards of the best schools in the world. The board approves exceptions, D, E, F make it to College.

If I could give you something I would start with that. If I could get you a gift I would give you a house that will stand for your life time, so that even when you don't have anything to eat which you will never you fail to get from the world at least you will always have a place to sleep. And it would be located at the perfect location, a neighborhood with trees where post-election violence can't touch, where fences are low not by design but by work of an active neighborhood Council. It wouldn't matter how low the fences will be, or grill-less the windows will be, it doesn't matter cause the minister of security or the president stays next door, you can be sure it would always be safe.

It doesn't have to be big but I would wish it has a family room, cause I hope you will have a family that you will keep close, and probably a golf corse at the backyard with swimming pools as golf waterways for you to bond with your family every Sunday afternoon. If the power was with me, there would be a chopper-pad back there or on the roof, cause boarding school happens in Kenya, and it would be nice if when your kids were older and they schooled at that nice school in Molo every Sunday they could get flown to the city for a little family time. Do you know that school in Molo? Cause that's the whole point of everything, a helicopter is useless if it doesn't let you love your family members better, a home theater is useless if it doesn't help you bond better with your friends. Everything is for relationships, even church to talk to God better, and fellow struggling Christians. How many relationships do you have? That's success? How good are they? That's what I would give you if I could.

If I was to give you something I would give you a self-running company. A cash cow of sorts, cause I don't want you to spend your life toiling to make ends met. I would wish you had more than enough so that the job you choose has purpose and the purpose is not solely to make a profit, you will have the luxury of choosing what makes you happy. Who ever gets that choice?

If what you feel passionate about is designing houses, you can do it almost for free, cause first if all you have enough, second of all you are free to do whatever. If I were to give you something I would give you such opportunity, you would wake up in the morning, walk into a building that needs some art in it. You snap your fingers the walls will get repainted, you would move a painting here hang it there. It would start at eight in the morning cause when it's something fun you are doing it can start at whatever time, up to midnight if you wish. You will not have to put up with staff that are a problem, you will work with people you laugh with, no need to be a boss. It's not about money, it's about passion. You will not leave until it is as beautiful as you want it to be, freedom.

I hope the work you choose to do will give you a sense of accomplishment, and enjoyment, you will not do it cause you have to do it but cause you want to do it.

That would be the perfect gift, to watch you at two in the morning so engrossed in what you do that you don't notice it is night. That will make you happy, I am sure of it.

If I was to give you a gift, I would give you talent and confidence in it, something you can do so well when you are around with your friends you can talk about. I want you to live, that's the gift I would love to give you.

And I would wish you found a place in your heart for those who the world hasn't treated so fairly. I wish you would find a way to sacrifice and feel good about saving a life.

And I wish for eternity for you, I wish you realize that this world is not a forever thing, that we die like rats even though we live as queens, even though your life will be perfect I wish you realize religion as well as find your purpose in it. I hope you find forgiveness, cause the perfect life prepares for the perfect excite. Plus a perfect entry into eternity.

If I could give you a gift I would give you no harm, maybe a little scandal here and there but nothing so major to give you depression. Just a little Nancy Baraza saga without you losing the job. You get what I mean. If I could erase every heart break you had, make them go away so that if you were to talk about your bad past you would talk about it without emotion in your voice, you would say it like you were reading it from a book, like it were just text that means nothing to you but mindless narration. That would be my gift to you.

I am walking around here and I see nothing good enough for you.

Tuesday 27 March 2012

Now or Never Moment


I used to be quick in deciding who is mad and who is not. Who is weird and who I can never be like. But that has changed now that I have gotten to see the world using more panoramic lenses.

She has a house. It runs three floors up. She has kids. Each have their room, she lives in Nairobi. She did poultry farming. Hasn't had enough of the hustle. (I hate using that word by the way, the hustle) so...she had options, she used to keep poultry in their shed. A few broilers breeding in their shed, but then the neighborhood cats made it Kenchic they came with forks, knives and napkins.

The chicken were already big enough to eat, but the market for them was slow. She couldn't keep them in the shed. Besides they were only about twenty  four remaining unsold. She wanted to put them in the store. Yes, in her house, I guess ambition can really reorganize your thinking. But if you don't look nuts before your Ambition, who will you look nuts before?

Let's just say, one day when her daughter came home with her friend they found chicken roaming around the house as if they were pets. Some on her bed in her bedroom trying to lay an egg, to pop! And you know what, am sure she was wondering? Why arent the chicken using the bathroom and flashing after? Yeah right, that's what she was asking herself!

As much as I found it weird to breed chicken in the house. I didn't think it was too bad. That's cause I have had someone keep for me broilers once. And I know the drill. Everyone is always happier dancing and laughing, but nothing feels like making a profit out of your own labour, regardless of chicken shitting all over the carpet.

So these days, do something almost weird and I will be thinking, you know, maybe he had no other option, you know maybe she thought this was okay, someone must remind her to draw the line between pets and chicken, but don't call her mad. In her situation many would be tempted to think as she thought...do the same thing she did...pet chicken!

Which brings me to Bella Vista, the most Nairobi club in Mombasa, right? Walk in to the first floor, something about it always tells me if it wasn't a night club it would have been a hunters lodge. The first table on the right as you get into the first floor is where we sat.

We were with ladies, we were with men. It was a night, we were going to remember. We got below the the first floor to it felt like like underground. They call it VIP. I don't think it's V.I.P exactly.

Drinks flooded the table in a minute and glasses lost their shiny bubbly liquid fast, at the same rate people faces formed more permanent expressions and everyone seemed to start enjoying everyone else. That was the fashion for the night.

"hey..."

She elbowed me politely. She quietly pointed her chin at some girl who was vigorously dancing. Oh, she noticed her too! for some reason when you feel someone is looking at you they most probably are. You don't quite need your eyes to realize that. The realization of such instincts is what puts you ahead. Realize that and you will be invincible and not invisible.

I smiled casually and ignored. She elbowed me again. She was seated next to me, this friend of mine, and she was being a total girl, Cupid proper. But this time she didn't do the chin thing and the eye thing to direct my eyes to the girl dancing, she pointed at her directly and she did a little dry hump on the seat. I tried to ask her to stop ding the dry hump on the seat. But you know friends they can be very lovingly annoying, and we let them.

I would have choked right there out of embarrassment, but it was a glass of laughter, so I survived.  Okay, she seemed to have wanted me, I was sure of it, but I sat there bored as hell enjoying the little boob brushes she did on my head intentionally accidentally. Be a man Bobby, get up! Come on.

She was getting more brave with the dancing on the dance floor as well as the little bossom brush she gave me when she found herself close to my seat.

I thought probably what I needed to do was take a few more so that my brain would block and I would stand up, hold her hips and dance a little. I guess even the shots wouldn't add another ball to my nuts.

I guess it is cause all I was thinking was, hey, my friends are here, all of them, like ten of them, we came here together, besides this is Bella Vista half of the people know me here, have seen me in passing or something, what if I stood up, and held her hips then find out I misread the signs in a very public slap? Will I ever recover from such social humiliation? Wouldn't it be better if I just died? Or packed up and left the country?

I gave myself a little pep talk, be a man and shit. Be confident and shit. All that crap you know, but still I couldn't stand. I simply didn't have the balls. She brushed again more frequently. I even put my hands at the back of the seat I was sitting on, you know sitting like bosses do, and she rubbed on it for a while. A little, then she stops, a little and she stops.

I felt careless all of a sudden. It was my time, I was going to be ready, walk up to her, grab her by her waist, and do a little twist with the music. I was going to seize the night.
There I was, standing up, walking towards her, closing the distance between her and me. I could see her anticipating my coming. (pun intended) I was looking straight at her, she even created space next to her so that I could fit in behind her alright. And I walked right passed her dammit. I chickened out and headed straight for the loo. Looser! Shit!

I wasted my time there, I even used the drier to dry my hands. There was faded music, stupid hellos from people you never talk to, then came back using another route.

She didn't give up. She still tried her luck again. I looked around, there was this girl in a maroon dress it was as tight as a Jimmy hat, her chest was sharp her booty was too big for her. She was perfect for horny. But every time my eyes followed her, she was hugging some guy. The tip toe friendly please-feel-my-things hug, and to me somehow I felt like all these guys had gotten more than a hug from her before. My interest for her was in the toilet after that.

I looked around, fishnet stockings, too short a skirt, ill-fitting tight clothing, face a little not-young, lip stick heavy, too much smoking, legs apart facing everyone instead of the bar. She must be a hooker or something close to that, probably in that line. She had sat there for quite a while sipping a krest or Stoney. Do people still drink that? I wondered, if she hadn't had anyone walk up to her, then I guess people weren't drank enough, first! Second, if she isn't having fun whileas she seems to do these all nights, if she is uncomfortable with the night life which is supposed to be hers judging from how she was dressed;  then why should I beat myself up? Then the night is not an easy jungle to be king at. I later found out she wasn't a hooker anyways thanks to gossip. But she went home alone. I saw.

I didn't find anyone else worth my eyes, they were tempting all right, the dancing, the wiggling, the enchantment of the music, the sudden fast pace of it as if to tell me it is now or never. This is your last chance don't screw up, closing time is almost here. The loudness of the music building anticipation and panic, pick and leave or remain alone with your drinks, I felt like a zombie just standing up and walking in the club, it was as if I was cutting through the air as I walk, I could feel it, swimming in the heavy music.

She was right ahead of me, and our eyes met again. Her top was a dark shade of blue, her hair was wrapped up in some grey band, her body was African proper. As in her jeans took her shape well, it was nothing you used a ruler to design, the curves where heavy. She had stuff you could grab on, go around if you put your hands or your lips around them for a treat. They shook a little as she danced. I wasn't going to let go of my opportunity to seize the moment, I was going to seize the night this time. I passed her; then did my second round to the washroom, as if that was where I was heading. NkT! Shit! Shit! Shit!

Why can't I just stop and grab her waist, her hips, dance a little. Four, five, six, seven...times I walked towards her but didnt say hi dammit! Dammit. The dj wasn't helping, cause as the sun tempted to come up, he played more violent music. As if telling you, act now or time is up. Five, four, three two, one... Closing time is approaching. And I could see people walk out in pairs, when people are scarce standards are dropped. Last result.

I watched her walk away.

My night was a frustration. There are no words to express how much a failure i had become. I got home alone that night, on my bed I thought cause again what more can you do when you are alone? Think right? Evaluate! Beaut yourself up for not having the balls. Not doing what you wanted to do, cause you werent brave enough. At four in the morning I beat myself up for failing to seize opportunity more than I have ever beaten myself up than ever before.

But then it hit me, it is my ego I am protecting. I started counting the number of times I have seen men pull stunts. Write numbers on napkins and send the bar tender with drinks, and the whole thing blew up in their face. They still carry the shame to date. I have also seen some really useless moves work, different circumstance different solution right? The problem with me or rather us is that we want constants, we want a formulae we can apply wherever, whenever and however, we don't want to approach things uniquely.

My ego, and my sense of pride are in the sky. And I don't intend to have them land at whatever airport, my ego is too big to land from grace to Tarmac at J.k.i.a or even j.f.k airpot. I am flying high always. I protect my ego.

That's why I stopped at a cyber cafe the next day. I figured hey, those hot chics must be on Facebook, besides it's Saturday, what else could they be doing? Reading economics? I walked in looked at the fly ones, the ones that seemed to be more aware of themselves than the rest cause that's where beauty begins. And the ones that weren't fly I walked to too, cause they had something that made them put them up on societies ladder. Mother nature hadn't made them so fair, but they adopted and people now look at them thinking, unfair-they have made themselves objects of envy. I approacehed those ones to, got close to their computer screen.

Good, she is on some social media site.

"hey, could I check on something here?"

I felt her smile. It was as if she was happy I was talking to her. But she said a disappointed oh when she found out I was checking out her computer and not her.

I took hold of her mouse. Pretended to roam around My Documents, looking for folders I knew very well weren't there. I could feel myself shake a little inside in excitement by just being next to such beauty, I felt a little nervous, inside I was a wreck of joy but I maintained my calm as I looked for my fictitious files.

"sorry, haven't got the file I was looking for."

I blew up her screen for her, as in expanded the windows I had minimized on her screen.

"they normally erase them, sorry..."

I took a step away to leave, then something pulled me back to her. I think magnetism. No sooner, my lips started moving, I couldn't believe myself.

"hey, by the way, since you are here how about you check out my page?"

"you have a page?"

"what page?"

I typed it in. She typed her number into my phone after some little chit chat. And my ego got inflated like a hot air balloon.

The night before it had been pricked until it become flaccid like loli pops no girl likes, but now. I was not Bobby, whose Bobby? I was Mr.hot-Air-Ballon, riding high in the sky like a Boeing.

Anyways, people dearest, you tell me that you hope I get discovered right? I don't want everyone to read my blog, I want a few but more than a few. Will you share me with the world? That Now or Never Moment. The forums are there, it's your choice, fb or twira.

I am braver here, than at that night club. That will be all and world, it is always a ball being here with you.

R.I.P Bobby


Yesterday I got hungry while i was at my place. The kitchen bulb has a problem so what has been lighting it up when am there is the little light from the fridge. I could use my Kabambe plus the faint little fridge light to make myself some coffee or something but that is it.

I didn't even bother cooking cause it was a few minutes to dark. And cooking is an art that takes time. I decided there will be no cooking for me. I wore my polo shirt, a pair of jeans and my black velvet boots. I looked fresh.

I tied my D-ring belt, combed my hair without applying gel, it was at night and frankly I didn't care much. Haven't you felt like living the house careless on somedays? Let yourself, if your low standards are regarded my most as fairly high standards. I was going to eat alone, by the way why does it feel like a massage to comb hair sometimes? Good for the brain? What do you think? Tried it yet? Oh you have no hair. My bad!

As I was walking in the street I passed some guy. I could promise you he looked a little scary. By that I mean he had a grey sweatshirt or something on which wasn't very clean if you asked me, he rolled up his sleeves and lay on a post just watching around. The pose of an idler. I passed him, and I swear he called me. Wewe!

I stopped by a restaurant, fancy in it's own nature, a place for happy hour. It was alright to seat there alone since guys were watching a game. You can eat alone when guys watch a game right, you pretend you are watching it to.

I played with my blackberry trying to make my long-distance girlfriend smile as I ate. She is an angel, I just love her. I miss her, you hear that baby, I miss you. I owe you the world, and am going to give it to you. I owe it to you cause of who you are, a princess, and what you have done for me. Oh you are so caring.

The fries were great, the sausages to, the waiter was obscenely friendly. She was a little dark, her waive was a little ill fitting so I dismissed her casually like I didn't notice how much a flirt she was being. Besides, am not one to have love for another's eyes when I have love for someone else's. What can you say for yourself on that note?

When i was done. I used the napkin, a light dub. Took the last sip of my half full glass of Alvaro that golden sparkIy liquid. I started to walk back home feeling all satisfied like a fat cat that just had lots of milk and had a warm soft royal cushion to sleep in after some luxurious cat-fish meal.

"hey, I don't know whether you remember me, mimi ni ulee jamaa wa car-wash Kwa nini unanilenga..."

First of all I have never been to a car wash here. Never taken my car or any other car to a car wash here. Other than that, the only thing I have got from from that place is a cab to the Airport. This car-wash guy was talking to me like we were buddies, like sometimes I left home with a towel, soap, gown and slippers to shower at the car-wash. Freak! You stranger! Stop talking to me!

The first time I met this guy, or was it the second I found him close to some mosque on the road I use. He started to introduce himself the same way he did it now but the problem was that he wasn't getting to the point, and it left me wondering. Hey? Wassup? If you want something say it? But then I was in a hurry. I had taken my phone to have it's screen fixed and they were to close shop in a few minutes.

If I wasted any more time listening to this stranger in dirty clothes then, the idler would have made me have to wait till Monday for my BB. How many days are those without push email and BBM. I wouldn't survive, crack berry!

So we' standing there, he wants to talk.

"sasa unajua mimi sikujui, why wouldn't Ignore you?" I tried to level with him.

When I walked, he walked, like we were walking together. Doesnt it feel weired when you walk next to a stranger side by side, you always want to take a step faster ahead, or slower so that it doesn't feel like you are together. So I stopped. He paused.

Earlier this year, before I went back to being the old me which was nothing of an angel or a good person. I would have planned that he gets arrested, raise my head and snob him, assume he wants to rob me, kill me, kidnap me, the list is endless. But I gave him an ear.

There were two guards sitting behind detached from him I think. The guards were facing me, they were behind this stalker, I was facing the stalker, as he talked introducing himself and not getting to the point. The guards waved at me, no, no, as if to give me a warning. I walked away. He camly bitched. That's when I started to worry. Has he been following me all this time? Does he know my routine? Where I live? What has he been planning?

I just woke up from a dream as i write this. The dream had some school kid who went to some local school in town. His uniform was fairly nice but he seemed part of a school gang. He was almost as tall as me, owing to the fact that I am not tall. I had always been afraid of those school kids in my dreams but I thought it was all superstition, they were kids they wouldn't mean me any harm.

In my dream, he showed up confronting me with a broken piece of mirror in his hand, I didn't hear what he was complaining about but I tried to talk him down. I have studied a lot about persuasion and I usually gauge my power of persuasion on change of body language. The more I engaged in talk with him the less aggressive he became.

"I remember telling him we all try, we will manage somehow."

In the end, I was able to get the broken big glass out off his hand. He made a run for it, I ran the other way through a corridor.

I had diffused the situation. I was looking for appropriate places to throw that dreadful piece of glass as I ran. I assumed if he followed me found it, he would use it to finish me. I was running like a feather in the wind, my eyes struggling to find a place to hide the broken-glass weapon. I settled for a small corner of the building. It wasn't as good, but I would throw it so firmly that the glass would crush into miserable unusable pieces. At least after I disposed it I was able to ran a little faster than light.

Problem was that I was running in a straight line. The corridor was open on one side, I could have easily distorted my straight line escape. Everyone knows bullets travel on a straight line.
There was a man in a nicely looking suit and a brown leather bag ahead. He looked like a proper executive.

He saw me running towards his direction and I could read shock on his face. It looked odd for someone of such demeanor to jump into the hedges. I noticed it could only mean he was trying to dodge something. But I didn't act on that instinct.

That's when a large broken piece of mirror came slashing my wrist and the whole upper part of my arm so that I was bleeding heavy. It almost split my neck.

I jumped into the hedges glad he had missed my throat. The guy who attacked me at first?!

Then I started to blame myself. Why didn't I use my mind and save myself, why didn't I duck when I noticed Mr.Smart going for the hedges? --I woke up.

And now that I am thinking. Hey? I have been listening to Family FM often nowadays. Sinning hopelessly, but repenting more, you know it's like my relationship with God is getting back on track.

What if it is a way of warning me? Should I start taking cabs everyday to keep me safe? Should I?

But I have developed a strong sense of being a good lately, and something urges me, to encourage this new angelic behavior in me. So, I might be going to that car wash soon, and in spite of that guy looking like a creep, in spite of the guards who warned me about him I still want to find out what he is really about, maybe I can help? He might be in trouble? Wouldn't it hurt to listen? I might not be able to help much, but I must know someone who can help, if it's help needed.

It might put me at risk yes, I would rather ignore him yes, almost everyone I know would approve to my ignoring him, most people would want me to keep myself safe, but am heading for the danger zone. If I was in his shoes God forbid? Wouldn't I hope that someone saves or helps me? When you get robbed naked, wouldn't you wish someone gave you something to wear back home rather than assume you to be mad?.

I will take a risk. It is a risk. But cause I know there are people who love me, and my putting my life at risk could hurt them, I will be bright about it, before I approach him I will find out from those guards what this stalker dude is about.

And probably I will approach him cautiously, not revealing to much, making it clear I am not wealthy or anything. At least to keep me safe. Regardless if something happens to me, please let this be evidence for the police to use cause I know about their low motivation. I hope they would be motivated enough to find my killer, I believe I have described him perfectly. So if you hear R.I.P Bobby, someone say something!

Monday 19 March 2012

Bedsheets.


I feel like I will have to replace the bedsheets we slept on for the three days we were together. Not so much cause we spilled a little cherry, a smudge of designer chocolate cup cakes and other pastries. A spill of delmonte mango juice or soda. I want to change the bedsheets cause they carry you in them.

Your sent, which is very strong on the left side of the bed. The left side of the pillow we shared. I want to change it cause it will be too much to sleep tonight. I have gotten used to the spooning position. I have gotten used to your beautiful face good morning. But even more than that what I have really gotten used to is speaking with closed lips, kissing with closed lips every time we wake up. Both of us very insecure of ourselves until we find the sink and a gaggle of mouth wash.

It's amazing how I forget to put a waste paper bin in my room, have a few wringgler chewing gums, at least for good morning. Sometimes when I have fresh breath chewing gum, I feel tempted to throw it into the champagne bucket that is on the bed after a few chews of fresh breath mints.

The whole point is not to get out of bed when we wake up baby. Baby, isn't that right? The whole point is to just stay in bed watching the sun rise as we cuddle and what not. Once you get out of bed the warm goes, once you head to the sink the dreaminess is wiped out of your face, no one wants to be very awake. Eyes half opened, kissing, pillow talk from 5 to 10 in the morning half sentences with intervals of dozing off, baby why can't we just make sure we have fresh breath tictaks by the bed? So that we don't have to drain the dream with having to walk to the sink?

We make sure there is a bottle of amarula by the bed, is having tic taks that hard? Am sorry you didn't get to taste the amarula, am sure you would have loved it. But you know my friends came over and they are alcohol thirsty people. We party, we won, we had to celebrate and you know about the Mututho law.

They approve of you by the way. They think you are absolutely awesome. They say you changed me, I lived a very wayward life. They say you brought structure in my life, I say you brought fun.

Its been a pleasure to have you, am still unsure whether changing the bedsheets would be a good idea. If I change them I will still remember you, if I don't I will still remember you. If I don't change them everytime at night in my sleep as I toss and turn and I end up on your left side of my bed I am afraid I will start calling out your name, and I might grab the pillow and hug it, and I fill not feel your curves and I will wake up and I will throw the pillow to the edge of the room, in anger. And I might break something and then I will crumble up in my bed remembering you aren't here and I will feel like dying.

But if I change them, it's no excuse, my eyes will still be heavy and even though nothing feels like a good night like very soft fresh bedsheets, the once that are tucked in at the edge of the bed so that it is smooth. And the pillow is left out in the wind during the day so that it doesn't smell like expired hair gel. Even though nothing feels like a good night like very soft fresh bedsheets that feels the best, having fresh bedsheets on the day you leave will feel like I betrayed you, like I didn't want your sweet perfume to choke me to tears in my sleep, so that I can let it all out, so that I can let me miss you, feel the presence of your absence and die in it.

I wish you could see me, and be proud of how sincerely I do love you.

I want you to be proud of me, like you are when I make that perfect golf swing in the house and knock that bottle I aim at with my friends down to the floor broken.

I am proud of you my love, I am really proud of you, am proud of the way you love and the way you will love, you will make the perfect mother, but this is not a passport to you getting ideas.

I am proud of the way you have started getting frustrated at the ways you screw up, cause that only means that you have found direction and focus, in addition to you have started to have even greater expectations for yourself.

Am about to write something, it is still in the kitchen, I want to have fun writing it, its going to have flavour, am not going to blog it, am going to wrap it up, print it out, edit and rewrite it once it is done, send it to a publisher and have it bound, i will send a ngunia of cash to follow it, then hope it will always be out of stock at the book stands, the demand never meeting supply. More demand than supply, I might be busy for the next year or so, and that will be what I will be doing. I would not have been this far if it wasn't for you.

I will not go that far if it is not with your support. In the end baby you know I will always come back to you.

I miss you. Wish you stayed longer!



Sent from my BlackBerry®

Sunday 18 March 2012

Moment For Life Fuck.


I walk around my eyes noticing everything and everyone. I look at her and I look at her friend. I find a guy talking to a random chic and my urge tells me I should come between them. I need someone.

But I don't, I sit down and watch. I want to approach someone say hi and talk. But my pride will not let me. Screwed up complexity; thinking am better than everyone. But inside I am suffering.

Its annoying. It is saddening but ultimately it is plain right depressing. I live alone. Play golf alone. My books. And I and my blog. No wonder I do work a normal person would take a month to accomplish. But at what price. Truly speaking I am alone, not that I am really alone cause I have so many people around me. I am alone.

I trust strangers more than I do trust those that I know. I wish I would take sometime go to a place where my face is unknown therefore my reputation matters not. And at that place I will wear jeans like everyone else and probably canvas, I will wear a tshirt with jeans combined. Yeah... How wild is that, no polo shirt no blazer, tshirt worn out jeans probably sandals even. And I would seat at a place holding-shop for someone. As in just helping him out as he works, probably a guy by the beach that prepares shisha for people. Double apple or honey like the shisha at Nyali Beach. But not at Nyali Beach cause places like those people don't talk.

And I would be at some place like Pirates. And down to earth people will come to me. Ask me to prepare for them some shisha. And some will be women, and they will be hot in bikinis and short skimpy clothes. Some wet from the water. And there will be no name dropping. There will be no philosophized opinions on how the government should be run, or about the subscribers of the Kenya Concierge magazines and zen garden parties and fashion events.

I walk around this corridors feeling the most alone I have felt. I feel like I felt when I was in class one and in a public sch. I didn't last a term there, my kiswahili was not as great. My Swahili was mixed with kikuyu I think. And most kids didn't talk in English. Sheng was hard. And I played alone. Until no one could take it anymore, and I changed school. It reached a point they didn't care whether I would be influenced to other religions if I joined a private sch.

I played alone. And right now I walk alone. A lot of everything is in the toilet. But things are looking up.

I wish I could talk to someone. Someone I really don't know. Someone I don't need to keep a name with, someone I wouldn't worry about telling my secrets. Strangers keep secrets best. And I think that's what I need.

So I walk in the streets, I walk through the corridors. My eyes meeting everyone's eyes anyone who looks appealing to my eyes. And I almost smile, but I don't cause I feel too proud. I don't want to be seen to want but even worse I do not want to be seen to want anyone. Oh my god. Anyone? Are you kidding?

Any I bet you right if my friends read this post they would think what the hell, but you know, the good thing is that I blocked them out. They would be shocked thinking what they hell. And I would have nothing to say to them.

Cause, they are always with me. And they are the best, we have called car track together, we have gotten each other out of messes, we have done assignments for each other, we have partied together, we have made memories together. We are still together and we laugh together. And I net that's why they would ask, what the hell more do you want Bobby?

But let me tell you who would get most hysterical. My girlfriend. Oh she would get reading this. I promise you. She will tell me it is a good piece cause she knows it is. But there will be tears in her voice. I haven't seen her in weeks but I know how she sounds sad. She will be sad cause she will think she is not enough, but she is, you are. If I chose 50 hottest girls in the world they wouldn't be as what you are combined. You are the girl that I am comfortable with you are what is keeping me going even though I don't know what is causing me this aloneness.

Or maybe I am walking in the streets, through the corridors, desparate for eye contact, open body language, desparate for conversation. Not with me but with a stranger. Maybe that stranger is heaven. But it can't be, cause that relationship I for it sorted. I am required to build a house of water, easily put I am required to so the impossible for the last two or so weeks. And that is why every morning before I get out of bed I say a very heart felt prayer, for invisibility. That relationship is doing good. It could be better I could listen to heaven more, perhaps flip a page or two of the good book, probably watch a little family tv or even better continue listening to spiritual stations as I sleep. I talk he listens, he talks I hope I learn to listen more than talk. It can't be that that is making me feel alone, or is it that?

I don't really know what is wrong with me, and at this rate I think I am going to start acting like a nut case. In the aim of looking at random people I might fall into the wrong hands. And reveal things that will being me tragedy. Have history repeat itself, get caught and held tortured like was before.

My eyes closed for like 4 days, and those kidnappers, my captives watching kidnapping movies as I sit there holding my watch counting the pieces of it straps like a rousart and praying that I get let free. I can't talk to who I want. I can't handle this.

But I guess I have to stick to plan as usual, when times are hard like this, and my heart doesn't want to be still, my plans remain. Go to class. Read some law. Cook some ravioli. Watch some television. Text some friends email a publisher. Talk to my girl friend. Write a blog post. Go play some lawn tennis with my tennis buddies. Anticipate going to Naivasha for horses. Try to keep sane. Try not to talk to anyone you don't know. Buy the askaris at the gate some ham, lettuce and bread. They will enjoy the treat. But don't say hi to them cause they might develop an interest to end my life.

I wish I could have this moment for life. Fuck!

Wednesday 14 March 2012

Philanthropic Ambitions



I have been around the world, and I promise you this, no one goes out their way to do bad to themselves. 

You better believe it, because a police person takes a bribe cause he wants a bigger house. Every bad act has one thing in common, the person who is acting the way they are has a misconception of what good is. Say one commits suicide which is bad since everyone has problems, some just know how to hide them better than others. Say one commits suicide, he thinking he is going to finally escape from the cruel world, go to some other place where it's quiet and peaceful. An employee drinking so much he forgets work, he believes he must live and have fun. Every bad act is done out of a misconception of what is good.

That's why information is power.

She logged in to her Facebook account on my iPad. She was flipping channels on my Telly, it was at around midnight we had just been on my bed.

"what other tv series do you have?"

"Life in the Times of Tim."

"where is it?"

Pressed play.

"cartoon?"

"no it's an animation..."

"the cartoons don't even look like real cartoons I want to watch something else. They look like drawings."

"come on give it time, you will love it I promise...it's witty and the characters are incredible..."

"I will Facebook, you watch it if you want to..."

I pressed eject and put something i thought we would both enjoy. She still continued to Facebook on my iPad.

"Am not feeling well..."

"what's up?"

"I don't know..."

I watched her. She didn't want to eat, food didn't want to go down her throat regardless of the fact that that was chicken I had made for her.

I ordered a pizza, she simply played with the food on it, she never ate it. Should I take her to hospital? But am not her parent... I made her a chicken sandwich with lettuce in it, she plainly didn't want it. I put on an accent trying to make her laugh, she kept her eyes on the screen flipping through photos, until she got into bed, I dozed off. I woke up, she was still awake. Worried. 

"are you okay?"

I found myself calling a cab over. She wore something to cover herself, and we were off to town. Hospital bills can burry you, especially when you are a student and their is no way you can call home telling them...some girl...in my house... What were you doing with a girl in your house?

"wait for us here..."

We left the cab guy onto the dusty stairs. I felt bad, cause I wouldn't let myself get treated at a hospital with dusty stairs, and here I was taking this girl to a hospital that has dusty stairs.

I felt guilt eat me up so much, half way up the stairs I felt my mind tell me No, No, No, No, they tell you this is how things are done. She should just call her parents, it's even not that serious. You owe her nothing. That's how things should be done, don't obligate yourself. But that wasn't me...

We didnt get up to the top of the fleet of the dusty stair. Back to the cab.

"twende Agha khan."

She was quiet. I dismissed her question by a simple, am sure that hospital is better. 

I let her seat down at the waiting room, dismissed the cab guy. Went to the reception desk. We ended up going to the hospital next to it. Panya, which is pretty awesome to, has quite a number of specialist. 

"how long?"

"one hour..."

"okay."

We went to Creamie Inn, the one on your way to Likoni. She had the icecream with almonds in it. I had the green one with mint and chocolate. I told her she will be fine. I said a prayer and promised her she will be fine. She looked really unwell, but the icecream helped somehow.

We were back in an hour. She took the pills I got from the chemist close by. No sooner than later she was glowy and happier than I have ever seen her.

And a Friday came and went, her text came and I sent. Her Facebook account got hacked and she asked me to fix it for her. 

She gave me her password but it couldn't log in. I asked her for her email password but it bounced. She forgot her security question she had set as an alternative if she forgot her email password, she forgot the alternative email to recover her password. She was trapped.

She claims am the brightest person she knows. That flatters me. I almost told her I was busy, until I thought what if I was in her shoes. I have to be true to myself, I have to help her. And it took me days, I emailed Facebook, I had them send codes. I spent hours trying to help her. She sometimes gave up feed up, but I told her not to worry. We would sort it out. 

It's frustrating to see an update you put up on your wall and the truth is its not you who put up. And people are calling to find out why such an indecent photo has been made public. And it annoys you that your number is put out there on a status update. And there are 4000 and over people watching and you can't call all of them to tell them your account has been hacked. You can't deactivate. You didn't even know all of them, you can't even see the updates you have to get told by someone else. And I felt for her, and I prayed and hoped nothing as such happened, hints of that happened. So, whenever I wanted to fall asleep instead of sorting her issues up. This possibility hit me and I kept awake.

And her hope that she would gain control of her account came and went, mine remained, cause it's always a risk when someone steals your identity, you never know what they can do with it. And there possibilities are endless...but even more than that it is painful and I felt pain for her.

Finally, Facebook asked for three friends a code should be sent to. It would take a day or two for them to get the codes then pass them back to the email. 

She gave me the three friends she trusted the most and I asked Facebook send their passwords to them. All she needed to do was to call them and get it.

Two days, just one called back and gave her code...

"hello, Bobby, I opened another account..."

"okay."

"...and the person using my old account inboxed me on it asking me if I wanted my password back."

And in my mind I was like shoot, shoot, shoot. You know people are scary when they pull such stunts.

"hello, I have quit facebook, I dint want this stress..."

"don't worry, we will sort this out..."

The next day. I get a text in capital letters. I hate you. I hate you I know it is you who hacked my account. Am guessing she is angry she wants to vent out. So I leave the text alone, cause in my mind, regardless of what she says what is important is she gets control of her account, otherwise reputation gone, stalkers have access to personal information. A tragedy in the making. So I let her vent out, every time she made noise at me, I worked harder, thought of ways to outsmart the bastard. She said I was smart after all?

Then all of a sudden she texts claiming that I sent her the password in the morning. And am thinking what the hell? Then I start thinking, yes, yes, finally. She has her password back. Yes. 

After the joy reality started to sink in, and I started thinking, okay... Why would someone do such a thing, hack an account then give the password back. And it hit me, if she had been sending the same messages she was sending to me to the person who had hacked her account on Facebook. The I hate you Bobby, I hate you, I know it is you Bobby, I know it can't be anyone else. But in fact it was someone else.

The someone else must have decided, who is this Bobby guy she is talking about. And I bet you right he snooped through my inbox with her.

And I would like to believe he found that I always inboxed her about having her interest at heart. I bet he found out I have always hoped for good for all those that cross my path. And he must have decided since he can't come clean on his identity, since he had been called Bobby so much, he decided it was over and done with, and inboxed her her password. Or he thought I was a good person and felt guilty I was suffering on his behalf.

"hello?"

"I have blocked you..."

"I know it was you Bobby, I have deactivated my account and blocked you."

"hey have you..."

Line went dead. All I wanted to do is first of all tell her that it makes no sense to change her Facebook password while she has no access to the email that created it. I wanted to tell her that now that she got the password what she should do is create a new email as fast as possible and set it as her primary facebook email. I would have begged her, cause I knew the drill. Change the Facebook password, change the email password, the hacker send the password recovery to the alternative email which I think he had access to but she had forgotten who it was. Or something?

But at the end of the day, he would hack back, and as she sat in her house comfortable thinking she has finally done, deactivated her account, it could be activated again, pictures start making there way like Amani's did. And I couldn't have that. But she had blocked my number, I had no reason to struggle trying to help her, I could walk away.

But it ate me, so I texted her, I told her everything she had to do in simplified terms. Step one: create two new emails, one back up for the other. Step:2 make it your Facebook email... And hoped she would listen to me, cause if she didn't she would suffer.

I told her, at a time like this, I knew she was hurt, I was hurt to that she decided to blame me after I spent those sleepless nights trying to help her, and all she told me was, you think you are such a genius. I know it's you who hacked. I was hurt but I told her I put other people's interest first, and I put yours first and regardless of her accusing me I still helped her.

She told me she didn't care if the person who hacked her account deactivate it. I asked her ti be an angel, that in spite of all the hurt she felt, she should out other people's interest first, inspite of it being her account, she should remember there are people she inboxes, and their interest wouldn't be to have that information publizixed. I dint know whether she listened. But I texted her all that, very long text.

I knew at the beginning that every good act doesn't go unpunished, but I was ready for it. When you get involved in helping someone who has been hurt, you get blamed in the end. Try to take a person who has been hit by a car to the hospital and see what happens. I hoped things wouldn't turn out that way, that i would do good and she will be so hapoy that i helped her, but I was ready if they turned the other way, I was ready for anything, all I knew was she was in shit she knows nothing about computers, a complete blonde, but she was a genius at maintaining her popularity. I had to help her. And I did and it bit me up my ass.

Yes, she walked out of my life, I wonder how she thought I would benefit from traumatizing her. Come on, if I wanted her password she would give it to me, she gave it to me, I logged her out when she left my house forgetting to log out on my iPad, we sexed, I took her to hospital when she was worried, and they ran my credit card cause walking with that cash is ridiculous. I had everything I wanted from her, she had everything she wanted from me, why would I want to traumatized her? I wonder what the person who hacked her account wanted? Sex? Money? I didnt lack any of those. But you know emotion can make you break very good relationships out of bad rush decisions. I took her to buy those blue cosmetic contact lenses after hospital so that she could be happy, I was a complete angel to her. 

I guess she will never believe me, but I don't care for that as much as I care for the fact that I put myself in the line to save a life. And through all that I was able to maintain being good and having other people's interest before mine. And I hope heaven decides that I will not be talking about which cars are the best of their class, cause I will be above that, I hope heaven decides that I will not have what yatchs are the best of their class, but what helicopters are the best in their class, who knows, I might even know the Mercedes of submarines. And when I know that, I bet I will have enough resource to lay everything I have for another human beings interest, cause that is how to be an angel, that is how you save a life. The greater the resource the wider the sphere to help.

I guess am not ever going to let her sex me again, no matter what, cause that's the one thing you can't be an angel about. You never help people with sex no matter what, and I love that that is a fact. 




*****next post by to be published after this;

I walk around my eyes noticing everything and everyone. I look at her and look at her friend. I find find a guy talking to a random chic. And my urges tell me I should come between them...(to be continued in next post)

Friday 9 March 2012

Do you really need to read anyone else?




If just for one day I was asked to go through a day without self advancement, if for just a day I lived like a normal person without ambition, without planning, I promise you I will be depressed to melancholy.

I need a dose of challenge. Make it too small a dose of challenge and I will get bored about life and with life.

Give me too high a dose of challenge and my ambition will turn into frustration. All you need to depress a country is advertise materialism then offer no path to wealth and people will get desperate.

I am used to challenges, very basic ones. I have arranged my life in such a way I have my Wants at the top and they are many. They are as challenging as buying a plane, therefore they excite me when I wake up in the morning. And I spend most of the day thinking about the creative means I can achieve that, what paths to use. And those paths I intend to use are never the conventional ones, they are legit cause I believe in good-for-people and angelic behavior but I also believe invention exists. So how I get to own a plane, is not how people got to own planes.

Give me a dream ambitious enough to steal my heart, give me time to think everyday of the best plan to achieve this and I will be a happy man.

And that is what keeps me smiling, that is what makes me energetic, a compelling dream that can steal my heart. Not a dull one that arouses no emotion in me.

And when I have such a dream my whole person turns into an extrovert. I talk better to people, cause am happier, have you ever talked to a sad hungry man? It gives me joy. I don't know where you find most of your joy, I have told you where I find half my joy.

If you find your joy between bed sheets then I also have something about that for you...

In my experience I have found that when you don't understand an article, go back to the beginning and find out what paragraph you didn't understand, when you don't understand a paragraph mostly it's cause of a sentence in it you didn't understand but you still went on reading to the next regardless. When you don't understand a sentence it might be a word in the sentence you didn't understand.

Everything in life is a challenge that needs solving to me. And a challenge is solved one step at a time. You simplify the problem to understand it better and then try to solve it.

I have always wondered why having lost my virginity a little late, why the hell have I been given so much sex?

Hard question to answer, hard enough to motivate me to do whatever it takes to answer it. I had many ideas of finding out.

"hey, why did you have sex with me?"

"pardon?"

"why did we have sex?"

"gosh... I dint know, I just liked the way you..."

"why do you like me?"

"mhhhh..."

"why are most people stranded when you ask them why they like you?"

"...I guess I like the way you vibe me."

Line dead.

"hey, why did you have sex with me?"

"are you kidding me, it's 3 in the morning."

"just tell me please..."

"I don't know, I guess a lot of things I like your brown eyes, you have good taste..."

Line dead.

And as I turned a page of the e-book I was reading. I found out that the worst people to ask why they acted in the way they acted are the people who make decisions to act like that.

Here me out... Tell me which one of the two is a tidy person?

---I made such a mess.

---I like my things arranged.

The second one right? The one that likes their things arranged. Wrong. Both of them are neat people, cause a neat person is the one that will see that he has made a mess cause he likes things arranged. A messy person will not normally notice he has made a mess cause he is messy all the time.

That is why even though I want to ask women why they have had sex I will not take their word for it. They might believe that's the reason but that isn't.

At such points of thinking, normal people will start getting agitated. Why? Cause that's what new information does. When you realize you have been making decisions on wrong theories you start to reject new information, cause it's overwhelming. How much more do I have to learn? You start asking yourself, and automatically your mind zones out.

My mind accepts it, even though I resist change sometime, I accept it cause I want better, and I accepted it, it was at 4am and I was all fired up. I wanted to know why women have given me so much sex for my age. And if asking them wasnt a valid source of answer, relevant but not always valid I looked at others.

And I made a list of the last so many women I sexed with. And the scenario has relatively been the same. Somehow they find themselves in my house. We talk, we eat.

We get touchy as I cook, or as we do other innocent things. Then we start to get obviously touchy. But we decide we aren't going to have sex cause it's the first time we have met.

And things get heated up. I get heated up. When you are two people your behavior will always influence the other persons. So, instead of asking the other person to remove an article of their clothing, lose yours instead, in fact go on and ask them to keep theirs on.

And when things get hot don't be afraid to have fun and lose yourself. As much as you try to hide your breathing, let yourself go cause it might work to your advantage.

Cause there she is, watching you loose you mind regardless of her clothes being on and her being stiff. The fire builds up and she want to be part of the excitement.

"let me help you get my bra off, you might tear it."

And she promises it's just that. And it's always like that, just a little, just a little. Sooner than later.

You are facing the ceiling enjoying the after glow. She is looking into your face searching for answers.

"So, I hope you will try to tell no one about this?"

"why would I?"

"I dint know, men like telling their boys."

"don't worry, I will not."

And then she wants us to do it more often even though we aren't in a relationship with her cause women like commitment. So, if we do it once, we should do it again cause it will feel more right to her and she will not feel like a slut cause it's the first day we met remember. If she walks away after doing it for one night with a stranger she is a slut, if I walk way she is still. If we do it again and again it's a friends with benefits.

And so, in my conclusion, after observing what actually happens more than asking what happens. I have found that, observation makes for better analysis sometimes. That's why I think magazines that tell us why women have sex are sometimes shit. Information is good but a lot of information is better, this is reality it's not that simple, you cannot explain the human mind in a few paragraphs, come on!

So, I think with most and not all the women I have slept with it started on, I-like-you. Cause most decisions are made out of emotion and later those decisions are supported by reasons; and you know reasons; they can be inaccurate.

And I think the next thing is venue. If their is a bed, the higher the chance you will have sex.

Close to the brain their is a part of the brain that shows overwhelming activity when you are in an MRI when you think about yourself. In humans it is a bigger chuck of brain matter than other animals, scientiest say it is for that reason we are very different from other animals. We are very much aware of ourselves.

Next to it, behind your left eye their is the part of the brain that shows a lot of activity when one is having an orgasm. This part of the brain makes you aware of the pleasure you get from a certain act and makes you want to repeat it to feel the pleasure. And for some reason it blocks your reasoning for a bit.

So, I guess that's why i have had all that sex, cause we found ourselves in the house alone, on my bed where it is easiest to convince anyone to have sex, and the heat got up and the brains shut down and we became animals.

Or, it could be my charm and the colorful words I through at girls, or the fact that my mind might be a powerhouse or my ideas are so crazy they excite them...

Am not sure, but when I say once she is in your house by her own will or after you have talked her into it rationally, or caressed her heart and made her feel she want to come into you house emotionally. Chances are higher you will bang together than the sometimes stupid theories not-down-to-earth and poorly researched magazines try to sell to you.

But I will read them, I will read everything, cause that's my life, I love to learn, I love new information, a high dosage of challenge to my brain makes me alive, a low challenge to my brain bores it and dulls my life. Too hard a challenge to my mind depresses me like a society that advocates for capitalism but not establish opportunities to channel the masses motivation to make money.

So, the right dosage of challenge is what excites me life, a little more cause I love my dreams to be compelling enough to steal my heart.

Thursday 8 March 2012

Do not let go.




Have you ever been to a place where you had so many people around you but yet you felt the very alone?

"we had fun the last time we were out... Bobby, tonight we party, so I will met you there at 9pm?"

"I guess."

"what do you mean you guess... You're coming! don't dare fail us!"

And there I am. All guys seated around the table. Like knights knowing very well we run the world, anyone of us can pick and take home. In addition, they know the bouncers so we can get in free. If I started a fight, if they started a fight we would be okay.

"Do you want to dance Bobby?"

"stand up and dance Bobby..."

"have some fun Bobby."

"drink up Bobby..."

"why do you take sminoff Bobby? Baileys Bobby? Really?"

And every night I watch them. Boys being boys. Boys that have read magazines and embrace confidence. I watch them move their chairs close to a table with three random dames sitting together. I watch them attempt to make conversation. I watch them getting touchy.

I watch them get rejected.

I stand at the door with my blackberry. The rooms dark. The club is music up. And the mood is loose and friendly.

It's a good night for everyone.

And some girl in a green dress passes by and knocks me. Down stares some two hot dames in a maroon and a black dress brush on me. A sign?

It's a good night dammit.

And I have done this for years. Let's go party, let's go out. That's how to start this semester. Let's do this, let's be young let's party.

Why do I do this every night? Every weekend? Why do I put myself through this? Watch hot women dance and get picked up? Why do I watch people connecting with and networking without me? Say hi to who say hi to him say hi to her, she says hi to all of them but me. We don't know each other?

Exactly the things that make me hold the steering to that Mercedes at the parking lot and drive it home until the exhaust pipe bursts out.

Do we have to work for everything? I feel like sometime all I am doing is acting right, doing things to hold it together. Everything needs my actual input to survive.

And sometimes my phone has 30 texts unanswered cause am too busy trying to keep away the spam on my blogs. Sometimes my phone rings and I put it on silent, don't want to pick the phone seated with friends at some lounge.

The worst part, in me, I feel like for some reason, if i don't text back, if i didn't make an effort to call back, if I didn't wear my watch, if I didn't buy those shoes, if I didn't hug back those who hugged me. They would walk away and I would be alone.

I feel like if i didn't go out with them, one time, they will forgive me, the second time, they would be mad, the sixth time I would be out of their lives. So keep a smile. Hug everyone, drink up, throw your glass up, cause it's a good life right?

Hate the place, but let them pick all the girls, leave you with none, let them show you how confident they are, bold enough to walk up to random people and open their legs. Watch them walk to the dance floor, dance with a number, every time leaving it and holding their phones the lights from their screens conspicuous showing that they are exchanging contacts. Win! Enjoy that, considering I have two left feet and I always remain to watch the handbags, lest I be brave, show up on the dance floor like rock-October festival and watch people sneer at how ridiculous I conduct myself with my two left feet. Oh how I love the night life.

Head home cold and alone. At least I have a girl right?

But aren't I holding the relationship together, with a steady supply of love. What if I run out? Everything I hold together falls apart right. Left alone like a grave.

Drinks are one me, therefore love me. This shirt is worth a smart phone and I hate it, but look up to me cause of that. Here is a text message I sent you describing how beautiful you are, enjoy my charm. My perfume always smells nice so hug me. Wear a sad face even when am happy, the guards at the door to your apartment have to see that in spite of the  perfect life you have been living you are sad. Have their sympathy cause if you don't they will report you for the noise you make all night with chics screaming your name, random ones.

"Huyo kijana ana ishi hapa ana make noise sana..."

"ehh Huyo sijui Bobby."

"there is nothing else he does rather than shopping."

"he doesn't know what hardwork is he wakes up late... Always."

"but he always seems so sad, he has a lot of problems."

"probably we should just not report him he seems too stressed"

"sawa, lakini if it wasn't for that, I wouldn't keep up with his behavior"

Yes, there Bobby. Don't snap, don't you dare. Don't dare update that, everyone is watching you now, people now talk about you, smile, say something witty, tell a joke. Wear a happy face, smile, don't be a snob. Let's party.

When everything you hold together, the image you keep, the relationship you have, the relationships you have, the people that listen to you, the hundreds that started looking up to you, don't dare snap. The life you have you created for yourself, the moment you snap it will all come falling down. The demand and everything else is there cause you put work to have that. Snap, get out of control and everything you hold together comes trembling down.

Isn't it every billionaires story, make a million is easy, but once you do that you have to protect it, suddenly you have everything to lose, you have to make sure you dont blow it all up. And you get trapped. Sometimes it is more painful not to cry than to actually cry.

I am never here really for everyone. This words are just my hobby, my way of fun. And I have had my release. Am okay now.

Drink up Bobby, wear that smile, hold everything together, cause everything is working out for you cause you make it work out. When you let go of everything you will fall off from the clouds. Letting go of everything you hold is your fastest one-way-ticket from grace to grass.

Wednesday 7 March 2012

Long nights every night.



The world spins. The sun rises. But when the sun sets is when we are the happiest. The last days of the week are the sweetest. The last hours of the day are the most enchanting. I love night. You love night. We even get married and do at night.

From work, from school, from whatever, the best moments of the day are the moments you get into bed to sleep or to sleep with. Either way, it is a beautiful moment.

To escape the world we close our eyes. You play the leading role in your dreams. You are the director of your dream. In dreams we bath in milk and honey. We cloth ourselves in silk and splashes of love. We travel in jets and kiss in private islands. We court whoever we want and they get trapped in our love nets for as long as we want them to and not only that they do everything we wish them to do as if that is enough they seem not to don't stop doing what we want them to do to us until we are satisfied. How mad were you when someone woke you up from your most sensational dream? When finally you had everything you wanted, everyone you wanted, however you wanted them?

I can't help but notice each one of the billions of people on earth sleeps. I walk on the streets thinking to myself. He sleeps. She sleeps. I wonder for how long? This one, has to be for six hours? Seven? Or four? A mother, less time cause she has to take care of the kid. This guys is just swamped in bills, doesn't sleep as much. Oh my, this one sleeps, that radiant face, she sleeps lots, probably that's why exams mess her up. This other one, i think has a house help so, she sleeps too. This one does things at night, that skirt is too short for her not to be doing things at night. She cant just wait to wake up in the middle of the night. This guy staring at her, oh this one never sleeps. He must be a complete estate dog. No matter who they are, the president, a guard, a carpenter, a cobbler, a student (anytime but exam time, series time or party they all sleep) And I just love that I can think such thoughts with no one knowing what am thinking about. Such things make me love living. The fact that no matter who did what, we all sleep.

But I don't sleep...

I get special visitors at night.

My visitors always come dressed in light colors. They make rackety noises at my corridor, they shake my curtains. They play with my windows. They open taps so that drops of water drip so loud and conspicuously I come out of my sleep.

I walk out of bed cautious to the bathroom with all the spot lights on just incase these visitors decide it's my day. But they are always here everyday am almost giving them names.

Ghosts visit me all nights. I am thinking of serving them coffee cause everyday? Only problem is they turn the warmest part of my body into ice, and people who do that are not people you share coffee with.

It wouldn't help if I took a sleeping pill cause in my dreams ghost are more real than they are in reality. You know, in dreams you never can tell the difference between reality and fiction. The threat of a snake is as real as the threat of a monster that doesn't exist. In dreams monsters are reality. And that is why I never sleep at night.

It's amazing how you can have everything and miss peace of mind, miss a good night rest.

And every time their is a noise outside, I gather up some courage carry a golf club go check up on it. I walk stealthily.

I never find a thing. The wind stops blowing when I walk out to the balcony.

The moment am back in. Door shut. There goes the wind again. Causes my bin to topple over, and chairs to move. Such idiots they are leaving evidence! How do you switch off your lights when that happens?

That's why I am very cross with Kenya Power. Lets assume there are all those noises. Some parts of this large house cooler than others. Some hotter, the windows and doors are such but somehow a certain breeze is always blowing from funny places. How do you explain a breeze coming off from places completely sealed? Then Kenya power and lighting turn the mains off! Crap!

I wish i could sleep in public cause public is the safest place when it comes to these things. But you know. I can't go sleep on the street.

Long ago I used to invite a girl over. She would sleep next to me and on those nights I slept early and like a child.

Somehow am braver when am around a girl. I would ran away from a snake when am alone. But when am with a girl I am always looking for a stick and a stone to show the snake who is boss, and to protect girl.

I flip channels, I flip pages of books, big books that I shouldn't be reading, books totally unrelated to what I study, I blog, it kills time, I listen to music but nothing too strange cause strange music at night feels evil and I don't want ghosts. So sweet music, sometimes classical cause it doesn't have words.

And I swim in the Internet, check out this, check out that, learn this, learn that...

Sometimes I get sleepy. At times I go to the kitchen, I pour myself coffee when my eyes are heavy cause I can't dare close the curtains. I know the moment i let my eyes shut i will be watching nightmares on end.

I stare out of the window. All houses have their lights off. People are dead asleep. And I envy them. I can't sleep.

Sometimes I wish I could do what I used to do, invite someone over not so much to sleep with, but so that I can sleep. But you know what happens when you fall into a woman's arms...

Nowadays I call her. She let me into her heart. I told her to say the word and I would be her man. When the nights get cold and scary. The world punishes me for being comfort and brings me ghost at night. I fight back. When it gets too bad, I switch from Capital FM to Family FM. That cools me down.

When the wind whispers death at night. The world becomes heartless I fight back. I wake up the next day with circles under my eyes. But I slash water at them and soak them in milk and honey and walk tall.

Like I am ordinary, like am like everyone else, who peacefully sleeps. It never comes up in conversations. Cause dirty linen and weakness are only exposed at home.

"baby, tonight I have a feeling, I know it's four o'clock in the evening, but I know tonight will be a really nasty night love. I can feel it. I will cross the streets tall and majestic to meet you, and everyone will see that all is perfect. But baby, when the doors shut, when the curtains are closed, and it is just you and me, I will stop carrying you, I will lay you on the bed, and I will fall into pieces in between your arms. The day I manage well, but the nights...just hold me. It's a fresh piece of hell every night here, worst is that i don't know what am fighting. I know i might never achieve the peace i always hope to but its okay cause you have been here for me... I literally wouldn't survive without you. I need you, as much as I need to write to kill this long nights"

Nothing is quite for sure but I just hope your love for me just holds cause...

It's at night and am walking towards you from the world, I want to let you know by the time I get to your arms I will be breaking down save me.

Friday 2 March 2012

A desperate cry




Desperate utterances are inexcusable whatsoever. Make known your loneliness, publicize your debts, advertise your horniness and society will knock you down a notch off your social hierarchy. Everyone will shelve you as inferior and them superior. They will not show it openly but if you are observant the subtle signs are conspicuous.

That's why people hide their transcripts. When results are out and you don't cover your grade and someone gets a glimpse of it, and it isn't appealing. Kiss bye bye to them coming to you for an opinion on something they don't understand. It is a norm to gauge people. Am not saying it's a good norm not believing something doesn't make it go away.

The only way you can afford to expose yourself as desperate. Is when it is in a song or colorful art. Remember Akon and Lonely. Am so lonely, am Mr. lonely, with nobody...

It's only when desperate is exposed in artful manners with color that it is appealing. He must have been really lonely to come up with such a well-written song. It was so colorful you didn't realize that he might actually have been lonely, did you? as in Akon, lonely... No way!

I am desperate.

See, lonely cannot quite apply to someone that is of such stature. Why?

Cause unlike me, he has exposure. It doesn't matter how beautiful you are if you aren't exposed. Out of 10 people something ugly will not get attention, but expose 1000 people to that ugly thing, you are bound to find someone of a different opinion, add 100000000 people into that equation and we have what democracy has brought;- No matter how much porridge a well known politician has in his head, provided he has exposure he will always outdo the genius politician with no exposure.

I guess Akon can sing Lonely, but after that song, I don't think he has been lonely since. How could he when he colored his desparate state in such a way it brought him such exposure.

Living in a world where you use the same streets, meet the same people, spend your time in the same buildings, no new people cross your path, everyone is a friend so nothing intimate can happen, then I guess at some point you will snap, grab a guitar get on stage and sing you are Mrs. Lonely, you have nobody, in such a nice way people will not think you are lonely they will just feel your words before you have enough exposure to not be lonely.

And when the exposure comes, it will be like you are a bar tender, only with higher status. Everyone is in your space wanting to get something from you to fix them.

And in a night, more than 100000000 people have talked to you, want something from you. All you have to do is select.

"hey, can I have three beers?"

"oh, sure here..."

"you dont want the money?"

"no, i own the bar, drinks are on me. Have fun."

"ahh nice."

and she flips her ponytail so that it's on one side of her shoulder. She does a strategic bend and looks to the side in order to get the best position to pick the bottles of beer to take them to her table. She does a little smile, and you can't help but noticed something looks obscenely indecent about what she is doing, you like it though but you can't put your hand on it; just yet.

And another dame steps up...

"hey, can I have two beers?"

And when you have taken enough the bar tender takes back his bar. You drop your name tag and seat next to anyone.

And that is how I wish this blog was. If somehow I could get it to have a way people have to pass by it to get something. You know, like if there was a way you could have dames walk up to you and start conversations with you before you steer the conversation to bedroom talk. It would be more of a success than it is now? Agree?

Am not saying it's not. But you know, once you get 10 you want 100, once you get 100, a 1,000 becomes a stone through away, then 10,000 becomes an exciting ambition. Am doing well, but would it hurt if I did better? Wouldn't you want me to do better?

See how the desperate thing colored in nice words looks like? Beautiful, sincere, right? Honest?

Would it be nice if in addition to using the same routes, going to the same building, meeting the same people she would go to some Green World Movement, get a Volunteer position, become posted at some desk outside some posh place, with thousands of human traffic.

"hi, so what's this about?"

"it's about planting trees for a greater tomorrow..."

'okay, this guy isn't hot, let's get it over with.' she would think.

"hi, so what's this about?"

"it's about planting trees for a greater tomorrow..."

'okay, now this guy is just weird, can't he just get some roll-on or soap' she thinks.

"hey, so what's all this green stuff about?"

"it's about planting trees for a greater tomorrow..."

What she meant to say in her mind is 'dude, what is this green stuff about tomorrow, it's about today, how can your feet still stink this much while they are still in your shoes, i bet your toes are green and rotten just go please please please...just go.'

"thank you lovely afternoon." Go shower! NkT!

Too many people today...

"hey, what's this green thing about..."

'oh my god, ask me for my number, ask me for my number. Please.' she would hope.

"if I started explaining it, it would take half a day... But basically we plant trees and there is a possibility that we will have a camp, but am not sure..."

"cool, so should I give you my contacts or will you give me yours to book the for the camp?"

"I was actually joking about the camp thing, that's just something I am hoping for, a tree planting camp somewhere, anywhere but Nyeri..."

Hehe

"you funny..."

"can I have your contacts..."

If it was that easy then my blog would have a lot of exposure. There are people who will pass by and there hearts will be taken, some will take a heart to.

If 10 new people passed by here, some might not be so thrilled to check out the next post, if 100 new people passed by here quite a number of them will be thrilled enough to check out my other posts, if 1,000,000,000 people passed by here you can be sure even if i wrote mud with that number of people passing by here, I will have stolen enough hearts to pack up and leave a legend.

Cause that's the way life is...so now the hard part is where to get the busiest street on the Internet. Not in NewYork, that's easy...in Kenya.