love drug

When they say heart break only makes you stronger, that is just hokum as I found out the hard way. The reality is that it makes you come to terms with the loser that you already are and not a better person. When someone you always thought will always be there for you walks out on you, how can you move on? They were your hope, your worldly purpose and everything else that kept you sane. Please tell me, where are you supposed to move on to exactly?

This gets one thinking Love is just another marketing gimmick like Christmas intended to capitalize on frail hearts. When you realize how crazy you get, spinning out of control, falling heads over feet all the while craving more and more of it, like a hopeless junky with his weed, hooked for life. Withdrawal from it shatters your senses reminiscing on when you were love drunk as you wallow in a nerve wrecking hangover that lasts forever.

I guess I am done with this love business, because it is not meant for me and neither is it written in stone. Everybody expects you to love and be loved but what if you are not that kind of person, is it a prerequisite? I do not think so; love is not a daily dose for curing loneliness but a fatal remedy for concocting psychological disaster. I guess it is about time I officially went on emotional lockdown like George Clooney and stop chasing around what is not meant for me.

POLITICALLY INCORRECT

It comes naturally of course when we loath and shy away from politicians. They all seem to be doing some dirty business behind the scenes away from our prying eyes and later emerge with million dollar smiles or sometimes bloody hands. If not stealing maize, it is votes they are stealing and they always manage to get away with it. That is what we call genius people not barbarism.

For the past few days it has been extremely hard or shall I say inevitable to escape the clutches of these esteemed citizens. They seem to jump out of any crook and cranny as you walk in the street to shower you with promises which we both know will never ever come to pass. Anyway, like any civilized member of society, I humbly gulp down the crap they feed my tiny head and it goes right through me. I had to endure one in the library floor as he ‘convinced’ me how he would make the campus party run for a whole week. Poor guy forgot that the library was badly in need of books and sitting space which I was hot on my heels after.

Some care so much for their student supporters that they are much obliged to buy them a pot of ‘busaa’ to keep them awake as they preach their agenda. A few hours later, the whole entourage is dead drunk, sprawled on the floor. When they come around they probably will not remember who bought the beer or how they got their in the first place. The newly recruited supporters will be found in a certain eatery the next day confidently chanting slogans to another political aspirant or receiving money from yet another philanthropic politician.

A small encounter nearly changed my perception of the politicians and their antics. This very well dressed gentleman winged by a bunch of burly guys had the audacity to stop our scholarly ‘gang’ as we trudged to class oblivious of the fact that we were running late. I offered a hand shake but got an embrace and a ‘hello comrade’ instead. Oh yeah, you do not get that every day from a complete stranger now, do you? It was more of a bear hug really and I give him an E for effort for trying to look human. Let me just say my honest compliments always land me in trouble but it is not my problem, I am just a victim really.

Why politicians look so different a species from their fellow Sapiens is a question that has puzzled philosophers and scientists alike. The hate and obscenities that dog them are as old as Genghis Khan and Alexander the Great. Funny thing is, they are the people who command loyal armies to kill for them and comprise the crème de la crème of society and I wonder who is pulling the other’s leg, the voter or the politician or both? . It got me thinking, hey, it is a democratic thing and every man is as vile as the next but these brave men and women have to draw out the best out of them to rally that kind of support for their despicable behaviors. It takes guts and I must give credit to whom that deserves it.

riots, riots, more riots

I do not find it peculiar that our dignified lecturers are rioting all over town, actually it is the hip thing now and everybody is doing it. Egypt started it, Libya did it, and Syria is still doing it. The Occupy Wall Street thing in US has no real agenda but in Kenya, we give new meaning to ‘protest’ in our own cool way. If you do not know how to strike, dude you are so ol’ skul and you should…seriously, MUST get lessons from You Tube ASAP. Yo, this how we get down and dirty around here bro!!

It is humbling when your tutor comes to you seeking handy strategies on how to organize and execute a ‘safe’ running battle with the police. Tactics of laying boulders on the highway and hurling rocks with accuracy were formally instructed to our eager lecturers. Who will turn down the assurance of better grades in the dreaded State and Development class? They must have planned this for a long time, fine-tuning the onslaught to the very tiny details with the precision of ‘operation Linda Nchi’.

In their plans, it seems they overlooked one crucial aspect of their physique. Advice: you cannot exercise your right to riot if you never exercise. We will have to rely on the reformed police/thugs to knock some sense into their heads that they are not as nimble as they used to be. Who are they kidding, with their beer bellies and vitenges, these people are no match for our new and improved law enforcement force. The idea of Mr. Musisi and the flamboyant Mrs. Anyonje running from a mob of bloodthirsty GSU officers brandishing rungus is unfathomable. To think that Ole Kamau will be able to subdue the anti-riot police with his threats that make me dread every Monday morning is just horseplay. 

As the lecturers meant to mentor us are busy picketing and mouthing profanities in the streets of Kakamega, occupants of room 118 are wondering why the work study students were left out. Obviously, they are the ones who get the peanuts of the peanuts paid to regular staff but heck if anyone cares.

For my part, I just wish we riot against more important things like, the high price of chicken since we are in Kakamega. Maybe we also riot against this girl who thinks dumping me makes the world a better place. Lady, look around, it is not like you turned down the heat on global warming and Kim Jong Il is not retiring any time soon. Last time I checked, the shilling is still behaving badly so come back and maybe we can do something about it.

finding me...

I have been roaming around the net and I made a life changing discovery; everyone I know has a lil something about themselves. So I thought maybe I should too, because for one, I really need a couple more ‘real’ followers in my blog. Actually I have only one-an affiliate of the Russian Mafia- and very soon he might start asking for protection money!!

Anyway, I thought it was pretty easy writing about me only to find out I don’t know NOTHING/NADA/ZIT! about myself. I have been with me for around two decades yet I don’t have even a tiny clue who I really am, which is a little bit weird…okay, dreadfully weird.

I guess it is time I put my shit together and blaze my own trail in saving the planet or ruling it, whichever comes first although I prefer the later because I recently perfected my super evil laugh. It is like nothing you have ever heard before, a cocktail of the most formidable, blood cuddling villain cackles that ever existed. It will make Ming the merciless speechless and it will surely wipe out The Joker’s smug grin.

Oh yeah, I am going to revolutionize the wicked laugh industry for ever my dear friend. It is so gruesome, I cringe in fear after delivering it and it has taken some time getting used to it. I am pretty sure even superman’s chivalrous heart’s antics will be cut short at the slightest snort of my laugh.

So I guess the only thing left is to laugh my way to full control of the world, feeding on the fear in my nemesis’ souls. I mean, how hard could that be? I will surpass all the medieval men who tried to take over the earth and failed, rewriting the books of history, filling their pages with my awesomeness.

 My heroic deeds (or wicked, depends on the parties involved) will be the stuff of legend and murals will be erected at every street corner in my name as the grandest monarch that ever walked this earth. PwahahaHahahahaha cough! cough!

growing pains

Baby brawl

I had the task of baby sitting my one year old sister- this little bundle of joy that never smiles- and really learnt a great deal of stuff I always took for granted. For instance, not all kids are easy to please, my ‘goochi goos’ work like magic on others but only meet half eyed cold stares from this little monster. This is before she breaks into this teary squeal like she is about to get butchered. In fact, she prefers punching, kicking and tearing off my hair as a favorite pastime that I helplessly comply with lest she falls back into her nerve wrecking tantrums.

LESSON 1: Changing a diaper

      To be honest, mom made this feat look easy and I did not even dwell on the specifics until my moment of reckoning came. Putting it on was the easy part because all the three steps were on the ‘Pampers’ package, though at first I fitted them inside out. I’m done securing it when I feel some warm lump on her bum and I’m like, “oh no you didn’t!” and she is like, “Nye Nye Nye” which is baby for, ‘oh yes I did!’ pampers should seriously consider adding a step 5 and 6 for removing the darn thing because I ended up covered in baby profanities all over my face and t-shirt. I have officially filed a complaint and I’m suing them in court.

LESSON 2: Baby lingo

      We all know babies do not speak nothing, they just do it, taking the adage actions are better than words quite literarily so to speak. When Nduks wants to piss, she just sets her self loose and bawls like I’m the one who did it. In case she was roaming around the house and there is some eerie quiet, that girl is up to something terrible. I’ve come to master the calm before the storm because there is nothing as creepy as warm piss trickling down your back, into your shorts to your legs.

LESSON 3: Feeding kids

      Oh yeah, seems easy but they do not like food but prefer eating dirt, garbage and especially anything on the ground that can fit in their oral cavities. Sadly, they do not discern that they are hungry and thus come the task of forcefully shoveling it down their throats. I find it a little bit extreme but we do not want Nduks starving to death now do we? The whole ordeal leaves a huge mess that needs washing her and thoroughly cleaning the battle field and not forgetting me.

LESSON 4: Love drug

      It takes more than guts of steel to stand the stress of raising a child but just a dose of love and patience completes the equation. It beats me how my mom managed to raise all three rowdy boys and one silent daughter without strangling any of us to death and I now have much more respect and love for her. To all mothers, like Beyonce says, you run this world and we just live in it.

The whole experience ultimately made me know that I will never ever get hitched, not now, not tomorrow and not in a million years. I do not want my wife to labor with kids just because I asked her to be my sleeping partner till we die but heck if she wants; I’m prepared to give her a perpetual pregnant matrimony.

of boys and girls

WOES OF BEING A GENTLEMAN

I was just walking along when I spotted this damsel in distress and being the lam that I am, yours truly was obliged- albeit half heartedly, to come to the rescue and save the day. Well, it was a pretty sorry sight as the lady tried to salvage her books from the ground, struggling to stay upright on her wobbly high heels all the while making a futile effort to conceal her precious cargo from the passing public.

I have to admit as a matter of fact that she was undeniably a beauty. Anyway, the miniskirt, which was more of a scarf I should say, provoked the attention of any normal man’s prying eyes to attempt getting a glimpse of the hidden treasures underneath. Her bosom’s occupants were really feeling the pinch of real estate scarcity as the top was clearly fashioned as a cost cutting measure. It seemed her tenants would pop out at the slightest intrusion, what with her distressing efforts to bend over in very precarious positions at the same time juggling with the weave that was constantly blocking her view.

To add salt to injury, the morning draft was scattering her papers all over the place. Out of sheer pity and a little chivalrous heart, I went out of my way to chase the damn papers across the football pitch, over a fence and into some thickets. Our damsel just stood there looking pretty, impatiently twitching her heel while making a very important call about making a seat reservation in class but I did not mind at that moment, until now. When her little serf was done, the young miss just stuffed the papers in her huge purse and left.

Oh yes, not even a pat on the back, let alone a teeny weenie smile or a much deserved ‘thank you’ but evidently where women come from, you do not get thanked for doing your job. Even dogs get treats when they play fetch but I settle for a cold dissertation and a hurt conscience for the troubles I go through when trying to be nice for a change but it gets mistaken for a petty cry for affection. Whenever a guy tries to help a pretty lady out, it is as if there is this huge banner on his torso shouting “HOOT! HOOT! Watch out, Hopeless romantic coming through!”

Price tags

You probably think this is another annoying rant about oil prices, the hullabaloo of how life is harsh and how we are doomed to be chained to our ignorance. That issue has been so over done leaving a murky if not soar after-taste in your breath. The issue is much closer home, tickling your bosom, subdued by your ego and seldom talked about. It often bugs you how far you would go to get that something you badly need when the opportunity presents itself, your dignity at stake. You will literally knock your socks off at the wonders you are capable of doing.

As you prance around acting up to societal proclivity, you have a charge on your forehead and when you get bought, so to speak, the mask comes off and you are like the phoenix, reborn doing things unimaginable. For instance, if I offered you five million to walk stark naked from the library to Muliro Garden, you will probably sneer and question on how cheap I think you are. Okay, what if we raised it a notch higher, say around fifty billion? Right, I thought so too, but tarry a while, what will your mother say, yes, even if it was a charity march?

Some wise somebody once held that money cannot buy love, well it seems he was mistaken or perhaps we can blame it on the novelty of money in their time. For all I know in our day, it is all about the riches, the big black cars and chasing all those stars that we never really grapple in the end. At the right price, a segment of our species will lay out their wares for auction plied with a few drinks and a couple of gifts all in the name of love. Pardon my incursion nevertheless I do not think them as cheap and lowly as you may presume, they are the most demanding, unforgiving humans I know.

The fee surrendered really need not be for all the wrong dissolute reasons and most times it is for very noble and distinguished grounds. Case in point, you have to shell out dearly for more than two decades to seize that all so important education and ultimately get a hold of that dream job. It is a constant struggle, because even after you obtain it, you have to forfeit long hours in the office to climb the social hierarchy. Sadly, most of us never attain that bliss we relentlessly hound after until you drop dead and the eulogy ironically articulates that the poor soul lived a full life.

It seems like everybody has price, I wonder how they sleep at night when the sale comes first and the truth comes second. Why is everybody so serious acting so damn mysterious with shades on your eyes and your heels so high that you cannot even have a good time? It is not always about the money or the bling; happiness will never be traded in the stock market but I guess our rationale and self value have all been sold out. Nonetheless, true as the anecdote of self worth, dignity and what others think of our ways may be, the privilege of a life well lived is in fact being yourself.

crossroads

Sited in the middle of the room alone, is the poor soul hunched in despair, swaddled in tangled thoughts waiting, staring blindly into darkness creeping in through the windows. It crawls onto the huge dining table, swallowing the chairs and couch in its wake like some evil, hungry monster slithering towards its feeble prey.

 Tick tock of the clock resonates over the cold brick walls growing louder with each passing second creating an ominous buzz in his ears but he is stuck in time, immobilized by the weight of lost years heavy in his heart. Sickening nausea wells up deep down in victim’s throat drowning all hope as cold nostalgia chills his person to the bone.

Sinking into self inflicted misery like quicksand, only faster with no hanging bough to hold onto, he suffocates with every bated breath inhaled. He was on an all important quest to find himself but he got lost on the way with no G.P.S locator or any good old pathways to lead him home and thing is, this he has no idea where to start neither does he know where his expedition leads.

perverted privacy peeves

for all it's worth, it seems i cannot afford any amount of privacy, without some freak looking over my shoulder, prying into my stuff. Especially in cyber cafes, some people just can't stop their eyes from wandering

this perverted freak keeps stealing peeks into my monitor like he has no business to do.

  oh great now he is leaning into my space, my zone, my FREAKING atmosphere. that's just awesome,  is that his breath down my neck? i swear im gonna go all gangster on him if he keeps staring at what im TYPING

     what the hell! this jerk is now korrecting my spelling misteks..that is just plain rude..u r nt my spell cheker dummy..remove your filthy fat fingers off the monitor!! 

what now..stop calling the secretary, for heavens sake, we can sort out our own business. STOP IT, MORON! You are the one who needs to be thrown out, stop being such an idiot. Lets have some coffee after this and forget it ever happened, ok? ..no?

   im not dumb my friend, i express my feelings better in writing, that's all. so please tell the secretary to go away now...NO?

  ..lemme just put the last words..NO?

STOP PULLING MY HAND!! UR SO STURBONNNNNNNNNN SOIFHLOSC; [F["''@@@$3$#

of boys and girls

picture this....
(sweet mexican sing sing-oh yeah like in those stupid soaps)bored to death boy approaches  girl at a rowdy Kogelo vs Ingwe game-names with held, don't ask don't tell rule applies here

Boy: hello there beautiful, what's your name?
Girl: (chewing curd or gum,boy can't tell which) Nan'ya..
Boy: wow that is a nice name (trying to be nice) Nan'ya who?
Girl: Nan'ya bizniz dumb ass...
(girl punches boy in the face..blah blah..boy ends up in jail for disrupting major league game and causing a stampede)

TWO YEARS LATER..      
boy is out after two years in max security correctional center and, better believe it..its another much anticipated Kogelo vs Ingwe fixture. The guy needs a little treat for himself so he buys a ticket at the stands.it is the last one. Pretty girl with stupid smile at the gate approaches happy boy

Girl: hello handsome...could u be as kind as to give me your ticko..(trying to look sweet-fluttering her eyes and all) aki imagine i lost mine
Boy: im so sorry..but i need to go, they are about to close the gate and i..
Girl: im begging you sir..aki woiye pleaaase!(she kneels down clutching his trousers and cries like a big baby)
(boy freaks out and pushes her away)
      The lady rolls over and screams like crazy..everything stops and all eyes-burning with fury- turn to the perplexed dude..tereng tereng!!
     The dude is lynched by angry mob for 'allegedly' assaulting a lady at a respectful Kogelo match. President thanks the fans on national television for their show of solidarity against rowdy football fans.
 THE END....
    Oh, before i forget, no characters in this work of fiction whatsoever under no circumstances are to be alluded to the writer or his imaginary friend.
     

it's a dog's life

I have known him for some time now, much as he can relate to the connection that we share. His entire life is catalogued in almost precise detail in the winding corridors of my mind like a biblical psalm. As long as i can remember, he has been part of our family almost as a brother though he bears larger canines, has a lot more hair and walks on all fours. My dad loves him the most, practically raising him all by himself alongside his sons and their is not one day his quadripedal friend went hungry.
He says it's time we said goodbye but the idea of Bingo's foretold demise escapes my imagination as i picture this grim scenario. I mean, he is only fifteen and it is just yesterday he was the tiny pup running around chasing his tail, squabbling for superiority with others as he came of age all the while protecting our home from all manner of danger as we peacefully slumbered.
I remember our hunting escapades with fellow village boys with heartbreaking nostalgia. Those were the nimble and playful times of the now old dying dog. Honestly, he sucked at it though he was pretty much faster than the others and it was quite obvious he just came along for the ride or the company, he never said which but he made sure we always went home empty handed. The damn dog would give a heated chase to a hare and give it up on the verge of clasping the animal in his jaws and run back to the bewildered boys expecting a pat on the head.
Come to think of it, i will terribly miss him. I saw Bingo sire about a dozen pups with other dogs and i also saw him sire a dozen more pups with his own pups and the pups after those pups. Well, we can say he lived a full life-it is a dogs life, so they say but the reality of it is another piece of the puzzle that is life.
Tonight as i stroke his fur, i can see it in his sad, glazed eyes, the poor soul is at the end of the road and their nothing we can do about it. Bingo has not touched his favorite bones, he just stares into the dark night wheezing painfully trying to wag his tail and i doubt that i will ever see him again

sexy sue

Oh i envy u sexy Sue
elegant like a gucci shoe
eyes lovely like the lonely moon
make many a man become a loon
coz u steal their love n leave
but which they willingy give
its not an insinuation
its a direct accusation
and nw bcoz of you
im feeling blue
so today in dead of night
when we are out of sight
show me some lovey-dovey
and i'll teach u how to dougy

cupid quota

Pussy havers n pussy lovers
foragin anda the covers
Lemme tel u a secret
tht wil mk u squel lyk a piglet
all gals want trouble
...jst give em on th double
bt with a real lady
lets call hr Kelly
maybe th one Muigai
she trips many a guy
she dont nd no pamper
jst areal freaky lover
no mindles sensual flatter
th G-spot bounty hunter
is wat she craves,
at th mouth of hr blissful caves
gun cocked n loaded
eager to be guided
into th mystical jungle of feminine intrigue
dnt gt me wrong,
i thot abt it hard n long
bt hit a moist dead end
nw im lost in this erotic realm

THE SAVED SISTER

This pretty bad fella,

Struck the bank without failure

Got himself a saved sister

stroked him without fever

drained deep pockets dear

spat him without fear

And left a brother a bitter tear

granny

            For  you

And now you must stay,

There where the cattle graze

And the thorny roses grey.

As the setting sun with its purple haze

Sets upon you its gloomy ray

I forever miss your dreamy gaze

Staring through my glazed eyes

Memories sharp and cold as ice

Your wicked wheeled throne

That never left you alone

You sing hymns and stroke its arm

Staring into sunshine darkness

God, life’s so straight and senseless.

work out...the easy way

So today I woke up late (I know even yesterday and the other day), but let’s stick to today ok. Please don’t give me that ‘you are a lazy ass’ look, I have my good reasons, global warming, satisfied? It’s seven and my lecture begins at, well your guess is right my lazy friend, seven. Braving the morning chill, I have to rush to the campus a mile away (well, it feels like one). For your information, I’m very athletic (thank you, ladies I’m flattered) so I walk/jog/run whizzing past traffic and Boda boda militia, mind you these chaps run this town, they are the town.

I am really beside myself with glee here because, men I’m I flying. Evidently making good progress though most of the journey is incomplete and at this point my joints are creaking like crazy but I’m proud of myself. I’m overtaking some grumpy, lazy pedestrians going the opposite way, anyway who can blame them it’s a Monday.  I know I won’t make it on time but what the heck, better late like ever right? Right! With this in mind I labor on like the fate of the universe is in my hands, gat to stay strong soldier!!

Here comes the best/worst part depending on the persons concerned. This lady (name withheld) strolls past me…yes, strolls that’s the word. And to think she winked at me! Well, at first I thought it is my amazing good looks (forget the rash, it’s only temporary-I think) then it hit me, first the cold and then the despair. Come on people I’m i really that bad? Oh boy it is that bad, seriously because I have a few flabby appendages that now rouse concern. I think I need to solve this big fat issue ASAP; I have to do something…

No, I don’t have a plan, even better I have confidence. Pardon me, jogging is out of the question this is Africa and the people who do that risk burning on a stake. Let’s explore some 'safer' options, maybe Karate classes but again, my friend’s friends' face has seen better days, thank you people I also kick karate out. Poor guy you should have seen his disfigured visage (honestly looks like something the cow spat out), he has some missing teeth a burst lip and his eyes barely peeping from behind giant golf balls. I dread to envision let alone experience the terrors his work out ‘friends’ unleashed on his puny body. He had unwillingly signed up as a human punching bag, same as being hit by a speeding truck as I see it.

Let us try a sport…I always I had a knack for rugby well, until the incident (classified information) sigh, so much for the next rugby star. I once had a dream, the Kenyan dream, (slow motion people, slow motion) throngs of ladies cheering me on as I sauntered down the pitch dodging opponents diving for the try as the clock timed out. Touch down!! Hurrah...we win and the crowd is in a frenzy. Security futilely restrains wild fans from running into the pitch as the cameras flash away the press scribble away probably writing about my magnificence. Incidentally reality came in and rammed me out of fantasia; I will certainly need the services of shrink to erase the mental horrors. The mere thought of that oval ball gives me the hibby jibbys; I fear the effects may be permanent.

Thou shalt not despair yet, there is a glimmer of hope for me; courtesy of science .Research and a dose of experience has shown that the play station console is a great work out machine, the thumb muscles get the most out of it and not forgetting great reflexes can be achieved in games like Hitman and God of War. It doesn’t end there believe you me; concentration is heightened in racing games and football and as a bonus your IQ stands to gain tremendously. Relax there is more, there are no injuries (except rowdy opponents) but you still burn calories in the process, amazing isn’t it? Anyway if you fancy running from a mob with pitch forks with the excuse that you are jogging hey, who I’m I to object.

See ya friend, a score to settle with Samoa thanks to EA Games and later saving the world with young Potter in the hallways of Hogwarts. Yawn! It’s getting late, but first some Need For Speed won’t do no harm… vroom vroom!!