Fucking problems

         You know when the CIA wants some information from you and you prove to be the selfish type, they resort to mental torture. They just put you in a room and play you the same song or sound over  time. You will break my friend. At least that’s what the movies tell me.

          There’s this printer in this office. Those old school printers that make shrieking sounds as they print. These guys print pages and pages of payment vouchers. This thing is printing like all the time. I am suffering here. I am about to reveal all my secrets if that will make it stop. You have thing question that I have never answered? Give me a call.

           And also, I have run out of pubes to pull. Clean shaven.

Boom box playlist

Fucking problems – Asapa Rocky, Drake, Kendrick Lamar

Forsaken Lands III

I had promised myself that it would be on or before December 27^th. The last time I was here was on November 27^th and I thought that I could make it back within a month. It is now two full months. Yes. And a new year.  A happy new year to my shamba. May you grow to appreciate in value.

The last time I was here I went on and on about books and balconies. I came through with the book promise. So far I have read three. Am halfway through with two. I hope to keep it up. In the past week I have not read anything. Well, work and movies. Don’t look at me, suits, scandal, homeland, BBT, last resort….and a host of other movies. I got all of them at a go. I couldn’t betray all of those.

ION, Spartacus is back. Yes!. I really pity those who do not watch it. It is like a time machine. Taking you back to the ancient rome, letting you taste the world of blood, nudity and a remarkably well written script. The directors and producers are usually superb. Getting the right shit on slow motion, merging a sex scene and a gory fight beautifully. Enough said. Directing a movie fascinates me. I am that guy on YouTube looking for behind the scenes videos of movies and music videos. Watch this space. I have been approached by Mr. Jackson to co-direct the next installment of The Hobbit. In my dreams. I read the book. This dude strayed from the book while making the movie in a number of instances. I forgive him, it was still beautifull.

It is a new year (damn it is January 29^th) and new things ought to emerge. I have got nothing new. I look forward to writing more than I did in 2012. That means I look forward to opening my heart more in this blog (*not gonna happen*).

All ze best for 2013.

Back to work.

Boom box playlist:

Run – P!nk

Books, Balconies and the unrelenting weeds

The good thing with land is that it never depreciates. That means you expect it to be the way it is at worst. This shamba of mine is no exception (chuckles). I can’t even tell whether the page views are increasing. What I know is that they can surely not decrease. That ladies and gentlemen makes me comforted.

So I have been away for so looong. The weeds have made this place their own. I hear they even got a new constitution promulgated. It has a clause for land division. They want to divide my fuckin land. I just came over to put up a sign that this is natb’s land and is not for sale. Then I shall leave for another several days.

I have never taken up doing something that ended up being a bother for me. That is why I am boldly walking around this place, devoid of any farm implements, seedlings and a sign of rain just to tell myself that am in control. Yes am in control. There is this saying that Manchester United does not fail to score in a game, they just run out of time. Well I am running out of time every time I try to plant something around here.

This year has flown by like those Tokyo trains. It seems I am one of the few who were left behind. Eti the year is ending. I never quite saw how some months passed by. October and August. I never saw you. I do not think I even received salary for them. There were mountains of work infront of me that made me see nothing.

Days ago I was reading some article about the Kenyan street vendors of books. Ok lemmie try again. Book vendors in the Kenyan streets. Whatevs men. So some of those guys make quite a tidy sum at the end of the day. I have never bought/read a book of late. The last time I bought a book was in October last year. Sh 50. I never got to read even the first letter. I offloaded it to my bro telling him it was one hell of an interesting read. I always blamed my non reading to the absence of a balcony in my house. Quite nice huh? I only read a book on a balcony possibly overlooking the maasai mara. Or some beauty taking a shower nude by the river. Yeah that’s how sophisticated I have turned out to be. If I were I lady I could agree for a shag only on Mt.Everest. In fact that would make me know how much that kaguy is able to rise to the occasion in extreme circumstances and other related areas (morning wood, anybody?) ok I digress.

So I was talking about books and balconies. I finally got a balcony. I have two options. Find another excuse or start reading books. Oh oh I got it! I only read from a kindle. I am past papers. Papers are for butcheries.  I do not own a kindle. That will stick as I find a better excuse or convince my ass to read.

As for the weeds on my farm. Stay put, enjoy your stay, rihanna is coming to smoke you out.

Toodles.

Boom box playlist:

Read all about it - Proffesor Green/Emile Sande

R.I.P to Mr Roach.

There comes a time when even the minutest things manage to gather enough force to command an effect. Yeah, that sounds like a famous quote or something. Well, I’m famous so there you go. Ladies and gentlemen, I tried. I tried to forget that this blog actually existed. I tried covering everything. I built a very high fortification around my life so that I would never get to see the overgrown weeds. I think I did it well. The only problem is that whenever I went sightseeing other people’s shambas, they remind me of mine. And of course there are some rudiments like Tasha who keep reminding me of my failed obligations.

Well, here I am. I folded my sleeves and took up the role of the absent farmer/father/writer for this blog. I stopped caring of what could become of it. It is crazy. I can only look back and reminisce the good times, like the old folks to the youthful days. I used to have that slow afternoon when I could take an hour to write something. There are no more. I could sneak in a blog-time on a weekend amidst the tight schedule of movies and sleeping. Well, these days I do more movies and more sleep instead. If you are not able to distinguish between a hobby and a chore, here it is. You do not break a sweat doing a hobby. Writing is no hobby for me. One of the underlying reasons for starting this blog is to kinda graduate into a big wig and get laid frequently and effortlessly in the process. I am glad to pronounce that this shit bag has not helped me achieve any of the above. I am still hopeful. So I am not going to quit on this. It is ideally the closest route to stardom for me.

While I was away I went bald and the remaining hair turned grey. That’s my way of saying that I have not had anything interesting to write about. Yeah, now you can turn over and watch that paint dry. The population of cockroaches increased in my house though. I wonder what those buggers eat. There hardly food in my house. There just there, walking around as if they pay the rent. I wonder whether they talk about me. I guess it is boredom that made one of them to enter my office bag and decide to come out once I reached the office. That bitch did not see it coming. It did not manage to see the light of the day for a second. Nobody saw it either. I think I can make a very good assassin. I wish the ones back at home got the message. Who needs doom when I’m around? I kill whoever fucks with me, just like the praying matis (mantisi, worrap mesh!!).That’s all.

Come to think of it, long long ago. When the wheel had not been invented, when people used to walk around naked without discomfort (I guess you get what I mean), some guy who used to live at our place used to call me Cockroach. Really? Of all the words. Since it was a long time ago, I can’t even remember his name or face. I could really want to know why he called me that. I guess he got a kick out of it since it used to piss me off. I hope somebody I calling him a hyena or warthog.

Well, the paint has dried. I hope to come back sooner than this. Class dismissed.

Boom box playlist:

 Hope – Twista ft Faith Evans.

R.I.P – Rita Ora