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

A Post not meant to be about Coders…

I was super tired. This is one of those afternoons where everybody has switched off. The office is very hot and everybody seems to have finally managed to enter the ‘who ate the most food at lunch contest’. I overate too. Fucking restaurant. Who told them to make Pilau to be that sweet. The AC is doing little to help things out. You can’t blame it. It’s the coast after all. My COG is at the stomach.

I was super tired. That’s why I opened a word document to write something. The state of my mind is unmistakably depicted by the emptiness of this document. I remember the first time I saw a word document. It was back in 2003. I was in form 2. Insert an excessively hungry image ogling at a CRT. Tumetoka mbali. Just like my classmates, we detested the computer classes. We scored very scantily and eventually dropped it in form three. I ended up doing Metalwork instead of computer science. Face palm. However, we loved computer room class. Practical lessons. The ones who had prior computers prowess came with these diskettes with porn. We spent all our time watching them. Nobody bothered to learn other stuff. And that’s why I opened my first email address in January 2007. I met the computer lesson-hating disease again in campus. Smh.

Possibly those who were keen on computer lessons are the modern day coders. I have always craved to be called that name. Coders. It sounds like a panty dropper. A chick magnet. “Hey, I’m a coder, mind if I had sex with you?” Most coders have blogs. They understood what a blog is. It took me 4.5 years since opening my first email a/c to know what the hell a blog is. Coders followed each other on twitter long before we boarded that truck from mkzland. Coders employ themselves. If they are employed somewhere, they still employ themselves on part time basis. They spend weekends pitching some projects at iHub. Damn, I missed being a Coder. Anybody with an idea where I can buy a coders wannabe t-shirt? I hope coders wish they were accountants too (I doubt that a lot). You know, wishing you were called natb CPA(K). Having the clout to shout it at the top of your lungs and never give a shit coz you worked for it.  Shite, I sound hurt, jealous and bitter. Don’t worry, I overate today.

I’m trying to resist the urge to write further about coders. Ok, the last one. There is this primary school mate I saw in the paper the other day. He is a coder. He is not that hungry, rickety mono is used to see getting at the end of all kinds of ridicule. He was 2 classes behind me. The paper claimed that his project won him a half a million shillings. On top of that, he has a company which employs 5 equally minded coders. I think you can see why I am mad about this shit. “Hey, I’m a coder, I won a half a milli, I have a company that employs 5 people: mind if I have sex with you?” That’s a line that can easily render you dumped by your girlfriend. That’s why I think I have to groove with a coder. Anybody who has one of the founding members of AkiraChix number?

Ok this post was not about coders (again?). It was about gorging coastal delicacies in a hot afternoon and a blinking word document. (It is such a bad idea to work at the coast btw). Then the blinking screen made me think of the source of my computer proficiency (sarcasm anyone?). If I was a coder (again?), I couldn’t be stuck here with numbers to crunch. Probably I could be by the beach, chini ya mnazi, blowing the half a million which I won, with that girlfriend of yours. So much for wishful thinking.

Boom box playlist:

 Every chance I get – T.I

Natb's upcoming Movie...

The old rugged man walked lethargically through the rain into a corner bar, partly hidden by snow. There were only three revelers in the bar engrossed with their liquor. He gazed lazily across their faces before heading to a corner where a huge man was seated facing the wall. I hope you are envisioning that scene in my upcoming movie. I’m yet to choose a title for it. I think I shall call it ‘Lotsa sex in fast cars while firing guns’ though it will not be having any of the above. It is all just to make people buy it.

Apart from sleeping (the undisputed champion) I realized watching movies is my next favorite activity. It is right ahead of eating, watching football (now that the football season is over), reading, partying,  going to church, working, listening to music, reading books, doing laundry, hanging out with friends, and even having sex (God knows the last time I had some). The bad news about it is that I gain absolutely nothing. I’m only left with a longing for more.

Just like doing anything else, too much watching of movies make you a better critic. A good movie critic will be able to smell a dreadful script from miles away, bad actors, little or no chemistry between actors, bad production, naivas accents, tuskeys weaves, uchumi costumes, etc. If one is a good critic then he/she a good actor and a good movie director/producer. Hence my aforementioned upcoming movie in which I am the producer, director and the lead actor, (that huge man in the bar). With all the hunkness and 3Dness, I think I will Ace in this shit. I do not want to ruin the bouillabaisse.

There are this bad movie habit that I have developed over time. I have to watch a movie with ear phones. I guess it is because of my boundless state of solitude. I get all the moments. That’s how I lie to myself. I fear for my ears. I once met this guy in a mat who told me that I was spoiling my ears by listening to music all the time through my earphones. I figured that he was envious, or something. His youth days had passed without him having to listen to music in a mat. Well maybe he was saying the truth.

Now that we are talking about movies today, I went to iMax a while ago to watch avengers. I need to change my friends. It came into my realization that I have 50 bob DVD friends. I couldn’t figure how I never knew anybody there. I hereby pronounce my friendship with all my friends null and void. Please do not give me the You-know-we-went-there-in-a-different-day crap.  Mnirudishie sufuria zangu, socks, na vitu zingine mliniombanga. Maybe I belong to the 50 bob DVD life with my friends. I choose to change. We all know the fake it till you make it principle works. I want to be among the elite Kenyans (that’s what I believe they are), maybe I might bump into Obako’s granddaughter *wink*.

PS: Somebody asked me whether I had accomplished any of my many resolutions. Well, I haven’t. Not even one. Not even fixing my bathroom bulb (don’t look at me like that, it is extremely complicated and it does not look as bad as it sounds.)

PSS: Last week I was passing through town and I saw a displaced new generation ID. I was like, this guy was given an ID few days ago and has managed to lose it? How now? Some people need to be penalized for such shameful acts. Yeah, fast forward to this Monday, I had my chance. I never wasted it. How could I? S M H.

Boom box Playlist:

Muthoni Kifagio – Newton Karish