My Sunday. Cool or not Cool.

I have a lot to say, but very few words to speak or rather write down.Not cool.

I had a miraculous week, i got paid for free labour i was offering at some company and with it, 2 promising contracts. Cool.

I promised myself that this would be the second time in a row to go to church for the right reasons. The wrong reasons definately exclude prayer and piety while in church. Not cool.

But this time, there was a twist to my going to church, they were skewers of pork after praising him and a bucket of ice cream and to top it all, shopping at Nakumat. Cool.

The mass was in Kajjansi at reknowned Kiwamirembe, Giver of peace…transalation for those of you with no true mother tongue. So we head to Destiny pork joint after. Cool.

What about this, seated on Entebbe highway eating a plate of pork on Sunday, best way to start a week. None the less, this place didn’t disappoint, apart from the pork, there was Bicycle Kadongo kamu, or kadongo kamu on bicycles literally. The band travelled miles and miles on bicycles, and sang at a fee of 2000, besides, the drum sticks and guitar were from the bicycles. At one point i actually thought the curent was being generated by the bikes. Cool.

Then there was a police chase, bikers chasing a police bike.The speed,the exhilaration and to top it all, the wind in prolly the police woman’s hair, crazy. Awesome…cool.

So kadongo kamu, pork and police. Crazy but cool.

Then i recieved a message from a friend whose a girl, and she told me she was afraid of letter P. Pork, police and some tool men are born with, i thought she could join me, but the disappointment. i still enjoy some p, pork numb skull.Not cool.

We travelled back to K’la and for a moment the vistas captured along the road reminded me of the hill Kisubi, apparenty i was on it for more than 11 yrs. A very long time, a few tears shed. Uhh, the memories.Though i missed the poetry, i will get updated, that should have topped the topping. Not cool.

We branched of to nakumat, fancy place with the mr. price, gentlemen, nothing supercedes downtown balikuddembe. mr. price, you suck for those cheap expensive prices. But a bucket of ice cream we bought and here i write. Ish cool.

hey bloggers, how was your Sunday! Cool or Not cool, i bloody hate that advert, fanta manyanga.

A period or a full stop in italics.…anyone explain.

Thought…less, the demon within.

I have had a mild headache for sometime now, its getting on my nerves. It keeps on bitching, on and off. But yeah, a lot has been going through my mind. First, am growing old, obliviously, but instead of wisdom, death is staring at me in the face, expecting me to say….”Oh, hi death, what took you so long…” Seated here, am wondering what triggered that thought.
Never in my life have I thought about suicide. It’s biting at my neck of recent. It first hit me that even if I am successful in whatever little I have done, the joy is never there. The vibrant young self I was once has now decipated  into thin air, now its just a skeleton of crazy ideas eating at me.
Rumours are 99% true.  And people somehow always guess what kind of mood you’re always in subconsciously. You know, a friend says you look sick, and you really start to look sick. So when a friend told me I had become suicidal, I started to believe them. My thoughts of fun some how ended up in a 90% pain experience. I’m tired. My thoughts have cramps.
Forgive for my sins, forgive for my lies.

*******************************************

So, my mentor once told me I had a monster in me. That he saw a demon, one I very much feared. I denied that fact, I couldn’t be like my mentor….The things he did; despicable, but true, always gave me the chills. That was a year ago. Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. That monster in me has been fighting, the hollow in me deepening. That monster has finally consumed me and I no longer want to fight it. It gnaws at my toes, talks about its triumph in my dreams. Am going crazy. My soul, pulverized, destroyed by it. I scream every night, am tired, when it escapes, when it goes wild.
So this monster, appreciates the dark; it has no fear, it’s at home in the dark, scouring in my shadow from one to another, tickling at my prey’s backs. I want to hold on but my soul is broken, the fight lost, I fear for those I hurt, or might hurt.
For these girls, it’s not you with the problem (technically), I just get bored, with those so many issues, that have no meaning, just mere utterances. I some times hate it when I have to keep my brain activity at a low, to actually have a rather shallow but stimulating (my side anyway) conversation. I prefer women who have men, so that I can toy with you, and let you go back to your master. Your master (former boyfriend before I was) is afraid of me, because, he knows he can’t win against Hyde. He’s strong, fierce, ruthless amoral…and cunning. The fox or Jerry (Tom and Jerry) can tell you their nasty experiences with him…I mean me. I bite.
So, as I was saying, there is a category of monsters like me, men who know they have a power beyond measure, to get: from the rich and give to the poor (in girl lingua, from unpopular to popular, from ugly to beautiful).
Girls, I can only ask for forgiveness, I can’t throw what I am out the window, he protects me from other demons in the female species, he sniffs them out, and sends then packing. We are not those bad-boy types with piercings all over their bodies, leather, fancy cars.  No, we walk in the day, prey at night, smartly dressed, and no ties. Invisible to the human eye, visible to your body chemistry; you don’t even know you want us. We don’t. We need your blood and the taste of your sweet flesh.
Problem is, we don’t dump you, you do the dumping. You actually think you are better than us, we let you think, or we just walk away, just like that. Leave no trail; without a trace.
Dilemma arises when we leave you wanting, our bodies are always N sync, we know what you are going to say, give you the right answers, buy you the right things, make you feel wanted, make you the talk of the town, make your friends envious yet appreciative. Why do we do this? To see what we are capable of, to test our wings, to see if we have what it takes and, to test if we have mastered the art of …..
It’s a secret; my mentor would kill if this was out.

Then as soon as we are done, we leave you to your boyfriend….you hate us for this. But we see it as enlightening and emancipation; after we are done with you, you never cheat on your boyfriend, you never hurt another man, you stop telling lies, and you become cheap. You walk with dignity and if one of us has stayed long enough, our knowledge rubs off. Your next dude better come squeakier than shine coz you don’t need to up your game; we did that for you.
You say all these things, that you love us, you need us, you can’t do without us, maybe we should give you a booklet on monsters with benefits, yes, monsters is what we are. We feel for no one, some say our hearts are from stone; others ice; some full of shit. It’s that monster.
We smile.

**Reader, if you are a guy, hope you’re a monster; if you’re a chic, I know what you did last evening, That man of yours, we are coming. It may not be Me – the protégé, but my mentor surely will. Versed with this amount of knowledge, he was told to repeat a class, nay, to teach the class with his brain. Be very scared, we are coming.
Until we meet, another time.

We the best…

The thought process….and Spartakuss.

this idea arose from that one person who thought i was pretty messed up, f.y.i, i suffered having to think like your type. it killed my brain cells, i hate to resort to weed to do the job, and still i failed. forgive for my sins, forgive for my lies.

peace

that moment

that moment

everything comes to a halt

everything seems to fall in place

gravity becomes space

peaceful your mind becomes

problems become solutions

health becomes wealth

your heart beats to the drums

my favorite song….

Music they say is food to the soul, but i sit and ask myself, which is my favorite song, genre, band, group, jazz piece…and all i an say its that which helps me capture that moment…you cant define it…its there..your parallel universe which is just bliss…only bliss…that moment.

for music lovers and those willing to listen to  any piece of crap…

rock…phoenix Wolfgang Amadeus…fray…AFI

rap…nneka(no longer at ease)

jazz & instrumental…august rush…”the highway blues”

SOme thoughts….really

Michael Jackson has white kids, are they albinos and that’s why they where those dark masks to protect them from the sun,or…

World War 3 would be very much appreciated, now more than ever. Killing would be legal.

Are gals really that shallow…no offense, it gets to me when you play the game by the rules. Some take it upon themselves to call me shallow. That is pretty messed up.

What is being mature to a lady, driving a car? Having money? Talking mature jazz like kids and bank accounts!! Am lost on that one.

Seriously, i believe i can fly. just waiting for my wings to grow.

Poetry is cool, not that cool cool, just cool, like you have to put a poets head in the freezer to get cool poetry,uhm, cool thought.

Michael Jackson died on Edwin’s kassiki. Just cant forget that thought.

I woke on the wrong side of the bar, left it a 6.00 this morning, they had closed me in. Seriously, f**k those security guys,my pants are worth your salary if you actually have one.

Peace to my friend in Mbarara, how is the FloW there. flowless. Milk and honey, something must have stung his head he lost the white matter(read milk)…

Every one gets f**ked, by life, so to “write”, life is very fair. If its not, Get the  f out of it. Seriously.

Its feels good to be the powerful, you little ants that keep on crawling up my bed. I know its cheap wood because i bought it, but hey you better pay rent coz tonight, i got doom. cool staff.

these thoughts, are they for real… what was  i thinking.