Left hand on the Bible, right hand raised, I swear that trying to get yourself out of a funk should be classified in the Guinness Book of Records as one of the hardest things to do as a human. Do you ever have those moments where you’re in sloth mode? Where everything you try to get done seems hard and slow. Tasks that you can normally whip off in a few minutes take hours. The moments where your brain packed …
Category: Old stuff
I miss I miss the smell of a book whiffing through its pages. Like a lover invading your space; every breath leaves you desiring more. And with the great ones, the ones you become addicted to; it’s like before they leave you, they give you a little glance making sure you understand they conquered you. Hmm… I miss how we’d drag ourselves to the library. To the spots where we colluded with sleep to form dreams we ought have chased. …
It’s a lie. A blatant one. It’s like telling me a dog is a horse. I wish I understood the dynamics of it earlier on in life. But as always, the universe played its roulette game and decided like money, slow growth works out in the end. When I was young, dad always said, work hard and be like your uncle John who works at the airport. You’d think John was a pilot! Deep in me, where my subconscious resides, …
The time is set; 2 hours to get the job done. No do-overs, no second chances. This is it. Time fuming down your neck as if it’s the one with something to lose. Unforgiving and cruel. When the clock strikes 10 am, it will give its verdict; the outcome depends on you. Sweat drips down your back trying to melt down the rock you’ve been carrying the past few days. In this decade of Google, Mr. know-it-all, one thing defiles …
Similar to cold showers, going to hospitals is always a last resort. I’d rather dig my own grave than trudge towards Mater or Aga khan. I’m the kind of guy who says they’re fine. I’ll look you straight on and lie through the lenses of my blood-red bulging eyes. Fam, my body might be as wrecked as a car rammed head-on by a train but I’d still insist I’m okay. Even cavemen rode out their ailments toxin by toxin. And …
Musee! Reke Gwere! Mwanaume ni effort! Growing up is a scam. Meanwhile, in heaven, they must be on some good weed laughing their faces off when they see what us earthlings have to endure. As a baby, if I got a sniff that I’d be coming to earth hot and heavy on my soon-to-be mum, I’d throw a tantrum. And not those crying ones where you’re outcast to the corner until your moods take a chill pill. No! It would …