hello anybody there

There was a time this used to be home...I wonder is there anybody here.
Hello...is it me you are looking for?
Love shoulda brought me back home!

Thou shall regret lending money

Money and relatives don't mix like some certain meat-pies from a common franchise and the morning after!

With expereince there is that fact where you learn to lend as much as you can afford to lose. And if a friendship should be lost you should lend the equivalent that you are willing to lose that friend over. I have a few pals I would gladly take a loan to lose. Yup no longer in captivity of your negativity you self-centered S.O.B. But i digress.

So what happens when that moment arrives. Wine and Dine is over! Foreplay over! Right down to the penetresh! (stolen from classic comedy 30 Rock )

You know better!
There are promises of:
>By next week Thursday, you will have it back.
>I've got this great deal i'll even return it with interest.
>This time, I won't play you...two weeks and you'll have it back!

Pregnant Pause!
Elephant in the Room!

What do you say..and it's even worse when the person knows that you have the cash.

You can already see how it's going to end up! You know each scenario!

>Oh! your cash...just chill ...you don't even need it, just relax...i'll sort you out!
>I wish i had soe cash to sort you out, btu i don't! What do i do!
>I think its better for me if i return it to you next month!

Please remember you want your FUCKING money back!

Relatives are the worst to deal with. Pals are not that much better!
SO what do you do!
Sometimes..the said person is in genuine need...what do you do?

Do you say NO?!

Do you lend a quarter of what was asked or even a tenth...that way its win win situation...you don't lose much but you help a little!?

Do you lend knowing that's cash you have lost?!

and on the said day of the said cash being returned? How the hell do you hide your anger and disappointment. Or rather how do you hide the fact that you are not that much surprised?!
Is there a place of sarcasm and name calling.
>Now you see why i was hesitant to lend you cash?
>Which cash will you hopefully return the one of last week or the one of last month?
>Bitch! It's my money and if i wanted it next month we would have agreed on next month!
>I wonder why you are all arrogant now when it's my money and considering you were paractically in tears when borrowing!

SOLUTION!?
1. Do not lend! Lie through your yellowing teeth (which id you had extra cash to lend you'd rather spend on bleaching)
2. If you lend you lose...cash or a friend or both...is it worth it?
3. Hide your money...whatever peanuts you have accumulated somewhere. HIDE THEM...in a sacco...in a scheme...in assets...somewhere...anywhere. So that in that moment of weakness a.k.a idiocy you cannot access ready cash. Hence when you say you don't have cash you seriously mean it!
4. There are those serial borrowers who serially return. Identify them and if you no longer want to be inconvenienced create a story days before there usual habit.
''...yeah remember last week when i told you ...damn im so broke...''
5.Borrow before you get borrowed from.
6.sometime you need to lend...to appease your soul..and so that you can live to blog this tale!

SO shame on you that borrow and repaying is such a hustle! Damn you for making it my problem when it should be your problem. But remember when and if tomorrow comes...you will come back ...and you can only bite the hand that feeds you so many times.

How long will this return last?

It's been eons since I last blogged. Clearly that cut on that early cold morning by the riverside (or like daud el raud by river road) didn't quite cut through and through. Make up your mind already! There is the ritual of quitting and there is the ritual of blog revivals but you can't repeat each like 20 some odd times.

Damaged goods as I am after a rough three years in school. I return to find that all my old favorites also packed up their hernias and jiggered feet and also called it quits! Who rules in this blog land? Have the blogging games changed? Are the rules different?

Well lets see how long Spidey does this! Doing it different doing it a new way! Though I do miss the old crew...

Metarmorphosis

It's been over a year and I thought this would make a great title. Plus I can't go a whole year without a post.

By definition it means a development into something new and different. Out with the old and in with the new. Except the old really isn't gone in fact it's older...and seriously how can it be really new anyway ?

What happens when we watch our own changes happening? What happens when you observe that the caterpillar changes not quite into the butterfly you had envisioned. It's more of a caterpillar with wings! Like Michael in Thriller, a hideous monster emerges that could kill. What if you could become a serial killer? It's become apparent there are people in this world that I may have on a "to kill" list right after brushing my teeth and washing my face in the morning. I totally get "Dexter" now. He goes beyond just being a vigilante righting wrong but a vigilante with a personal agenda...and with each kill a piece of mind...like a thirst quenched temporariliy...like by doing evil it might retard his metarmorphosis.

So metarmorphosis isn't exactly bad. It's good to mature. Become older and wiser. To emerge anew with the foundation and base of the old. But what if with this metarmorphosis comes evil? Then what? What if indifference and apathy is what one is geared to. Not giving a rat's ass about anything and leaving each day as it comes. Total disregard for society. Selfishness. Survival. Metamorphosis.

Right now I'm in a stage where I'm tired of people. And those people know it, should know it and better know it. I'm everyone's big brother and best friend...yet at the end of the day I'm all alone, for apparently such relations don't run both ways. I am Spiderman after all your friendly neigbourhood hero...but what lies beneath is a contempt for humans that runs deep.

Tried and tested. Used and abused. A metarmorphosis is happening. And I love it! Serenity comes with a realization ...that to become good you have to become bad.And to become good you have to have been good. For no one will ever realise that you were once good. No one remembers. How can one keep score when your memory is selectively blinded. So a new spidey is emerging. Evil and blunt!

So as this change overcomes me...becomes me...be warned it is just METARMORPHOSIS!

A Spidey Short Story 2

She never calls again. The enthusiasm that we once shared is gone. She never writes as well. Come to think even the sms’s are usually replies not induced from her own free will. She is slipping away…and the harder I try to cling on the further I push her. She hates walking down memory lane. Likes when we hang out with my pals or hers…but never alone. She no longer picks me up from work. Never gets me my favorite novels or favorite DVD’s. She no longer lives and breathes for me like she used to…or like I live and breathe for her. I was her earth and she the moon that revolved around me. But she was and is my sun- I revolve and rotate around her and for her.

Funny how all this started. It was her who did the flirting, she practically did the chasing as well. She was more interested way before I was. Once we clicked nothing could have pulled as apart. Finished each other’s sentences. Felt each other’s presence like the time I was upstairs and you were running late and I felt it when you entered the building. Soulmates. She fell in love and I quickly tripped after.We were happy, she knew it I knew it. A match made in heaven that no man or woman could ever divide…but there was one mortal enemy that defeats any form of adultery-TIME!

With time she grew used to me. I don’t know when but the signs were there. I stopped being funny-you no longer laugh at my jokes. I stopped being interesting. I remember you not wanting to sit with me in class. You did not want endless phone call conversations. I was getting plain to you. You even had legitimate excuses to cancel dates which before it’s the excuses you would have cancelled on. As in you woke up one morning and everything had changed?

The power of rejection is quite shattering. It’s never an ego thing nor the humiliation. But the realization that for starters your love is actually greater than hers. You love her more and its not fair! Secondly for you to feel rejected means that at once you were accepted. At one point in time all was well and you were happy-but not anymore. Rejection is a blow to the heart and self-worth. It’s an outward show of disregard, lack of interest and worst of all change of heart. Having loved and been loved and then having lost somewhere along the way!

I think getting dumped is even better. I know being cheated on is acceptable. But being there when a person has metarmorphosised completely towards you, yet claiming nothing has changed-that right there-is what causes a deep pit full of sadness. When you realise a smile is forced. When you get hints of boredom. When even meeting seems like such a strained effort. And when you enquire she makes you feel like such an insecure adolescent. In the end you feel like a child that’s lost his way. You used to be so confident and sure. You were near arrogant but have been reduced to humiliating levels that are below begging. You fret and whine about the distance…you complain when she doesn’t return your calls…you can’t understand why she is not thinking of you 24/7…you have become a bitch…a sissy…cannot function…gone past being whooped...to the point even you know it’s not healthy.

So why don’t you put me out of misery! Be done with me-say it’s over! Call it quits. Break my heart completely not partially. I was never one to be a defeatist, but I have given up. There is nothing more I can do. What you fell in love with way back then is still here. I have never changed. You loved me then and it’s unfortunate that that is now not enough. It’s even more unfortunate that you were all I will ever want. Letting you go won’t be as heart breaking as how I have watched you letting me go! Perhaps I’m reading you wrong…perhaps nothing has changed…but it’s these kind of doubts and debates I will no longer continue having for I’m getting weak. I can’t be the only one analyzing us. So if it’s what you really want, if it’s over, it was not my fault- I hope. I will do the manly thing now…and stop caring!

(A series of Spidey Short Stories. This however perhaps is not a work of fiction like the last. Any similiarity to actual events and persons...time and place...is not entitely coinicdental)

A Spidey short story

The wind blowing ever so gently as you sat there by the beach. The sun creeping up from its hiding place full of promise. Mesmerising rays reflecting off the still quite waters. No one else awake, just you and the whispering palm trees...perhaps the falling coconuts or the occasional crabs walking along the beach. Your thoughts running wild. Your hopes and dreams. Your accomplishments and failures. You look into the yonder looking for salvation. You even pray. You plan and strategise how to be a better man...a better being...how to move on. You have made these promises before but somehow this air... this ambience... this solitude you experience...the right here and right now- makes a difference.

You clutch yourself not from cold but the need to feel pressed. You feel alone. Yet again, pangs of loneliness hit you. Just when you thought you were doing well a wave of depression rolls in with the tide. You succumb to inept feelings, become overwhelmed by emotion. All the while, as the sun rises your heart is setting. As it radiates its beams of light, your veins feel constricted and restrained. A tear gently builds up, there have been plenty of those. Depressing as it is, the tear reflects light like a prism, making the sun magnificently glorious. But as it streams down...the harsh reality returns.

Your mind drifts back to that night you sat outside the waiting room in casualty. The day your life changed. You had been driving as she made plans for the future. As usual she was always a step ahead...always optimistic...always with back-up plans. At that moment she was picking out colors for the baby who was due in 2 months. She had a liking for royal blue...and you fought her hard on it...but knowing deep inside you liked royal blue. Her laughter filled the air. Love was so obvious, you were practically one being, in sync with each other heart, body and soul. She stroked your leg. You turned to stroke her cheek and brush the hair of her face...

They had later said that a lorry had been parked on the roadside. They had insinuated it was your fault and perhaps it was. You had lost consciousness but came to, but she was doing badly and had to be rushed to the mini-operating room.They could not say what the prognosis was. She was in critical condition.

The hospital walls were caving in. The floor was hard, your legs were completely numb. The smell of dried blood was nauseating. The anxiety was too much and you could have vomited twice were it not for the fact there was nothing left. The nurses zooming in and out of the minor theatre said nothing...but spoke volumes in the way they avoided his eyes. You did not want to imagine living without her. You did not want to imagine losing your unborn child. It was not a good sign when a nurse run in carrying pints of blood. It was not good when you heard the bleep of that heart monitor. And when the doors opened and the operating surgeon walked towards you...you knew!

Somehow you knew. Somehow you knew this was the end. You felt your soul detach. Deep inside you died a thousand times. Your earth shattered. You lost ground. You would never live or love again.

So here you are a year after. At the same spot you cuddled in under a blanket to watch the sun rise. Same spot you had made plans. Outside the same cottage she had conceived earlier that year. Unfortunately that morning there were clouds and she had missed the sunrise. You had promised that the following day you would wake her up early...It was never meant to be. She wasn't meant to catch the sunrise...not then...not in her lifetime.

A year later you vow to yourself not to let the memories kill you. Not let the pain destroy you. They had said time heals all wounds, but that wound was still fresh. The time was 6:43 am...you snap back to reality. Having resolved nothing you decide to move on. You turn the wheelchair around and wheel yourself back inside to check on your little son who's birthday it is today.

(Dedicated to my English Teacher Mrs Ojara, who was a sucker for mushy story's....and I figured if thats what it takes to get atleast a 28/40 in compo...just call me Daniel Steele.)

Whats the whole fuss about spidey3?

So will you be out there watching Spiderman 3? Have you already got your tickets like Tato has?

Those aerial shots of him turning up and down...twist and turn...wah that last 30 seconds of Spiderman...visual effects at its best. Nothing but showing off of C-G Effects. Not to mention that whole walking on walls thing...

Ok why lie that Black Spidey costume....



Have always loved superheroes with costumes...where there is an obvious change from norm. Superman...Batman...He-Man...She-Ra...Superwoman...a little of Fantastic Four though their identities are not secret. That whole secrecy thing rocks! That quiet creepy character appeals to all of us. The weakling being the stronger!


That Black Costume...if you can get it in extra-large ship it and send it!!!

The geek's superhero...Peter Parker is the ultimate geek/nerd that represents the rest of all of us! Yeah you too! Everyone loved Spiderman...sure he may not have natural superpowers like Superman but he rocks!

Ok it's been overhyped...its been too long...its about time. Let summer movies begin! There is nothing better than overyhyped movies...sure they usually disappoint but there are some you could care less...some you know you are following the crowd like some suicidal Jim Jones Sect...

Will he tell MJ his little secret? Just like Lois who loved both Clark and Superman...will she finally know?



Tato and I will be having a blast on this one!

Childhood Trauma 2-Lunch Time

Ok so Spidey moved onto Beta Blogger and some posts got republished and one in particular made me laugh. Childhood trauma 1

Truth about returning is that I actually enjoy writing and a good laugh...and walking down the memory lane. So here's to doing this thing again amidst talks of literary influence


A highlight of a long morning's timetable. yup be it double maths, double GHC...at the end of those long classes came lunch time.

1. Hot Lunch.

Now in St. George's there was pick-up van that would bring hot-lunch.Had good food.Chips and sausage were the hot favorites. Then Stew and chapo the second hot favorite.
Problem was the lack of speed and hustle. Poor little porky wasn't fast enough...nor was he sleek enough. Yaani, I'd end up with a chapo and a potato with a watery stew that was left behind by the better meatier stew that used to inhabit that sufuria. Your best pal, who was munchin on chips would offer a kind promise that he'd buy for you the following day. Same crap promise he'd made yesterday. So there you are when a hawk swoops down and takes your chapo...you're left not only with a soggy stew but an empty promise of tomorrow.

Solution: Your mum organises with your teacher so that they pick food fro you.
Trauma: Other kids are now resenting you for this.
Therapy: Being alienated from the food camps that were so popular
Solution: Start carrying packed lunch so that you can belong.

2.Packed Lunch.

Damn right you don't eat Rice and fillet steak every other night. You eat food. If you have behaved you're lucky to even carry chips to school...if you have been good a sausage maybe thrown in.

So there you are with your thermos...that keeps hots hot and colds cold.
Now assuming that your thermos has made it safe and you haven't broken it.
Lunch time was a moment of quiet shame, solitude and meditation. There was the slow opening of the cover...so that the gases would escape without scaring the birds or the std 1 children. Insult would be your pal thinking you have opened a canned coke. PSssssss! Was the sound and a pal would dash over only to be disappointed.

There was the inner white compartment that carried rice...and sometimes would refuse to budge. As in that plastic punk was keeping you away from the stew awaiting. Trauma! A time I just fed rice alone as it refused to completely open. No amount of twist and shout was separating that evil white thing! You go home with a thermos full of nice stew...

Sometimes there was no need for a compartment cause it was Githeri! Yes Githeri had its own thermos taste and Lord have mercy on his children you would eat it and be full. Of course the spoon would remain sticky forever..but that was not the point.

Ugali sukuma was the worst.

Ugali sukuma was the worst when your best pal was all...here you can have some of my chicken and chips...what are you having?

3. Lunch Room.

So at Consolata. We had a lunch room that was run with the utmost efficiency. Heck lower school would first feed followed by upper school. A nice change…there is equality so no need for shame. There was enough food and better yet there was seconds. So Monday and Tuesday was Rice and Stew. Tuesday and Thursday was the best Bread and stew of beef cubes or hotdog cubes or sausage cubes. Friday was fish …

Now for some reason unknown to me then was I’d always get food poisoning over the weekend. In the words of a primary school kid…I’d have a stomach ache and stomach problems…loosely translated I’d have cramps and diarrhea. Saturdays were a drag.

After abstaining from all things chili: chevra, chevda, sauce…the loose phenomenon was still a problem. A carton of Imodium later…some packets of Bisodol later…some sand dunes of Eno later…it was discovered that fish was the main culprit. So Friday it was back to packed lunch!

4. Small mercies.

-Carrying sandwiches to school. Height of advancement. This happened once in a life time.

-A pal of ours named Charles used to have his house help prepare buckets of Chips. Those nice, yellow, oily chips that you swallowed without chewing. She’d bring them at lunch time-hot. And our dear friend, Charles, didn’t just share the chips he made us earn those chips. Place them a good distance and may the fastest make merry. (Cue ‘best things in life are free now that I’ve discovered what you mean to me!”) Off we’d dash …cheap amusement-he’d laugh at us for we had no pride…some of had no pride nor speed...I think that’s where the phrase came from of real fun for real good food. We’d fine tune our rugby skills pushing and shoving for that box of chips. We’d get all ghetto, ending victoriously if you had yourself a handful of greasy chips. Afterward you’d returned to your disowned thermos was abandoned and emptying its putrid contents in a nearby dustbin. Later at home you would lie how you cleared all your food.

-Occasionally lunch would be brought for you from town. Yup cholesterol laden samosas, sausages, burger and chips. Note I did not use the word “or”. Yaani nothing spells over-fed like an only-child! Gulp! Gulp!...choke! choke!…Lord help me please… pass me some water...Glug! Glug!…munch! munch! … There is this one time I choked…and not cause food entered the windpipe, but because food was in the food pipe and not going down. (Perhaps more food was going in than going down.)You needed a wheelbarrow to take you to class. You needed Jesus to digest. Those afternoons would take a week to pass by.

-Sneaking in a ‘cool’ was a height of truancy. You’d have a ‘cool’ hidden in your sweater as you silently sipped at it during triple math. And the teacher was more impressed at your lips turning green than at your L.C.M/BODMAS skills.

-Asians used to have some interesting goodies. Perhaps cause your tongue only knew of githeri and rice. But if an Asian pal offered you food…you took it...you maybe unable to pronounce it but it was a given it tasted good. That’s when I discovered cauliflower goes with anything: pizza, samosas, bread...I think cauliflower was the answer to everything. Asians were also the masters of deceit. You feed on that food, it tastes like a beef, smells like beef…but there is no trace of beef. Yaani Ndengu pekee! Ndengu solo. Ndengu could be so well disguised…and to think at home you kick and fuss.

5.White lies-that I used.

There was nothing as bad as going home with a thermos that was rattling. Note the rattling was not from chicken bones that you had left inside. Because trust me if you carried chicken those bones were displayed well or all to see you had chicken for lunch. No the sound was from the glass flask that was now just glass.

Woe unto you if it was the large thermos…which you had been bought for because you were now a big boy, and a responsible one!

-Er you see… another boy was running by like a madman and knocked over my bag and hence the thermos broke.

-A hawk was coming at me since I was carrying chapo(again_…I panicked and dropped the bag, running for cover…and hence the thermos broke.

-It’s broke? Let me see! I didn’t break it!

-Bryan pushed me and I fell on top of the bag…hence the thermos broke.

6. Juice moments.

Before quencher there was Tree-top. Before those unbreakable juice bottles that had star wars on them...damn those thing were cute, sturdy and jisty with a straw. Anyway before those were those Dog-like juice bottles that came in all colors. And dont forget the magic use of a polythene paper to prevent leakage.

Sometimes you carried milk. Sometimes you carried water with a drop of juice a.k.a squash. So dilute the confusion quenched your thirst!