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| Friday, February 17, 2006 |
| Between the Viruses and the Worms |
Is the blogosphere
This actually happened on 26th January 2006. A guy posted this graphic and got people all over the world "infecting" their blogs.
It's actually harmless, but imagine if someone were to attach some errant code that takes over someone's blog and does nasty stuff?
Am chilling for this to happen (it will happen, believe you me) and see sh*t flying when pple log on to their own blog and find some wierdo squatting on it like mutumia did.
Well, its just a matter of time...
Song of the moment: Time waits for Nothing - Muziq Soulchild |
posted by Sammie @ 5:07 PM  |
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| Friday, February 10, 2006 |
| Between the Victimisation and the tales of Woe |
Is the day when the men all over will be Victimized, oppressed, abused, (insert appropriate descriptor here) all in the name of the evil-genious plan, more aptly called:
Valentines
"Not again!" another time of dread for the ever broke brother with a big heart.
Whoever woke up and decided that this *special* day would make up for all the missed chances at another farce called Love should be hung by the neck or the three chinese tortures be duly administered to him/her.
It is at this time that we brothers wish we had been posted to Kakuma or any other inhospitable place where there's no form of communication whatsoever (u hear that Safaricom?) It is at this said time that we are bound to show how we care, *i could choke* love and appreciate our ladies. Woe unto you if you had many! Research has proven that only women and computers are capable of multitasking! I digress.
The story:
Picture me in the morn, all cozy n stuff, feeling like the CONQUEROR, for planning to skive my date (read hell). A little too smugly i came jobo, to find me some mail from this.... tis...... lemmi not name names, she prolly has some way of reading my mind..
so on reading the kawa mushy stuff, agony on me was that she had a surptise for me, just that i had 2 show up. Simple.
Called her 2 tell her i couldnt make it, she was like, "then i'll come jobo and surprise u."
heh, u know i had 2 show up.
Followed J's advice, tafutad a kawaida joint, settled on Walkers hapo KenyaRe building. Lo!
Si (obviously) i told her i couldnt make it 4 dinner coz of jobo (and also i knew i would have had to break the bank, and am a cheapskate to hell), i had 2 plead with her 2 accept the offer 4 lunch.
What i didnt jua is that nilikuwa nimepangiwa deadly. So si like a kondoo (my primo Maths teacher used to call it "kodoshe"), i jifikishad tao, picked her from jobo, Very lovely flowers indeed(if i may say so) and proceeded to walk her to the prescibed place (gari kitu gani).
Food:
Cost me a pretty bunch, but that was the start.
The one decided to order some fancy stuff to taste, tot kwa tot. Yup i never juad i had tagged a wine taster (read: Mlevi) along with me.
First off: some fancy wine, i politely smile.
then a sambuka, O! the blue one, had to have. With a loose guesture i agree. By now i was gnashing my teeth, wooden smile on my face and a k left in my pocket!
The Plot
This chick i have been dating on and off for some coupla months, suddenly decides that today is the day of reckoning for a brother.
No wonder she was "tasting" all the unique stuff. For guts she tells me.
By this time am looking for an escape route, not really sure if i'll survive the bullSh she has tengenezad for me. She finally asks me how i feel for her. *Dammn you to hell*
For real i dunno what 2 say, she has time, she has decided not 2 rudi jobo till we settle this issue of me hitting on her kiholela-holela
By now some veins have started forming on her forehead, me am busy trying to formulate a completely useless answer to satisfy her, i take some time to breathe by telling her to "ngo srow on the tundrinks". The topic of drinks is soon over.
The end:
I hate causing a scene, so in as many words as i could conjure i tried telling her the truth (as she wanted to hear). Sadly my efforts are rebuffed with a curt answer, "please get to the point."
Kawaida, i start asking questions of my own. Am like "I dunno how you feel about me, so i really cannot be in a position to tell you how i feel."
My question:
How do you tell a lady that you love the occasional rubs and the onetime sexual encounter, and that is what keeps you coming back? |
| posted by Sammie @ 4:33 PM |
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| Thursday, February 02, 2006 |
| Dis Poem |
dis poem
shall speak of the wretched sea,
that washed ships to these shores,
of mothers cryin for their young,
swallowed up by the sea.
dis poem shall say nothin new,
dis poem shall speak of time,,
time unlimited time undefined.
dis poem shall call names,
names like Lumumba, Kenyatta, Nkurumah,
Hannibal, Akenaton, Malcolm, Garvey,
Haile Selassie.
dis poem is vexed about apartheid, rascism, fascism,
the klu klux klan, riots in brixton atlanta,
jim jones.
dis poem is revoltin against 1st world,
2nd world, 3rd world division;
man made decision.
dis poem is like all the rest,
dis poem will not be amongst great literary works,
will not be recited by poetry enthusiasts,
will not be quoted by politicians nor men of religion.
dis poem's knives, bombs, guns, blood, fire,
blazin for freedom;
yes dis poem is a drum.
ashanti, mau mau, ibo, yoruba, nyahbingi warriors
uhuru uhuru
uhuru namibia
uhuru soweto
uhuru afrika.
dis poem will not change things,
dis poem need to be changed,
dis poem is a rebirth of a people,
arizin awaking understandin.
dis poem speak, is speakin; have spoken.
dis poem shall continue even when poets have stopped writin,
dis poem shall survive u, me; it shall linger in history.
in your mind.
in time forever.
dis poem is time; only time will tell.
dis poem is still not written.
dis poem has no poet.
dis poem is just a part of the story,
his-story, her-story, our-story; the story still untold.
dis poem is now ringin, talkin, irritatin,
makin u want to stop it.
but dis poem will not stop.
dis poem is long; cannot be short.
dis poem cannot be tamed; cannot be blamed.
the story is still not told about dis poem.
dis poem is old, new.
dis poem was copied from the bible, your prayer book,
playboy magazine. the n.y. times, readers digest,
the c.i.a. files, the k.g.b. files;
dis poem is no secret.
dis poem shall be called boring, stupid, senseless.
dis poem is watchin u tryin to make sense from dis poem.
dis poem is messin up your brains;
makin u want to stop listenin to dis poem.
but u shall not stop listenin to dis poem;
u need to know what will be said next in dis poem.
dis poem shall disappoint u,
because,
dis poem is to be continued in your mind, in your mind,
in your mind. your mind.
Picture this,
Am coming to work this morning,
Am in this matatu, being driven very badly.
Music is not particularly interesting.
There's this reggae station playing.
Then, there's this person reciting a poem, Dis Poem.
His name, Mutabaruka.
Had to look for it, to post it. You can analyse it all u want, but it still is:
Dis Poem. |
| posted by Sammie @ 8:55 AM |
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| Wednesday, February 01, 2006 |
| Anglo Leasing: The saga Continues |
And Mwiraria has just resigned!!
No prizee 4 guessing who else will. |
| posted by Sammie @ 4:21 PM |
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| About Me |
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Name: Sammie
Home: Nairobi, Kenya
About Me: Definitely not your average Jack. Love God, music, challenges and fun. Not as young as i would wish but not as old as you'd expect. Ha!
See my complete profile
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