Haidhuru

Like this chick who comes to me and asks me if it’s normal for jamaaz to bleach their instrument.
Whaaaaa???
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Ngai Baba! Thekete ma!

…as in you never forget. Or like swimming- the premise being that if you knew how to swim once, the minute you’re thrown back in the water, you never forget.

But they don’t mention that once you get on your watchie’s black mamba, you wonder if you were always *that* high off the ground. And that now that you’ve had the chance to have felt something, well, less leathery between your thighs, the positioning of the bike-saddle suddenly feels just wrong.

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Them that’s got shall get
Them that’s not shall lose
So the Bible said and it still is news
Mama may have, papa may have
But God bless the child that’s got his own
That’s got his own
Billie Holiday

So, see I was gonna post on something -OK not profound, but something. And then I saw this and I was just thinking of how funny life is. You know, veritable cornucopia for some…

and for others…..

And the poor lad’s name was Aco-gator and his sad story is stil told in Georgia to this day

Ah well, he’ll have to do…

That’s it.It’s official. I quit.

I have now stopped allowing friends to come to me for advice… I mean… HOW????!!!

Are you ready for this? A person I know called. She’s calling to ask me for my opinion on a delicate situation - a conundrum- a small ka-shida that a friend of hers finds herself in….

With me so far?

Good.

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Unfulfilled desire is… the smell of downy fabric softener on cotton sheets. Like the faint smell of fabreze on curtains and comforters. It smells like my perfume, my body spray. It looks like a bed that’s creased only on one side. The left side. My side. It looks like me. Unrumpled, un-molested, and mussed only by 6 hours of a dreamless sleep. It sounds like 2-hour phone conversations. Like text messages sent on Saturday night. Like an e-mail that says: “I’m thinking of you”. It sounds like voice messages replayed on the metro, over and over again. It feels like endless stretches of miles of bed. It looks like eye-rolling from your girlfriends when you interrupt every movie with “OMG!!! Muthuri is just like that. Yo! That’s crazy….” Quickly countered with the sistas’ “Even you Muts, ma gũ-gũthikĩrĩria, mũndũ no auge kanda ĩno yaku nĩyo ĩkamaga mĩruthi gana thamaki cia Githumu. I mean— he’s sawa and all lakini… (“Listening to you, Muts, one would think this jamaa milks lions ama fishes in Kisum-City. He’s a’ight and all but still….)

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