To Keira

Hey Keira,

I miss you so much. Tonight I am like the saddest former father ever. You were so young and so pretty and you'd just learnt how to not disturb your daddy. Why the fuck you have to leave so soon. How the hell am I supposed to recover from all this pain that I am feeling? I survive day after day, pretend everything is okay and humor will heal me eventually. It's been a year and humor or anything hasn't done sh*t so far. I am sadder than I've ever been before. I am crying and crying and I doubt I'll ever stop. If you've lost someone really close to you, you know what I am talking about. RIP Keira Kanyana Wanyenze, I am gon miss you for the rest of my life. Damn! I am gon miss you for as long as I am me. I know you probably looking down and wondering why your daddy's crying. Babe, I am crying coz you are not my baby anymore, apparently, you someone else baby now. No more holding you or playing songs from the playlist you used to fall asleep to. It's done. We can't chill in the couch anymore while you listen to stories I made up just for you.

I am so sad. Tomorrow is a fucking public holiday and I just don't give a f*ck. I miss you and love you so much I don't know what to do. Damn! I even learnt to change your diapers. All these tears, this dehydration is really not for you. It's for me, you're probably very pleased wherever you are. I just can't help thinking about how it would have been now. You, a year old, just saying your first words...me teaching you how to call people lumpens and hooligans and how to say sorry before they start beating you up :-) I gotta run now. I love you, I love you a lot. Try not to get into any trouble now. Although, if the punishment for getting into trouble is getting sent back to earth, get into a lot of trouble. I am gonna miss you a lot. Love ya.

P.s.
I still have your playlist on my notebook. One day perhaps, we'll waltz to it again. I miss you.

Love,
Your daddy.

Passaway

It's raining heavily and the car...STOP!! Do I really need to explain myself for blogging, on a laptop I own, with internet I pay for in a house that's mine? Hmmmm,I guess so. Anyway, it's raining heavily and the car is parked kinda far away so here I am...blogging. I just checked and I have over 50 draft posts some with more than a paragraph. This is a relevant fact, no?

Anyway, this afternoon, I am sharing bits and pieces of myself with you. After some hard thinking, I have come to the conclusion that I am the ish. I am actually what women want. I mean, over the years, I've created a checklist based on what my female friends (who I think wanted me all this time but signed a treaty to all leave off)have said and allow me to finally present the official guide to what women (and girls) want.

Disclaimer: If some of the guidelines strike you as impossible, please remember that this is ME (the guy that women want)

1. Women like guys who drive automatic cars
This automatically disqualifies expensive sports car owners, taxi drivers and a few friends of mine. Why this peculiar behaviour from the females of our species? I have the answer...it boils down to multi-tasking (forget all the management theory they taught you in school). Multi-tasking means being able to do everything else and keep a conversation running while you drive. No grunting and huffing while you drive eg. I think , we can not load anymore passengers. Ok, this example is off coz that would mean, the chick is in the taxi drivers ride during working hours.

2. Women like guys who work from dining tables
There's nothing as sexy as a guy working at a dining table, ask my wife, and she is an authority on sexy men, she lives with one 24/7. Anyway, as I was saying before I started blowing my vuvuzela, chicks absolutely love dining table guys. U know what it shows? Once again, that word, multi-tasking. If you can work at the table at which you eat, who knows what you can do on the bed in which you sleep. This is common sense and I really wonder how sharp all you guys out there are. I mean, it took me a while to figure this out and I've just given it to you on a silver platter. I am a philanthropist (which brings me to my next point)

3. Women love philanthropists
This is true. No woman likes Bill Gates (or me) for his money. Women like men who like to give and keep giving and giving and giving. Ok, this sound lewd but it's my blog and my mind has since left its gutter days behind (unlike you, yeah you, stop turning your gu head, I mean you with the spectacles and the ka bald spot <-- apply applicable description). CAUTION: Do not give money to beggars while in a woman's sight. It only makes you look like an easy target, only give money to rich people. Now, rich people did not get rich by giving money away so they are only too happy to get free money from you e.g. Yo! Sudhir, lunch is on me today. Just pick your spot. Guaranteed, if you feed Sudhir, Kirumira and uncle Kutesa while she can see you, it's a wrap. You now have a dedicated follower. This woman will do anything for you. "Go buy me socks," and she'll deliver them and help you wear them. "Take off your ear rings," and she'll take them off. "Take off your sweater," you know what will happen.

There are a total of 5671 rules to ensure you ensnare the woman(en) of your dreams. If you analyse me, you'll probably find like 5000, the other 671 I have to tell you. I am a working man so I gotta go. Peace out, Jah bless, Shalom and catch you on the rebound. You have your women only coz I don't want them. As earlier said, I am a philanthropist.

P.s
If you are wondering about the title, it's a term used to refer to a situation where something alive is passing away eg the taxi passawed the dog.

Golola Moses

Man! I have no idea what to write about today. I want to write some sensible stuff today. Real stuff, none of that rubbish that congests my other posts but I seriously doubt my brain is up to this business. I am going to post a lesson in basic computer system administration.

Change of plan. Somehow, I can't keep a topic going past its paragraph limit. My brains require some low level organization so tonight I am going to format them and start partitioning from scratch. My brains (I have two) are kinda messed up coz I misplaced the partition tables as a child so this is not an easy task. Anyway, introducing (drum roll).......the DIY "fix you broken brain" tutorial for Windows.

Step 1: Run an antivirus scan
It is pointless to backup your stuff if there's lots of viral tenants loitering and throwing street bashes along your well tended cranial avenues. So, first we clean the old brain box up. Buy a license for your favorite antivirus and some laundry bleach. Mix these two ingredients and make sure the AV is thoroughly saturated with the bleach. Copy the bleached antivirus onto a USB drive.

Step 2: Transfer
Since your brain's security will not accept a remote antivirus installation, you need to transfer the program onto your internal storage manually. Plug the USB drive into your right ear (your brain has one USB port and it's right behind your right ossicles) and keep pushing until it slides into the port. Psst! If you survive this, you are in business. Copy the installation file into your temp folder and run it.

Step 3: Installation
Sometimes, your brain is *virulently viral*. This means that your brain is entirely controlled by the virus. Symptoms are general stupidity, inability to perform simple arithmetic procedures within reasonable time frames e.g. 1(2(1*60)) if this took more than two seconds to compute skip to step 40. Otherwise, run the setup and follow the blinking prompts to completion.

Step 4: Scan your brain
First things first, why are you running Windows on your brain(s)? I am digressing, back to business. Do a thorough scan of your frontal lobe first. That's the huge engine directly above your eyes. Apparently, it is responsible for higher cognitive functions - love, jogging, driving, picking up girls, impulse control i.e. you are just another wild eyed monkey without it. Don't want a virus in your impulse control room, do you? Imagine, falling in love with money (oh sh*t, I know some people...). Example abandoned! Imagine falling in love with your lamp shade. You don't know why but you love it above all things. What happens when you decide to take your relationship to the next level? Boss, just scan the stupid lobe, NOW!

This is part one of the DIY "fix your broken brain" tutorial. If you were following the procedure step by step, stay in your home until part two to avoid re-infection. Peace out, you good people stay cool and remember: Love is the answer.

nciknmaes

The word is nicknames. Hello fellow hustlers in this harsh multiverse, it's been a while and a lot of wtaer has passed under this bridge. Busy, busy, busy!! Why do I do this to myself? It's Sunday afternoon, people are driving to the beach, paying for yesterdays sins, getting laid ans so on. Me, I am in bed...blogging. Such a wuss yours truly is, init?

!trouble: in my profession, an exclamation mark preceding an article means anything but that article. I don't see any need to explain further if you are too slow to understand all these english words. Blame God, not me. Anyway, I used to run a company called !chaos; which I thought was like the coolest thing ever. Hi, my name is Mufere from anythingbut-chaos, I mean think about it. This is democracy at its finestest. Everyone call call me what they want to call me, anything but chaos. To cut this story short coz am getting bored, people didn't get it (yeah, you too)

This kaboozi has nothing to do with nicknames. I'll keep the title coz that's what I wanted to write about when I started. What's with people and nicknames. Nick is short for Nicholas, so there's no need to call nick: nickso. Might as well call him Nicholas Twalizamulinaweogambandibwerere (which is his full name). I am not gon give any more example but all the patsos, Nickso, Mikesonzi, Nagidee, General Mega dee and Rabadaba (what kind of name is this) of this world shoud watch out. I am armed with exclamation marks (grab one !patso). Bye

Begin 1,2,3...

4,5,6,7,8,9... I sense confusion in your soul but you are just mad if you think the holy trinity of numbers can be followed by anything but 4,5,6 and so on. What were you hoping would follow; go! (sports day), 4 get your woman on the floor (rap), kamata (lingala), kikubbe (bebe cool), miclophone check (wedding djs)? Truth is, I don't care about how you people plagiarise the trinity so I wonder to myself, why am I writing about when there's a huge world out there with interesting things to observe and write about! That's all the math I am doing today.

I am adding a technical section to this blog starting today. Before I begin, I need to bounce something off you. This business of saying "tomorrow never comes," who made it up and what were we thinking when we didn't kill him and stop its spread. Tomorrow comes, ladies and gentlemen and that is non-negotiable. Try it, say tomorrow never comes and wait for morning to feel like the world's biggest fool. Then the James Bond people called their movie,"tomorrow never dies". What a useless statement! You can not even use it anywhere. You try and use it in a sentence like so "Tomorrow never dies so I will not insult my boss coz he might fire me when tomorrow comes." You see? No sense can be made from these two statements. Please remind me how this paragraph started, my phone has scrolled down.

The technical section will have to wait because "time waits for no man," no wonder women always take their time, they have lots of it waiting around. Ok, that was pointless nonsense and I am sorry. If this goes beyond 4linesI'llbforced2finishtheparagraphsoIamsqueezingtheletterstogether.have a nice weekend. Peace out!

Non regrettien

Here I am...again. Can't find it in me to blog anymore. I am always running around or sleeping or just too laid back to start writing. This is a good thing. Blogging (for me) is like the northern bypass of my personal descent into madness. Sometimes, when I let go, I fall all the way and recovery is difficult. I have to realign myself to this dimension and it's three axes as well as rent and diesel and work and Umeme and NWSC and the house girl (who is extremely mysterious btw). She seems to slink all over the place. You look up and there she is, walking on the ceiling. STOP! Look again and she's disappeared. Feels like the Damien Thorn's* nanny :-( Nuff about her.

{RHYMING INTERLUDE}
I am sitting up,
I should be working,
I am making the sounds,
Looking the part,
but I am not working,
I am blogging,
This is my poem,
The only thing I know,
for sure is it's rubbish,
but I don't care,
coz it's my rubbish,
and as they say, the fools,
don't wash your dirty,
linen in public,
and to them I reply,
Look here foolish ones,
I live on the street,
where else am I going to,
wash this linen but here!
{END INTERLUDE}

Kindly disregard lines 11-19 (don't bother counting the lines, I know I didn't) I feel like I was discussing something really serious when I digressed. I seem to have reached an impasse in my life. I do the same stuff everyday...get to town, drive around town, hang around town, talk to brown (chalk 1 for rhyme), noun (chalk 2 for rhyme). Paragraph abandoned.

Aah, fresh start, new paragraph, a cool breeze spurring this blogger onto some really great writing. Oh shit, it's bedtime. I must bid myself adieu, because I have to recharge the AAA batteries in my head.

P.S
I just went through every Star trek novel any fool ever wrote...after a marathon of all the Star wars novels (and novellas and poems) ever written. Ask me something, I dare ye.

P.p.s
I know you are thinking I should go to bed now. Perhaps I should. I think I have to be up tomorrow morning. This is my blog so if I sing about myself every third word, it's MY bidness. Bye bye I

My letter to moi..

Hello me,
It's been a while. How you been? You could have called but you did not. You could have emailed but you did not. I know you are me but this is a bit too much. You have an obligation to be good to me. Take me to lunch, buy me nice stuff etc. Please cease and desist from dressing me up in t-shirts and jeans. I am a working man, please help me dress the part. This is what I'll expect from you from here on out. Starting tomorrow, I'll expect the following:

1. You will dress me formally to work.
2. You will drive faster than my wife recommends. She's never driven a rally car before so she doesn't know a thing about speeding (or overspeeding for that matter).
3. You will stop ranting about the weather (fix the ac fool)
4. You will wake up early (before 10am)
5. You willl not spend strange amounts of the money every weekend. You can get drunk on cheaper liquor so get with the new program.

Both of us gotta run. We need to get home. Hope tomorrow is more relenting on our mind. Peace out. Today's tender thought goes out to the fungi in hell...all that sulphur and brimstone must hurt.