Humans! Urghh! Human beings!! URGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!! I hate these creatures. I concur with the erstwhile Agent Smith’s (you know, the guy from that captivating post-Millennium Matrix trilogy) utter revolt and distaste for these mammals. It is my waking and living wish for some apocalyptic event that would expunge the globe of the scourge of human existence.

I’m walking through the streets of filthy Harare, having just stepped out of the office to eloign myself of the rigmarole of the office space, the urgent desire to indulge in one guilty fag being utterly coincidental and not at all contributing to my overall tenebrific outlook. Peace, tranquillity, serenity or at the very least, a passable simulacrum thereof are my hope, but hope in a place of human activity is the reserve of the naïve. The streets are littered with debris of a dubious nature, human excrement lies on the worn and battered pavements, the stench of urine cloys up the air, and worst of all, that nefarious being, that obstreperous nuisance, that opificer of doom and hegemony, man, oh how he makes for the biggest littering presence.

Men in ridiculous attire; boys in garb inspired by Western fashions but collectively assembled in a frivolous manner, thereby making for a preposterous if not sorry overall mien; women carrying howling babies on their backs, said babies still displaying an overall deficiency of fine dieting, and a general aura of ill-use; tartlets in various skimpy items of dress, fluttering eyelids at gullible and lascivious men who follow the progress of said succubi with greedy eyes that scream obscenities and concupiscence; school-going younkers walking in groups of several thousands and thus filling up all available walking space; vendors (oh boy, where to begin), vendors…*aposiopesis descends*

My very best of memories in this city either involve copious amounts of libation to induce thorough inebriation (and hence inhibit the perception of the dirt and filth all round), or they involve some of my obambulations in the purlieus of the city, in areas where man’s hand is yet to corrupt, in the bushes, in untilled lands not yet marked for development. There, a man’s heart is to be free. His mind is on the higher things in life like the ideal cup-size to ass ratio, the Arsenal game wherein Liverpool FC was thoroughly chastised, the shape of that overhanging boulder, oh, and that of that cloud, doesn’t it seem to resemble a man with an extra long chin, or is it a beard resembling those Oriental beards, or simply some kind of straw, but how can it be a straw, not, it can’t be a straw, it must be a combination of long chin and the Asian beard thingy.. Oh, the setting sun,  I must take a picture, yeah, even I who detests the taking of pictures, no doubt due to my frustration with this Instagram generation, I mean, those broads take over a thousand pictures of themselves, every new dress, every new place visited, every food ingested, everything and anything in their humdrum lives must they share….anyway, I lose myself, how did I even get on this train of thought, I come here to escape such thoughts, ohh yeah, I was contemplating immortalizing this sunset from this particular position by taking a snap, well, here goes, the sun’s actually  sank a couple of centimetres whilst I dithered…anyways, I best be headed home if I’m to avoid freezing half to death. Oh, how I dread this next bit. What would it be man, to just have a fucking backpack with all the essentials, and I’d just hike through bush for about a month or so…*long fucking sigh*

Back to civilization I head, back to hegemony, back to noise, back to people who fret over their humdrum existences, completely oblivious of the bigger picture in life, completely engrossed in their own affairs, the fucking bills, the electricity bill, rent (that scoundrel), the sermon the minister just delivered, living up to societal standards and norms, presenting a simulacrum of having their shit in control (the sanctimonious tartuffes), the cleanliness of the yard, the car, the house, the clothes and so it goes.

Oh man, open your fucking eyes and see. You are not the centre of the universe; you are not some special entity shaped in the form of some Deity. The aberration of Evolution…. Fuck it, it’s no use, I’m blowing my fucking brains out!

Don’t let the Sun go down on me

Many a man has found himself feeling the full dread of a setting sun. Not so much the setting of that physical behemoth, but rather, the setting of the sun of a man’s years, that sad, inevitable moment in his life when he finds himself irreversibly in the twilight of his years. He’s left behind the best of everything, his most raucous laughter has long bid his erstwhile company adieu, his deportment has long since gained that state that betrays a nimiety of fine dining and fine libation that indeed borders on crapulence, his desire has all but crept away from him, his physical strength is a shadow of its former glory (he winces when he thinks of whence he’s fallen from). He is but a pale shadow of his former self. That propellent quality, curiosity, has long since refrained from visiting our sorry subject, except in cursory and perfunctory stints, and even then it’s relegated to the most bilious and mundane of topics, the obituaries, the price of desert roses, or other such matters to which no ordinary younker would ever dream of being drawn to the contemplation of.

Such a man, in such a state, is  not necessarily a bad thing, for when man has, in the course of his life prior to this crepuscule, lived his life in full measure, then said crepuscule will elicit only a minor sense of resentment in the visited. It offers him a chance to rest  before that final rest that must visit all men is visited him, aye, ‘fore the Grim Reaper draws nigh for the harvest he will not be denied. Fortunate is the man who upon reaching the twilight of his years finds himself with little or no regret (indeed barring the one regret of being subject to senescence).

“And so to conclude and to finish this skit,” I will state my utmost terror, here in the very prime of my youth, an overwhelming dread really, that on the day that I will confess myself to have taken that last turn on the highway of life, the turn that leads in only one direction, and to a final destination six feet ‘neath the ground, having passed through geriatric station, I will find myself with regret the regret of not having lived as I set out to, not having travelled extensively as possessed my young mind to imagine, not having dined with kings and with beggars, amongst a bevy of other goals objectives formulated in the formative years of my life. Please don’t let the Sun go down on me, (but when it does, let me have done all I set out to).

Blog Entry

They are marked by a wide and greatly varying set of characteristics, all sharing the same core feature, which is the extreme annoyance they cause. They chatter loudly, animatedly, senselessly and with hardly the foggiest as to what their long-winded and extemporary tirades are intended to achieve. They love it when the general populace envisages them as god’s great representatives on earth. They read with great zest and with faces contorted into comical proportions by sheer dint of the sanctimoniousness of their beings, the very scriptures which condemn their behaviors, but these persons are beyond reproach in their own eyes in their monomaniac clutch on religion. They seldom have any great material wealth, and sagacity in the making of decisions is alien to them, having their own lives riddled with bad decisions, yet they are always the first people to offer advice, which they give in no short-supply, and with a peremptory nature about it. No valued reader, I do not possess any love for the nosy, gossipy, loquacious and invidious woman!

The other day I had the misfortune of waking up to what seemed like a train passing through our living room. To add to my misery was a malodorous stomach which sent me scampering over to the lavatory halved-over in sheer discomfort. As I raced there, I had peeped into the living room, and discovered there a woman talking furiously. As I sat down to empty my bowels, (painfully so), bits and pieces of the conversational thread found their way behind that door. It turns out that there had been a death of a former tenant (or someone else that these women knew somehow), and whether by dint of the magnitude and severity of their grief, or if it was to recount as much of the deceased’s life as quickly as possible, or just the excitement at another chance to showcase the great humanity and feeling engendered to these women by the creator; whatever the reason, they found it necessary to converse in tones nigh approaching those of full-blown expostulation. The one woman in question I have to live with, being resident in her house whilst attending college, whilst the other is but a neighbor, a rather penurious one I gather.

It’s always a sight to see these women in the height of their excitement, and obsequies, nuptials and other such auspicious occasions are when this excitement reaches dizzying heights. They harass, harangue and cajole everyone to the point of exhaustion. This incommodious and otiose behavior betrays the excitement in them, which their every other action is at pains to disguise. For instance, there is the slow saunter of the pained individual, the dragged feet, the melancholic facial expressions and other manifestations of that afore-mentioned humanity tainted with sanctimoniousness and downright playacting.

It is when I observe such persons that I very much contemplate spending my life a solitary, bohemian existence which nevertheless would be free of such needless drama and sorrow. But then again, I cannot help but tergiversate about that line of thought, for when one does find the right one; it could and would make life much more bearable and worthwhile.

More will be said on ‘those women’ and with greater succinctness and less glibness later on. In this particular blog I wanted to assure myself that my ability to be grandiosely grandiloquent yet exists. Needless to say, it took longer to type this than it would have been a couple of years back when I was feasting on Mr. Charles Dickens’ works!

To the sounds of a certain Mr Buble I begin my second blog entry.

Is it not a wonder how opinions, thoughts, beliefs and perceptions are so easily altered and transformed. With the slightet alteration in circumstance or status are giant changes in those named respects. A popular example is how a single man thinks that his singular existance is the worst thing in the world, but then that same man, once in a relationship will look with absolute envy upon those that are single.

As my last relationship was drawing to a close, I bethought meself the world's most miserable being. I might indeed have been miserable, but that misery is of scant propotions to the misery that sits upon me when I consider my relationship status now, that of being single. Now, the obvious choice seems to be to plunge right in that inexhaustible market, but as with a plethora of other circumstances, it's hardly that simple! Firstly, there is the fact that I am at a conundrum concerning the whole relationship phenomenon. One side of me is abhorrent of any relationships at this time, it prefers a hit and run modus operandi, a string of absolutely meaningless liasons of duration not more that a couple of hours. The other part of me is all for settling down with just one girl, and hope that she has not set her moral standard too high, for that's likely to be a bummer, and someone would only end up getting hurt. Then there is the very small part of me that wants to direct my efforts elsewhere. Somewhere else that has nothing to do with those kind of social triviances.

Suppose a girl was to be chosen, there's a whole lot of considerations in so doing. These I will touch upon in my next blog. Sleep and Top Gear bid me heed them.

First blog entry:
So why am I blogging? Well, I've always wanted to be some measure of a writer, and this seems an appropriate first step towards achieving that objective. secondly, well, it's as simple as Barney Stinson!Yep, that chap and all his talk about blogging were not without their effects. So yeah, here i am.

I really haven't written anything serious since my O'level days. advanced level was all about sciences, and in these i was seldom required to wax lyrical. As a matter of fact, the few times I did churn out that masterful eloquence I had been well known for in my earlier years was when I was glibly attempting to hide ignorance in a certain subject. This trick did help me once or twice in biology-a case of playing the man rather than the game i suppose. (okay, where are the damned smileys, i now find it hard to fully express myself without them).
Well it's been a hectic few weeks for me. School started, I broke up with my first and only girlfriend thus far (no real surprise there), and I've kind of been on a social roller coaster. In school I've just discovered that some of the topics I'd skirted over, or even totally avoided in my first year are coming back to haunt me. As such, I've begun backtracking, pouring over my year ones notes, textbooks in a desperate attempt to bridge the gaps as quickly and as efficiently as possible, of course without having forgotten to draw an important life lesson from such an event, the lesson being that commonly repeated aphorism; when you do something, do it well and thoroughly at the first time of asking. It's always good to avoid unnecessary regress.

Okay, let me move to the girlfriend issue. Well, it had been coming for quite a while now. The breakup was simply inevitable given the governing circumstances. Here were two well matched people who did dote on each other so, but were misfortune'd enough to separated by distance, school being the green eyed monster to first separate them, us. She had to leave for China, I had to head south of the country to Bulawayo. The first few months of this long distance experiment were indeed rosy, and anyone who suggested anything to effect that it was not so was immediately declared our mortal enemy. We apped. We vibed (or is it vibered?) We yahooed,gmailed, skyped, and used just about any reaches of the social media available to us. But what must happen to all long-distance relationships slowly began to wander into hours. At first, the fierce and fearsome fights, two volatile persons exploding spontaneously into fitful bouts of apoplexy and expostulation. These were invariably followed by floods of a pheromone nature, absolute highs of love, and great and fearsome asseveration to that effect. Declarations would be made, as would be promises of life-long commitment and adoration. dear reader, if you ever see your long distance relationship get to this point, and you wish to save it,then kindly sell all you have, and heard for the nearest airport, and from thence be ye with your  partner for some time, for whilst normal relationships in which you see each other on a daily basis may have explosive fights too, they are soon forgotten and forgiven as the participants go about their daily lives. I guess that constant contact does that. Well, my bony lass and I gradually drifted apart, and close to the end there we would go for days on end with speaking communicating. This wasn't intentional, but it was an inevitable conclusion to a relationship between two people who weren't going to see each other for at least five years.

Presently I'm torn between going for this other girl I've always had my eye on, and fooling around without any ironclad attachment. She really is a most wonderful girl to gaze upon, as pretty a sight as they come, and i fear that dawdling from me may result in her permanently being lost, but on the other hand, who doesn't appreciate a bout of tomfoolery!

well, in such matters as in others, sometimes time will tell, as Bob Marley sang in one mournful song I'm particularly fond of. On the other hand, this is just an excuse people use to avoid taking action, or being put in the firing line. 

I must be bringing these random mental excursions to an end now, for I must to my bed, and on the way to that mini Utopia is a pre-bed routine of brushing of the teeth, my weights session, and I a stomach session I only squeezed in because I wasn't satisfied with yesterday's.
So long then, dear reader. I'll be coming here more often than I've hitherto made an attempt to methinks, for I seem to be better able to rid my mind of those most stubborn cobwebs sticking obdurately in the corners when I put my thoughts on paper.
JI Ndlovu