Tue- day 1.

5:30 pm,

1st, u need to know my frame of mind in order to make any sense of whatever I will write. I am sitting b4 this computer, wondering what on earth any part of that word really means. Who invented it? Was it an English man, was it originally French, Latin, Italia, or is it some medical mumble jumbo? Has the meaning –true n first – been lost with its introduction into everyday conversation like has been the fate of so many other words? Is the inventor still alive n at large? But try as I may, nothing remotely fascinating about it crops to mind. Am stuck, maybe am suffering writers block? Did I just write that? Am I already calling myself a writer?

As u’v pro’bly already noticed, I hvnt got 2 the point yet. That’s coz am using free style n nothing spicy is jumping 2 mind. Told u about writers block!!! Arghhh… time off? Thanx.

30mins later: (with some new hope)

Toni Braxton’s “hit the free way” is playing. I like it. What in the world do u want to read dear reader? Today is Tuesday n my ears r filled with pool water. I went 4 a film, twas hilarious. Lion king. I saw EN, we r having a minor – so my mind insists, – brawl. There was some bit of awkwardness, just a bit, anticipated too. He seemed alright. Damn! Oops, anyways, back to my topic…wait, am I running away, or am I dealing? I just want to get thru this n get back to friend zone…am wasted. I notice my thoughts rnt particularly on this topic, so I will just stop now. Am sorry dear reader, am sorry u hv to sift thru n read only what interests u. if u want too, please help with the editing. Kesho, I hope I find something at least half intelligent to pen down…

Wed- next day.

Its 6.30am, n I wonder y I woke up so damn early. So here goes…

Good Reading

She is walking towards him. Her head is averted, something in the distance has her attention. It’s a clear breezy n extremely refreshing day. That would certainly explain y she was draped in what as best described would appear as strings. She is tall, her hair is cut short, close to the scalp with a tiny suggestive cut to the right. A cut so tiny u had to hv been looking real hard to notice it. That’s y he noted it. He was looking, looking real hard. She was no cover girl model, but her stride was confident, springy, n floaty like she was cat-walking on some invisible stage. Her breasts were barely covered, the bikini bra she wore consisted mostly of string n nipple caps. Very small nipple caps. Her belly was flat like it had just been suctioned which was probably what had just happened less than a month ago. He could tell, or so he liked to think. From above her bikini knickers, peeked a few curls. His hands twitched. Instinctively, he clasped them together. He had made a promise to himself, a promise he had vowed to keep, if just to appease his conscience. NO TOUCHING! Slowly he slid his eyes down her legs,  just a quick scan. They were clean-shaven, smooth n oiled. A skin well taken care of. A secret smile crept n tweaked the ends of his mouth. He appreciated women who took the pains to groom themselves. There was an erotic sensuality to the sight of a woman sitting in-front of the mirror, naked, legs astride a short stool, back gracefully bent, skillfully, ever so  carefully running a scraper up, then up again n again, around one leg then the other, in slow, almost lazily so, motions.