In the circles I engage I hope to be viewed as a sage sentinel,
this would usually demand a military leaning crisp and functional philosophy as opposed to a haughty, fat and sleek indulgence of the Epicurian herd. As a result of aspired discipline I have had to engage in decisions that stem my appetites for the wanton wastefulness exhibited by unbridled passion and/or inebriated senses.
Naturally I had to resist the urge to drink alcohol, and similarly cut ties with imbibing friends and the usual watering spots. The results were instantaneous but that which surprised me was the animosity that sprang forth from the friends. I found such excesses as posted below taxing and avoided them much to the chagrin and drew harsh criticism for my choices.
On a normal weekend i was accustomed to budgeting for a couple of litres of fuel and whisky. It wasn’t rare to end up driving from one edge of the sub-county map to the other in search of the tasty morsels the night life offers in her ample bosom, it wasn’t rare to wake up in the mid morning with a bruise to the side of you face nor blood on your black boots…no sir, I meant to live a life mapped out by a sub conscious collection of machismo characters collected from dozens of comic books and about as triple the same from movies showcasing suits, 9 mm caliber ammunition, a wicked time piece, lacy thongs and blood soaked bank notes…and then came an out of town assignment.
Somewhere along the shorelines of Pirates beach during dusk I had a perception shift, the margins between swahili culture and bara culture was too wide to ignore, here in the moist air and sandy beaches I had no thirst for ‘a cold one’ or fried carcasses. For the first time in a long time I was in a place where the wind whispered ancient secrets deep into your soul, a place where a man wasn’t viewed as a means to an end but as the beginning of a new chapter of an equitable plush world that was ours to take, should we want it.
By the time I travelled back to the ‘christian’ or bara world I had a glimpse into religious fundamentals of both religious sects and I knew I wanted nothing to do with the jew on a stick and his teachings.
But I digress, back to the regular cocoons and their relations. At the office I would sit at my desk quietly pushing papers and it would dawn on me how loud the office would get the minute a woman walked in. And not just audio wise, the air would he filled by a sickly sweet scent of cologne and the conversation would gravitate from a harmonious work related humdrum to an envy riddled competitive tone and shrill laughter. At first I considered the possibility that perhaps I had taken one too many red pills, but the same phenomenon would happen beyond the dreary grey walls and kcb calenders. I could be sitted in a perfectly serene fruit shop munching away at a piece of melon then a shrieking bunch of banshees would enter the place and that would be the end of that train of thought.
My friends couldn’t see my point of view, I no longer wanted to engage any woman without a purpose which sadly remained a carnal one. Few were exceptionally kind, even sadistic but most had found a niche worth exploiting in men. They had realized that seduction was the key to a man’s wallet, and when I glanced about I saw the smart ones projected an air of austerity yet when tired or irritated they would let down their guard. Showy bimbos operated within their parameters of noisy bracelets and even noisier conversations. The bosses who entertained such characters had a short lifespan with the directors, and the management team who dipped their fingers in the cookie jar ended up remorseful of their yearnings in the face of one particular exposure to his family.
How could I have been so blind to these dynamics? was it because of the womanizing images I had been exposed to where we view women as play things…the fcuking irony is that we are their play things, the minute you get interested in relations is precisely the moment you lost.
Antisocial habits have found a foothold in my heart, but I view it differently, I see an opportunity to live out my code. A highly flawed code that wants nothing to do with composed music but seeks a quiet corner of the world to stare into the distance and marvel at how minute my concerns would be to the gods.
Yesterday was a Saturday, how many playmates showed up to the scene dolled up ready to spend your earnings on purchased affections?
Today is a Sunday, how many planteshen members will be dolled up in the waste material from their dresses to troop to church and view the symbol of a perfect man nailed to a cross, and expect any reverence from their spouses?
Time is finite, know your enemy.
In other news, villagers kindly talk to other men not to take out their anger on the children Incase of family matters. Ozarks will teach you how to go about family short comings.
