Struggles Du Jour – Who talk but don’t Do.

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Friday the tenth, twelve thirteen pm. Employees are walking around whispering in the corridors. And from the window on one side of their office wall, the manager can be seen repeatedly loosening his tie and scratching at his bald spot. He’s taken to coming to work without a coat. The office he shares with the co-director seems cramped and cluttered with chairs and used tea mugs. The air inside is hot and the ceiling fan has been running non-stop since Monday. Footsteps echo along the laminate flooring outside their door. It’s been nine days since the end of the month and no one’s been paid.

Continue reading “Struggles Du Jour – Who talk but don’t Do.”

Of Pooping Out Demons.

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Continued from Rock City.

Three hours.

She’d been in the toilet for three hours now. Three hours of horrifying, gut-wrenching, noises that came from the back of the house where Saika had disappeared since they got home. Georgy, thinking she’d gone to throw up, had gathered her things and gone in after her to help. But after hearing the door to the bathroom slam shut and the sound of the tap coming on under an empty bucket, she paused mid-step. Oh no. Oh, God.

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Zookeepers Are Perverts – Allegedly.

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Razor’s was pumping. Which was not to say that it wasn’t usually. But tonight seemed way too intense to pass off as a regular Saturday. The air was electric, the bitches eclectic, and in all likelihood, you could swipe alcohol from a table and nobody would look at you twice. Continue reading “Zookeepers Are Perverts – Allegedly.”

Rock City

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Continued from Sometimes it Is what you don’t have.

The car wended its way through the sand streaked tarmac road, Georgina let down the window. The humid wind felt good on her face. Mwanza was not as hot as the coast of Tanzania but being at the lakeside, it was not cool either. They were on their way to a traditional doctor, known for a detoxifying herb that cleaned out the colon. But Georgina and her sister, Saika, didn’t know that. Having visited these kinds of doctors from one end of the country to the other, they hadn’t bothered to find out specifics. They were all the same now.

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Inhale

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There are days in life when you know exactly what’s going on, who’s where, and how everything will eventually turn out. Days when you’re at the top of your game. Days when you are nigh on clairvoyant(!), about everything that happens – you are prepared! Nothing gets past you. You are Bruce Lee and tasks are all those opponents who get their asses handed to them a beating a minute. You are a master of ‘Enter the Dragon, The Drunken Master, and Dude in a Ditch.’ And who doesn’t like days like these. When everything just seems to fall into place. What is effort at a time like this, do you even – I have never heard of such a thing. I was born this way. Continue reading “Inhale”

Rebel

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“Can you hurry it up, you sloth. They want to close up.”

“I’m coming! Why is it that you don’t give others the same courtesy when they’re waiting for you?” Sam asked as she shoved her half-closed laptop into her bag.

“Because I don’t take half an hour to wait for like you do?” Jacob replied.

“I don’t take half – ”

“I called you an hour ago.” Jacob cut her off, his voice flat.

“Yeah well, you do it too,” she scowled at him.

“No I don’t and you know it. Now move, I want to lock the door.”

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Sometimes It Is What you don’t Have.

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A lot of things are opinion. Subjective. There was a time when a big ol’ line separated facts and feelings. And it was as clear as the neo-colonialism bondage into which Africa is entering with China, where one stopped and the other started. That line’s gotten so blurred and grey, people don’t really differentiate anymore. I like to keep it real. Grey areas offend me. The fact is that feelings and opinions are like souls, everyone has them. But that doesn’t imply value. Or even validity. Mine might even count for less. But since this is the internet, and everyone has a free pass to spout out all the shit they can express in ones and zeros, here’s my load.

Continue reading “Sometimes It Is What you don’t Have.”

Toddlers, Bis and Midgets.

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Liv started from sleep with a grunt as the loud alarm clock let out a shrill beep three times showing five am on the screen. She reached across and pressed snooze. Turning over, she stretched within the delicious warmth of her covers, stilling a bit as sleep seeped into her senses again. She sat up in a slow daze, throwing the covers aside. Why did it always feel like moving a boulder, getting up in the morning? She swung her legs out of the bed and stood up, rubbing her eyes and scratching her hair. Dragging her feet, she went to the bathroom, toothpasted her toothbrush and undressed for the shower. Naked, toothbrush in hand and hair covered, she went under the spray of nearly too hot water, and stood there, brushing her teeth. The water felt like a benediction for leaving the warmth of her bed at this sacrilegious hour. Gazing listlessly at the floor, water slid down her body as she scrubbed them. When she was satisfied she rinsed her mouth and then the brush, then threw that back on the sink.  Continue reading “Toddlers, Bis and Midgets.”

Poodles and Boobs

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I’ve always wanted to start a writing and make it feel like how the Hungarian Rhapsody 2 sounds. Dramatic, and kingly, yet seductive as it continues. Reflective as it passes the threshold of your brain. Telling you sweet little stories of gay adventures and the part their mistresses played. And what satisfying, happy endings they had. You can just imagine their flighty journeys through terrible countries and dangerous peoples. How they braved all that for the sake of glory and renown. In your shoes that looks perfectly acceptable and very much a desirable thing to endure. You’d be right. Except that you aren’t in their shoes. You’re in yours. Which are warm and comfortable and trusty. No irksome little stones at the corners picking at your toes. And they fit you well so the top edges round back don’t pinch the skin above your heel. They don’t have holes at the front where your toes peek out and the water seeps in. They don’t have sand in them to remind you of fairer and finer places you left behind. Continue reading “Poodles and Boobs”