Sunday, September 30, 2007

I LOL'd!



Having Company? Guess Which Guest Kitty Will Like Best ...
Posted Fri, Aug 03, 2007, 10:00 am PDT

Does your cat always seem to end up in the lap of the one visitor to your home who's allergic? Or maybe it's the one visitor who doesn't like cats? Why is it that, very often, your cat-loving visitors get passed over for the one person who doesn't want to interact with Fluffy?

Most cats are friendly to everyone who comes through the front door, but other cats are very concerned with potential territorial intrusion. These cats don't necessarily want somebody barging right over to pick them up and interact. So while your cat-loving visitors may be just trying to be friendly, the act of reaching down to pet or pick up your cat before the cat's had time to investigate this unfamiliar person can cause your cat to back away.

The cat-avoiding visitor, however, makes no move toward the cat, and usually avoids eye contact. That may actually allow the kitty to feel comfortable enough to come closer for an investigation of this stranger. As the cat inches closer to sniff the visitor's shoes, the visitor makes no overtures. This is another indication to the cat that there is no immediate threat. The cat may then jump onto the couch, sit next to the visitor, and continue to check her or him out.

If YOU have a cat who's suspicious of strangers, tell your guests to let the cat set the pace! As always, it's just at matter of looking at things from your cat's point of view, and learning to ... Think Like a Cat!


And now some smut...



Friday, September 14, 2007

Scared of No Nigga

“I was the baby boy, I could do no wrong.”
Jay-Z

Been here five days, fuck that, I’m loving it here. Life is hard, each day is a beat-down to survive and life is so precarious I do not know if I will eat today. I thought I had lost it but I had not. It is still here. Tougher than ever. I’m laughing all the time. Nothing stresses me. At least I was not fired on the first day here like the other guy. His first few hours in Juba, right from the airport, his laughter was gone. We are in a car and we do not know if we will get where we are going. The road is a slush of deep, rich brown mud, and if this car dies here we will have to come out and push. The dread because we know there is no water at home, we will have to go to the borehole and get it ourselves. But if we are to do that we will not have supper because supper here is first come first served and then all that is left are the beans with weevils and matooke that is so sweet it is like eating mashed bananas then there is nothing to do. I love those times.

Meal done with, shirt off, we are seated on the stairs of the dormitory style house we live in grassing. Talking. This is like counseling time, everyone talking of how their work day has been except they are saying it like they are not talking about their workday. It’s this and that and though no one smokes, it feels like this is illicit pleasure talking smack about the boss who pays all the bills in half hearted fashion and the comedy that is life here in Juba, but others have been further than Juba. They have been to Wau, Yei, Darfur, Bor and all the towns and small villages in between where they are received like they are a delegation sent down the mountain by God.

Yeah, there is this guy talking about how often he was ill, head hot and vibrating like there was an all night dance going on inside his head and it was morning but he was the last man standing at his station. Everyone had already been bussed back to Kampala malarial, and somehow everyone was counting on him. All he wanted was sympathy, tell me you understand, that’s all. But there’s none here and you work even when your legs can barely keep you upright, he was told when he said he was too ill today, “This is Sudan.”

Look at this philosopher, the wryness not coming from his years on this earth, he does not eat anything that he knows comes down Juba from Khartoum because he heard that the Arabs want to render the Southerners less fertile and “I have not yet done anything for my family. You want my girlfriend to start complaining when I’m become a sterile action pump?” his eyes might see different ways, but he has a talking voice like you will never hear anywhere else and there is a richness when he guffaws he does not miss TV, any sort of TV, because “I’m living in the Big Brother House itself. This is Big Brother Sudan. You get to watch all types of characters.”

He is beyond it all, he says little, speaks in staccato, but everyone waits because what he says comes from a year and half of living here, “I’m the grandfather of living in Sudan.” He has never been ill, he has never gone back home, he is not on the run, he enjoys the solitariness and silences of Sudan and he is happy manning stations where no one else will go, he sleeps ready to go, in the couch in what we could call the sitting room, “My double bed couch,” every night. Life is in his grim lopsided smile. “When Sudan loves you, it takes you into its heart and you will never want to live anywhere else.” He has eaten foods that make other stomachs cringe here and when he tells you of how he has seen men in the bush squat by River Nile and dip their faces in the chalky, dirty water and gulp then get up and walk away, you believe.

Everyday is a lifetime and I’m loving it!

Sunday, September 09, 2007

Juba Bound

Smile your smile for me one more time…

Tonight I go,
I do not know when I will be back
Or who I will be if I come back


Tonight I go
My friends tonight I go
This is not the sacrifice of innocence
This is the gaining of experience I want to believe
Because
Tonight I go


Tonight I go
I will not be back for many days and for many nights
I do not know when I will be back
Or how I will be if I come back
I’m saying farewell
Tonight I go


My friends tonight I go
Pray for this wandering soul I will miss you!
I’ll miss my Bumble Bee
Curt tongued
Severe like fashion panel judge
Feather soft heart ill concealed
Tonight I go, how I will miss you!


Tonight I go
My rucksack is under my swivel chair
Favourite notebook of mine
That reminds me of Pete’s smile is on my desk
I’m ready to go, these are my last moments
I know
Tonight I go, how I wish your smile was not only in my heart


Tonight I go
I will not be coming back for many a day, many nights
I will not be here anymore, why do I want your song once more
The transition is over for
Tonight I go


Oh my friends, oh my lovers, oh my heart companions!
Embrace me one more time for
Tonight I go
They’re hooting outside in the dark for me
Tonight I go
Tonight

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

haze

No one told me there would be days like this. Days when I do not want to listen to music. Bring the headphones to office, there’s music aplenty all begging to be heard and all day I look at the headphones forlornly on top of my computer CPU and I never once reach for them, never want them but I will be bringing them here again tomorrow. Weathered battered friends of many months, black muffs slightly coming off, you been with me through the most noises and now all I seem to want is silence and I don’t know why.

No one told me there would be days like this. Days when I come in, sit down in the seat I once coveted, hey, even made a few not like me, and I don’t know where the day went, I’m getting up to go, the day is done and it seems I did not sign in for this day. But it is not just this day, many days, I come here and it seems I did not come, how strange, I’m not drunk I know. The days pass with my back to the window and though I hear the drizzle that comes more often this year than it ever has and though I hear the laughing children’s voices chasing after their feet on slippered gravel outside, that old gray Mercedes Benz coughing to start and sputtering--he’s tinkering with it again, the scent of boiled maize floating basket-by, I never turn around and I don’t know why.

No one told me there would be days like this. Days like this when I see her everyday and I see the cad she thinks I’m in her eyes but I will not do anything about it, like it was not me that was there. She greets me and my sometimes grunted reply does not betray that I have heard her voice in cries that made my heart leap, made her laugh afterwards when I asked her whether I could patent that. That was me. But I sit here, days on days, Lord knows I know how many times she has run to the bathroom and everyone asks her why she does not like her bright floral dresses anymore, they miss her lunchtime chatter, I did that, I could bring it back, but I don’t and days pass and I don’t know why.

No one told me there would be days like this. Days when I look into my once coffee cup but there are no stain marks around the rim now, I have not drunk coffee in months and when Undo called, he wondered maybe days are like this because I have not been drinking coffee. I have not thought about that. I only get my cup out, put a teaspoon there, a teabag too, my buns black kaveera-packed aromatic infront of me and it will be hours before I can get up to go to the dispenser, maybe there’s hot water there, it doesn’t really matter because I don’t care and I don’t know why.

No one told me there would be days like this. Days when fingers fly over keys on this board, the tap-tapping announcing BUZY! here, it ain’t no lie, see how fast I finish all the work you give me, you wonder did I go to secretarial school but not once am I smiling, you’re reading, amazed, you have done it again you claim, I haven’t. Or maybe I have. It’s no pride or game or anything, I don’t want to look it over, and I don’t know why.

No one told me there would be days like this. Days listening without listening, maybe I don’t want to hear more, maybe I have already heard it all before, maybe it saddens me that you of all are bringing to me the realization that this is it, this is life, I’m in suspended grace, the fall will come whichever way I duck and days past are with me unbidden unexamined when self-summoned, I stopped lying I was in hibernation, this is all there is, full-stops don’t make me cringe anymore there’s no startled realization of that and I don’t know why.

No one told me there would be days like this. Days standing leaning in the doorway, I have opened the cream-white metallic door, I’m not through my phone-book scrolling, I’m taking in the sun, tired of wearing this woolly sweater thing, and the self- secret smile on my face is not fake. Undo just survived a death-scare and The Phantom had a baby, and that makes me so happy and I don’t know why. We out!




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