Sunday 19 October 2008

Emotions for you; my Demon Lover.

I love you girl. I hate you for not taking advantage of me when you knew you had the chance to.
I can’t have you and it hurts. You’ve been hurt by someone and it’ll take you years to heal.
Just when I thought I was over you, we have a moment and I’m thinking of making you my own again.
If you do know what you are doing to me…fuck you!
If you don’t know what you are doing to me…I love you!

If it wasn’t for those few hours we had together, I would be alright. But they were good and I had missed you; your smile, hands, touch, hug, laugh. I know you missed me to. Fuck Hohea for ruining everyone’s life and your ability to love so freely.

“I hear u girl. M gna marry u. u wait & c”
Recipient +447787760484 01.09.2007

“Hey, m not good at goodbyes. I get all emotional. U probably know all that I haven’t said & r smiling that, aww, how sweet! Hv a gud flyt, will keep in touch. Sgc"
Recipient +447787760484 02.09.2007


From my book,
'The Tall Black Guy In The Specs'

Enough Funerals For A Lifetime

6 June 1988 - 28 June 1988
Ammon, my little brother. I was so proud to have a little brother and finally be a big brother. I remember bringing my friends into mum’s room to show you off, do you remember?
We lost you to Pneumonia in 3 weeks and I wasn’t a big brother anymore.

You had a tiny little white coffin my brother.
Dad was supposed to give a speech at your funeral, but choked.

Silence.

2 June 1946 - 21 January 1993
The white flag goes up by our gate and relatives start turning up. Had to give up my room to some aunt I didn’t even know. My best friend comes by and we talk by my driveway. He is still in his St. John’s High school uniform.
He says to me, “…you’re so unlucky man”
He is not the best with words but I know he meant well. I’ve never forgotten those words though.

I’m standing by your coffin dad. I look at you but you don’t look at me. I can’t move. I guess this is the last time I’ll be seeing you. I know it hurts you leaving me like this. It hurts me too. I thought you would live forever. See your grandkids. See me become the President.

Mrs. Chibanda leads me away although I really didn’t want to leave you. I wanted to stand there forever.

To the short man who made a scene because he was drunk at Dad’s funeral. Fuck you! You were drunk out of your nut and disrespected everyone. I was embarrassed that we shared the same last name. I was angry and still am. You got sick and died two days later.
Enough is enough.

From my book,
'The Tall Black Guy In The Specs'

I’M AN IDIOT - I just made love to you before breaking up with you.

Fuck this! I’m coming to your house to break up with you today. I’m ending something that hasn’t been working for a while now…

It’s not you, it’s me…
I can’t do this anymore…
I’ve been busy that’s why I haven’t been calling…
I’m looking to pick fights with you…
You are irritating me; your voice, your stories; you!
I’m not replying your text messages…


I'm not happy and don't feel like I need to explain myself to you; I should just cut you off like we never happened.

(1 hour later)

I just made love to you before breaking up with you.

You must have known something was going on with me and thought that if we had sex, everything would be alright. I could make love to you a million times and still feel like we weren’t meant to be.
I’m an idiot, I know. I’m still a man and fight daily not to think with my dick. I better leave now before I change my mind. You know that once you start working those hips you can change any Nigga mind.

I'm gonna leave your CDs.

"Can I get my Queen Latifah CD before I go?"

"Hey, please don’t cry?"

“You know where to find me Sam; I’ll be here waiting for you”

"Peace; see you around".

From my book,
'The Tall Black Guy In The Specs'

Monday 13 October 2008

Sexual frustration, candlelight and Digital Camera’s

FUCK!

Having more phone sex than the actual thing.

FUCK!

26 years old.

I’m supposed to be getting more ass than toilet tissue.

I’m sexually frustrated.

I’m thinking of sex constantly.

You think you are controlling me with sex and your mind games.

“Don’t give him too much and he won’t get tired and leave you”

Well, you’ve got it wrong sweetheart; I’m gonna leave you just because of that.

PAUSE

We start off in a park near Denmark Hill, South London.

You, “What are you doing after this?”

Me, “Nothing”

Me, “You?”

You, “I’m gonna see some guy called Sam”

Me, “Word?”

You, “Ye”

There isn’t any time to front cos I want that ass.

We pass by the Gants Hill kebab shop but all I want is to get in them jeans. Can we get home already?

PAUSE

We take a bubble bath together and we light some candles. I set the mood for us and believe that I, Sam, am taking one for the team and conquering the sexual El Nino between man and woman. You guys can thank me later. My mojo is back because I am found. I had never done that or it in the bath before. Shit! The tub is too small and I think I busted my knee so let’s take this to my room.

PAUSE

Me, “You look hot in your lingerie baby”

“Can I call you Victoria with all the ‘Secrets’ you are keeping from me”

You, “Sam, you have to stop the cheezy one liners”

I smile that smile as I get naughtier...

PAUSE

Been trying to bring in this camera thing for a while now. She’s uncomfortable but interested. I can work with that. I was blessed with a digital camera for my birthday.

I start filming you but your head is under the covers. Your naked body is exposed though. I can’t believe it’s finally happening. I put it on the radiator in a position that it records our naked bodies as we make love. It’s on like Donkey Kong with inhibitions lost like they weren’t here to begin with.

We stop and watch it together. That’s some crazy shit.

You don’t trust me with it so let’s delete it;

I know we’ll make others.

From my book,
'The Tall Black Guy In The Specs'

Friday 3 October 2008

Caribbean woman sleeping with a Caribbean man...and African man.

African men are too laid back and aren't rough and confrontational like Caribbean men are.
So what are we doing together then?
You are tall, athletic and good looking. Just my type.
I'm African, tall, cute with the humour of Chris Rock; yep that sounds like me.
Maybe this is the beginning of something exciting....
Are you intrigued by this African man?
I'm straight out of Africa that you've never stepped on.
You are a British born-Caribbean who has never been to the Islands before.
I know I'm bringing something different to the table.
A black man with no priors, no kids walking around wondering where their daddy is, work a 9 to 5 and I take care of my mother, not the other way round.
Still intrigued?
Well I am and want to confirm what they say about Caribbean women.

"Caribbean women are good in bed"

Hmmm...I wonder.

Yes, I do want a piece of that Caribbean ass and I'm going to make it obvious.
Am I experimental? I think yes, because next will be Asian.

I probably won't get another opportunity like this again, so I'm going for it.
Use it or lose it.
You are dating another guy.
He is Caribbean, go figure!
I'm pursuing you when I know you are dating someone else.
I have this demon in me; I want things I know I can't have.
I'm whispering to your boyfriend that I'm going to take you away from him.
I'm testing how good my game is and enjoying every minute of it.

Major inroads are being made.
I think I'm in there.
We are meeting up for drinks more often.
Let's see how far this goes.

When are you going to shake this fool?
This next man. This thing. It’s obvious he is not handling his business.

I've got something else to say to your boyfriend;
"Dude, I'm sleeping with your woman and she is calling out my name when I make love to her. Are you okay with that?"
"Just what I thought; no answer"

It is true that Caribbean women are good in bed!
Can I get an amen?

I like the way we make love as though it might be our last. The intensity. The anger. The strength.
I like it when you call me and tell me that you are thinking of me; that you miss me and want to be with me.

I'm getting frustrated and jealous when you don't answer my calls or sleep at home.
Where are you?
Do I have a right to ask you that?
Do I even have a right to you?
What about me?
I'm not handling this well at all.
I'm alright. It's just fun and games. No emotions involved, right?
WRONG!
I've turned myself into a side order for real. You are willing to experience being with an African...unofficially.

I am not a victim, can't cry foul because I have dug my own grave.
I deserve everything that has happened and yet I want to complain to whoever will stop to listen; that she has treated me like a bitch.

To the boyfriend, I apologise for what I did to your relationship. She probably gave you the 'it's me' sob story and you thought everything had been going so well. If I knew you, I doubt I would be man enough to tell you what happened. So, we have to do it like this.

From my book,
'The Tall Black Guy In The Specs'

Wednesday 1 October 2008

Why is he trying to act white?

Yep! I have been trying to act white for a while now. From what people say behind my back I think that I have actually finally arrived. Ndafika?!
But let me tell you, it hasn't been an easy journey by any means. For every white girl I dated, rock and alternative album I listened to, white friend I made, predominately white nightclub I partied in, words I dared to pronounce correctly, private school I ever attended, middle-class suburb I grew up in; it was well worth it because I have made it.
Look at me in all my splendour damnit! Look at me!? When ever have you seen a 'Man of my race' look so distinguished? I saw the 'white' at the end of the tunnel and reached it.
I would like to thank everyone who voted for me to win this coconut, muSalad award. It shows that my hard work has not gone unnoticed. Apologies for taking so long. I will continue to make you proud and will not disappoint all of you...

From my book,
'The Tall Black Guy In The Specs'

Lost in translation (Edited September 2008 Version)

Does anyone have the directions to my real home? I can’t seem to remember if I’m originally from here. Does anyone have the directions to my real name? I only know my nickname.Does anyone have the directions to my culture?Does anyone have the directions to Love? I treat people like shit and never get too close. Does anyone have the directions to who I really am?I seem to have lost my way. I can’t seem to follow the map I used to get here in the first place.
Have you seen the real me around here somewhere in the United Kingdom?

Today I spoke English with a Nigerian accent.
Yesterday I spoke English with a Caribbean accent.
The day before yesterday I spoke English with an Asian accent.
Last week I spoke English with an American accent.
I want to speak English like the news readers.
Speak English like the Queen.
Last month I spoke English with a Boer accent.
A year ago I was speaking English with a cockney accent.

I can speak English without an accent though.

I spoke broken English because of mother-tongue interference. I had failed to translate the Shona that was in my head into English.
Damn, this shit is difficult.How many accents do I have to speak in to be noticed?
I'm Lost In Translation.

From my book,
'The Tall Black Guy In The Specs'

Xenophobia, you took it upon yourself to kill me.

I was sitting with Apartheid the other day discussing what it had done wrong in its heyday and how it would make up for it. It listened attentively to me preach and I was genuinely surprised that I was getting somewhere. Or so I thought. Talk about split personalities. Somewhere between our 1994 and 2008, its attitude towards me changed.It then spoke to me like I was insignificant, dirt and not worthy of its time. I was a hindrance to the bigger picture it pursued; its ultimate goal. I now felt uncomfortable, and could not understand why our conversation had taken such a turn.
"WHO ARE YOU?", I said.
It couldn't lift its head but I could tell it was seething with anger. Its colour changed from White to Black, Black to White, then to Black; and Black it stayed.
"WHO ARE YOU?", I screamed.
"I AM XENOPHOBIA!!!!", It screamed back to me as it lifted its ugly Black head.
I realised that I wasn't sitting with Apartheid anymore, but with Xenophobia. It looked the same, spoke the same, but actions were different, shocking and unprecedented.
In my confusion, I must have looked a right idiot because the laughter that came from the direction of my new friend was so loud and obnoxious. Spoken words of how I, this alien could not have known and seen this coming, were said in so many local languages.
I fumbled for words that could make me less intimidating. Words taken from its own mouth that would make it understand that at least I was making an effort. Words that showed that I came in peace.
Suddenly, it made its move. It stood up, spat at me and struck me in the face.
"SHUT UP!", it said to me.
It struck me again and again, harder and harder with its pleasure only increasing with every strike. Body growing with muscle as it assimilated more ignorance, hate, propaganda, lies, laziness, unemployment. This was going to be a recipe for disaster. It knew I wasn't going to fight back. This was not supposed to be my fight. If it only knew that it is was between the government and itself.
I looked at my adversary in the eye once it took to putting a car tyre around my neck. I knew what was going to happen next, but I still made time to ask who it's mother was, how it had been raised and why it was doing this to me. My answer, the lighting of the tyre. I was not worthy of an answer, just pain. The fire has engulfed my whole body. My whole life is going up in fire. Celebrations are the order of the day; they have finally defeated me. I fall to my knees. I can't cry, ask for help or yell. I guess this is it. I slump to the ground, burnt beyond recognition; not looking human anymore, just as Xenophobia had intended.
"Lord, help me?""Mwari, dibatsirei?" (Shona spoken in Zimbabwe)"Nkosi, ngisiza?" (Ndebele spoken in Zimbabwe)"Mulungu, nditandizeni?" (Chewa spoken in Malawi and Zambia)
I'm dead.

From my book,
'The Tall Black Guy In The Specs'