The loose plan

Saturday lunchtime found me untidily sprawled across the couch mentally exercising my magical powers of preparing tea from a distance. the exercise failed. got to get up and make some breakfast... right after this episode of tripping the rift.. no, lets make that the next..

shortly, el_diab strolls in and plants his ass on a sofa..

more tripping the rift..

later, man de vu strolled in.. he posed for a few minutes then decided to go get (angels humming) BAVARIA.. so these bavaria dudes, i'm not sure what their story is.. there's yet another 500ml can that has alcohol content of 8.6% (yeah, you heard me, eight point motherfucking six percent..) that shit is really potent. i'll bet my ass that its not really 8.6%, they just wrote that so it could be called beer. two or three of those cans and you're well on your way to literary genius in the complex discipline of gibbering..

more tripping the rift, interrupted by patches of scattered showers.

then el diab acquired the junkie itch. a month ago, our supplier had suddenly grown a conscience and replaced the herb with the wafer that accompanies the blood.. his supply was the shit-fat, juicy and smooth as an african ass glittering with johnsons and johnsons baby lotion.. we sure didn't see that coming, he shall be sorely missed.. where were we? oh yeah, junkie itch..

'dude, i need a joint dude.. dude, where can i get a joint?' of course, following Rastas' law, one is never more than ten minutes away from the nearest purveyor, we had already acquired a supplier. only thing was, his shit was primarily composed of soggy twigs of dubious origin, seeds that looked suspiciously like simsim and paper that didn't burn. once lit, my house billowed smoke like the exhaust one of those rusty bedfords that had 'mzee ni wewe' written on a rear mudguard that stretched the entire length of the back..

we required another dealer. but dealers seemed to be in super-short supply. especially today. el diab hauled his ass out of the digs, mumbled something about knowing someone in kawangware and he'd be right back.. he was back in like three minutes.. i looked at my beer quizzically.. 'dude, you'll never believe who i bumped into in the mathree'.. 'there's this dude who used to bring the shit in westi while i worked there.. and he lives in kawangware! says i give him an hour and he'll have brought the shit! so i gave him a soc and my phone number, which he committed to memory, seeing as he didn't have a cell..'

this wasn't going to end well. i and man de vu decided to jitumbuiza with a rousing game of chess.. he beat me repeatedly..

two hours later, el diab is wearing a path out on my carpet, demonnah has pitiad looking for alcohol and there's no sign of our friend.

'ah, fuck it... i'll be right back'. he left, itching random parts of his upper body..

shortly, he was back.. ten minutes didn't even pass.. must be mr. soggy-twig-simsim-seed-mixture-purporting-to-be-intoxication joints..

my house still smells like a bush fire. that's a reall bummer.

we left the digs and headed to minimum-staggering-distance bar and restaurant. there, we bumped into the cleaner and friends.. imbibed a number of loose beers, attempted to play pool, bumped into the usual suspects, et al.. nothing to blog.. and anyway by then we were all sufficiently papers to render short term memory suspect.. made a brief stop over in tao, shuttled across to baricho road and hauled our tired asses to digs..

next week, the legend of omnipresent will. or not.

i need a shave.