River Water

And she danced in the river water. Her dress up over her head and lying crumpled on the loamy grass like a dead leaf, me, still too self-conscious to join her in her gay nakedness. I had stripped myself of shoes and socks and jeans before following her in but I just couldn't find the resolve to free myself of my button-down t-shirt buttoned all the way up and rolled up at the sleeves. The cloud of hash that we created while sitting on the banks of the river before wading in had not yet worked on my limbs well enough to get me to join her in her revelry.

Noticing this she poked at my stomach playfully, pulled at the buttons of my shirt suggestively, 'Come on,' she lilted, almost pleaded, 'come and dance with me.' But I didn't. I resisted the curve of her smile and the ply of her voice and stood my ground as best the sandy river carpet and light current would allow me to. After another moment of futile plucking she left me alone. If she was disappointed by the woodenness of my response to her joviality she did well not to let on. Instead, she took a step back and began to twirl, her head thrown back, her arms outstretched, her fingers grazing the surface of the river sending up a jolting spray of water. I watched her through a telescope and envied her abandon.

Sighing, I turned my gaze to the sky. The moon hung big and bright, round and low. Mesmerizing. Hypnotizing. Like a single pearl set in the center of a diamond encrusted broach. I wanted it. I wanted to pince it between index and thumb, pluck it from its perch and take it home with me. Maybe I would make a necklace out of it. Maybe a ring. Maybe a pair of earrings. Although for that I would have to hitch hike my way to Jupiter or some other planet with a lot of moons and carefully select one of similar size for the second earring. That would make a great gift. I'm pretty sure she would like that. Or maybe I would just walk around with it in the small pocket inside a pocket that most jeans have on the right side.

As these thoughts, fleeting as they were, flitted through my mind so did another: I think the hash is working. This thought though I held on to and let the others fade into nothing.

I lowered my eyes and found her staring at me. The light from the moon made her eyes luminous orbs . Her arms hung relaxed at her side. She made no attempt to cover her nakedness. There was not an ounce of discomfort in the tilt of her head, the set of her shoulders, the heave of her chest or the poke of her hip. She was beautiful in her confidence in her body.

Slowly and without a word she tread water and was soon in front of me. She unbuttoned my shirt and I let her. She pulled it off my body and I let her. She let it fall into the river and I was silent.

I stood before her, skinny arms and protruding belly. No longer self-conscious. No longer trying to hide. I was finally free to get lost in the spell of the river. Slowly leaning in she whispered something in my ear. Electricity. Her body touched mine.

And we danced in the river water.

Inspired by the song "River Water" by Moon Taxi.

Click "I Do" to Continue

Jason & Melissa went back and forth about it quite a number of times before finally deciding to get married on a Tuesday. Jason in front of his computer and Melissa in front of hers, just the way they wanted it. It was out of necessity rather than consensus, however, that the ceremony would take place during Jason's lunch hour seeing as it was impossible for him to get any time off of work. Then why not on a Saturday? You might be wondering. Like normal people?  And even if you're not, it's really quite simple; the husband-and-wife-to-be first met on a Tuesday. The way a lot of couples meet these days, on Facebook.

It was the half an hour before lunch time and Jason was sitting at his desk clicking away at his computer shopping for girls with alluring profile pictures when he saw her. Jason is a huge fan of the Duckface and so when he saw Melissa's he was instantly intrigued. There is just something about the way a woman pushes her lips together in the combination of a pucker and a pout to make herself look like a duck that he finds irresistibly attractive. A click later and he was at her profile.

Melissa was currently unemployed, had studied Procurement at Makerere University Kampala, went to Taibah Highschool, lived in Kampala and was from Mbarara, Uganda. She had 867 photos, 1,144 friends and her most recent post was a a photo of celebrity couple Kat Kebab & Kobe South (or KatBe to the initiated) with their daughter Compass on the cover of Elan Magazine with the caption: May the Duke & Duchess of South Kebab reign forever and ever more. Amen! 

A few leggy and busty photographs later and Jason was irrepressibly, irretrievably and irreversibly in love. He sent her a friend request immediately. Twenty minutes later and he was handed the Friend Request Accepted notification that he had been frenetically switching between Youtube, Twitter & Facebook tabs waiting for.

He knew there was something special about her from the first reply she sent to his, "Hi, my name is Jason & after checking out your profile I thought you and I could be good friends." message.

"You're not a bot are you?" was her reply. "You're not going to give me your Yahoo! email address and tell me to get in touch with you there because you're hardly on Facebook, are you? Because everybody knows that everybody uses Facebook, everyday, all the time."

That was the moment that Jason decided he was going to marry her.

It is now twelve weeks since Jason and Melissa first met. Jason's stomach is a constant whir of lap top fans and click-clacking keyboards. His suit is hanging in his closet in its carry bag ready to go.

After a bowel movement of prodigious proportions Jason runs a razor across his face, pours some water on his body and is on his way.

The morning is a busy but distracted one. Jason completes all of the work assigned to him but knows that he will probably have to go back and do it all over again.

soon it is ten minutes to lunch time. Grabbing his suit Jason goes to the bathroom and reappears several minutes later fully suited up. Walking over to a colleague desk Jason holds out his phone.

"Yo, help me and take a picture of me in front of that wall over there."

Jason's colleague Fred looks him over.

"What for?"

Jason shrugs.

"Photoshop."

Fred's face folds into disbelief.

"But you guy, another one? What happened to the last one?"

Another shrug.

"She was just too much."

Fred begins to chuckle to himself. "I've haha'd you."

"Leave me alone and just take the picture, alright?"

And so still chuckling to himself Fred does.

Taking back his phone from Fred without thanking him Jason heads back to his desk. It sucks that Melissa failed to get a wedding dress but she did promise that she would definitely figure something out. With a little work their wedding photo would be perfect.

Once again in front of his computer Jason goes to Virtual-I-Do.com. It's one of those online marriage sites where a person can marry a cat if they are so inclined. Not that Jason would ever tell Melissa this. She told him she wanted a life full of magic and so it is magic that Jason is going to give her.

After choosing the type of wedding he wants, 'Person to Person' as opposed to 'Person to Other' or 'Other to Other' Jason is sent to the 'Start Your Proposal' page where he puts in their details and writes a one lined proposal that goes like, "Come on, let's do this."

"Check your email." he tells Melissa in their omnipresent Facebook chat box.

"OK."

A few minutes pass.

"Done. Your turn."

Jason clicks on the link provided in his inbox and is brought to a page where he is asked to click "I DO" to continue and so he does.

Him and Melissa are promptly issued a digital marriage certificate that can be printed and framed if they really feel like it. Melissa might but Jason definitely won't, the side effects of being a repeat customer.

The marriage is by no means legally binding but then who needs legally binding when you have a love birthed from a pool of ones and zeroes and flirty messages?

Jason reopens Facebook chat.

"You seen it?"

"Yup. It's beautiful. We're married baby! :-0"

"Yes we are..." then after a slight pause, "Honey. Still celebrating tonight right?"

"Of course! What time should I come over?"

"Like seven. You still have the directions I gave you?"

"Yup."

"So later then?"

"You cant stay at chat some?"

"Got to get back to work."

"OK hubby. I'll talk you later then. I love you XOXO"

"XOXO"

Logging off Jason gets up to go and change. Gosh he hopes her photos didn't lie.

Some Of the Things I Believe

I believe that we are a cynical generation. Full of snide comments, side glances and quiet scoffs at anything that even suggests the optimistic. Dreams don't come true. Mountains stay right where they are, I don't care who you are. True love is for saps and women who watch romantic comedies and God is for weaklings.

It's a hostile world for a wide eyed hopelessly romantic Jesus loving fool such as myself. I believe that dreams DO come true. I believe that mountains DO move. I believe that the woman I'm in love with is a good woman and that she is the love of my life. I believe Jesus is the Son of God. And yes, that there is a God to begin with.

I don't believe that homosexuality is a valid sexual orientation. I don't believe 'sexual orientation' deserves any sort of validity at all seeing as it suggests that there is more than one box to tick, which I don't believe there is.

I believe that I am far from perfect. I believe that I am in no position to judge anyone. But I do believe that I am in a position to love and to be willing to listen and to try my best to understand.

I believe a very many things. And don't probably an equal number.

Ask me why I believe the things that I believe and why I don't the things I don't and for many of those things I would not have an answer for you. And for the answers that I did have, they would probably disappoint you. And from that you might wonder to yourself why I would want to lay a bed of what may seem willful ignorance and sleep in it the sleep of the dead.

What I can say is that I believe what I believe. Even when confronted with what seems the more logical, the more pragmatic, the more sensible- your uncle is a failure, this is Uganda, how many marriages actually last, what has this so called God of yours done for you that you can actually hold up and show me and prove beyond a reasonable doubt?

Huh? What was that? Yeah, that's what I thought.

I believe that we are a cynical generation. Full of snide comments, side glances and quiet scoffs at anything that even suggests the optimistic. Dreams don't come true. Mountains stay right where they are, I don't care who you are. True love is for saps and women who watch romantic comedies and God is for weaklings.

I would like to believe, however, that this is not as true as it seems.

Prelude to Our Emeli Sunday

"I Can't buy your love, don't even want to try, sometimes the truth won't make you happy, So I'm not gonna lie, but don't ever question if my heart beats only for you- it beats only for you..."
- 'My Kind of love' Emeli Sande

We fell in love in the rain. Not a roar but a pitter-patter that spotted my glasses and the shoulders of my jacket. With my hand tightly squeezed in hers she led me past puddles and undeterred chapati peddling capitalists until we found ourselves in the dark corner of a dark bar breathless from and greedy for one another.

I could taste the beer on her breath, smell the sex on her skin, feel the desperation in her fingers and the hunger in her hips. There was no getting away from it, no escaping this "us" we were quickly falling into.

And as I took a moment to stop and stare into the depths of twenty-four years worth of hurt and sin, thousands of thoughts swam through my head- questions, reservations, apprehensions. One thought managed to trump them all, however. Just one...only one. That one thought being, "Enjoy tonight for tomorrow will be another day."

We fell into a pool of passion, drowning in each other’s lips; my hands suffocating, her fingertips unforgiving. Fists bombarding hearts and hands tightly clasped we ran out into the rain and into a cab. And then just like that the night was gone and with the first few grey streaks of dawn, sanity returned.


Shapes + Colors: A Mixtape. Coming Soon...

Coffee + Cocoa + Cannabis = Never. A. Gain.

I was high. Like high, ha-high, high, high. Like, "Hi, my name is...uh...just give me a second," and then going on to talk about my favorite kind of ice cream kind of high. It was the paranoid as fuck kind of high. The, it would not be a very good idea to be out in public kind of high. And so what do we do? Go to a public pool, that's what.

We must have been sitting a good 50 yards away from it but for some irrational reason I still had this fear that if I moved just an inch I would fall into the pool. I could hear words but none of them made any real sense. Everything seemed to be moving either really fast or incredibly slow and I felt as if my stomach was in my ass. When someone tried to say something to me all I did was smile because I was afraid that if I opened my mouth I would scream, cry or spit on them. I'm pretty sure it was pretty obvious and so when one of them tapped me on the shoulder, waited the full five seconds for me to turn and asked me whether I was high I smiled and nodded very, very slowly.

"Yeah," she said with a smile, "I can kind of tell."

I tried to think of a witty response but then suddenly found the label on my beer more interesting than the person I was talking to and picking up my bottle began to studiously examine it. That was the last time she talked to me while we were there. Sorry.

Back hair. Back hair? Back hair. I think someone was talking about back hair. I have back hair. Wait, what was that...? Would I show you...? Uh...no. Why not? Uh...just. Now leave me alone, I really don't like you. And yeah, yeah, yeah, I know you’re only talking to me because I'm sleeping with one of your girlfriends but you see the truth is, frankly, I really don’t give a damn.

Wait...I didn't just say that out loud did I? Um, well she doesn’t seem to be pissed off so I guess not. *big sigh of relief* Ok, now you really need to get out of here. Yeah, sure, I'm just not sure whether I can move. Ok, so this is what we are going to do; start with a toe...just a toe. Like that bitch in Kill Bill, wiggle... your big...toe...

Ah, good, it seems you’re not paralyzed after all. Ok, now slowly stand up, politely excuse yourself and get the fuck out of there.

I didn’t go anywhere. I couldn’t. Not even to the bathroom even though I felt as if I was going to shit myself. I didn’t get up until we all did. Shaking hands, giving hugs, mumbling goodbyes I silently swore to myself that I was never going to get high again.

Look out for Colors + Shapes: A Mixtape Coming Soon...

New York, New York

There are two different New Yorks. The one they show you in the movies, music videos and TV shows and then there's the other one. The one that they don't want you to see. The one that is old and dirty with its broken, washed out people shuffling along it's broken, war worn sidewalks, territory to countless broken homes. This is the New York that I saw, even if at a distance. And even when years later I saw the city of flashing lights, trendy street walkers and big word talkers; it is the other New York that I remember.

We woke up at four and were on the road no more than half an hour later. It was The Three Nelsons, Basil, my mother and I. My Mom had rented a Dodge van and got Basil to drive.

"And none of your monkey business," my Mom had warned him. "There are going to be children in the car."

The Three Nelsons and I were spread out across the seats with pillows and blankets cushioning and covering us. The plan was to sleep along the way. We had a five hour drive ahead of us and spending most of it sleeping was the most practical thing to do, my mother had reasoned.

I woke up to the mid morning sun; drab buildings, dirty streets and whipping past the window and a full to the bursting bladder.

"Mom."

My mother turned in her seat to look at me. "Yes sweetie?"

"I need to go the bathroom."

"We're almost there hun. Just another 20 minutes. Do you think you can wait that long sweetie?"

I said that I could and half an hour later I was zipping up my jeans in a smelly toilet thanking the God Almighty for the gift of pee.

We were at the facility. It had old linoleum floors that squeaked every time you let yourself shuffle a little bit, dusty florescent ceiling lights that blinked semi rhythmically as if to a muted song that only they could hear, mustard colored walls that had peeled in places revealing the dirty baby blue paint job under it and a smell that was a cross between abandoned house must and hospital anti-septic cleaner.

Squeaking my way down the hall I made my way back to what was ridiculously called "The Visitors Lounge" but what looked more like a decrepit high school cafeteria. My mother sat with Basil at one table and The Three Nelsons sat at another with their mother, Carol. I had heard my mother tell Basil that Carol had been clean for about two months now but wouldn’t be up for review to leave for another two. I didn’t really know what that meant apart from the fact that The Three Nelsons were going to be staying with us for a little while longer.

Bored, I pulled out my Game Boy Color and lost myself in a game of Pokémon. This was not what I had expected when my Mom said that we were taking a day trip to New York. I was thinking the Empire State Building, TRL and Times Square. Not this. This was bullshit. The place was a dump and more importantly there was nothing to do. Not that I made my thoughts known however. With my Mom that would have earned me a slap upside my head. And so I pressed A, B, A, B, B, B, B, A, B, A, A with one thumb and used the other to toggle the direction pad and waited.

It was another half an hour before The Four Nelsons had a very teary and extremely huggy goodbye, Carol thanking my Mom profusely saying that she couldn't thank her enough, may God bless her and answer her every prayer, shaking Basil's hand and wishing him a safe passage with her kids and gingerly patting me on the shoulder and thanking me for being such a good friend to them.

"Don't mention it." I said. And I meant that. Her thanking me the way she did sort of make me feel guilty because the truth is I was a horrible friend to her kids. She or life or whatever had messed them up pretty bad, made them weird as hell and so at school at least I pretended as much as possible without making it too obvious that I didn’t know them. Which meant pretending not to hear them when they called my name down the hall, eating either super fast or super late at lunch so that none of them would be able to sit with me and making sure my seat was always taken on the bus ride back home. I was the cool black kid and I intended to keep it that way.

As we climbed back into the van to head back home I began to think that maybe I had been looking at things all wrong.

"The world is cold." I thought in a brief moment of clarity, vaguely aware of Basil telling everyone to buckle up.

"We need all the friends we can get."

Shapes + Colors: A Mixtape Coming Soon

CSI: (The) Coffee Spirit Incident

I woke up naked and in a strange bed with no clue as to how I got there. My phone wouldn't stop ringing, its poly phonic ringer as persistent as that smear of shit that sticks to the bottom of your toilet bowl no matter how many times you flush.

Clutching at it (the phone sat buzzing beneath the heavenly pillowness of the pillow that pillowed my head) I tossed it across the room, its brief conversation with a wall quickly silencing it. Racking my brain I tried to figure out just what the hell had happened but all I could scrape together were tid-bits and small scraps of torn up mental photographs.

1. It was the middle of the month, a Saturday and as broke as the boys and I were, we desperately wanted to get drunk. So what do we do? Scrounge together some ancient looking notes and a whole lot of coins (worry not- food will worry about itself) and bought a box of Coffee Spirit.

2. Each box of Coffee Spirit has 12 tot packs and there were 3 of us. That meant 4 each which was more than enough to get fucked up on. I "germaned" 9.

3. One of my boys, Moses, has a sort of famous sister and those days whenever he was broke he would call her up and being the cool chick that she was she would let us hang out with her, all expense paid. He called her.

4. We went to Mateo's and drank.

5. We went to Rouge and we drank.

6. We went to Cascades and we drank.

7. By three in the morning our limbs were crying for blankets and mattresses and anything to make the world stop spinning and thanks to Moses' sister we were able to bum ourselves a ride home.

8. We were almost home when my other friend, Ronnie, decided that that would be the perfect time to up chuck all over himself, the floor of the car and a little bit on the driver. The up to that point Mr. Kind Driver Sir was none to happy about this, of course and jerking the car to a stop told us to get out. "Fuck you!" we all said in tandem "It's just up there!" I added, pointing up the road but one look at his face and we all knew the dude meant business and so we got out. We were pretty close to home anyway, we consoled ourselves and so we decided that we would walk.

9. I was wearing two shirts that day and so pulling one up over my head I gave it to Ronnie who took off his vomit smeared one and pulled on mine. And then Ronnie, deciding that he was suddenly hungry suggested that we go get rolexes.

10. Rolex; Noun: Fried eggs, usu. two, rolled up in a chapati. Served commonly w/ diced cabbage and tomatoes either mixed in with the eggs or added afterwards and rolled in with the eggs. Cheap and filling as hell.

11. We ate rolexes.

12. We then decided it was time to go home.

13. Blank.

14. Blank.

15. Blank.

16. I was at my front door but I couldn't find my keys. It was light out and I could hear the sound of cars whizzing past on the nearby Northern Bypass. How did it suddenly become morning? And where were Ronnie and Moses? Ronnie, as it turned out, was already inside dead asleep (the dude was my housemate) and Moses the same at his place. Instead of simply knocking on the door so that Ronnie could open it, I reasoned that Moses didn't live all that far away, I might as well crash there, all I had to do was pass through that swamp over there.

17. Bending over I puked all over my shoes. The smell of alcohol, stomach acid and the faint stench of eggs pulling at my nostrils. Once the retching had stopped I straightened up, wiped my mouth on my shirt and began my stumble down to Moses' place.

And so that's where I was, Mozay's place, although that didn't really explain why I was naked. I sat up and as I took a look around noticed my clothes in a heap on the floor. They were caked with mud. Shoes, jeans, shirt, hat- everything.

Looking around I grabbed a towel and throwing back the blanket stood up and wrapped the towel around my waist.

"He lives!"

Moses said as I walked into the sitting room. I let myself flop down into a chair. Moses was reclined on a sofa holding a bottle of beer in one hand and a samosa in the other. He was watching BET.

"Boyo, how you feeling?"

"Fuck, like I never want to drink another drink again."

Moses looked at me for a moment, a smile pulling at his mouth. Then holding up his bottle he said,

"Hell, I can drink to that."

He took a swig and then held out the bottle to me.

I eyed him for a moment, was he fucking serious? I mean I just told him that...

'You only live once homie." I found myself thinking and then making a decision, I took the bottle from him.

"Hell, me too." I conceded and took a swig of my own.



Look out for Shapes + Colors: A Mixtape Coming Soon...