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Sometimes I get mad at the world. I get these profound gushes of rage. I throw tantrums and flip tables..in my head.. at the world. This enigma made worse by our mad attempt to interpret it as though it had an underlying truth. I create these confrontations in my head where I fight principle. This ambiguation of general accepted way of doing things brewed by our relentless pursuit for meaning in our lives. This so called ‘anchor’ of social harmony.

Last night we had a meeting. My alter-egos and I. A ka easy-easy barbeque somewhere in my sub-conscience. We came to one unanimous decision. We need to expand our family in order to better our chances of conquering this realm. Dick is the guy who can’t keep his dick I his pants, Jamwa is the emotional mess who seemed to have been sentenced by God to die by the wrath of women. I keep the balance between the two and keep them grounded to reality. There has been this guy floating in my head. Some wise-ass who thinks the sun shines from his arse. I think its time to let him in...

Stereotypes. Common social perceptions. Generalized popular beliefs. Premature judgment. Sounds to me like prejudice. But where do you draw the line? I don’t. I think they go together. They all go together. Stereotypes. Prejudice. Discrimination. We all do it. Judging. Whether you like to admit it or not. It’s just the way we are wired. It’s in our psychological configuration.

Yesterday someone came up to me and asked a question, a question that may seem pretty one-dimensional, yet fundamentally intricate, “How’s life?” I paused for second, took a seat, poured myself a glass of the Irish stout I find irresistible, lit a cigarette, leaned back and crossed my legs matter-of-factly, as I simultaneously blew a cloud of smoke in the air. And for a split second, before I answered his question, I considered how crappy life is. How I can’t stand half the people I hang with. How someone you probably know, is one day going to fuck your campus daughter. How women run this bitch, this hood, this world whatever you want to call it, with what’s underneath those clothes yet they have absolutely no idea. How 2000 years later, God or any other reasonable facsimile responsible for our existence, is still playing hide and seek…talk about maturity.