I thought I was going to put it all behind
and join the monetary pursuit of the middle-class
but I was back there and felt the wind in my cropped hair
and the memory came flooding back as I held a cold beer in my hand
those days of perfect sunsets
of lying in the sands engaged in great drunken conversations
the perfect cure to life's crippling depression
It dawned on me that it was the only place that made perfect sense to me
My magical beach, would you wait for me?
In my heart I know I need nothing else but a little love, a little smoke and a little pick-me-up
All the talks about personal glory, money gained, money lost, status earned, reputation destroyed, they don't matter to me
I just want to watch the sun sets,
contended in the knowledge that I'm alive and I love and I am loved.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
extraordinary person of the day
A month of dry s
pell. I was terribly uninspired. And was about this close to give up on humanity. I mean come on, mothers giving their children stale bread covered in fungus? I understand if it happens in Africa, but people, look around! Here we have the sea, it has fishes, and technically almost everything grows in our land. I don't know what to blame really. Our country reeks of ignorance and laziness.
But this morning I saw a glimpse of hope. I was in the middle of a traffic jam and there was this bajaj. It was just an ordinary bajaj. But it had an extraordinary driver. The driver was an old man, probably about 60 and he was dressed to the nines. Unlike other bajaj drivers who usually don on dirty torn tshirts and a hundred year old faded pants, this man clearly took his time grooming himself in the morning. He wore a peach colored long-sleeved shirt, buttoned up, with black pants and a matching belt. His hair was cut short and combed nicely. He looked nothing like a bajaj driver. If not for the fact that he drove the vehicle, he could easily pass as an executive.
I found this man remarkable. It showed that he was proud of himself. He made an effort on his appearance, a sure sign of someone appreciative of life and its potentials. I bet that when life hits the hardest, this man will put on his best suit and face the challenge in style. And he would survive. He won't be feeding his children fungi bread. Because he's a dignified man. And I found how dignity is something easily lost around here.
Mr Bajaj Man, you are simply wonderful! Thank you for making my day.
pell. I was terribly uninspired. And was about this close to give up on humanity. I mean come on, mothers giving their children stale bread covered in fungus? I understand if it happens in Africa, but people, look around! Here we have the sea, it has fishes, and technically almost everything grows in our land. I don't know what to blame really. Our country reeks of ignorance and laziness.But this morning I saw a glimpse of hope. I was in the middle of a traffic jam and there was this bajaj. It was just an ordinary bajaj. But it had an extraordinary driver. The driver was an old man, probably about 60 and he was dressed to the nines. Unlike other bajaj drivers who usually don on dirty torn tshirts and a hundred year old faded pants, this man clearly took his time grooming himself in the morning. He wore a peach colored long-sleeved shirt, buttoned up, with black pants and a matching belt. His hair was cut short and combed nicely. He looked nothing like a bajaj driver. If not for the fact that he drove the vehicle, he could easily pass as an executive.
I found this man remarkable. It showed that he was proud of himself. He made an effort on his appearance, a sure sign of someone appreciative of life and its potentials. I bet that when life hits the hardest, this man will put on his best suit and face the challenge in style. And he would survive. He won't be feeding his children fungi bread. Because he's a dignified man. And I found how dignity is something easily lost around here.
Mr Bajaj Man, you are simply wonderful! Thank you for making my day.
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