notes from self inflicted exile (vol 2)


I try to exercise my mind with thoughts whilst trying to avoid thinking too much about the important stuff. I have been able to calm myself and I’m closely realizing my center. I wonder if he remembers what he told me a couple of years ago. A pact; it was the weirdest idea but I smiled and never acknowledged it. I never thought of that; I always figured that if I had no prospects of ever getting married I’d pack my bags and move to a foreign land where I’d adopt twins and breed cows. I might be broken if he doesn’t remember the pact; that would mean that it was all fluff and this might cause me to reevaluate our friendship. So secretly, I hope he remembers more so for the sake of my ego than his – I am not too sure if I care much about his.

My thoughts roam a bit further and I emerge myself fully in space. I think about doing somersaults on the same field that happy cows reside. Have you ever since the happy cow commercial? Well, it revolves around the premise that happy cows live in California. I wonder if happy people leave the California too – I wonder if my life would be in slow motion if I ever moved there (I usually see myself somersaulting in slow motion abound blue skies and green grass with some 20s blues playing in the background). I tried somersaulting out of impulse the other day and fell on the wrong side of my head. I was alone and cracked a smile that revealed my rabbit teeth.  I wished I had a huge room floored with feather soft mattress or a land full of grass and soft soil so I could somersault with less harzards. My neighbors grass would be no greener than mine so I wouldn’t consider trespassing. Is grass really greener on the other side? Someone said we think the grass is always greener on the other side but ultimately it is all grass. This might be true, but I bet the true lovers of grass would beg to differ. Grass pass grass which ever way you flip it, how else would grass be appreciated? Isn’t it the grass that makes the cows happy? Some even say you hear the songs clearer thanks to grass. I often wish I had a sound track reflecting episodes of my life that I could hear clearer. Like in the cafeteria, there was something about the song that captured the essence of my lunch– more in the melody than the lyrics. As I walked out the cafeteria the music faded and I lost my swagger – and I felt less like Muyiwa. It was like the movie was over and I was back to real life – not MTV’s but mine.

The printer makes a noise and brings me back. I get my phone from my bag to see if I have any text messages.


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