Of Blackouts and Chicken

1. My thoughts on a popular video...Song.No.Video.Meh.Vocals.Wow! Moving on swiftly...

2. My thoughts on the subject of this post...Song. Okay. Video. Great! Vocals. Read on...

Picture this, you've bought your ingredients, including a voluptuous hoho and once you've locked yourself in, you proceed to do a bit of washing saving the pleasure of slicing, swishing, pouring and even lighting the gas for later.

After  you've undressed to your bare tu-thingies, in line with the 4th law of nature that says you shower after washing everything else, and turned the knob that promises hot jets of water, something happens.  Lights out.

The first words out of your mouth (even if more than three) are most probably laced with profanity.

But then my mouth is not your mouth. So I censor the profanities and whisper a phrase with just one bleep. I pause for a full minute. My theory always is, if the lights came back immediately (as they do very many times), any movement on my part will be wasted effort.

Is there comfort in numbers?

After the moment of awkward pitch darkness, I decide to dress up. Kabisa. Theory? It could be an invasion by terrorists or gangs or the boogie man. Boogie man. Enehu, so as I chuck the bathroom I notice there's light outside the door.

I dress up quickly, walk out to discover that, alas, the angel of darkness didn't have the key to some houses. So back in, I cook haraka. I decide to play Mwanzo and Barua ya Dunia back to back. I dice and slice, singing (maybe loudly) along to Bien and Maureen and at some point, when listening to Koo Koo, I get an epiphany that necessitates a blogpost.

I've told my music-leaning friends that I find it important that every musician hides gems in their music recordings. These are quail-sized licks, ad libs that for the musical ear sound like aromated matumbo.  Kwanza there's this girl who cooks. Wololo! I think she's the one who's aromated, not the food. Lame? So?! Go sit on a cactus!

Enehu, so as I listen to Maureen show off (yes, the girl shows off at the oo in koo) I decided that there's something else that is essential to a great track. I walk to the laptop, back to a get a towel to dry my hands on then back to the machine and start typing. By the time I get to the second paragraph of this post I realize I can't remember what it was I wanted to tell you. You who have taken time to scroll through this 431-word post.  Want to count? They're actually 460.

As I type this, my laptop battery is almost up. My food is almost ready. I don't know how I will eat in dead silence then sleep. I can't even read a book. This is just sad.

So, goodnight.

Remembered just before the machine died.

So, I wanted to say it is also essential that one is able to do something no one can ever attempt better or succesfully. Wyclef has the thing he does at the end of his phrasing that is gruffy and sharp. In Koo Koo, Maureen does something no other woman who dares try to do , now and in future, thinks is easy. Don't do easy. Perfect it. Anyone who tries sounding like Nameless for instance will always sound like a hoax. Haya, sasa machine iko na lifesaver ya yellow