Heeey maaan!

I’ve barely woken up. It was a so-so night to begin with, but picked up considerably after the motley crew ended up at Nahorp’s pad – our lovely ladies having had their ‘ladies’ night’, now all laid back, satiated and too relaxed to extend the happening. Suggestions of going down to the ‘Blues’ met with emphatic negatives. We were too spaced to care, so it was all very cool and then it was time to head back home and to bed. That was just a couple of hours ago. And now here he was – again!

So I find my way down to da café down Bareass Boulevard maan. No one dere. Too early in da day. Jus ol Mitty checkin out his in-sta-la-shun concept on his laptop. I order a brew. Mitty gets his tea an we shoot da shit maaan. Ol ‘Straight ‘n Narrow’ (an as G Force says, he ain’t hardly narrow – if you get ma drift) gone a bit up north to check out illusions to capture for his ‘Tree Blind Mentals’ site (comin soon he says) an his lovely lady the vivacious and spirited Zaney says she be goin to da church – Sunday , holy comm-un-i-on maan. Purge dem sins done da week before and get ab-sol-u-shun from da man in da cassock wit his ser-i-ass look an his direct access to da ab-sol-u-ter up on high. Aaaanyway, dere I be wit Mitty waitin on Zaney to drop by all purified and cleansed an da place starts fillin up wit all manner of honkeys maaan. Dis chick (heard her speak in some u-ro-pe-an dialect), she be standin right in front of Mitty an me – standin so da shafts of sun be streamin tru her see-tru skirt, givin Mitty an me a close up of her silhouette – loud an clear an verrry sexy. Still no Zaney – like Indiana, who Mitty sez be on his way ta assist with da transfer of graphics. So I leave. Da café is buzzin, but no soul dere dis morning maaan, so here I am.

I tell him to leave. I need more sleep. All that imbibing the night before has taken its toll and even the ecstatic part of it hasn’t helped as much as it usually does with the clarity of vision and that wide-awake vibe that I usually experience after the event.

Com on maaan!

He won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Forces his presence and as usual I find it hard to resist.

Know what maan? Some cat callin hisself ‘Cinimod’ (you tink dat be a clever nom-de-plume, maaan? Ass-backwards will lay it bare-assed) checks in an wants to know if we be ‘Russel’ – insult to da intellect maan. An den again dis same cat, maaan, dis time calling hisself S&N, is callin for Mr. Jones ta help us on our way to fire an brimstone. He don like dis shit – too blasphemous for his lilly-white ass. We turn him on to Jah, maan and den let’s see what he say. Get off dat straight an narrow rinky-dink path maan an head for dem stars – like we did yesterday.

He gets up and turns on MJQ. Thank God its not that head-banging psychedelic jam from the night before. He lights up and lies down. I drift back to sleep.

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