Sundays

Written last Sunday:

So I got bored today. After an extremely busy weekend/last four days, doing nothing the very next day is…strange.

I know, one would expect it to be a relief, but I guess I had gotten used to it.
It was like drinking one of those heart pounding intoxicating yet non-alcoholic soft drinks, then crashing after a speed race like day.

Like most days, I wake up having a mental list of things I have to do, however I forgot them after the next 20 minutes of extra sleep. Perhaps it was the idleness, the nagging conscious of work to be done, the fatigue, the unsolved shadows on the walls of the mind, the mounting exam pressure.
I don’t know what it was.
But today of all Sundays I just wanted to get high.

The opportunity was an open door I couldn’t close: an empty house, a free tomorrow morning I could do the more urgent work, a person who was willing to share the stash…
Like most Sunday afternoons, I was listening to radio. The best music is played on Sundays in my opinion, at the time the ‘Soul Survivor’ show was on was playing, and I had a few soul albums I could continue the evening with. It was so hilarious when I began really listening and analyzing what the radio show host “the Reverend of soul” and his special guest speaker from America were talking about.
For instance what the radio host and guest speaker were saying was not connecting, which hinted that they couldn’t understand each other. The American and African.

The host is also such a faker! Okay he has a nice deep radio voice but his accent is fake, like those you hear on hot 100, they make you grind your teeth just listening to them! Also when his guest would mention a song they loved, the host would claim he had it, and when he was asked to play it, he put on another song, apologized for playing the wrong song, and then completely brushed off the topic. I listened to the rest of the show waiting for him to play the track…lol. He so didn’t have it. He shouldn’t have lied about it either.

Then the reggae show started after with the host “Mystery” another fake radio presenters. Are there any real radio presenters out there anymore?( Apart from Fatboy!)
Anyway on this show, I realized that the people who always call the show are the same! At one point the host greeted a caller by their name before they even said anything! How did he know that?! Furthermore, the supposedly ignorant tone the host used didn’t help mask the tone of familiarity the callers had.

Another thing I would crack up at was the Rastafarians that would call. There’s one particular dude, who requested for the ganja planter song. However he refused to say his name, calling himself ‘Ras anonymous’. When the host questioned why he refused to give his name he said ‘Babylon was on his tale’!

Unlike every Sunday, I laughed my head off listening to the radio.
Damn…I have to do this again.

Written this Sunday:

Well, i didn’t get high again.
I guess those Sundays come once in a blue moon.
But seriously, this time round i choose not to. I don’t need to get high to enjoy a boring Sunday at home. at least that’s what i keep telling myself. We all practice a little escapism, it’s just that some methods are safer and smarter than others...