While it’s evidently absurd that Koffi Olomide (thanks auto correct for suggesting I call him ‘Dolomite’) got kicked out of the country because he kicked his female dancer, it saddens to know that people get a kick out of doing very weird career-stabbing stunts when you can just sit in a park. Sometimes you need a change of scenery – a new place to be anti-social. Sunday afternoon, instead of kicking old stuff out of my cave to blend in and rhyme all the kicking drama, I opted to go park. It’s not a big thing. More like camping. Without the tent and the sleepover.
The voices in my head did prepare me for the mess though. These days I don’t refer to them as voices in my head. I do as the professionals and call them my ‘team of writers’. Church has really played a great role in this development. Go sit in a park next weekend and grab this as a (wo)manual.
Look like you just crawled out of bed. Mine was a faded jeans, a pair of loafers, shirt tucked-in in only one side and the other hung out freely. Track pants? No. You’re not in an actual athletic situation.
You’ll always find them. They’re everywhere. Monkeys are just reincarnated politicians. I believe politicians have been put on earth to test our patience. Monkeys too. They’ll throw things at you. And you’ll just have to receive them. Today’s so cold. The weather has been behaving like the cold, hardened disappointing fries at the bottom of the bag. I’d much rather a monkey throws a blanket instead of a brick.
They’d have to be plenty in the park on a weekend. Freckles of glitter sparkling in their innocent eyes. Gentlemen, don’t greet people’s kids though. Ladies can get away with this. It’s best to handle them with a 30 feet long pole. Me, I just look at them making hell with their noises and stare at them in amazement, questioning whether I’ll get so lucky to make some and wonder if they are ever going to shut up?
The cold weather has proved that what I thought to be my optimistic, bubbly and more excitable than a puppy self in my man cave can actually start getting funny ideas. A cold Sunday yet the park was full.
Getting a seat;
Some parks have seats. Most do. You don’t have to carry your sofa with you. However, during sunny afternoons, most would be occupied. It’s easy! Go and start addressing an audience on a spot you’d like to rest your mass. You can start on that common “It’s a great pleasure to address you again this afternoon” note. You can have a ton of awkward silences where you’re combing your brain for ideas of things to talk about. It’s okay. Until the last one walks away. They will. They will all think they attended the wrong meeting and you’ll win yourself whole bench-space. You’ll also improve in public-speaking. Double-win!
If that doesn’t work;
People in parks can be weird you know. They might find your blend of weird fascinating and decide to watch your little bubble explode right there. Don’t quit. Go on your knees and start praying. Go ahead! Yell in fake German! Most people either wouldn’t want to bother someone who is praying or are demons who fear prayers. Kenyan parks can be full of demons and void of Germans. And pests too. But this is about the demons. Do that.
Think some stuff;
The weird tangents our minds take if we’re not doing anything for a while. It’s hard to explain the women’s case. But sometimes men just need to figure out an optimal strategy for defeating a 250-kilogram cheetah in a cage match…. For the curious, I recommend pushing your non-dominant arm down its throat and grabbing its windpipe. Apply pressure with the other arm so that you strangle it from within. Your arm/shoulder will go to hell, but you’ll survive. Don’t turn your back to it—cheetahs hunt by biting through the back of the skull and destroying the brain. You get it, right? That and thinking how I’d look like when balding gets me into the parky mood.
Sitting in a park is therapeutic and offers opportune time to make that list from your residue of never-spoken dreams. You can assemble a search party in your head to find your missing pieces. If it’s rather hard, go to twitter and look for something to write about. You can list down ingredients for a weird food combo. Or a list of all the opposite gender civilians who have friend-zoned you. You have plenty of time to plan them out. Your list should look more complicated than the Solvay Process Pathway so that it appears something useful happened at the park.
Carry your playlist. There’s the music the trees make as the wind blows through them. They are songs too. You know how songs behave like life’s rewind button? They can save you from you. Any time. They are always my solution to broken pencils and hard, unfinished crossword puzzles. Make sure your earphones are working.
Things get stolen when songs steal your attention. Keep an eye on your stuff closer than Batman did on The Joker in The Dark Knight. Go Google.
Unless homeless, don’t sleep in a park. That more of sounds like hiding from yourself; which beats the whole essence of going to the park. Yeah, I understand that bit of drifting away to dreamland as being therapeutic. I’m also the type of person who tries to fall back asleep in the morning just to finish a dream. But I daren’t sleep in a park!
You can do ample regretting in the park. Yesterday, I took my sweet time regretting why I didn’t attend that ‘Spice up your life’ seminar on Saturday; which would maybe have culminated into me not sitting in a park on Sunday afternoon. I’m pretty much the shirt that’s always buttoned wrong. But admittedly, the event sounded pretty much like a cooking fest.
Sugar cane. Peanuts. Any weird food combo. Or those things that pretend they’re food; like rice.
You don’t expect your unread books to read themselves. Do you?
The situation is complicated. Actually, you’re just complex. That’s why you should be in a park right now. Being complex means you’re interesting. Being complicated doesn’t. However, you don’t have to feel so neglected and let down because the internet called you ugly. Neither should you crawl in a hole and die because you’re actually like a total recluse. All you need is space. And there’s plenty much of it in the park.
You’re complex, yes. Nevertheless, let me put this out there. This “I want someone who is going to appreciate me for me” movement has gone too far. It’s okay to want someone who is going to accept that you’re not perfect. However, if there is something inherently wrong in your life or something that needs fixing, fix it. Sit in a park and make that life-changing plan.
Don’t do any, because there’s a light continuously blinking somewhere like a camera. Crime usually creeps in through the back door, disguising itself as harmless fun or innocent doings. Men, especially, do not write your name on the dusty patch with your piss. Instead of calling you desperate for attention, they might call the police.
Probably not on the top of my list. Probably not on the bottom either. Probably just not on the list at all, if we’re being honest.
Is there a queue anywhere? Like at a soft drinks booth? Good! Join the queue. You don’t really have to buy anything. When you reach the end of the queue, just plonk to it’s tail and help elongate it. Sometimes just watching the world burn is what you need after all. I have a penchant for queuing and apologizing, especially when fueled by coffee from a hawker. I’m sorry.
After you’re about 50 shades of done with the park, you won’t go home a repressed prude.
Park your weekend this Sunday afternoon!