Of Rain Battered Windshields and Enthusiastic Sex Workers.

We are going to die.

We are going to fucking die.

It is raining heavily. The windshield is rendered worryingly translucent by the barrage of splattering raindrops that seem to just pour out of the darkness ahead of us.

There are no streetlamps, and the night is completely dark.

The windshield wiper is non-functional, and so there seems to be no way to periodically wipe away the film of water that threatens to take both of our lives this night by obscuring the highway ahead.

We are going to die.

We are going to fucking die.

The car is moving at a considerably high speed. I do not know how fast exactly we are going. This guy’s speedometer is broken.

How can he see anything? His headlamps are on, but the path ahead of us is almost entirely obfuscated by the relentless rain.

If someone stood five feet in front of the car and raised three fingers up in the air, discerning how many fingers were up wouldn’t be the problem. The problem would be that it would be difficult to even see the human being standing there in the first place.

And yet this guy at the wheel is throttling the vehicle without a care in the world.

We are going to die.

We are going to fucking die.




Handsome man! Let’s go to my room!

She caresses my arm and gently pulls me towards her.

Where did you say they sell the drinks?

We’re almost there. It’s right up ahead.

Okay okay.

I free myself from her pull.

I’m still around, don’t worry! I’m still around!

She gradually pulls away her gaze and then continues discussing with some people- people who I believe are prospective customers.




Olamide’s “Don’t Stop” is playing.

Two guys are dancing in the middle of the dancefloor. One is considerably tall, and the other is relatively smaller. Their chemistry is interesting. They’re facing each other and making stylish poses and smiling. They both have bandanas on, and they’re both wearing some white. Their chemistry is very interesting. I’m smiling in my seat.


Handsome man! Come let’s go to my room!

She softly rubs my jeans in a sensitive area.

For some reason I’ve been catching the attention of the sex workers in this place.

I’m not quite sure why that is.

Such a sexual arrangement is not going to be healthy, very exciting or satisfying for me.

I’m sorry, I still intend to spend more time listening to the music.




Where did you go? I came to the car but I didn’t see you!

Haha I was probably somewhere attending to the stimulants I bought. Now I’m just in here enjoying my high.

Okay okay, open the passenger’s door. This rain is annoying.

It’s open it’s open.


I get in.



I’m not quite sure what to do next with this blog.

On the one hand, I find it not just exciting but very psychologically beneficial to have a place where I can express myself, retrospectively walk through my thinking process, and  recount events in my life in some detail. And making such expression publicly accessible gives a feeling that is markedly different from private journalling.

But on the other hand, I’m beginning to get increasingly concerned that somehow some information I implicitly or explicitly make available here could somehow be used to constitute problems for me in my life. I’m not quite sure how, but I feel the possibility exists.

And so I’m currently weighing the entire thing. Pros versus possible cons. And I should not have to wait for the actualization of an undesirable eventuality before I make modifications. So now I’m thinking about how I can make preemptive adjustments. I don’t know. I’m still thinking about the whole thing.

Suggestions are welcome. Suggestions are very welcome. Please feel free to give feedback. Thanks.



A different night.