listenin’ I

dj raph:

kenya bus made sounds

nairobi sounds really disturbing

there are no more kenya bus

sounds

became disturbing

disturbing

berlin, packed street traffic

packed but quiet

in the middle of a city whose sounds

i cannot tell

sound

gets to you at a very visceral level

later

vinyl sold out really quick but

i

still have (sound) stucks on cds

the archive is useless

if it cannot be accessed

today’s sound is not tomorrow’s

it is now sound

the city tends to move sometimes

sound tend to shift

lutivini kept thinking about the phrase from A Palmwine Drinkard:
‘…with a lower voice like a telephone’

b-flat

signal to sound ratio

lo-fi/hi-fi structures

binaural effect

selective listening

distracted by everything because –

cue

cicadas

“that’s something that struck me” – something lorna heard

then there were days that human ear heard “sounds whose angelic purity cannot be conjured up again by any amount of science or magic”

silent

propaganda

salient

hi-fi noise chased rodents down a kenya national theatre stage

their experience was a memory that’s carried on and they will never come back there again

at the disco hall

The groove repeated over and over again as if to re-enact all the possibilities and imaginations the Town promised or, it was only a play on phenomenon of the town’s rhythm.  He couldn’t tell. He walked out to the other side of the building that before was eclipsed by the giant laser poster announcing a political rally that he heard been cancelled over the Town Radio noon broadcast announcement the day before. The projection was affected by the new design of dipoles that emitted several reflexes of bass, the image glitched like a lurking horror, the visuals dripping across the alley to some of the dukas. The man whose shift had just began, urged the 21 year old heir to hurry to the show before it ended, his mouth’s action of large teeth adorned in dancing purple that came and disappeared with tongue movements went unanswered with a silence of fury because the man was late making the heir miss some acts.

Al walked down the street looking for a quick place to eat. It was not easy to find one here whose budget made sense. The currency rate to food had gone up. The political air boiled with hunger.

Al remembered a food joint. Al would be lucky to find the Mutumiya opened for the night.

The men sat draped in warm attires in the wood engraved room. As Al found his way in, chapos and 8 PM beans blessed the tiny space with an excellent atmosphere of care and shibe. As his eyes were adjusting to the dimly lit room, he saw these were not just men coming to eat, the way Mutumiya acted with a profound professionalism and a generosity shown with the amount of steamy dondo on the new kauru plates, this might not be a regular occasion of dining he had just intervened. Or he was just speculating; vile news zina spread about radicalized political meet-ups within unknown city’s underground spaces, he won’t be surprised if now the scenes on channels are replicating in his thought process. The romance of Mutumiya’s choche as a radical ground for seeds of neowiathi to sprout complimented his political fantasies of And Town.

“Mwana, umuthi uraraa kiria twenakyo…”

“thenkio muno,” Al answered as he got served.

Al ate up quick and left, the men ate slowly or drunk water or milk in muteness.

Outside, it had started to rain.

Hurriedly, he passed the glitching shadow now being tempted to be swept away by the rain to the town’s ditches, then crossing the street aiming for the entrance door to the disco hall where a technics scratch perfomance set had been waiting for him.

notes on mugaru chapter

Al allowed himself to feel anger/rage, “he walks on tracks, sinking into rails, desiring to merge layers with rust and alloy…” Al might as well be visited by ghosts of tsavo whose claims here deliberates a chimera of cyborgian nature, a transport system even, a colonial one to be exact. bodies labored in the making of an iron serpent prophecy reality, Al in this space and time, walking along a memory remembers “to walk upright/uptight…”

in a dugout where water drips on either side like a weeping saga, “he takes a piss that empties him from an overload of a burden” this doesn’t drain the misery still for “fist clench with spasms of inconsolable remnants of whatever made him this…” later the anger resembles a texture of “scraps or skin rashes that have refused to go away” he craves to tear down the mask, the cobwebs – the shame off his face. “the ghost unable to reveal itself, scratches against the scalp/heart/breath… he can’t breathe.”

when later he interrupts his position of hopelessness, the ghost is perplexed, it then ‘reevaluates plans of killing Al.”

the taking over of the body, the body snatching

the body with an intent of disappearing, reluctantly gives in to the chimera, half-body half-ghost, this state as mentioned in the ngr.maa chapter, is a new form that the thagicu descendant dwells in…

nobody could really tell when potential time became a realism. In And Town, future was never a thing. the potentiality of time unfolding in three dimension, either way, like living off a dream, or a science fiction of a gone past, of – say like when it is really november 2019, the blade runner in a future of the real world when it was created passing

when And Town awakened to spires “whose ends tempted to defy a mere eye nakedness”, it was all a dream, christopher wallace had rapped when his potential time manifested.

at the conference, Roy Kinyua scavenged notes and shouted to the recorders of the dailies disrupting a certain physics prof whom the state house had managed to coerce to be their spokesperson from the way she wove time construct theories in her lectures in the old Andan academia

here, the prof’s eyes are hidden by the new AI inspired glasses, she lowers her gaze to look down at the ruffian spitting Mbiti’s concept of time which her world had ignored for their adaptaion of west themed methods required one to shun and cancel any african theology as Wun might have mentioned. here, Kinyua, remixing Mbiti with his own thoughts on potential time, creates a Sasa time that has created it’s own future – wherein past as they knew it got challenged and present proved to be three dimensional – where all african two dimensional states (Mbiti) have become one, and neither clocks nor day and night entities can change the fact that – And Town is living in a future created by deletion of past and present, and neither the yielded time is extension of actual time