The Ballad Of Black Bosco

The novel Ernest wrote when he was coming down off the lithium/cocaine hangover one weekend.


When We Ride

Taxi drivers are, as we all know, forged in the fires of hell. They are not humans created by God. The other guy made taxi drivers.

Sorry, We Have Moved

The internet’s notifications network tells me that people still come to this blog expecting to find  writers here. Sorry, we…

A Plan

Gwe, first come and see the new site where I be. Even the other one. One is, the other…

Urban Legend Kampala

This is a trailer. This is a taste. This is the little thing before the big thing. This is the… is live

And finally, I am able, with no compunction, hesitation, second-guessing or remorse to finally tell you whasgono. I’m not going…