And the music god has heard mine and probably a couple of others’ prayers
and Phewx!!!! no kindandali perfomance on this sunday’s eviction party.
And the best part is that all of my prayer was answered.
It went like:
“Why are we seeing more and more kindandali music when we have real
artistes in this continent?
Why isnt Freshly Ground perfoming on that stage?”
And now, ladies and gentlemen; Freshly Ground it is…..
Categories: Uncategorized
On a very serious note, this little boy needs to go back to campus, concetrate on his books and pass his third year. Isnt there a lot of photocopied notes to read and course work research to burry his pretty head in.
He needs to get back on his day program and stop ‘working’ all day only to go to class tired and exhuasted in the evening.
okay; maybe i need to come clean.
there is this hot I.T intern at the office. He is half Langi, half Itesot. And he is shy!!
He speaks well too.
The other day, when there was no one else around, he asked me why i like to tease him (the school kind of teasing) And i couldnt find an immediate answer.
I actually cant say anything to him when it is just me and him. All i always manage to come up with is; “when is your internship coming to an end”.
He is young and he is cute.
And all i keep thinking is “he can make an awesome accesory”.
Picture going for Jonathan Butler with him!!!
He doesnt have to understand the music. He doesnt have to like it. He just has to be there. And smile every so often.
If it were possible (thank goodness it isnt) I would be blushing green right now.
Hoooooooh!
Categories: Now Hear This
“Back When”
Don’t you remember
The fizz in a pepper
Peanuts in a bottle
At ten, two and four
A fried bologna sandwich
With mayo and tomato
Sittin’ round the table
Don’t happen much anymore We got too complicated
It’s all way over-rated
I like the old and out-dated
Way of life
Back when a hoe was a hoe
Coke was a coke
And crack’s what you were doing
When you were cracking jokes
Back when a screw was a screw
The wind was all that blew
And when you said I’m down with that
Well it meant you had the flu
I miss back when
I miss back when
I miss back when I love my records
Black, shiny vinyl
Clicks and pops
And white noise
Man they sounded fine
I had my favorite stations
The ones that played them all
Country, soul and rock-and-roll
What happened to those times?
I’m readin’ Street Slang For Dummies
Cause they put pop in my country
I want more for my money
The way it was back then
Chorus
Give me a flat top for strumming
I want the whole world to be humming
Just keep it coming
The way it was back then
Back when a hoe was a hoe
Coke was a coke
And crack’s what you were doing
When you were cracking jokes
Back when a screw was a screw
The wind was all that blew
And when you said I’m down with that
Well it meant you had the flu
I miss back when
I miss back when
I miss back when
Categories: Uncategorized
How often does one water their house plant and how much water is enough water- for each session?!
How long is too long before you make the first phone call. The phone call that should let her know that you liked her, enjoyed her company and would love to see her again (without ever mentioning those words).
What is ‘pushing for it’?
How does one make another feel the pain they suffered on the other’s account; because of their actions. Because sometimes you want to forgive, but only after that person has understood excatly how much pain you have suffered.
When is the time to outgrow the past. When the issues one suffered many years go stop interfering with their today; stop disrupting their future.
Where does that visible innocence (right in the eyes) disappear to after you have had more than one person see you naked. How come no pill or herb can make it resurface.
How come we can never feed our children with any more than make-believe -The Genie in the Bottle, Santa Clause, The Tooth Fairy, The Mocking Bird, The Fairy God Mother – and never the truth. The truth about friends, relatives and acquitances. The truth about life as we know it.
And why is there so many fathers looking up little girl’s skirts, touching their ‘flower’ with no remorse and only a couple seeking to soothe their little angels; to sing them a sweet lullaby from The Sound of Music.
Categories: little notes
“We settle, but like feathers on time’s flow”
-CD Lewis
Categories: Uncategorized
Give me a room; artificially darkened, one huge projector screen placed at the front, set the surround sound system just perfectly, and let some of my favorite movies play back to back♣
Movies, some which, I have maybe never watched but the stories they peddle still leave me soaked in tears.
Movies like Cold Mountain, Brokeback Mountain, Gone with the Wind, Pursuit of Happyness and The Italian Job (the original one).
And after watching all these, I shall have an hour’s break (secret smile); make myself coffee and French toast as I listen to Corinne Bailey Rae (I really need hers and Joss Stones CDs) or better yet, a mixture of The Corrs, Whitney Houston, some Tupac &Eminem, India Arie and Common.
With a couple of chocolate bars in hand (I can do with some flab, anything to hold onto as I have my meltdowns), a kanga to cover me with,-I shall walk back to my favorite spot of the day/night and I set myself up again for another marathon… this time, I’ll make it as light as the coffee I had been drinking.
Back to back, I will enjoy The Graduate like I have not watched it four times before, laugh harder this timethrough Sunset Boulevard (I highly recommend).
And then maybe I can pick that Mind Your language from where I left it two weeks ago. But what’s a personal movie fest without The Sound of Music (?).
In fact i shall start with that.
But in the meantime, I sit unconfortably; shifting in this chair, moving from place to place (in my mind), reliving moments am trying so hard to hold on to and constantly losing track of time, track of my audience. And hoping that my goodreads patner brings that “all consuming” book she promised.
I need something to take me with it. I need to read some one else’s pain, i need to feel sorry for another person, even a socially unaccepted person,i need to feel their pain. Lord Voldermont (yes, u can say his name here) am ready to hear your struggle, i have heard most there is of Harry Porter’s, now i need to listen to your side of the story, feel your pain too. Your struggle to fit in,to be accepted…
I need to get out of me for once. I need to stop these tears that well up in my head only to stop within my eyes because i dont have the physical energy to shed them.
I need to scream- so loud and so hard- only am not sure about what or why.
She’s gone.
Gone without me ever telling her how much i love her. how greatful I am that it is she that raised me…
how i never, even once felt orphaned (seriously) because she was there, always. I could call her mummy, because she was mummy…she got me really pissed sometimes, and so did I her.
But never once did i hate her, and I know she never did hate me. Even when, after so many years of intense training, she was still being told that i cant come up with a decent meal (kids do disappoint parents).
She made me who i am and if i wasnt too sturbon, i would have been so much better because that’s how she raised me… to be the best.
Now i talk to myself about her, i talk to people about her ( i always have – to whoever cared to listen) and never once to her.
I am confused; we are all confused… where is my mummy, where is grandma♥.
Is this what it should feel like, what it should be?! To have no one you can call in a fake angry tone asking why they couldnt remember that ‘today’ was my birthday?
She encouraged me to read (while complaining about the late night light in my room), she and grandad listened to my poetry since i was 13 up until i started dating,and that was very many years (with me, boys and poetry didnt mix).
I could go on, talk about her love for television soaps, movies (some listed above) and music – Tina Turner, The Supremes… you get the mix
oh by the way, she and God were tight… in a good christian kind of way
and now i have to get the hang of the past tense thingy
Categories: for u
This is for the things and the people I adore and have always thought (still do) that my life would never have been as fabulous as it truly is.
This is for me; for all the great love I hold for myself- yeah, am so full of it I know. And I have every right to be.
But first, this:
I have been away, for four days, planning my funeral. Some how, it didn’t get together. I just couldn’t get the picture right.
For starters, my entire family, (those I know about) are scattered around the world. And I know the world is such a big place, but still… No one lives in the village where I should be laid to rest (whatever gave us the idea that it is “resting”- with all these spirits free flying around, or doing whatever spirits do), so that might mean that I will have a rushed funeral with about 4 people I know and love around. The people I have loved and have love me will just send text messages (imagine that!).
So while I was planning, I saw the inconvenience that my funeral would be causing, especially considering that this is mid year, and people have responsibilities; they have work, families,financial situations…
I didn’t then decide not die. I just gave up planning, coz if I had my way, I would be cremated. Better that than suffocate in some shined wooden box and be fixed beneath the ground… geez, don’t people have any respect for the dead?!
See, I can pretend that this here is a monologue. But I know some one is going to read it and they will be totally freaked out. Why? Because we don’t talk about death, dying and funerals like this. We don’t plan as we would weddings or get togethers.
But see, I have planned my weddings, all kinds. And there is no use to go on planning my forth-coming birthday parties and yet have nothing planned for my funeral.
It just aint practical. Just like how very impractical it is to blurt out how many children I plan on having without ever taking a fertility test to confirm whether I can have children in the first place*@&$%*.
So back to where I started, seeing as I can’t go on with my funeral plans, I should give my final speech. That one I can’t plan on when to give it so I might just as well do it now.
First I would like to thank the supreme power that made sure that I should be apart of this era. What is not to love here?
I totally appreciate the fact that here I am, as one of those people who have the freedom to do anything, anything whatsoever, without even exerting that much brain or physical energy.
Heck we can run the world, ruin lives, do whatever … on remote control (!!!!) sweet.
I truly feel blessed that am one of this generation where its cool to have careless, casual and non-committal sex with toys, same sex friends, strangers, older men/women, the television, imagination and whichever other way we so please, so long as it is legal, consensual and if nobody gets hurt.
Dude, sex sells everything and I openly celebrate that. I celebrate the people who choose not to have it all as well, coz that’s hot.
More on the part of feeling blessed, I am really grateful that I have been apart of this generation where its cool to be a badass, a miss-fit in society or just a plain, down right loser.
Who knew that smoking ganja would be as off the hook cool as it is steadily becoming today.
Who even believed that the ghetto is seriously a great place to raise your kids if you hope for them to make something out of themselves in the future.
Who would have seen this future where prostitutes are not just cheap sluts (am i making sense with that) but a potential cash cow to this country’s economy. Who knew that one day they would be subject to debate in our parliament where morals and ethics come before…
And that the debate will be pro-prostitution, with the all those big guys praying to legalise it- because sex sells, and we would rather make our own money, whichever way, instead of beg.
Again, am really glad to have been here, when I was; right now, in the era where HIV/Aids is simply a turn on – as exciting as it is deadly.
Where pretty little beings would rather risk death in the midst of some down town abortion than use a condom; where using a condom is only a sign of “we have just met, so just be in there until the third round and then, we can hump like life-partners do”.
What a great life this is.
Secondly, I am totally, absolutely, grateful to all the guys who have toyed with the idea of loving me, those who have lusted after me and even those who just wanted me for just- to see if they could, to prove something to themselves.
I might not have loved you back, lusted after you at all or even ever wanted to be with at the slightest excuse, but still, I was touched by the love, flattered by the sexual intentions you had for me, and now I thank you- genuinely. It could have been worse.
Finally, I thank the parents who gave me this chance, to be here and have all that I have. To be able to enjoy music, obsess over television and fall in love with the men and women who write great television series, the people who direct them and always envy every one who has experienced the things I only dream of… like the sheer joy of being drunk and losing yourself to alcohol.
I am grateful that it is only by parents, who i dont excatly know anything about (Dad?) that I came forth.
Maybe they planned to have me, maybe they didn’t, but I came along and am proof enough that they did do what they did even when my mother would like me to believe that nothing happened.
Seriously mum, you surely should have known that one day, I would be curious.
Categories: Me Again · Uncategorized
