Beneath the Archives

Okay, so I was looking through my collection of stuff I've written like ages ago and I came across this...(stil thinking of a word to define it) piece and I wondered if someone could decode for me:
''I hear the bells ringing, silent peals echoing down from the hills. A warning, a message. The time has come. The demons are here.
The voices in my head are silent, but only for a moment, then they cry out loudly, clashing sounds and vibrations that threaten to make me madder than I am now. But there is no point. The Devil is here already..the end has come.
I see blood in the skies, a deepening red that seeks to overcome the Heavens. A heart of forgiveness is erased and anger and hatred dwell deeply within and it seeks to possess me and keep me. I will not fight it. I embrace it. Death is willing.
The old man in the leathery cloak seeks to grab me and i walk to him with arms widespread. I embrace death and give in willingly..I die and live not even in spirit. This is d end. Nothing more will be said, nothing else can be. I am gone. It's over. I am dead.
Nakedness.''
Okay, this is it, wat the hell did that mean??? Who ends a piece about blood and fear and resignation with 'Nakedness'??? I guess I'll look on the bright side and say, this simply explains that there is certainly room for improvement. Lol...
I am happy today, sleepy and happy..maybe lata.

Love...the lie

It's all it takes for me to pick the pen, (figuratively), a slight burst of emotions.
It's her again.
This is the evil thin about relationships. One moment, you're the rationally thinking, highly intelligent individual, the next, you're a snivelling, paranoid suck-up human.
Why then do we bother? Why have these relationships if we have to suffer through them?
I wrote something, it seems like a year ago now, about, 'The Death of Friendships'. I decried everything that makes us succumb to the desire of fraternity and leave behind individuality to grasp the group identity. Simply put, I said, it's a bad idea to have friends.
The piece didn't put me in good light with my friends, is putting it lightly. It almost made them leave me behind...*grinning*. But this is the issue, I retracted the piece, (sort of), and took back what i said or wrote, but today, I am more or less being proved right.
I am falling in love. I am falling so fast, I don't have time to apply brakes or to contemplate what would happen when I land, for I would surely land. The Pit of Love is not endless despite whatever they tell us.
Falling in love is not a bad idea, it is what has to be done to preserve that love that irks me.
When we love someone, we have to change our manner of speech, action even thought. I love Oscar Wilde and he said, '...always be yourself, every other person is already taken...' i like that. It's true. There is no point in pretending to be who you're not. But when you're in love...you pretend.
Imagine a magazine article saying that basing a relationship on a lie is only a very minuscle percentage against the success of the relationship. I think, it's a very huge percent FOR the success of the relationship!
We lie. For those we love, we lie and cheat. Lie, cheat, pretend.
I think i should write a book, I'll call it, 'Relationships...We Lie, Cheat and Pretend'. It'll probably sell in Asia...*laughing*
All in all, I wonder why we have to do this. Why can't we just be ourselves and still keep the ones we love? Why can't I...?*sigh*
I wonder if she'll see this. I know she would...I wonder what she'll think?
Ha!

Whatever it means...

I resumed today. Writing has always been second nature to me. Sometimes, I sit alone, people walking past, sometimes even in conversation with me, and all I can do is whip out my phone or a piece of paper with pen and type or write.
Yesterday, with the lines from a bad movie ringing in my ears, I was scared. I had not written anything in a long while and I was almost afraid of a lost talent...or ability? But with the clashing sounds of a strange japanese instrument in my ears and Linkin Park screaming down my pinna, I had no choice.
Art begets art. That's the truest truth in the world. I always, and I mean that, find myself in a creative mood when I hear good music [death to Linkin Park haters], and sometimes even with a good movie or book or art. My best experiences with sex have always been in this creative mood. Indeed, sex is art.
I was sitting on my own today, once again, flipping through my song collection. Then I got to Linkin park's 'Easier to run'. I don't know about you, but the song with it's clashing vocals was enough to rouse something latent in me...even to throw me into near tears. I don't really understand how, but writing things with a certain depth always throws me into such an emotional state, I am close to weeping.
Once I wrote something that actually threw me into a sobbing fit. It was about people's attitude towards sex...imagine!*shrug*
Today though, I think I know what started the fit. What I think, despite my subconcious trying its hardesT to hide it from me, is all about a girl. I wanted to call her and I think I needed a song to put myself into the mood and 'Easier to run', threw me into this.
I've known her for years...in my head. There have been times when I doubt her reality, when she seems like something I cooked up..from dream or fantasy. What is she? Who is this princess that fulfils all my desires?
Even as I type now, my mind wanders and it is her smiling face as I last saw it that resides behind my eyes. The keys of my phonepad blur together and all I see are flashing colours and the eyes which always threaten to engulf me...to take up my entire being into a happiness I'll happily surrender to. Who is she?
I have wondered sometimes if she is some silver wraith sent from somewhere below the underworld, a place more beautiful than Paradise, to tempt me and force me to succumb to her charms and lure until I destroy and explode in a cataclysm of bliss. But I know that is just my over-active imagination. She is a goddess. A special being, created by God to satisfy every desire I may contemplate upon. Created specially for me.
Sometimes I wonder if, like the Golden Fleece and Jason, I am worthy to have her. She seems like a jewel to pretty to be touched by my many times tainted hands. But who knows...she might be my chance for redemption?
Sounds are still banging in my head, now it's 'Jesus of Surburbia' and Green Day smashing that tune out. I love this particular song because of it's unpredictable changeability, it sometimes reminda me of my own soul and mind which switches tracks too often and sometimes with almost no seam of connection. I wonder...
I have almost forgotten her, but can I...she dwells within my heart, I can't leave her, no matter how hard I try. I am alive, perhaps I love?
I have had fleeting moments of passion over the past few years, some lasting weeks, others days, some months and some hours. I have been shocked and jumped, but I have never been broken, not again. Perhaps my artistic heart has decided to break for her. Maybe that is what this is...maybe this is another one of those fleeting pursuits. Maybe...

Ali...the reintroduction

A couple of months ago, at the beginning of the year, I posted a series of short stories about a very disturbed young man, and his journey through the straits of what life had to offer him. I stopped the series after a while and in fact deleted it entirely from my blog because of certain issues at the time, including questions alluding to my sharing an identity with my character, Ali.
Things have changed now, and i feel like putting up Ali's life for display once again. But first, a couple of things.
1. I am not Ali. We bear almost no resemblance. Any resemblance also to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental as this series is a work of pure fiction.
2. The series are not the product of a thoroughly atheistic and pagan mind. I'm a christian, though liberal on most issues.
3. Those under 18 should not follow the Ali story.
I think that's all...read on at your peril

Superheroes in Naija

You know, in those days, when you watch any movie or you read any novel or comic, you always hear lots of talk about the heroes, the Superheroes. Especially if the comic or movie is American, In fact, the created the very term.

And now, I wonder, how about over here in Africa, where are our Superheroes?

The Superhero of the American cinema or folklore is a man or woman of exceeding power  and potential, either physically or otherwise, but most definitely supernaturally, [hence the term]. Apparently, even before the advent of Television and paper, stories about these heroes were constantly told to the young and young at heart.
Therein lies the rub, what then can be said of the African man and his own heroes? I have sat with friends back in secondary school [or high school for the Americans], and we have debated, [quite seriously for that matter] on the simple question of if we could have Superheroes in Nigeria. The final consensus was reached when someone said that even if Superheroes could dwell amongst us here in Nigeria, they would nevertheless be confined to the areas in cities where the presence of sky scrapers are in abundance. I can remember hanging my head in shame as Benin City where I lived could not boast of one single skyscraper. In other words, the ultimatum was that if ever the god of Superhero land decided to dispatch one of his subordinates to Nigeria, he’ll most probably be confined only to Abuja or Lagos. It was a sad moment believe me.

But such things are below me now.

What is a Superhero? Is he this guy?

What does it entail to be a Superhero? A cape, giant arms, wide chest and the power of three trains?

Have you ever heard of Ijapa? Yes, Ijapa! In the Yoruba language of the people of Nigeria, Ijapa is the tortoise. He is the smart, extremely cunning and obligately trickish animal who rules the kingdom of the Animals, but not from the throne, [such things are beneath him]. Ijapa is a hero of the African folklore. And he rules a government further reaching than anyone can truly fathom, and he uses his powers for the good of...himself.

Faster than a speeding bullet? Yes, Ijapa ran a race against all the animals in the kingdom and he was first without even breaking a sweat

Stronger than the most powerful whatever..? Yes, Ijapa won a tug of war against three elephants in a row. And the elephants looked surprisingly like this...

and when it comes to flying, Ijapa has raced to the heavens and back with large birds and he always came back first!

I'm sorry I couldn't get a picture of Ijapa in mid-flight, but you see, he was going too fast for the camera...*smile*

Don't get me wrong though, asides from Ijapa, there are other heroes in the African comic [there should be something like that], such as Amansewah or Anansi the Ghanaian spider, and even a couple of Ugandan heroes.

When it comes to the whole Superhero thing however, Ijapa stands a whole head above them all, after all...he is the Naija Superhero isn't he?

Study with the dirty and un-informed...

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Blog and smile

I feel extremely happy tonight, or should i call it morning? it sounds wrong calling this time, the morning seeing as I've not slept a wink since the night. Morning, night, what's the difference actually?
Anyway, I started typing this, this...morning, to sort of celebrate my new found sense of exhiliration. Exhiliration or exhilaration? Which is it? I keep on forgetting, or maybe it is that i refused to learn in the first place, but then who knows.
A million and one things have happened to me this week and to a warped and twisted mind, they would be normal. My week was normal. That is asides from two near death experiences and a fiasco last night [yes, this time around it was night], when some boys tried to make fun, (they succeeded), at me.
 I was walking with a friend of mine, just strolling, two young handsome boys, down the dark, half-empty streets. I wanted a bit of a time off so I was going to spend the night at his relatively luxurious apartment. I wanted to buy a yoghurt (it's my favorite drink, next to coke), and so we decided to take a little detour. That was our mistake.
In the village besides my campus where I stay, there are hoodlums and various other forms of nefarious associates. Originally, they would  be known as fraternities, but over here, they are very little more that primary schoolyard bullies who have the benefits of small-arms and the fear of the populace as their major weapons. Over time, (I have resided here for over three years), I have pitted my head and wits and obvious superior intellect against them, and each and every time I have triumphed without a scratch and ahead of it all. There is a saying of, "everyday for the thief and..." okay, bad analogy.
Last night, (it's 4:58am here in Nigeria), they called I and my friend over. They were six or seven of them, [I beg your pardon, but honestly i cannot recall, for reasons you will get to understand], and they were already cloud eleven high on cheap whisky and marijuana. Suffice to say, normally i would have engaged them in some sort of debate which might have either resulted in us going unscathed and scot-free, or rather badly with us ending up very scathed and like imprisoned Irish. I mean no offence. Nevertheless, today or rather yesterday was not going to be like that. We were flying heavy. That is, we were carrying alot of valuables.
There was to be no struggle today. Or we would surely lose out. At least that was what was in our minds till, we got closer and they identified us.
I would say no more on the subject asides from the fact that, despite the obvious annoyance which should  be bugging my heart now today, I am instead, joyous and happy even! The embarrassment has worn off now, maybe that is why, but then have you ever had something like this placed at your head?

But set asides all thoughts of violence, I only serve to please. I am alive! Do I need to show you holes in my hands too?
My hands have grown weak and sleep calls. I will sleep all day tomorrow. I enjoyed this, Blogging and smiling.