Bash the car

“Yes, bash the car! Bash! Bash! Bash!” screams M.

Their cars are rolling in like water from the day after tomorrow; disturbing the peace that temp site gives. Me and my nigga M are smoking skunk and pretty much pissed at the bright lights, loud incomprehensible music, and the senseless shouting.

“I am Ibrahim Babalola, your president! I was on temp site in January 2008 and I am still a temp siter! We can, we should, we have to...” (Political pause, no applause) “...get what we pay for!”

M is laughing so hard, his bottle of coke nearly topples over.

“Don’t tell me that’s Babalola”, he says.

“Yes it is, yes it is”, says me.

I am laughing as well but maybe we should attribute this to the beautiful, beautiful skunk.

Me and M however agree with Babalola; he is the president.

“This guy is surely going to win”, says M.

“Yes. Who else is running?” says me.

We are high and this makes what I said funny. We laugh for five more minutes.

In our glorious highness, we can still see through AUN politics. We have Babalola; a Samson holding on to the two pillars namely the North and the South, using ropes of Islam and Yoruba citizenship. It is so fucking easy to deduce that he’s going to win.

Do you know the roots of the word university? No? Then let’s look at the word this way: universe-city. It is a microcosm of the universe; the universe compressed into a small city. A university is supposed to be a reflection of the society that it is put in. I am happy to announce that AUN is a near-perfect reflection of the Nigerian society.

What the fuck is the need for a rally? Babalola is going to win. He has the people from the South and the people from the North. He is immersed in the socialite class of the school. All these useless punks want to be his friend. When he comes over to a normal AUN guy or girl, escorted by the other top guns, making this punk feel special, they want to shake his hand and say “yeah, yeah, we’ll vote for you”. Babalola has friends by virtue of his race and his religion and those are the people (who are by the way, everybody in the school), that will vote for him. Simple. No need for a rally. If he said he was running on the day of the election, the result would be the same.

What the fuck is the need for a rally? Yar’Adua carried his frail self around the fucking country for nothing. We all knew that the election was going to be rigged. PDP was always going to win. At least we can give Yar’Adua a little excuse. He has to keep up appearances for the western media. Yar’Adua is however not different from Babalola. Yar’Adua literally rigs, Babalola rigs using his “friends”.

“And for senate, vote for Bala! Yusuf! Mohammed! Ismaila! Aliyu! Usman! Mariam! Shehu! Aisha!”

These people are not real, I’m just showing you what Babalola had to do to get his northern vote.

Machiavelli said: Politics has no relation to morals.

True dat.

Funny thing M said.

I ask him “So it’s fun to come to a rally now?” I said this because no one on temp site comes out to “rally” with Babalola. All the screams come from all the cars he brought to crowd our sacred temp site.

And M goes “What else is there to do in this school? They don’t smoke weed, we do”.

We look at them and then each other and we laugh for another five minutes.

True dat.

Having said all this, if I vote, which I doubt I will, I will be voting for Babalola.

Who else is running?

Thoughts from a blackhole

Part 5: The End

“Out of the shadows; into the light,
I have a power; take back what’s mine,
We have a power,
We are alive.”
-I’m on by Nas, Cool and DJ Khaled.

Fack, fack, fack, fack.

Hallo hallo.

This is the beginning of the end.

Have you ever heard me sound this happy? Because I haven’t.

I am still writing this fucked up diary, diary. So I’m going to talk about geeky girl.

This is the last time though; I’m so sorry I have to leave you, diary. I know my depression feeds you; I know it makes you happy and gives you strength.

I can’t do it anymore and you know why; I don’t have any more depression to give to you. I am so sorry; you helped me and now I can’t help you in return.

I am sorry.

I don’t care if you’re angry; fuck you.

I’m quitting cigarettes now. It’s so fucking weird; but so is everything that’s happening now. And that’s cool. Almost everybody thinks I can’t do it; the “almost” clan used to include me. But geeky girl can make me do anything; so it’s happening bitches. It is very fucking hard though.

It’s so cool. Talking for hours and I don’t even fucking know that hours pass by. I hate talking but it just seems to come out of moi now. It is very fucking cool; one fucking good reason to wake up in the afternoon and not to sleep at night.

Everybody fucking sees me now. I used to enjoy the inconspicuous life. But it’s cool; nobody means any harm. I’m on to those fuckers that say shit about me though, and I’m coming with divine fucking fury. They know themselves; the God fucking squad. I heard some new shit today that renewed the fire of vengeance. I’m not even playing. Burn down to the fucking ground; burn them on their fucking cross.

God squad annihilation is a luxury; I already have everything I need.

Aaaaaah. Feels good. Nigga, I’m on.

This is the beginning of the end.

GO FUCK YOURSELF

There’s been a lot of drama this week.

I lost my phone and lost all contact from the rest of the world. I lost the trust of my parents, and my faith in weed got tested. I lost mobile music. Yet I am not unhappy.

I got fucked in the ass by the “God squad” because of the shit I did to them some time in the past. They fucked our concert up properly because they had the power. I gave them that power; against my better judgement. I believed that they were Christians and forgiving; although I don’t think there was anything to forgive. Especially now, I don’t think that there was anything to forgive. I called them hypocrites and they proved themselves to me. Again. They fucked up our concert. Yet I am not unhappy.

I failed a test, and God knows how much I hate to fail. It was due to my negligence and I felt like a total dumbass. I don’t like to say this, but dudes that don’t even measure were totally skydiving while I was grovelling on the ground. It felt like shit; it was shit. Yet I am not unhappy.

I heard shit this week about myself that I didn’t know about myself. Total shit. Shit Shit shit. That’s how the world works though. Yet I am not unhappy.

I have been trying to stop smoking. It is a very depressing process. Dudes come up to me and be like “Benson! How can you not have cigarettes?” Then I also ask myself this question, and for some reason it depresses me. Add that to the FACT that when I don’t smoke, all those depressing thoughts come floating through my head like those fucking birds in Resident Evil III. They just keep attacking my head, and I can feel it peeling. Yet I am not unhappy.

I can’t eat either; because I don’t fucking get hungry. All the nice food just passes me by and I can’t eat because I DON’T FUCKING GET HUNGRY. I think it’s telling on my metabolism, and my health. I get weak so fucking quickly and I know why. Yet I am not unhappy.

This is my last testament. I speak to you who seek revenge for all the shit I did to you. I speak to you who have been watching me and saying shit behind my back. I speak to all the shit that has happened to me, and is waiting to happen. I speak to you supernatural fuckers that aim to bring me down. I speak to you who hate me for what I am and what I wear. I speak to you who hate me for what I say.

Go fuck yourself; I have geeky girl.

Thoughts from a blackhole

Part 4: Misty Morning

Morning glory; the fucking best.

Misty morning by Bob Marley is playing. Just the fucking right song. It’s misty this morning but what’s more, it explains my current predicament.

Let’s sing along.

Misty morning, don’t see no sun,
I know you’re out there somewhere having fun,
There is one mystery, just can’t express
You keep my more, to receive your less.,
One of my good friends said, in a reggae rhythm,
Don’t jump in the water, if you can’t swim,
The power of philosophy, floats through my head,
Light like a feather, heavy as lead,

[Lovely trumpets come along here]

I want you to straighten out my tomorrow,
I want you to straighten out my tomorrow,
I want you, I want you,
Straighten out my tomooo tomooo tomoooroow.

Fuck. I just burned myself. And that stupid RA nearly just caught me. Fucker.

Anyway, I am still writing this fucked up diary, diary. So you know, geeky girl.

And I am proper high now. Thank you very much.

Can’t jump, can’t jump, in the water, if you can’t swim!

Light like a feeeeeeethhhhaaaaaaaa! Heavy as lead!


I want you to straighten out my tomorrow!

Fuck. Too high.

MISTY MORNING!!!

So can I swim? Cus I jumped in the water!

Cus I fucking jumped in the water! I did. Yesterday I did. Or today, was it? Shrug-shrug. But I had to jump yeah? Can’t breathe on land; had to jump.

BUT CAN I SWIM?

Thoughts from a blackhole

Part 3

Anyone who knows me well will be expecting this post, because they would know that I have lost my darling blackberry.

I am retreating further into the darkness as we speak. Fucked up, fucked up, fucked up.

I lost my blackberry; my companion. There is this human need for companionship; a need to find something or someone who will give you undivided attention. Someone or something who you know is always thinking about you; someone or something that you can fall back on. I found this in my blackberry and now it is gone. The most fucking painful part of this is that it was my fault. An extra iota of vigilance on my part, and my blackberry would be resting itself on my pillow as we speak.

Everything just seems to be getting worse. I am thankful however, that in my life, I have been slowly going downward; from good to bad. This gives me the capability to be able to handle this loss. Another little drop can’t kill me.

I am still writing this fucked up diary, diary. So I guess you know I am going to speak about geeky girl. I hope she can fill the void.

Band practice tonight. I do not feel like I am properly motivated. I have been thinking about the songs we are going to do, and the basic fact that I am going to get to drum. I am going to be able to make sweet music. This lifts my soul. The agonizing part is the wait. I have to so fucking wait till night-time before I get to drum. It is fucking eroding me; erasing me. I hope I do not disappear from the world before band practice.

Blackberry gone; mobile music gone. I am King of the darkness now. Not one little speck of light.


You know what happened last night? When I realized that I had lost my phone? I fucking prayed to God. I fucking prayed to God. Even if He exists, all the fucked up things I have done cannot allow me enough redemption to get my phone back. Oh wait a minute, are they supposed to matter? I don’t think so. But where is my phone now? Gone. So I guess prayer is still an apostrophe then.

Fucked up Christianity has been messing with my head since I was born. Fuck it.

My mother. I don’t want to have to tell her that I lost my phone. Again and again and again and again. All these “agains” in not up to one year. I have been doing so fucking well in school and I have been making her happy. I don’t want to have to break that illusion; it has not lasted long enough. Every fucking time she gets a call about me, it always seems to be something bad; something that makes her unhappy. I don’t want to be that contact on her phone that she never wants to see calling her again. She deserves so much more than me. FUCK FUCK FUCK!

My father will just be disappointed as usual. He expects this shit; he knows me well.

If you fucking exist, God, listen to my fucking plea and make some shit happen.

Fuck me sideways. How do I get back up from this?

(Geeky girl) + (Music) = How to get back up from this

Let’s test that shitty equation shall we?

SAND IN YOUR VAGINA

I swear to God this is very fucking funny. Before I begin, I have to explain this so it does not seem like I am being chauvinistic or it doesn’t seem like I am degrading women. “Sand in your vagina” was a phrase coined from South Park, by my roommates, to describe a person who, so to say, does bitchy things like keeping malice, unnecessarily hating on other people, and unnecessarily squabbling; especially keeping malice and hating. If you do these things, you have a vagina; and what’s more, you have sand in your vagina. It’s very fucking funny; I could not but use it.

Let us begin. For years now, wise ones such as my parents, have been telling me about the nature of the world; and the nature of people. My father always says “choose your friends wisely because when you are shining, people will always want to bring you down”. It is a common notion, and perhaps that is why I did not take it into consideration. I believed that no one is really that petty; no one is that jobless. I could not for the life of me imagine anyone actively seeking to bring someone else down. Isn’t this a waste of time? Don’t they have their own lives to live? Would people really sink that low?

In the words of Biggie Smalls, I was dead wrong.

I will explain this using a short story. There was a little incident involving a dude named Jacob and Jacob acted rather stupidly in this incident. This incident was witnessed by Jacob’s friends and they decided to poke fun at him; Isaac led the pack. Isaac said many things about Jacob, some of which are that he was stupid, he was still evolving, blah blah blah. Everybody laughed for a while until the jokes started hitting Jacob’s nerves and the whole incident turned into a squabble. This was no biggie. It happened on a regular; Isaac was known for taunting everybody around him and everybody turned a blind eye to his shit.

But not Jacob.

Jacob went into a frenzy and things got personal. Hurtful words were exchanged and the squabble ended; for Isaac, but not for Jacob. It is understandable that Jacob got fucking pissed off and it is understandable that he turned the whole thing into a squabble. It is understandable if Jacob decides not to speak to Isaac for a week, or a month, or a year, or forever. It is understandable if Jacob punched Isaac and took him on a rumble around the city, and it is understandable if Jacob sucker-punched Isaac at every opportunity he got. All these things are understandable and acceptable. Human beings are allowed to be angry and they are allowed to hate. What Jacob did next, I cannot comprehend and I will not accept.

Fast forward one day, and we are talking about a piece of writing that Isaac did. Everybody appraises it, criticises it, and the general consensus is that this young man is very fucking talented. Jacob gives his own opinion and says he doesn’t think Isaac’s shit was that cool. He doesn’t think Isaac’s shit is extraordinary. And he is allowed his opinion. However, as these things go, we start arguing. Everyone has their opinion and everyone is allowed to back up their shit; we did this. It got to a point in the argument where Jacob was up against the wall and he could retort no more. He then - wait for it- makes shit up just so he can discredit Isaac’s work.

I was so fucking surprised and I was so fucking pissed. There is no reason for this. There is no reason for you to want to bring someone else’s work down just because both you dudes had a little disagreement. You should have seen Jacob go. Nothing would change his mind. He was totally caught in this lie that he had told, but he still went on and on; just to bring down Isaac. Just to fucking dull his shine. There is no need for this. The only reason for revenge that I approve of is mortal danger of an individual and/or the people he/she loves; everything else is unnecessary. This is not even really revenge; it’s the survival instinct. Someone tries to fucking kill you, you fucking kill him first.

What does bringing down Isaac add to Jacob’s life? Nothing. Why then does he do this? Why then does he engage in this fucking counterproductive exercise of ridiculing someone else’s shit? Why is he so petty? Does he not see that his little vendetta is totally unnecessary? Does he not know that somewhere in Somalia, some dude is living off one dollar a day? Does he not see that there are bigger things in this world than trying to get back at somebody just because he insulted you? There is poverty in the world. There are rapists, killers and thieves out there. There is a very fucking competitive labour force to conquer. There is your creator to find. There are all these things and yet there is space in Jacob’s world to actively seek to discredit and ruin someone who has not threatened your life, the lives of your friends or your family, or your daily bread. I cannot ever fucking understand why someone would do something so fucking low. Why can’t they just let it go? There is so much more in life to live for than harbouring useless squabbles in your heart.

When you start shining, someone will want to bring you down. And why does this happen? It is simply because these people exist. It is because there are people out there whose nature it is to harbour and keep malice in their hearts. They cannot be explained. You step on some dude’s shoes on the streets when you’re 15 and when you’re 30 and successful, this same guy tries everything in his power to ruin your life. He cannot stand the sight of you being successful; just because you stepped on his fucking 70 dollar Nikes. These people cannot be explained; their actions are not rational. These are the people that my father tells me to be wary of and now I am also saying this to you.

Why do you have to be so petty? Why do have to have revenge for every single thing? Why can you not be tolerant? There are so many fucking different kinds of people in the world. If everybody acted on the fact that they didn’t like someone, the world would be sparsely populated. Why do you want to see someone go down? Can you not see that this malice is killing you also? Can you not see that there are so many other productive things that you could be doing? Why do you always have to retaliate? Why can you not just let it go?

Why is there sand in your vagina?

MIND OVER BODY

I wrote this a while ago. I remembered this and decided to post it because LadyInRed triggered my memory by saying the exact same phrase "Mind over body", in relation to my cigarette addiction.

He who is master of the mind is master of the body. That’s what it is – mind over the body. There is no special message to this piece of writing. This message is supposed to help me figure out a mysterious physical state that has developed in my body. It comes at a time when I am at a crossroads. A time when my life seems to be stuck in one place; when the clock of my life stops. This is when I experience weakness in my body; weakness in my bones, joints and my muscles. It takes a supernatural effort for me to walk and the heaviest thing I can carry is my pack of cigarettes. Small consolation.

There is no medical explanation. Doctors tell me to get some rest; that I’m fatigued. However, it also occurs on days when I’ve done nothing but rest. What the fuck is this? “What the fuck?” I always think. I’ll tell you what the fuck it is. It is the fatigue of the mind. It occurs when your mind is tired of your bullshit; when your mind keeps telling you to go this way while you purposefully and deliberately go the other way. Your mind pulls back the lever and brings you to a grinding halt. It has to do it the hard way and get you to retrace your steps and get on the right road.

The power of the mind over the body is an incredible and interesting thing. If you’re mentally strong enough, your mind can stop your sweat. It can stop your disease; it can save your life. This is exactly why the placebo effect works. Fool (or perhaps appease) the mind and you can harness the incredible power that it possesses. The placebo effect has been said to cure AIDS. Why then would you want to fuck with such a power? Why would you want to disobey the master and ruler of your body? Why would you want to even try? It is like defying God the Almighty. He is almighty! Don’t be a dumb fuck like Lucifer the Morning Star, now the devil.

Perhaps the mind is the image of God in us. I believe that theologists have misread Genesis Chapter 1 verse 26:

Then God said, “Let us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness; let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.”

Think about it fool. Man has never had physical dominion over the fish of the sea. How do you catch a fish? Your use you mind-made fishing rod. You can’t fight a lion, you fucking fool. You use your mind-made gun. You can’t catch a bird (ask Dick Dastardly), you have to use your mind-made projectile. You have to prod your cattle and use your mind-made ropes to hold it in place so that you can kill it with your mind-made knife. A scorpion will bite you and leave you to fucking die. You have to run from it.

That’s what it is – mind over body. It does not matter if God exists or not. That’s what it is – mind over body. You cannot win. You’ll just keep trudging on a road that is smooth and frictionless. The glossy road that looks nice and shiny to you, you keep trudging on it. Do you ever stop to wonder why? Get on the fucking right road; learn to listen to your mind (and/or your soul?).

COMMONWEALTH ESSAY COMPETITION 2010

I would love for you guys to check this out. I know it's last minute and shit, but if I didn't think y'all could pull it off, I wouldn't have bothered. The due date is the 31st of March, 2010(duh), and its just 600 measly words. I think y'all should go for it. What do you have to lose?

For more details the link is http://www.commonwealthfoundation.com/culturediversity/shortstory/

Good luck. I don't know what the fuck to write about myself. So better luck than me, I guess.

I LOVE DRIVING

You know what? I got into a car today and realized that I LOVE DRIVING! Fuck, I love driving. I love driving because it makes me feel good. It makes me feel good because it is a skill; and because it is not a common skill. Not many people know this skill so I feel like I’m exclusive; and this makes me feel good.

I love driving because it allows me to check girls out. When I check them out when I’m driving, they have to see me. And the good thing is that they don’t see me; they see what I call driving-me. Driving –me is way cooler than me and I’m happy they don’t see the insecure, shattered, depressed original-me.

I love driving because of music. Playing music while driving is so exhilarating. It makes me feel adventurous; like James Bond. It opens a whole new world of possibilities for me in the way of dreams. I can become somebody else and the gateway to this is the music blasting off in the car. Also, driving makes any song seem like the best song in the world; it therefore opens a gateway into many new exciting forms of music for me to be blessed with.

I love driving because it makes me feel powerful; wealth-powerful and ego-powerful. I feel like I have achieved something in my life when I’m driving. It is so exclusive that I feel like I have had to have done something, a rite of passage if you will, to get to drive; even if the car is not mine. I love driving because it makes me feel powerful and influential. This feeling always comes to me when I am in traffic and realise that I’m driving the same car as that famous guy or that powerful woman. I also feel in-fucking-control when I am going at terribly high speeds and I know that these dangerous feats that I am performing are totally controlled and created by me.

I love all these things and I love driving. I love driving because I am SO FUCKING HIGH.

By-the-fucking-way, It ceaselessly amazes me the way wires get tangled.

Thoughts from a blackhole

Part 2

“With each victory of the light, it is the dark that wins” –Matthew Stover.

Light is a gift from the darkness; darkness brings forth light from the centre of itself and allows us to enjoy the illusion of light. We believe that the light is stronger, and that the light will save us, but this illusion is also a gift from the darkness.

“The dark is generous” – Matthew Stover.

The darkness conceals itself and allows light to shine. We bask in the rays of light glad that the darkness has gone; but light is only temporary and the darkness will come back.

With each victory of the light, it is the dark that wins.

My illusion is shattered once more.

It was cool and everything; drumming to Automatic. Tokio Hotel has “nufing” on me. However, I am an extremely tired human being. It was fun drumming, but there is still a lot of work to do. I still have a little problem with my kick drumming and I know that I will solve it; it’s totally not impossible. The sad thing is that there is a problem to solve.

Tokio Hotel has “nufing” on me, but they have a shitload on us. I am not confident in the band and I guess that’s not a good thing. Talent can only take us so far; passion will take us to the ends of the universe. The passion is dying and the dark is winning. I am hoping that in the darkness, we will find our passion; because then it would not be an illusion.

I am still writing this fucked up diary thing, diary. So I guess you know that I have made no progress concerning geeky girl. I wonder if that is also an illusion. Geeky girl, geeky girl; I hope I find her in the darkness because only then will I be happy.

I have come back down to the basest form of myself. This is where I see myself naked and freezing, in the middle of nowhere. There is nothing that I own, and there is no one that I know. No one owns me, and nothing can help me. I am a fucked up dude revolving in the same fucking spot. I always come back here. Al-fucking-ways I come back here. My logic and science has taught me nothing since, but I think I am learning now. This is me; and this is where I should be. This dark, cold place is my home; anything else is an illusion. All that glitters is not gold and gold is a fucked up illusion anyway. This is the shit, the truth, and it is shit.

So here in the darkness, we must find our passion. Here, in this darkness, I must find geeky girl; because I won’t find her anywhere else. My happiness is in the darkness; I have to start all over again and build my life from scratch here, in this darkness.

I can see clearly now, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t shitty. What I see is fucked up, but I can turn it around because now I know the truth and I know what to do. I pity the fools still under the illusion of light. There’s a reason for the sayings “Life is unfair” and “Life is a bitch”. The reason is simply because they are true. Life is a bitch, and life is unfair to give us light and then watch as we watch it fade away in our hands. We always ask “why is this happening to me?” or “what did I do to deserve this?”

It’s what you didn’t do; it’s your ignorance.

There’s a long, hard way to go; but it’ll be worth it in the end, I guess. All I need is music and geeky girl and I’ll have that permanent smile like the Joker. Everything else is a fucking illusion.

THE LEGEND OF CHE GUEVARA

In attempting to explain this great phenomenon, I would like for you the reader to note some important points. Firstly, the progenitors of this phenomenon were in a supernatural state when the great Che Guevara revealed himself to them. You cannot attempt this when you are not high. Secondly, Che Guevara allows for maximum levels of creativity; if you cannot be open-minded, you will not be able to participate. Lastly, I repeat that you have to be so fucking high to enjoy the blessings of Che Guevara.

Che Guevara began in the ninth year of the second millennium of a galaxy far, far away. Five extraordinary beings were returning from the temple where they had gone to perform rituals that glorified the name of the great god Cannabis. In their going, they filed back through outer space, in their spaceships, in the following order: Dr. Evil and Quagmire rode in the front of the pack followed by Sheldon. After Sheldon came Jason Mraz and Fucked-in-the-ass-by-Irene. These beings noticed that something was going on in the galaxy; a feeling that had been brewing in the air for weeks. It felt like a demon; they felt it drawing closer and it was the reason they had gone to the temple to pray to their gracious god, Cannabis. They moved cautiously through outer space praying to Cannabis to save them from a certain and gruelling death.

Dr. Evil and Quagmire were deep in joint prayer when they felt the hand of the demon move past them. Coming from behind, it grabbed through solid to wrap its hands around Dr. Evil’s neck and began to strangle him. Another hand came from behind, grabbing Quagmire’s neck. Quagmire, blessed with a large head, was able to turn his head at an unbelievable angle and communicate with Sheldon, Jason Mraz and Fucked-in-the-ass-by-Irene. Upon receiving this information, they began a prayer of immense power that had never been seen in any galaxy.

To reward their faith and their never-ending loyalty, Cannabis sent his right hand, Che Guevara to save them from the demon. Che Guevara was made in the image of man but he was not; he glowed with the green light of Cannabis himself. He had full hair and a full dark beard, wore a beret and a military outfit, and smoked a cigar. He carried a short knife made of pure gold in his belt, and he stood at about seven feet; a commanding and terrible warrior. He spoke to the demon in a commanding and planet-shaking voice:

“Boredom! I hail thee.”

“Che!”, the demon replied, evidently surprised. “What brings you here? It has been an age since we have crossed paths.”

“I am here on the business of Cannabis”, said Che. “He will not allow you to devour these great men.”

“You know I do not fear you Che!”, Boredom said, shaking and sweating.

“As you should not,” said Che calmly. “Afterall, I have only defeated you one billion and one times. What you should fear is the faith of these five.”

“What do you mean by this?” screamed Boredom. “You know I will devour them in an inkling! Unless you interfere! Leave me be on my business!”

“I grow tired of defeating you, Boredom, so I will not interfere.” Boredom smiles. “ I will however make the odds even. You will begin your attack once more, without the advantage of surprise and these men will prove to you that any that is faithful to Cannabis need not fear Boredom”

So Che Guevara created an arena of great proportions; a large square arena as big as the human mind can imagine. The arena had four exits and each man was supposed to outwit or overpower Boredom to escape through an exit. He set Dr. Evil and Quagmire free of Boredom’s grip, set the five in the arena and sat down to watch while smoking his cigar.

Dr. Evil was gifted with such pace as the gods can have. Boredom chased him around while trying to trip him with sharp, silver wires that would cut off his legs if he tripped over them. Dr. Evil prayed and Cannabis revealed himself to him. Upon this, Dr. Evil decided not to run for it straightaway. He ran from side to side fooling Boredom into believing he was slow. After a time, Boredom could predict his movements and he cast all his tripwires in the direction opposite the exit that Dr. Evil wanted to use, without knowing it. As Boredom threw the wires over Dr. Evil’s head, Dr. Evil turned and sprinted in the opposite direction, at the front of the arena, before Boredom could turn around. He was thus saved. He therefore won for himself, front Che Guevara.

Quagmire was gifted with as much wit as one million men put together. As the knives of boredom chased him without mercy, he prayed unto Cannabis and Cannabis revealed himself to him. Upon this, he decided to engage in an insulting conversation with Boredom. Boredom was notorious for his lust for stupid conversation. The knives slowed down as the stupid conversation grew more intense and finally they stopped. Weaponless, Boredom was unable to attack Quagmire as he ran through a side exit. He therefore won for himself, side Che Guevara.

Sheldon was born with nearly as much creativity as Cannabis himself. As the merciless Ogre of Boredom approached him with his club, Sheldon prayed to Cannabis and Cannabis revealed himself to him. Upon this, and as the giant approached Sheldon who was backed up against the wall, Sheldon summoned his creative powers and used his shadow on the wall to pull himself through the solid wall, and out of danger. He therefore won for himself, shadow Che Guevara.

Fucked-in-ass-by-Irene possessed as much elastic fat in his belly as the fat lazy pig from the Three Little Pigs. The Knight of Boredom blocked the back exit that Fucked-in-the-ass-by-Irene was hoping to use. As he ran with all his fat towards the exit he prayed unto Cannabis and Cannabis revealed himself to him. Upon this, using his belly fat, he was able to curl himself up into a ball at the last moment and roll between the legs of the knight unto safety. He therefore won for himself, back Che Guevara.

Jason Mraz possessed more cynicism and arrogance than anybody else in the world. He therefore did not pray to Cannabis thinking that Cannabis would be sure to save him, his most devoted follower, from Boredom. Boredom himself bore down on him and strangled him to death.

Thus ends the tale of the extremely dangerous game named after the demi-god Che Guevara. The legendary five were thus reduced to four because of the faithlessness of one. Everywhere in the world, Boredom searches for prey. When he finds you, remember the god Cannabis and he will extend his right hand, Che Guevara, as you fall through the darkness.

Thoughts from a blackhole

This is a diary-ish thing I'm doing. There's too much swirling around in my head. I have to let some of it go. Not many people read my blog anyways, so not many people have to bother themselves with this. You don't have to read it; the process of writing this shit just makes me feel better. It organizes my thoughts and gives me some delusional feeling that everything's fine. I'm ranting. Fuck it. Just read it if you want to; but you really don't have to. Please don't give me crap about my shit because I already told you its shit. Everything is real.

Part 1

Fuck. Where to begin. My head is a fucking mess right about now. There’s school and shit; I have to keep up with last semester’s grades. It’s turning out to be fucking impossible. There’s this course I’m doing that requires divine intervention and the fucked up part is I don’t believe in all that crap. I need a push. I need a push. I feel like the dude in Avatar; speaking into a microphone.

I can seriously see the lure of the diary now. It just somehow feels better to tell someone you know? My head has been aching from all the thoughts I’ve been carrying around in it and the headache is actually letting up as I write more. It’s actually letting up. Un-fucking-believable.

I am very concerned about the concert. I haven’t drummed consistently for three years now and I’m feeling a little bit apprehensive. However, I know I’m the fucking best in the world. People used to line up to watch me drum in secondary school. That good. I know it sounds arrogant and vain, and all that moralist bullshit, but you just can’t touch me when I’m in my element. I’m invincible when I’m drumming; when I’m drumming right. I feel like I can say and do anything I fucking want to when I’m drumming and the fucking truth is that I CAN! It’s the best fucking feeling in the world!

Back to the concert. I feel like this thing has to work right or not work at all. I know there’s no market for rock music in this fucked up, backward country that I was unfortunate to be born in. But, when you do something and you do it right, and you do it better than everybody else, people will recognize you. They have to. They’ll be forced to. I know I’m doing this concert for myself; to get back on my drumming shit. But I need people at the concert. It’s not a rock concert if people aren’t there. I love to know that my talent is getting people riled up and shit. I’d love to feel that someone loves my shit. It’s a blessing to be able to play music; it’s a blessing to be able to touch people with your music. And I can feel it when someone is feeling my shit. I felt it in the last concert I did, and it gave me a purpose to live. This is what I want to do for the rest of my life.

So I’m going to do my best to make this concert fucking rock. It’s going to be so fucking hard. The amount of planning that we have to do, the amount of rehearsing that we have to do, is fucking staggering. It’s shaken me to my bones. I couldn’t sleep last night because of the immense work that I have to do to make this concert rock. I just can’t help feeling that this concert is going to jumpstart my unrealistic dream of becoming a rockstar. If it happens.

I need weed.

Talking about not sleeping last night, she keeps popping into my mind. Every fucking minute of the day. I know I don’t know her and shit, and I know I’m the most fucking touchy guy in the world. If she has bad manners, or disgusting habits, I probably will never have an erection. BUT. BUT BUT BUT. I doubt it will be so; and that’s why she keeps popping into my fucking mind. It’s becoming very fucking silly. I absolutely detest being like this. It’s not love as defined by hopeless romantics. It’s a fucking obsession; and I love it! It’s the rockstar way of doing things. She has like so much in common with me, and I think that’s what I need right about now; someone I can be myself with. This diary-ish thing will die if she becomes part of my world. IT MUST HAPPEN!

I would so fucking love to do her. It will be so fucking hot.

Scratch that. I need skunk.

Thing is, I can’t make her feel the same way. Plus, I’m not the dude for the whole courting thing. I just hope that she’s not like other chics and I have to fulfill some fucking social protocol so I can just talk to her. I hope she’s like the image I have in my head. I’m getting the right vibe from my interaction with her; but the medium of interaction is not conclusive, and she might be pretending. I want to know for sure, and I want it to happen, but I have a knack for not getting what I want. It’s a human thing to not want to try and get disappointing results. So I guess I have to be superhuman; because I REALLY want this to happen. She will be just the right rockchic for me.

I f a God exists, listen to my fucking plea and fucking prove yourself.

Look at me ranting. Two years ago, and I would not even have felt anything.

Time to withdraw into the darkness and be depressed. I’m not getting a lot of sleep again tonight. I’m going to listen to Tokio Hotel’s Automatic and put my media player on repeat. We have to do a cover of that song at the concert; the drums are too fucking crazy.

Dr. Evil just said “Another day has passed, and I’m older.” So fucking true.

Dr. Evil just helped me title this post.

I need a fucking cigarette.

VACUUM

It’s very early, and he walks out of his hut. He doesn’t know the time; no one knows the time anymore. He has to thread his way through the dead bodies in the compound again this morning. The smell is foul, but in the world that he lives in it has almost become an aroma. He will clear the bodies in the morning with what’s left of his friends. He has had so many groups of friends in his lifetime. He always has to change his clique because his friends all die out; they can’t survive the harshness of the world. He looks down at his friend, John. He regrets that John has to die but he does not shed a single tear. John is one of the thousands he has had to bury. He is the oldest in his district and he is seven years old.

She crawls out from under the rock that has been her home for five years now. She sees the dead bodies and she pauses a moment to pray. To what she is praying she knows not, but she is hopeful and that is what keeps her alive. The world is bleak and always dark. There is a constant fog and it does not help that everyday these foul bodies pollute the air with the perfume of their death. Stories have been passed down from the elders. They said the world was once bright, and something called the Sun shone bright in the sky by day. Now there is only darkness. There used to be beautiful buildings and lovely, smiling people who populated the earth. Now almost all the buildings have fallen and the population of the world has grown thin. There used to be farmers and food in plenty; now they had to eat the dead bodies that were sure to turn up day by day. In her lifetime, she had eaten nothing but human flesh. One of the elders who knew how to count estimated the world’s population at ten thousand. He has given them three years to live. She knew he was right. The rate at which they were dying out had been increasing by the day for the last two months. The whole world lives on one tiny island in the middle of nowhere.

The elders said that at the beginning of this dark era, something left the world. They can’t name it but it took the hope, happiness, and life out of the people. There is no hope in the world anymore and that is why people keep dying. They cannot see the reason for their existence and there is chronic sadness in the world. No one kills or steals, or cheats because there is nothing that they hope to gain. Nobody inspires, helps, or does any good anymore; they don’t know what they are doing it for. All the knowledge is fast deteriorating from the world. The people don’t know anything anymore. They don’t know the time, the year, or the name and nature of what they breathe. There is no point, you see. They only know things like fire, and water and trees; things that help them survive. When the world thins out to the younglings, this knowledge will also fade away and they will die faster than ever before.

No one can explain the deaths. He has seen so many die but he can only tell you how; he cannot tell you why. Some just sit staring into space and drop to their sides with a dull thud. Many sleep and never wake. Some have killed themselves. All he knows is the look on their faces; all of them, the sleeping-dead, the suicidal and the drop-dead all have the same look on their face. A look of agony; a look of despair. When she looks in their faces she sees pain that is not of this world and this is what gives her hope and life; that perhaps there is another world that she can go to. Anywhere but here. There is no purpose for living. There is no need to invent, no need to make money, and no basis for love. This is why the new world does not have these things. There is something missing. That thing that inspires them to do all these things; that thing that inspires them to live. It has left the world and everyone is waiting patiently and drearily for certain death.

This is the world without music.

ROWLING THE GREAT...THIEF

I am supposed to be studying but I can’t. I re-watched the Lord of the Rings movies yesterday and the only thing that has been on my mind for the last 18 to 24 hours is the thought “JK Rowling is a big fat liar”. You might be thinking “what?” or “what the fuck does JK Rowling have to do with Lord of the Rings?” I will tell you in detail.

First of all and most conspicuously, we have Gandalf and Dumbledore; both great wizards and both mentors. They both never tell the whole truth and speak in riddles, desiring to nudge their wards towards the right direction and never helping them directly. Their physical appearances (the beard!) are also cunningly alike. They are both old.

Then we have Harry and Frodo. Both are chosen by fate to destroy their respective dark lords. Both have friends who help them along the way and both are portrayed to be ordinary and with lots of human flaw. Harry is not the greatest wizard in his world while Frodo is not the greatest warrior in his own world. They are both very humble. Tolkien exaggerates through Frodo that even the ordinary can do great things. JK Rowling does exactly the same thing through Harry. Both characters have disastrous fights with their closest friends during the course of the tale; Frodo with Sam and Harry with Ron.

We have Sauron and Lord Voldemort. Both have been defeated before, exist as “mere spirit” and come back to dominate. Both are prepared for by their adversaries. In Harry Potter, waiting for Lord Voldemort is the Order of the Phoenix. In Lord of the Rings, waiting for Sauron is the Fellowship of the Ring. Both are destroyed not by skill but by small important objects. Sauron by the One Ring and Voldemort by the Elder wand. Both overlook little but important details to ensure the victory of the good side. Voldemort ignores simple wandlore while Sauron ignores the perseverance of a small hobbit, Frodo. They are both enormously arrogant.

Lastly, most subtly, and most importantly (important to their respective tales), we have Smeagol and Wormtail. Both are spared some way through the tale, and both become instrumental to the success of the protagonists. Wormtail is spared by Sirius and Lupin through Harry while Smeagol is spared first by Bilbo and then by Frodo. Wormtail hesitates in the Malfoy manor helping Harry to escape from almost certain death, while Smeagol grabs the One Ring from Frodo at the edge of Mount Doom and in the process falls into the lava doing what Frodo could not muster the strength to do. Most strikingly, both Gandalf and Dumbledore foretell the potential usefulness of sparing the lives of both traitors.

I love Harry Potter to the death and some credit should be given to JK Rowling for creating the world of Hogwarts. It has entertained me immensely. However, it utterly annoys me when I remember her saying it all came to her in a “small café in Edinburgh”. I love the lady but really, she is a lying, credit-hogging, crazy rich, plagiarizing bitch.

The Answer

The gifts in my life; to breathe and to be able to sit down and know that I’m breathing. To be able to sit down and just observe; to be able to just sit while everyone runs around in the hustle of subsistence is a gift. To be able to take out time knowing that you are not losing anything; knowing that you are provided for is a gift. To be able to hear, see, speak and sing. The ability to walk, shake hands and punch people. To be able to sit down in one place for five minutes and not care about what I’m wearing, whether I have a pimple on my face or whether my hand is hurting, whether I have some undone work or whether I have not called my parents, whether I am a success or a failure. The ability to sit down for five minutes and observe myself in a state that disregards physical, spiritual and worldly worries is a gift. To be able to be in a place where life and my life are nothing but I am everything, is a gift.

Hindsight- hindsight is a gift. I can see my past; I can see what I used to be and I can see what I am now. I can connect the dots and see how I got to where I am. To be able to do this is a gift. To be able to smile and think about the days when my mother used to drive me around in her car is a gift. To be able to travel in detail through all those years to this moment where it is I that drives her is a gift. To be able to think about this and smile is a gift. From the darkness comes light; to be able to look into the darkness of my past and pull out from that darkness the light of my present and the light of my future is a gift. To be able to see where I am coming from know where I am, and choose where I am going is a gift. To be able to know that there will always be darkness is a gift.

Knowledge – knowledge is a gift. To be able to know is a gift. To be able to know how the ant walks and why it is running all over my cubes of sugar is a gift. To be able to know that I know is a gift. Wisdom – wisdom is a gift. To be able to know why the ant does what it does and learn from it is a gift. To be able to use my knowledge to make myself a better person and affect other people for good is a gift. To be able to know that good and bad is not black and white is a gift; a gift of wisdom. To be able to know that I define my good and I define my bad is a gift. To be able to distinguish lies from truth is a gift. To be able to only want to tell the truth is a gift. To be able to tell lies is a gift. To be able to reflect and criticize myself is a gift. To be able to think about all these things is a gift.

The greatest gift of all is the thing that brings all these things together in one moment. It is the phenomenon that can bring me into that state where nothing else matters and I can just view all these things as a motion picture. It is the power that can remove me from my present and pull me back in the past. It is the power that can push me into the future. It is the power that can make all these tenses my present. It is addictive and it is brief; it usually only lasts four minutes. It is a short rush like cocaine and it is also a long high like marijuana, but it is also nothing like these drugs because it does not harm me. It heals my wounds and it reorganizes my mind. It shows me that my life and everything in it is a gift and it sends me into the world a serene and peaceful being. I can walk through the rubble that is life and remain clean, untouched and safe from its toxicity. I can walk through the valley of the shadow of death and not flinch. It is a gift that I know not where this power comes from; it is a gift that it is a mystery to me. It brings all these thoughts together in one moment and that is its power.

It allows me to wield it but in the end it is my wielder. It uses me to send this message to you and any that will listen. It is music and it is the answer.