Tuesday, 28 September 2010

On a lighter note.. Story, Story Story.

A man is driving down the road and breaks down near a monastery. He goes tothe monastery, knocks on the door, and says, My car broke down. Do youthink I could stay the night?

The monks graciously accept him, feed him dinner, and even fix his car. As the man tries to fall asleep, he hears a strange sound; a sound like no other that he has ever heard. The next morning, he asks the monks what the
sound was, but they say, We can't tell you because you're not a monk.

The man is disappointed but thanks them anyway and goes about his merry way. Some years later, the same man breaks down in front of the same monastery. The monks again accept him, feed him, and even fix his car..

That night, he hears the same strange mesmerizing sound that he had heard years earlier.

The next morning, he asks what the sound was, but the monks reply, We can't tell you because you're not a monk.

The man says, all right, all right. I'm dying to know.

If the only way I can find out what that sound was is to become a monk, how do I become a monk?

The monks reply, you must travel the earth and tell us how many blades of grass there are and the exact number of sand pebbles. When you find these numbers, you will become a monk.

The man sets about his task. Some thirty-five years later, he returns and knocks on the door of the monastery. He says, I have travelled the earth and devoted my life to the task demanded and have found what you had asked

There are 371,996,145,236,284,232 blades of grass and 231,779,281,219,999,129,382 sand pebbles on the earth.

The monks reply, congratulations, you are correct, and you are now considered a monk .

We shall now show you the way to the sound.

The monks lead the man to a wooden door, where the head monk says, the sound is behind that door.

The man reaches for the knob, but the door is locked. He asks, May I have the key ?

The monks give him the key, and he opens the door.

Behind the wooden door is another door made of stone... The man requests the key to the stone door.

The monks give him the key, and he opens it, only to find a door made of ruby. He demands another key from the monks, who provide it. Behind that door is another door, this one made of sapphire. And so it went on until
the man had gone through doors of emerald....... .....silver .... topaz ....and amethyst.

Finally, the monks say, This is the key to the last door .

The man is relieved to be at the end. He unlocks the door, turns the knob, and behind that door he is astonished to find the source of that strange sound. It is truly an amazing and unbelievable sight ......

But I can't tell you what it is because you're not a monk.


Monday, 27 September 2010

Full Swing.

I almost gave up writing. Laziness and all. But then, I was meant to do this... So there. I really need to start Yoga again.

So I've decided to give up on sex. Which means a great deal considering how much I used to enjoy it, but in the face of all this movement there's a huge sense of displacement weighing heavily on my back and I found that sex neither contributed or took away from this. It had no effect on my being at all, so what on earth is the point of even partaking in it? You know, when the sex ain't sexy anymore? It's lost it's meaning, even the over boding sense of serenity has passed. It is unimportant, it's meaning is flushed down the drain. I need to fall back in love with it. Or simply fall more in love with myself.

And tell myself the truth. The bitter fucking truth.

School's moving into full swing. I'm excited about the knowledge to be garnered. I feel less concern with the idea of going out, of socializing, it is not important, only work, only real meaning and the path to the enlightenment matters to me now.

I feel the clarity. These past couple of days here had certainly discombobulated me, I was unsure what to feel you know? Happy? Sad? Resentful? I was still confused, would wake up thinking I was still not in school. Bad. Harrowing.

Yesterday I realized that I'm totally an intellect racist, I don't try and make friends anymore, I feel as though if we were meant to interact we would, there's no need for a conscious effort on my part, the light will shine on you if it is meant to, but if I perceive your actions and general state of being as idiotic you will be treated like the plague. With an understanding smile with an undertone of pity.

Shallow minds.

I met a girl yesterday who told me she didn't like reading books. I never responded to her.

Investing in your own slavery.

Adorning your physical with all these treasures, forgetting the true masterpiece is within.


May the light guide your path.


Tuesday, 21 September 2010


He’s back at school.
Loving it? Or not?
Terrible? Or Not.
But last year…..
He did not want to go school. Neither did he feel as though it would help his future at all. It was useless, it was time wasted, to please his parents, who he could make so much more happier if they would just let him go and be free. If he would let him starve and understand the meaning of a career, of passion, of real drive, things you don't learn in school, things lost on so many of those graduates.

4 ? 5? 6? years was just too far away, he didn't have that time to waste. What if the world didn't even last that long? He had tried to look at the brighter side of it all, he had tried to make himself realize how important a career should be to one's future, he had tried and she had failed. There was no ignoring the deep sense of pain he felt with the idea of another day in this place, the painful tears that prickled his eyes and inhibited his eyesight when he thought of a future, without friends, without family.

He was ready to leave. To work, starve and hustle. To be a pioneer in something great and to use all that he learned all that he would earn to better his situation in the country he was so unwilling to inhabit now.

“I hate school. I want my school fees. I want to leave.”

It was as heartfelt as he could muster. Neither offending, or submitting. Simply perfect in it's diplomatic air. He just prayed his mother would understand one day, he knew the difficulties that lay ahead, but he also knew the family had to support him, the love that would be shared through the suffering, he didn't have to walk in his father's steps. He didn't have to do this all alone. He needed to grow up and talk all these things through, He needed to take the reins of his own life instead of listening to suggestions from others. When did he not know what he wanted to do? When had se ever not known?

His dreams, his aspiration and his drive had been taken for granted. This feeling of displacement did not belong in a future as certain as his. How many blessing's had come his way? How many roads had been opened up? How many diamonds had he stepped on?

The Universe was not to be ignored.

So he would handle the hate, he would handle the lack of support, he would handle it all with grace and nobility knowing the many blessings that lay ahead, knowing the sunshine that lay in wait for his return.

All he ever wanted to be was happy.

Nothing else mattered.

Was this world not his own?

His mother said that life is not about being happy but his mother lived with her third eye closed, the blessing in life was simply being alive, and why not be happy in that realization? Why not be happy in that gift? Why sully it and tarnish the beauty of your existence with misery? Why not do all you can to simply be a happy person? Even if it means failing?

His spirit was too strong to adhere to such rules.

All he wanted was to follow his dreams.
No matter the consequences.

It was Me.
Me. Who You Know So Well.

Sunday, 12 September 2010

Im going to write about something... i'd rather not talk about.

So, I promised myself to write something intresting this time. At least something that would not be too boring or dreary. Im going to write about something... i'd rather not talk about.

Easy Peasy.

I'm a closet romantic.

So what do I want?

I'd like to be in love. Not fall in Love, be in love. I like the cuddling, the kisses, the seduction the entire romantic set up: her pulling out all the stops for the new boys... There. If you dont understand what I'm saying, you will, soon. Just don't give up, read on.

I have some one I like. Our relationship is so systematic and we're not even DATING. Not even close. Maybe I'm just going mad but there's an undercurrent between us that seems to run crazy deep between us. I mean, It's just sex. And even the sex...is getting...not sexy.
WHY do I still do it? I mean the circumstances completely contradict my 48 hour rule (never mind about that), we talk, we laugh, blah blah... It's always been a little more than sex, I mean there has to be a reason I was never able to say no to all those times we fought and made up.

She sits and talks of this perfect guy for her and it kind of depresses me thinking about how that guy isn't me. Not because I want to be that guy, or am in love with her. Hell No, it's none of those, but if I don't find it with you, who's to say I'll find it at all?

If I could be in love with you my life would be so much simpler. But it's not working, there's like this huge space in my head that seems to throw this huge dose of reality in my face every time I entertain the idea and the entire process leaves me feeling so bloody inadequate and inferior.

Maybe it's my pride.

My dissatisfaction with everything and everyone.

Or maybe I'm just looking for an easy escape from it all.

Everything forms in a circle doesn't it? It's an endless cycle. And it's such a tragedy.

I wanna be that guy you'd rather see smile, it'd be nice to feel that fluid again. To feel that human. Okay, at least put some oil on the robot.I mean there are no enough words to describe this empty sensation in the pit of my stomach. I'd like a girlfriend, without actually having a girlfriend. You see, I myself dont understand it.
I mean what exactly am I to you? Why do you fuck me?

Cause if it's just the sex, I think I need to know, so I can measure how friggin' insane I'm going.

Im made to feel im special....and I'm not. I know I'm not.

They being here for so long seriously put a damper in my self perception. It half way helped, half way completely fucked up. I'm so tired of this stress. This mental stress. Why can't I just be normal? Why can't I just fall in love with this "girl" and get that idealistic stupid hazy vision that makes everything sunshine and fucking good? Is it beacause it isn't there?? Or never has been there?

You see after 5 broken hearts, Im immune. So fucking immune. And so does it mean I don't believe in love? No.... Im a sucker for it. I still kinda believe in it. Like I believe Cinderella is a true story.

Why can't we be normal?

Even if it's just for a night.

Fuck, and then...I don't know...cuddle maybe? For God's sake, all I want is a little intimacy...with out actual intimacy. It makes sense, I know it does, but they are never the cuddly cuddly types, just my fucking luck.The only person to pass the 48 hour rule. And this where it ends up.

Fucking. Tragic.

Id like to think you where my last hope. Well, Im not a saint and I dont lie about it. Maybe.... just maybe.

Anyways, I'll exist, I'll live, and I'll enjoy it.

Just that, right now, imoving on to the next one.

I'm getting myself addicted to someone else now. Someone good.

C'est Fini.

6:12 pm 11/09/2010

I was going to write. Did not.

But now I am.All the deaths around me. And by the way, if you ever think of writing short stories and maybe writing a book, please bear in mind that days will come when you will consider urself an utter fool, and wonder if you ever had any brains at all. Or if you ever wrote anything at all. I hope very soon I will get to write something comprehensible. That is you will want to read a book of short stories written by me. Dont yawn.

Summer is over.

And one thing summer does is to give people totally new clothes and a totally different head. Like it has done to me.

My head feels so different, Im not exactly sure if its still the same thing that was there before. Well, the size is still the same.

The new clothes come later.

Well maybe its writing all those bitchy stories in my blog? Or maybe the new friends i've made? Im not even sure if its positive or negative..... Well, don't worry about the notes, they'll keep coming, and like my best friend says, Its a gift, keep writing. The bitch in you will eventually run out.

Oh...and one big heads up. If you don't like me. Don't tell me. Its makes me throw up. Its like my biggest turn off now. And its not even inspiring any more.

In an try out to bring some more width to my life now that is being saturated with a ridiculous amount of fun and about a gazillion different ways to make money. I've simply been "too busy to give a fuck", and that needs to be corrected.

Now. A lot of funny, disturbing things have been happening since I got back to school. For one...I discovered that I have an invisible friend...until more experiments have been conducted I cannot reveal it to you just yet....

Fuck, maybe I'll even market, copyright or sell him or her. Watch out.

And now I can just imagine the very beautiful Babcock Scenery. It's gorgeous you know? Babcock is an enigma. Thats not even why I love it. This place is filled with so many mad people dressed like nice people and nice people dressed like mad people.

I don't know why you all work so hard to get out of this system and go hustle like slaves in the outer world where you have little or no definite opportunities? We all will leave one day..... I know.

So can you please shut ur trap and and not say: "I'm tired of this school, I cant wait to leave"?

One, we've heard it before. Two, we also know you didn't invent it.

Lastly, Im so sorry i'm picky and random in this note/post.. But i have to talk about this...

Ive met some people who I never would have met... some we haven't talked cause maybe I was busy or something... or I forgot your name (I'm sorry) (I have short term memory) (or Long term. Not Sure.).. But Ive talked with some... really talked and i'm sure you might be reading this.

You then say that what I look like completely conflicts with this bad guy image I seem to want to be emitting. Do I honestly want to sit down and present myself as the villain? I have a good heart. I love animals. But I'm like the anti Super Man. The Joker. Im not Joking. (Forgive the pun(s)).

Do I look like a good guy? What the fuck IS a good guy?

Not I, my good gentlemen and ladies. Not I.

So...if you see me...embrace the fact. That I. Babafemi Olaoluwa Tsepo Smith is in no way shape or form the quintessential normal person, Even if I look like it. I'm way smarter than I look, ... and im not AND do not look too innocent to cuss or fight.

Im only 20. Imagine me when i'm 30.

Right? Get it.

Im anti super hero.

aka another person just trying to find his place on this big round ball called The Earth.

Fuck bitches. Get money.

This life, is your movie. YOU are the star.

We are all liars. Some of us are supportive liars. But a liars still. But then again. So am I.

He who is without sin should cast the first stone.

Have a great week.

Be good to everyone..... except the puck ass mudasukas. And the ugly inside and out bitches.



Friday, 3 September 2010

The Height. Of love.

So this is the height. I had been planning all week to write a little something about one of my friends…

But I’m either too busy to write anything, or too tired.

Or just clueless.

That I have to sit down and wrack my brain for something plausible to write does that mean I have nothing to write at all? No, it only means, my mind is jumbled, the way is unclear, and ironically the only way to clear it, is to write.

What should I say? Should I comment on another day passed? On the joy of seeing @fozadoza and her cousin, @tosinsongz for the first time ever? Or on the glee I felt when I ended a phone conversation with the one of the only true buddy and friend I have for now? How I jumped up and down for joy, and then quickly composed myself and continued on with twitting? And how my spirit floats at the thought of seeing her again, after all this time? At the idea of how I have missed her, but in such a fulfilling and peaceful manner, about how much she taught me about myself, and about how grateful I am for her. For simply existing, proving all others wrong.

She is a dear friend, and in this day and age, and time of my life, that says a lot.

It's all up to us in the end. We hold the reigns to the chariot of our destiny. Do we choose love? Or do we hate?

I choose to love, no matter what, no matter who owes me money, or no matter whom I owe money,  something I still have trouble even coming to terms with. How did it become this bad? But I digress, back to loving. But in the meantime let me text that punk and get my mother fucking money.

But yes. Loving. I don't hate. Hate only destroys itself in the end, those who hate are killed by their own hatred, I pity. Things anger to be sure, but I always maintain, I always strive to remember, that my anger does not come from my creator, it is from my own weakness, there is no divinity in my rage, there is nothing pure in uncontrolled animosity, I always remember this one line, that will answer all of my problems in the end.

Control your core. Control the universe.

I will gain control over my inner core, discipline it, so that at the end, I will control all that affects me. I will love all of you, no matter how wrong it seems. Or how perverted. And at the end of the day, hate will not have no hold over me.

And so that's how I see love, it starts bright and fiery at the core, but gently illuminates all around it. Kissing every organism with a touch of light, spreading it's essence, spreading energy, spreading that power.

How empowering it must feel, birthed in the stage of the universe's creation, my core. In a walking miracle's beating heart, it directs so much of our life, how powerful it must feel, controlling such a large portion of the world, it's only foe is hatred, it's only weakness, and in the face of it, it's power becomes weak, the victor and victim.

So in one breath you can say, oh great and powerful love, in the other, you can weep, oh poor wretched perverted love. And so I visit my my ex’s facebook, or pornsite, and see how well shes doing. As a pornstar, just fine.

And so, I still will not hate.
I will still love.

Good Morning bitches.

Thank God It’s Friday.

Yep. Rooney.

Thursday, 2 September 2010

The Best Graduating Speech Ever.

"Graduates of Yale University, I apologize if you have endured this type of prologue before, but I want you to do something for me. Please, take a good look around you. Look at the classmate on your left. Look at the classmate on your right. Now, consider this: five years from now, 10 years from now, even 30 years from now, odds are the person on your left is going to be a loser. The person on your right, meanwhile, will also be a loser. And you, in the middle? What can you expect? Loser. Loserhood. Loser Cum Laude.

"In fact, as I look out before me today, I don't see a thousand hopes for a bright tomorrow. I don't see a thousand future leaders in a thousand industries. I see a thousand losers.

"You're upset. That's understandable. After all, how can I, Lawrence 'Larry' Ellison, college dropout, have the audacity to spout such heresy to the graduating class of one of the nation's most prestigious institutions? I'll tell you why. Because I, Lawrence "Larry" Ellison, second richest man on the planet, am a college dropout, and you are not.

"Because Bill Gates, richest man on the planet -- for now, anyway -- is a college dropout, and you are not.

"Because Paul Allen, the third richest man on the planet, dropped out of college, and you did not.

"And for good measure, because Michael Dell, No. 9 on the list and moving up fast, is a college dropout, and you, yet again, are not.

"Hmm... you're very upset. That's understandable. So let me stroke your egos for a moment by pointing out, quite sincerely, that your diplomas were not attained in vain. Most of you, I imagine, have spent four to five years here, and in many ways what you've learned and endured will serve you well in the years ahead. You've established good work habits. You've established a network of people that will help you down the road. And you've established what will be lifelong relationships with the word 'therapy.' All that of is good. For in truth, you will need that network. You will need those strong work habits. You will need that therapy.

"You will need them because you didn't drop out, and so you will never be among the richest people in the world. Oh sure, you may, perhaps, work your way up to No. 10 or No. 11, like Steve Ballmer. But then, I don't have to tell you who he really works for, do I? And for the record, he dropped out of grad school. Bit of a late bloomer.

"Finally, I realize that many of you, and hopefully by now most of you, are wondering, 'Is there anything I can do? Is there any hope for me at all?' Actually, no. It's too late. You've absorbed too much, think you know too much. You're not 19 anymore. You have a built-in cap, and I'm not referring to the mortar boards on your heads.

"Hmm... you're really very upset. That's understandable. So perhaps this would be a good time to bring up the silver lining. Not for you, Class of '00. You are a write-off, so I'll let you slink off to your pathetic $200,000-a-year jobs, where your checks will be signed by former classmates who dropped out two years ago.

"Instead, I want to give hope to any underclassmen here today. I say to you, and I can't stress this enough: leave. Pack your things and your ideas and don't come back. Drop out. Start up.

"For I can tell you that a cap and gown will keep you down just as surely as these security guards dragging me off this stage are keeping me dow..."

Wednesday, 1 September 2010

Funeral Arrangements

I'm Still mourning. Here are the funeral arrangements..

Tuesday, 7th. Wake Keep. 5pm-7pm. Eko Club, Bode Thomas.

Lying-In-State: 8:30am-9:15am.

Funeral: St. Anthony's Catholic Church, Gbaja, Surulere. Interment immediatly after at Vaults and Gardens, Ikoyi.

Reception Follows at 6, Louis Solomon Close. Victoria Island.

RIP, Mama Abba.