Wednesday, 27 October 2010

The supposed Awesomeness of Love"?

This is a bit of my life in pictures. I just had to share this with you.


Its been long. I don't know how many times i've typed those very words. But it is as it is. I have no idea what to vibe about right now, so methinks I'll just simply talk.

A part of me can be a very very passionate person, at least when in the moment, loneliness has always been my lot, I've wanted nothing until I needed nothing, so to go without is not an issue, but I can appreciate what's in front of me, I can feel deep love in those actions.

But my kinda love is untranslatable. When you're here, I'll feel you for hours, when you're gone, I'll remember with a smile. There is no pain in my heart, there is no longing, there is no lust. Just simple appreciation for the gift that is 'us'.

Two human beings intertwined underneath the sun, two souls speaking familiar words of eternity, creating energy to be carried for the days to come. Why can't we connect like that anymore? Why is this so rare? Why is all about, wifeys, and babies, and girlfriends and boyfriends? Why can't we just retire to the feelings that can be transmitted between the two races of the human species fora while?

Why can't we just love?

I'm actually quite romantic, but I find my romance shackled by the modern day interpretation of this word. Just because I enjoy kissing your ears, just because I enjoy holding your hand, tangling my legs with yours, talking with you till the wee hours of the morning, tracing your ink with idle thoughts of your deep power plowing my soul...doesn't mean...that I want to be your boyfriend.

It just means that I love you.

Now when I say I love you, it doesn't constitute a wedding, it doesn't constitute restraints of any kind, it just means that my soul loves your soul, my spirit loves yours. My energy fits well with yours, and I love you like I love myself, it just means...that I love the person that you are, and the woman that you will be, it just means that I’m in love with your energy. All the positiveness.

I'm in love with your potential. I'm not afraid of love. Of any kind of love. Because my love frees me, my love brings me joy, my love has never hurt me, my love only soars.

It just means that in the middle of the night, memories of you will inspire me, will bring a coy little smirk to my face, will have me picturing your long fingers tracing their way to the center of my core, seeing your eyes look up at me, your mouth inches away from mine...

Now I can appreciate all of this without the need of confirmation of your own feelings, because in hindsight that doesn't matter. All that matter's is what you do for me, what you create in my life, if you bring joy, then I see you as joy, I don't need you to follow up with any sort of a badge, any sort of a certificate to confirm what I already know.

I don't need a girlfriend. I just need a soul. So stay cool. Let me love you. Let's go back and travel time, fall asleep underneath the stars and let our soul's ride. Give birth to new type of love, to a new type of understanding, don't let this world lie to you, make you believe you need what is unnecessary, make you believe that there are any type of rules to love.

Love has no script, no restrictions.

At least not in my zone.

So fill me with your love, fill me with your thoughts, fill me with that pulse of power and lets create a new language. Have me speaking in tongues. The smile is back on my face, and I wonder if you'll last, or if the magnitude of my vision of this world will go over your head, and you'll be lost to the masses. All I can do is hope I suppose.

Make me happy.

Hope that you understand that I don't need you. I don't want you. I just enjoy you. I want to drink out of you. I hope you can likewise do the same. I hope your LOVE fits with my LOVE. What I understand by it.

And sometimes, you wonder why I say the words, I LOVE YOU so much? I let it flow. I detest fear, and so I love. See, when you love a guy, your girlfriends would advise you to hold back on your emotion so you won't look too crazy, to ignore whatever is going on, because those are the rules. But who created these rules? And what is making you hide those feelings? Fear.

Fear and love have nothing on each other.

this generation has mad fear embed itself to the very begining of love. Fear creates hatred, creates anger, it is love's very opposite in all aspects of this world. So when that fear is born in you, and you don't recognize it for what it is, when you don't see those lies, and you let that fear take over your vision, you lose your capacity to truly love and to even understand what love could possibly be. You take comfort in your deceit, measure yourself and your relationships by other's numerous follies and failures disguised as prosperity, you draw examples from failed kingdoms and believe all you see. But you've never been more wrong. We, have never been more wrong.

Have you loved yourself?

Truly totally fallen in love with yourself. loved yourself naked? Without being burdened down with the total decit that surrounds us a a people? loved yourself without measuring yourself with the acheivements of others? Have you surpassed your innermost fears? You then will see, my dear Prince and Princess, that love is only defined by you.

Don't fucking hate LOVE. You don't understand it.

Understand yourself, and so you will love.

How many people do I like? I love all of you.

Till next time. xxoo.

Monday, 18 October 2010

Lets Just Say... I had fun.

Tuesday, 12 October 2010

Let's Just Touch The Sky For A Bit.

The wetness in her thigh’s felt as if it reached her knees.

It wasn’t just another night with another boy. He’d watched him from a distance all night long. She’d picked him. He didn’t pick her. Good as hell. Other nights, she was busy warding off penetrating gazes from lustful guys to even concentrate on a glass of tequila.

This, she’d set up herself. She picked the characters, herself, and him. She wanted it to be her script. Her movie.

She’d watched him sleep. While the heat welled up in her thighs, again and again. She’d sighed so loudly, he woke with a start. Lazily, wordlessly, He cupped her face in his arms, and kissed just below her jaw. Not sure if she was moaning or sighing, she threw her head back, eyes closed and fought desperately to take control. Just that effort made her break out into a sweat. As he traced out a pattern down from her throat to in between her breasts, she felt his finger on a vein on her neck. She felt that pulse pick up. The touch from his tongue was so fucking light, she almost pressed her body against his tongue. He never really went straight for her nipples, like most men do, he merely skirted around it, almost teasing, almost annoying. Flirting.

Tempting. Enticing.

Placing her arm around his neck, she willed him to take active control. She’d shaved the day before, and her hairs were just a bit prickly. That same touch from his fingers. Gosh. The hairs seemed to stand as if they had a mind of their own. She could not take it anymore. She wanted him to fuck her. Hard. But she had too much pride. Too much self-control. Too much power. A confusion of thoughts devoured her as surely as his mouth now devoured a\her already alight center. Wrapping her thigh’s around his head, her head turned to the left. Clutching the sheets, her back arched. She was loosing it…

What was she doing?

She was staring at a road with an obvious dead end, wasted energy she could be expending on another potential, on another road that might just lead her to the tip of the galaxy, but instead she’s enjoying one of the many temptations she so desperately denied. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t moan. She tried to let off a sound, but she couldn’t.

She opened her eyes, and discovered she was blind. Noiselessly she came. Flooding all over the place. Thighs twitching. Fingers digging into her mattress. Tearing out her brains. Simple head, yet so thunderous. She collapsed into the bed, feeling weightless. Placing a hand over her left breast, he lay beside her.

Didn’t he ever talk?

She longed for him to say something. Just as eagerly as she yearned for the other guys to shut their fucking traps. She longed for him to fuck her. Forever. But her pride. She sighed. She was hungry.

I’ll carry you.

He carried her, naked, into her kitchen. Strong, but thin and wiry. The kitchen cabinet was cold against her ass. Her thighs, still warm and moist. He stared at herin the darkness for a brief moment, and kissed her shoulder. Entwining her legs, and using her hand to cover her still naked body, she watched as he buttered slices of bread. She watched his still doped out half-closed eyes. As she continued to watch him, remembering all the things that had made him attractive in the first place, She imagined walking through a field of pleasant nostalgic daisy's, all representing the memories she featured in. In her mind, she’d pick one up, and begin to pull of the petals. But before her finger even touches the first one they all blow away, the truth is undeniable. It wasn’t ever real. She could go on and on.

She reached into her drawer and began to roll up.

Do you smoke? He smiled. Jah Motherfucking Bless. As if she needed to ask.

He stared non-chalantly into the darkness, placing his free hand around her neck while she drew in the smoke. Reaching for her ever growing hair, drawing and straightening her now tousled hair. She fed on each of his actions, drank on each of them, and inhaled them with the smoke.

Let’s Fuck.

He chuckled. Dropped the half eaten sandwich. Again, lifted her into his arms.

This time, she rested her jaw on his shoulder. He carried her like a doll. Tousling her nearly straightened hair. His hand was cold on her burning skin. She shuddered. Stealing a glance at the ever retreating city, She thought:

Excuse me world, while I touch the sky.


I’ve been very uninspired lately, it’s as if everyone and everything around me has conspired to bore the shit out of me. Except for a few bits and pieces of porn here and there, I’ve been virtually unable to write anything sensible. It’s like I have to make sense and its stunting me. And oh, except for the music. But do I really have to make sense? Doesn’t not making sense make sense once in a while?

I wake up in the morning, thinking. Wake up? I’m not sure that’s even true, because I don’t even sleep when the sun comes down. Its like someone else is evolving from within me.

Quietly. Gently. Slowly. Dancing to the music. Smirking. Chuckling. Maturing.

Making me miserable. And overly-fucking-deep. I think every decision I make now through and through. And for the first time in my life, I’m realizing how lonely I am. How butt lonely. Not the lonely you think. How mainly I can’t bring myself down the level of some peeps to actually have a mind fuck with them. I mean, what’s the point? Yeah, A little bummed about the lack of romance in my life, I need someone to vibe with, nibbling ears and soft kisses and lots of laughter. And mind fucking. I really would not mind that one bit. But herein lies the deepest shit. I have so much distrust in love, I hate it. If I like you nowadays, I’d rather not show it for fear of losing you.

So there. Since I cannot love an earthling. I have now therefore transferred that love to life. I’m a hopeless romantic, I know, but now, it’s just life I love. I'm simply in love with all the possibilities of life. Every sordid avenue, every delicious turn, and the long list of loves I'll peruse with such pride in years to come. I'll love some of the greatest human beings on this planet.

I have to. But still…At times, I wish she had broken my heart. Really and truly broken my heart. It would give me an excuse of some sort to think and behave the way I do to women today, so I wouldn't blame my apathy simply on lessons learned watching others, so it wouldn't reflect so terribly on the romance that no longer exists in this generation. I still have hope you see? That perhaps I'm wrong about the lot of you. I never close my mind to the existence of falsehood on my part. Change is real.

Change I will never despise.

And then I remember. When she broke up with me. On a day I was sick, over blatant jealousy over a girl hardly worth her energy, my verbal infidelity rubbed her the wrong way, and she broke up with me. I cried (yes, I did) for hours on the first night, that could've been coupled with the fact that I was sick, but then the next day I was simply angry, the next day brilliant apathetic, and the next day getting dressed for a fuck date with the girl in question.

Years later, thinking back on it, her reasoning for splitting with me was completely founded, I was entertaining another girl, no matter how honest I was with her about it, how else would it have been so easy to get into said womans skirt? I was trouble, she knew it, she protected herself.

I understand. And what a blessed feeling that is.

But I did love that girl though, as much I could at the time. For that time, after she broke up with me, we got back together months later, and yeah, I sweet tongued her into it. But it wasn't the same, she filled a lonely gap, there was no longevity to be expected in that endeavor. Callous of me I know. But have I ever professed to be a saint?

I remember the first we met after coming back together, we hadn't seen each other for months, I remember the night so clearly. We sneaked out of school, to that favorite spot. We walked side by said, engaging in small talk, kept an acceptable distance as we kept up that discourse. I remember the leaves cracking underneath my steps, I remember her rigid composure and my satisfaction at knowing that I caused this change in body language. Somehow we ended up at my friends house, in his bed, watching Music Videos, there was still distance between us, but somewhere along the line I decided to close the distance, I wanted to make her squirm, I wanted to own her once more.

All it took was one kiss to break the dam. When I opened my eyes I relished the look of surprise in her eyes, a small victory for wounded pride.

I will never forget that power. It fuels me still today. It kills me. Gives me vibe.

But isn’t that what it is? I learned a very valuable lesson that day. I didn’t realize it at the time, but we use these women to fill in the spaces we need them to emotionally, because they have no other plausible role in our modern lives. And this girl, taught me how to love myself. She worshipped me for a time when I thought I was absolute trash, she helped turn this lump of coal into a brilliant diamond. And how did I pay her back?

I loved her. And I used her.

I don't know why I'm so enamored with these memories. Every step has led to today. To where I am today. So much I want my children to read, to cry and to laugh with me about in the future. Perhaps in these things I write, lay lessons to help others who once shared my plight.

The world and written word affords true honesty as it does complete deception. I’d become a master of deception. To the point I lied to my own heart. So therefore now, I purge. I show all aspects of my human heart, in hopes to overcome it. In hopes to understand.

I miss my virginity. The succulent virginity of my heart.

Too much to ask for?

I’m off to tweet.

Its me, who you knows you so well

Sunday, 10 October 2010


I’ve neglected writing, buzzing, fixing and smoking for a long time, this all feels so strange and new to me. I’ve fallen back into the “school schedule”. Which, incredulously, is not as discomfiting as before. I’ve not made many new friends like before. But then, it is what it is.

Anyways, I’ve been faced with an endless stream of emotion these past few days, which can’t came through because of my already hard boiled and extra tough skin. And I dreamt. This surely, will be put into writing later.

You know those kind of dreams?

The one’s in which when you wake, feels like a spillover from reality? I cried in that dream. My eyes were misty when I awoke. Is my core shaking? Is my core wilting?

Less and less time left.

I will not depress you though. I will just attempt to convince you. Not, never to give your heart and inner core to anyone else. You know, the jumping in and out of relationships? The cheating? It all boils down to one simple thing.

The entrusting of your heart to another.

You might not know, but I know you know what I'm talking about, that continuous heartbreak, that continuous river of that one way emotion flowing from a source so deep within you, a source determined to tether every waking moment of your life with the thoughts of another, a source that wants to drown your very essence in the misery of love. We go around searching for that "serious" love, that ambiguous interpretation of "the one" time and time again putting ourselves through so much torture and pain in constant search of what we have been told will make us whole, when in reality it fractures us, creates a wound so deep and so painful, when in the end, nobody seems to adequately fill and satisfy that void.

And then, we get injured. Wounded.

The wound we carry with us to the next one, give to him or her and say "Fix me". But how can he/she fix something he/she did not break? No one can fix that muscle apart from you, because you're the one who sacrificed it, took it out of it's cage and put it on display for the whole world to see, you foolishly gave it to another human being who already had the responsibility of his own heart to deal with, do you not see the incredulity of it all? Nobody can have two hearts, it's a disastrous impossibility. Because even when he/she has this heart, even when they've locked it away with their own, your eye is still open for another who might be better at handling it. Constantly giving the responsibility of your own welfare to someone who isn't qualified to care for it. In any way possible.

It is you. Control yourself. Control the world.

You simply do not understand that all you do, is up to you. You smile, you cry, you think. You kiss, because you choose to. Yes, an outside source triggers it, wells it up. But it’s you. Is it not you who chooses to smile? Isn’t it your muscles? If you choose to get hurt. It’s you.

I mean, when you’re gonna die, it you who’s gonna die. So why give up yourself to someone in search of love? Someone, who at the end of the day will never love you more than his own heart?

I understand that my point might become a little fuzzy here. But wait. I believe in love. Just as I believe in rain. Sun. Wind. Blah Blah. And when it rains, and you decide to go out without an umbrella, you get wet? Is it the rain’s fault? No. No.

Its yours.

I see people, friends and foes alike, smeared for life because the wound, that gaping wound, as a result of the very innate nature of man, will never truly love again. Injured. And funny thing is, they keep on passing that heart around till they do not even realize it exists anymore.

Don’t lose it. Love, but still keep your mind.

Fire cooks food. It could also cook your skin. So does love.

All I am trying to say is:

1. It’s you.
2. You can only love your own heart as much.
3. Me, I lost that long ago.
4. Don’t be sad for me. Instead, be jealous.

This is all.

Its still me, who knows you so well.

Thursday, 7 October 2010


Open your mind. The Bliss.

This is Art.

(c) Elaine Irabor 2010

Nigeria at 50? How to be One.

I once read a book "How to be a Nigerian". This is a kind of remixed and abridged version of this book, albeit by memory. So for those of you who have never been to Nigeria, or who have not met any Nigerians before... please see the real version of Nigeria; or go to Google and research about Nigeria, for then and only then will you find this hilariously funny.

Anyhows if you find this funny without ever being to Nigeria, then you might actually be a Nigerian or have Nigerian Blood in you... (Michael Jackson was White, wasn't he?).

The Federal Republic of Nigeria, popularly known as Nigeria, is a country, capital in Abuja, 15..(I’m not sure)..0000 square miles in size, as big as Ghana, Benin, Togo put together. This might not be totally correct, because in 2012, Togo has decided to put together a case to claim Lagos as part of their territory seeing as Cameroon won over Bakassi from Nigeria (This was due to a President falling asleep during a meeting in which the Surveyor General (whose Mom was Cameroonian) conspired to leave out Bakassi from the official map of Nigeria.

1) To be a Nigerian, first and foremost, you must be very religious. This has nothing to do with the ease with which you tell lies or your willingness to short change the very next person at the slightest opportunity. What is important here is that a bible/prayer bead is always part of your personal effects at every time and that you are very quick to declare your faith both orally or in writing especially in your Curriculum vitae even without being prompted.

As an extension of your religiousness, you must believe strongly that every thing that happens, from the late arrival of the rains in a rainy season to the collapse of a poorly constructed building has a spiritual explanation and thus can only be handled spiritually. You must also learn to place the responsibility for your woes on some body. It’s either a neighbor who doesn’t like your face, an envious relation who doesn’t want your progress or simply put, some kind of demon which no body ever sees. That way they don’t get to weigh you down and you get to save your self the depressing feeling of being a failure. You must always remind your self that your country was “the most populous black nation in the world” and the “sixth largest oil producer in the world”. If nothing else, it provides you a mental satisfaction that, since your country was great, you too were great. Potentially.

2) To save your self from the prospects of an early death, don’t ever go worrying yourself about the actions or inactions of Government. In Nigeria, siren blaring, tinted glass, dangerously driving, fast moving vehicles were the symbol of Government. You should be happy each time you encounter them. Its a reminder that even though it doesn’t seem apparent, a Government exists. What they do (or don’t do) should be none of your effing business.

3) One word you must be very familiar with is NEPA. Like it or not, it will be an important part of your vocabulary. It’s not even actually a word but an acronym for the now defunct National Electrical Power Authority. Its importance lies in the fact that it is a synonym for two other important words: Light and darkness. Once your bulb goes out, you shout “NEPA”. Whenever it comes back on, you again shout “Up NEPA”. You won’t need a reminder. Soon, it would become part of you.

4) As a potential Nigerian, when inviting people for any function remember that Nigerians arrived at occasions two hours after the scheduled time. We call it African time. Why should one be the first to arrive? It would seem like he was the hungriest of all. No, the place should be full before he arrived. So learn to push back the time on your invitation so that after two hours – just when you really want them-, they will begin to arrive.

5) When asked to join in a meal or to receive a gift, be sure to initially refuse at first. Your host will find you extremely respectful. After imploring you to accept the gift after about ten times, grudgingly accept the gift with coy smiles. This is very respectful.

The story is told of a Liberian who invited his Nigerian friend to a meal. His Nigerian friend fasted and had not eaten or drunk anything for four days. Arriving at his friends house, he met his friend drinking a glass of wine. Welcoming his friend, the Liberian invited his friend to share in his bottle of wine. The Nigerian responded: “Ah, I have just drunk two kegs of palm wine; I cannot possibly take another drink today.” His Liberian friend went ahead with his drink and finished it. When it was time for the meal, the Liberian invited his friend over to the table, again the Nigerian (respectfully) refused. “We just cooked a new pot of soup at home, it will be wrong to deprive you of your much needed ration”. And so our Liberian friend went ahead and had a hearty meal. Now our Nigerian friend thinks all Liberians are stingy.

6) Now, don’t attempt becoming a Nigerian if you are new to embarrassments. Anything happens around here and you should be prepared for it. You must get used to things like the National Television going off in the middle of the network news and your TV making an annoying noisy sound and returning five minutes later with a visibly perplexed newscaster offering an obviously well rehearsed line of apology. At the parks, you must elbow your way to a seat on a taxi. You must be prepared to wait long hours – most likely in the Sun- to pay for things like your electricity bill. You must also be ready to freely and willingly give and receive abuses at the slightest provocation. You could start by learning some of the relatively easy ones like: “Your Father”. And oh, by the way all local TV stations open at 4pm and close at 10pm. (effectively).

7) Warning: if you are a frequent traveler-abroad I mean-, you must get used to being treated like a lesser being by the air line officials. You might wish to fly British Airways for a first hand taste of this. Your green passport must be wrapped in a brown jacket just so that you don’t give away your identity cheaply. When eventually your identity is known, be ready to have gloved fingers straying even into the private recesses of your anus because you are most often than not expected to be travelling with banned substances.

Don’t feel bad about this; it was only one of the many dividends of being Nigerian.

8) If you are white, you will be lovingly called Oyinbo. Never Mind this, because the friend of yours whom you met at the airport who is black but extremely light skinned will also be called Oyinbo.

And oh, by the way Nigerians can be hilariously funny. A joke is told of a Nigerian who went to London. Arriving at Gatwick he decided to buy a whole roast Chicken. Not checking the price, he went ahead and dug in. Halfway through, he decided to look at the price. 40 pounds. Thinking this was an effectively high price, the Nigerian decided to eat out and noisily chew the bones. A white man sitting at the next table, eating chocolate iced cream, hearing the Nigerian noisily sucking the bones, decided to make a joke out of it. Bending over to his friend he said loudly;

“I wonder what their dogs eat in Nigeria”.

The Nigerian looked back, smiled and said… “Iced Cream”.

Now, if you tell that joke to the end in Nigeria, your joke will be extremely funny and your sense of humor will be greatly appreciated for 3 weeks. But if you decide to end it at the end of the white man’s joke…….

In case you wish to learn more, just buy your self some CD tapes of our Nollywood (Nigerian) films. I am sure that before you are through with watching five (I mean both the part ones and two’s), you might just have become more Nigerian than I am. I can also swear however that the CDs you will buy will be pirated. You will be lucky if they all play to the end.

We're 50 years old. 

We haven't changed much.

I'll see you when I do. Till then, 

Fuck bitches. Make Money.