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Showing posts with the label Random thoughts

Hey baby...

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Guys…. Eeei! Niko na furaha, na si ati pesa ni nyingi, mnaweza nunulia your favorite storyteller kahawa, if y'all don't mind, jameni baridi mingi. Anyway, where was I? Yes. Eeei! Sijawahi jua the joy of discovering a new song by accident (si ile by accident ingine ya excuse ya your cheating partner akijitetea akipatwa), hukuwa amazing hivi. Leo, start of the week, nimeamkia mjengo kusaka Singaporean shillings ya kufanya one two, foreman akasema leo, nijaribu another week, siko kwa hesabu ya hio wiki, nirudi nilale, nikasikia tu ki sadness ingine kwa chest ime descend. Nikajiambia haidhuru, nikaleft site, nikachapa lap kiasi mtaani, then nikarudi kejani, nione kama nitafinya finya kompyuta dollar itoke. Kufika kejani, nikasema before niingie shughuli, wacha niingie YouTube, niweke background music kiasi to vibe with. Music plays for sometime, akili hata haiko hapo, it's just like filling the noise at the time(you know how our folks used to put news on, and they aren't ev...
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Thoughts on (The Catcher in the Rye)

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                         It's a classic but with a heavy dose of notoriety within American culture considering the period it was published. You can Google or ChatGPT the controversies around it.  I had my own share of its intrigue when I first came across it, way back on campus. I still remember that encounter quite vividly like it was yesterday. There were the three of us around a table having some drinks after a difficult CAT. Sharing the table was my room mate, best friend. I will call him Y. To complete the table was X, a mutual lady friend whom I perceived to be a deep thinker.  Lying on the table was a collection of three books Y had just acquired to dilute the stress of academic reading. The first book was The Fountainhead. That's the first time I knew Ayn Rand was a lady and not a man. I can't seem to recall the second book but the top one was definitely, The Catcher in the Rye. Y was more into philosop...
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Absurdity of it

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                  I was in this virtual space with creatives, creative writers to be specific, you know what they say about birds of a feather, don't you? We were in this virtual space discussing different issues here and there when someone happened to pose this to the rest of us Can we play a little?   I'm tired of typing, my nails are becoming red. H ow many of you have asked yourself this?  “Am I actually doing the right thing?” “Is this story worth telling?” I must confess the more I make my story sound emotional, the more it's sounding like a comedy pi ece.   I related to it so much. I had been crafting a story to submit to a certain writing competition. I had been sitting on it for a while. It didn't have anything to do with creativity or writer's block, far from it. It could be the imposter syndrome creeping in, the vulnerability expressed by what I was penning, or how I was second-guessing everything I wrote.  One...
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