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Showing posts with the label Random thoughts

Jirani chronicles

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              So I'm just chilling at my crib, I decided to call my G huwa namuita anko, (don’t ask why, story for another day because that story needs a whole episode on its own), tuonge tupange ma one two. Hata hatujaongea sana, nasikia my door ina gongwa gongwa na vurugu. Na pause kiasi.  You know that moment where your spirit steps out of your body for a second to peep through the curtain before you do? Yeah, that one. Na hang up call with my G, saa hio nashangaa ni nani huyu ananitafuta na fujo hivi? Naenda kuangalia, alafu nifungue, nijue how it will go down ie kama kutakuwa na throwing of fists. Kuangalia tu hivi, ni three burly men, wamekula chuma wakashiba ka crocodile imemeza wildebeest mzima time huwa zina cross River Mara Na tense kiasi, but najipiga kifua nilikuambia kama mbaya mbaya! Nafungua mlango nijue venye kutaenda, wananicheki hivi, design wanarudi chini then wako zile za  “Pole.” One of them turns to the rest anawaambia...
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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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