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Showing posts with the label Random thoughts

Take me back 2

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Continued from   Take me back              Just like that, my brain replays that crazy and wild night, back then before love ilinionesha shege kweli  kweli, nilikuwa na my then gal (Some how I'd forgotten all about her) , my Boyz and their women at a a certain club along Kiambu road, sikumbuki ni gani.  A couple of guys clearly drunk had bumped into my gal and her group while she was coming from the washrooms accompanied by her group (my Boyz women's). ( To this very day, I have never grasped why women go to the washrooms in groups),  After being told to watch where they are going by my gal, this guys, instead of apologizing, they became arrogant. They started raining vulgar insults on my gal and her group (my Boyz women's).  Mimi niko somewhere just sipping my drinks while observing the fruckus. I locked eyes with my gal at some point during my observation, saw all the balancing tears that were threatening to spill from her ey...
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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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