It’s Safe only if it ain’t Taken

It’s Safe only if it ain’t Taken

I headed out at 8:30PM yesterday to go kill some hours by myself. I tend to think less when I am caught up in the action on the big screen (like most people) and I needed to get away from my thoughts.

Got there at about 9PM just as “Taken 2” was about to start. It appeared they had even stopped selling tickets until some supervisor came around to say they should sell some more as there were still a few seats left. Now this is not the usual state of affairs I like when I go to see a film. My seat of choice is a few rows just up from the central row and if possible right in the middle of the row. Going in so close to the hall being full meant I may have to sit staring up at the screen in one of those front row seats (not in any great sense of the term). I went in and the in the dark made my way up the aisle. First couple of tries and I was told the seats were taken, then I saw a seat in probably the perfect spot. I tried to ask the muscle-bound guy next to the vacant seat if it was taken and wasn’t sure whether his answer was yes or no. So I just decided to try my luck and went in anyway. Sat down successfully. It appears the only good thing about visiting the cinema alone is that sometimes, very great seats come in singles and all the couples that came in of course can’t take them!

Taken 2 was reasonably good though I heard a chap saying the original one was better – possibly. I enjoyed the movie. As usual, I waited until all the credits were done. One of the cleaners asked me on the way out if I enjoyed the movie and I said thanks. I was the last person out of the hall. Went out and saw people still at the ticket stand. Decided to see if anything else was showing and found out Safe (Jason Statham) would be starting in 10 minutes at 11:20PM.

The action was over the top as usual for a great Jason Statham movie. I enjoyed even better than Taken 2.

I think originally there were only 5 of us in the room. No prize for guessing I was the single guy in the room.

Well, that was about 4 hours I didn’t have to be by myself. I was up there slugging it out alongside Liam Neeson and Jason Statham. I also have got more impetus to see if I can turn one of the short stories I have written into a short film. While it would probably be about 15 minutes long, it would still cost a bundle and the logistics would require some inside “connect” with the police to get some real guns for the film. And policemen as extras to handle the guns of course (the scene is some sort of warehouse with several henchmen guarding the action).

I know I am not telling any new secrets or sharing any life-changing info if I say it is better to watch a film in “company” than not.

Have a great week ahead. And if you have got someone, do all you possibly can to hold on to him/her – some missteps are not fixable no matter how hard you try!

Give me the cap

Give me the cap

Day 1: So today, I was my aunt’s chauffeur (excluding the cap :-).

I woke up early to take her to church (St. Johns) in Ikoyi. The church normally has 3 services: a 7am Holy Communion service; an 8am English service and a 10am traditional service in Ibo Language. We usually attend the 8am service (I have been accused rightly by the Vicar’s wife that they only see me when my aunt is in town). After the service, we branched at a petrol station in Ikoyi where there was almost no queue and filled up my tank. Home to breakfast. My uncle and an older cousin showed up later.

My aunt had told me the day before that I was going to take her to a few places and the plan was to leave shortly after breakfast, but that was delayed until my uncle and aunt left.

Soon we were Surulere-bound. We went to the home of a retired couple who were close friends of my aunt. Spent about 30 minutes there and we were offered dinner. But since we still had a second place to touch briefly, it was agreed we should go and come back afterwards for the dinner and a proper visit.

We went to the home of another friend of my aunt who was the widow of some very important figure. I noticed from the burst of the husband in front of the entrance to the house that he has been dead for a very long time. The wife was also an “achiever” in her own right I believe. I dozed a little while my aunt and her friend (and her friend’s daughter caught up on things). I suspect it may have been a combination of the slightly warm room and the fact that I didn’t quite get enough sleep the night before.

After a suitable time, we returned to the first couple’s house. We were invited to the dining room shortly after we arrived. The dinner was quite good – rice, stew, chicken, vegetable, fried fish and fried plantain. Followed by a couple glasses of a very good red wine (as if I know what a sub par one tastes like). The conversation was even more interesting. Some people would probably find it a little uncomfortable. But I have for quite a while realized and accepted the fact that sooner or later (hopefully) we all have to leave this world. A lot of the conversation was about friends who have passed on, and in some cases the manner of their passing (some rather abrupt). I don’t really mind people talking round about me (meaning I don’t contribute much to the conversation – though in this case, there was nothing for me to contribute – the subjects of the discussion were all old enough to be my grandparents). I have of course been told by someone (I care about a lot) that part of the problem is that I don’t talk. If only the person knew (the one million things I would rather have said but would probably not have been welcomed!).

But still it is true that I enjoy the flow and ebb of conversation going on around me. If the company I am in don’t mind, I like being a spectator just absorbing details of how people of all nature live their lives.

The reminiscing went way back to several decades and some possible miracles in certain people’s lives. A few scandals were covered as well.

Well after dinner, we retired back to the sitting room and the conversation continued. My aunt whipped out her iPad to show her friends pictures of the extended family. I must say I can count people from a wide variety of countries among my relations now (think New Zealand, USA, UK, etc.). Though one must realize that the more the family disperses round the world, the greater the possibility that one may walk past a relatively close family member in some distant land and not even know it.

Back home at about 9:30PM. Sitting in front of the TV watching DSTV channel 255 (CI) while typing this out. Which reminds me of the topic of the sermon in church this morning which was on the 3 servants with the talents. So as the Chaplain said, if you don’t exercise your talent, you will lose it. So if I pretend I can write, then I must go on writing so as not only improve the talent but keep it.

So that is why I am putting this piece up!

Day 2: Got in the car with my aunt and a visiting family member all ready to go and the car refused to start. Rain started drizzling. Opened the bonnet and pretended to know what I was doing. Checked the oil. Radiator had enough water. Hmm. Tried a couple more times to start the car but no luck. Had to take the smaller Skoda. I got into the driver’s seat and it felt as if I was sitting on the floor. I am not short but I still almost had to crane my neck to see properly out the front windshield! The break felt like there were gremlins under it resisting my attempts to push it down – the net effect was that the car was bucking like a bronco. I took it slow.

Visited another elderly friend who had just lost her younger sister a couple of months ago. I sat quietly on the sofa writing a story on the BB and “fighting” sleep every once in a while. Such visits and the natural conversations that result brings home to one the reality of life. I sat in the lovely sitting room of a house which was about 43 years old and looking like something from one of those home décor magazines out of some Western country. There were lots of pictures of the family including some of the grown of kids and their children. I couldn’t help but compare some of the middle-age pictures of the host with her current look – age is a strange thing. We are vibrant and all rearing to go one minute, and the next (in reality several years) we can barely muster the strength to get up.

I wouldn’t say being in such situations help me forget my own (suddenly mundane) problems, but it helps me put them in the correct perspective for all of 30 minutes. Unfortunately, once I am out of the particular “setting”, my own issues resume their central position in my mind.

Had a close shave on the way back. Just about getting off the bridge (incoming from Ikorodu to Apongbon), going relatively slowly, and thinking about the same one thing that’s been on my mind in recent months when suddenly (as the driving guides would put it) a harzadous situation started developing in slow-motion right in front of my eyes. The car to my right suddenly jumped ahead “brushing” me on the passenger’s side, got in front of me; skidded towards the central divide while the driver fought to control it; then back towards the center of the road before finally stopping. Meanwhile I had to step on the brakes to stop from running into him from behind. I pulled level, wound down the passenger’s side window while the fellow actually got out of his car. I pointed out that he ran into us. He said it wasn’t his fault, didn’t I see the bus that got in front of him from the other side. I said the bus (which I didn’t actually notice but I believe he was telling the truth – I think he turned towards us in trying to avoid colliding with the bus)  did not run into us – it was he that did. I didn’t get down but suspected the damage should be minor – due to my relatively slow speed, stopping in time and the very slight bump I felt when he made contact with our car. I wasn’t sure of his vehicle though – it’s possible his front axle may have been broken. My aunt said he should apologize and after that we went on our way. Fortunately, the headlights weren’t broken, just a little dent and several deep scratches in the paint work. The bumper may have separated slightly on the right from the body as well.

I was reading a Christian book this morning and some section talks about not living in the past. Asking forgiveness if possible from whomever one has wronged, then also asking God for forgiveness. And finally moving on – I think some issues are easier to move on from than others. The ones that fall under “what might have been” are probably the most difficult.

On a lighter note. Hmm. Can’t think of anything that qualifies. But smile anyway; I think I passed the all-time low point (hopefully) some weeks ago. The future is bright (we hope and believe). And if you meet someone who is having a not so good day, if there is anything you can do to help – including a kind word or just listening to the person “vent” or unload his/her mind, please do.

Thank you for reading.

LondonBeat

So “where my life at?”
Let’s leave that question for a minute. I have been writing of course, but I can’t put the stuff that I have been writing recently up for certain “reasons”. So in the meantime, I will put stuff up by other people.
Generally, if I like a song, I usually go and look up the artiste and the lyrics. Recently, a radio station played some golden oldies and the song “I’ve been thinking about you” by LondonBeat came up. That was an all-time favourite! Probably before I even knew what else my heart was for apart from pumping blood to all parts of my body. Of course now I am painfully aware of that other function (of the heart)! Oh! The innocence of youth! Yeah! Go ahead and say it – I came late to the party (as usual) – but at least I came 🙂

So below is the lyrics from the song. Now I will go and put it in auto-play loop and listen to it over and over again for a while 🙂

I’ve been thinking about you (by LondonBeat)

We must have been stone crazy when we thought we were just friends
‘Cause I miss you, baby, and I’ve got those feelings again.
I guess I’m all confused about you.
I feel so in love, oh, baby, what can I do?

I’ve been thinking about you, I’ve been thinking about you.
I’ve been thinking about you, I’ve been thinking about you.
Shi-pow-pow!

Suddenly we’re strangers, I watch you walking away.
She was my one temptation, oh, I did not want her to stay.
Deep down, I’m still confused about you.
I feel so in love, oh, baby, what can I do ?

I’ve been thinking about you, I’ve been thinking about you.
I’ve been thinking about you, I’ve been thinking about you.
Shi-pow-pow!

What good is being her without you?
I feel so in love, oh, baby, what can I do ?

I’ve been thinking about you, I’ve been thinking about yo.
I’ve been thinking about you, I’ve been thinking about you.
Shi-pow-pow!
I’ve been thinking about you, I’ve been thinking about you.
I’ve been thinking about you, I’ve been thinking about you.
Shi-pow-pow!

Home Alone …

It’s Saturday evening and I am home alone (well not literally, there are a few other people in the house but I am alone for all intents and purposes). I could dress up, hop in the car and do what? Roam the city? I can’t be  bothered. I think such things should be done in pairs (in company).
So I think I will re-visit a path I have thread before since I am feeling blue.
I love all genres of music, and songs from all ages. But the oldies have a certain special place in my heart. And even narrowing that down further would be the category of songs that are called by various names including “tragic love songs” and “teenage tragedy songs”. I am including the lyrics of one of my all-time favorites below – “Tell Laura I love her”. I believe I heard this song first on some lonely day back when I was in the boarding house during my secondary school days.
To counter the “blues” effect, I am also including the lyrics of a song “Jambalaya” I first heard/learnt at a YMCA camp a very long time ago when I was little (Nigeria was different then). Jambalaya is one of those folksongs you sing in company at any time – the more the merrier!

Tell Laura I lover her

Laura and Tommy were lovers
 He wanted to give her everything
 Flowers, presents, but most of all, a wedding ring
 
He saw a sign for a stock car race
 A thousand dollar prize it read
 He couldn’t get Laura on the phone
 So to her mother, Tommy said
 
Tell Laura I love her
 Tell Laura I need her
 Tell Laura I may be late
 I’ve something to do, that cannot wait
 
 He drove his car to the racing grounds
 He was the youngest driver there
 The crowed roared as they started the race
 Around the track they drove at a deadly pace
 
No one knows what happened that day
 Or how his car overturned in flames
 But as they pulled him from the twisted wreck
 With his dying breath, they heard him say
 
Tell Laura I love her
 Tell Laura I need her
 Tell Laura not to cry
 My love for her will never die
 
Now in the chapel where Laura prays
For her poor Tommy, who passed away
 It was just for Laura he lived and died
 Alone in the chapel she can hear him cry 

Jambalaya

Goodbye Joe, me gotta go, me oh my oh
Me gotta go, ole the pirogue, down the bayou
Oh my John, the sweetest one, me oh my oh
Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun, on the bayou

Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and filet gumbo
’cause tonight, I’m gonna meet, ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar, and be gay-o
Sun of a gun, we’ll have big fun, on the bayou

Thibodaux, Fontaineaux, the place is buzzin’
Kinfolk come, to see my john, by the dozen
Dress in style, go hog wild, me oh my oh
Sun of a gun, we’ll have big fun, on the bayou

Jambalaya, and a crawfish pie, and filet gumbo
’cause tonight, I’m gonna meet, ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar, and be gay-o
Sun of a gun, we’ll have big fun, on the bayou

Settle down, far from town, get me a pirogue
And I’ll catch, all my fish, in the bayou
Swap my mon, to buy my John, what he need-o
Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun, on the bayou

Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and filet gumbo
’cause tonight, I’m gonna meet, ma cher amio
Pick guitar, fill fruit jar, and be gay-o
Sun of a gun, we’ll have big fun, on the bayou

The Hitman

The Hitman

I paid the hitman yesterday
Though his price was steep
I gladly paid
For what I wanted done
Few could do

I paid the hitman yesterday
I went to his temple
But would not bow the knee
Nor bend the neck
For though people thought him god
He was not my God

I paid the hitman yesterday
I almost doubted
His weapons were quaint
Shiny like toys
And small in form

I paid the hitman yesterday
I asked his name
For though I knew
I was told his voice was music to the ears
“Cupid” he said, with a smile on his lips

Cupid is dead

Cupid is dead

I prayed to the God of love
And worshipped his middling form
I did not care that he looked like a grownup babe
And cavorted with nymphs in nothing but his very skin

What I wanted done, I thought only he could do
He failed me at every turn
Worse, he laughed loud at my every loss
And told a hundred jokes at my sorry face

So I tricked his curly head
Wrestled his puny arrow from his stubby grip
And dipping it in the dragon’s blood
I stuck it in his ugly heart
I waited till he bled no more
Then burnt his godless form
And scattering his ashes to the winds, I told Zeus to kiss my ass

So if you find you cannot fall in love
Or love finds you not, no matter how hard you try
Do not blame Cupid (no longer the god of love)
Because I killed him dead

Dead I said.

(06/08/2012 – 1:21AM)

The Mark

The Mark

I do not get angry. In my line of work, angry people have a short work life and generally a short life.

In my house I have a room with padding on all the walls and floor. It’s like one of those rooms they hold the medically insane who are dangerous to themselves and others. Actually it’s one of those rooms; I had it built specially. It’s also sound-proof. Right in the center is a dummy.  I have beaten the dummy out of that dummy but it just won’t die. I am sure it will be alive and well long after I am all bleached bones looking accusingly at all comers and reminding them how we destroyed  the planet with plastics and waste.

When I am out of my house, I do not get cranky; I do not get annoyed; I do not raise my voice or my fist; I do not hyperventilate. I am as calm as the ocean before the storm. But once in that room, I let loose. Those who have no self-control do not last long in my line of work.  They serve as punch lines for other’s jokes – most of who will soon fall victim to the same thing themselves.

*****************

I am standing at the corner of 4th and 5th. An unlit cigarette in my mouth. I don’t smoke and when I am done it goes down my throat. Yeah, I know but not to worry. A bullet will probably be the death of me. Long before “C.A.” has any chance to shrivel my organs.

I shouldn’t be here. But the situation calls for extreme and decisive action if I am to save my head and my reputation.

It helps that I am one of those people who are largely transparent to others. I have a non-descript visage. The police could be braining people with batons during a violent riot, and I could walk past their line with not a second glance from anyone. I have sat next to people for hours on a train and the only description they could give less than hour later is “a man”, tall, short, thin, young, middle-age – they couldn’t be certain. Which suits me very well.

There was only one way out of the building and the “mark” has to take it sooner or later. I am standing there with a Remington 700 under my non-descript coat. I could whip that gun up in a second and have a bullet racing towards my target in two. It’s a fact: practice makes perfect.

There was a little commotion at the entrance of the building and the mark came out. He had lawyered up. And was surrounded by chaps in dark suits and darker glasses who thought they were mean. I did not move a muscle. I waited as I have for several days now. He had to get in the bullet-proof car.

As he was hustled towards the car, I could see how he could think he was safe enough for the time of day. Twenty seconds after the front door opened he was at the car. The door swung open from the inside and he was helped in quickly from within and behind. In the split second when it took him to enter I sent a neat little specially-made projectile towards the car. It was a difficult shot by any reasoning. The purpose was for the bullet to hit the target’s neck through the slight gap between the car frame and the open door as he passed from outside into the vehicle. Timing was key. Instinct was everything.

I couldn’t see him but I knew he was dead before he knew it. That bullet was made to explode on impact with anything harder than flesh. It would have hit his vertebrae, snapping his neck, exploded and taken his spinal cord along for good measure while delivering a highly toxic and corrosive concoction into his system.

I could tell by the commotion I could hear behind me as I made my way nonchalantly and slowly past the gathering crowd and the car pulling off the curb in a hurry.

I still couldn’t get mad. There was one more thing to do before going home to beat the dummy.

01/SEPT/2011

*******************

The Good Doctor: 2 years on

The Good Doctor: 2 years on

It is of course 2 years ago today when the good doctor took his leave.

I must admit the complete piece to which the following poem belonged was long and rambling, so I am only posting the poem here.

Father, your work is done
You have laid down the axe, the hoe and the surgeon’s blade
Now with keen eyes, steady hands and fingers sure, strum your guitar with the hosts of heaven

On quiet days when my task is done
Under a tree’s leafy shade
I will catch the strains of the music you make and bless the God of heaven

And when I too am done
And exit this worldly glade
I pray we meet again with kith and kin in God’s blessed heaven

Disclaimer

Disclaimer

I put up a lot of stuff on this blog. They are not all meant to be taken literally as “gospel” truth. Most of what I write is what I think up when there is time on my hands (or not).

Yes, some of the entries have a little bit of me (don’t they all) mixed in there, but the bulk of each entry is completely made up. Except some I write in the first person (what?) – that sounds even more confusing to me.

Take “Happiness Lost” (July 16, 2012) for example. True, I  was sad when I wrote it (don’t ask – I won’t tell – but it means the prayers apply). But that’s about as true as it gets – except for maybe that “offered heart” bit. I didn’t go to any of those places; didn’t meet any of those people; didn’t do any of those things; and there was NO – and there still is NO broken heart. It was purely for artistic effect. It just “flowed” well with the picture I was painting so it was almost “natural” to express it that way (artistic “liberties”). Put another way, a broken heart presupposes a previous state in which a couple of hearts (not one) were in some amalgamated state – well, that may be true concerning the fellow in the “narrative”, but was definitely not true of me (I agree the last sentence may sound like psycho-babble – if you think so too, let’s take it offline). I apologize if it came across as if I have a broken heart or someone broke my heart as that is not true (clarifying things – I think I have done enough damage already without adding that to it)

Also, take as another example, “The strangest thing happened to me yesterday” (July 11, 2012), my sister actually doubted I wasn’t lying when I assured her on the phone that I hadn’t got myself run over by a car. Well, I should probably take it as a compliment if the story sounded (or read) that believable!

I put my foot in my mouth a lot (read: say and do the wrong things) and it’s obvious I write the wrong things as well. Or go “dark” and “disappear”. So I hurt people (and who would have thought – myself as well) or manage to enstrange them. Unfortunately, if I don’t write, I would probably do something more inappropriate, so I think I will stick to writing :-(.

So, in the mean time, I am working on a lot of stuff personally and I hope spiritually with the goal of becoming a better person all round (read: take responsibility; don’t finger-point; know when to stop; talk; smile; talk some more; apologize; be reasonable; forgive; forget; trust; move; do; no second-guessing; no dilly-dallying; no shilly-shallying; get rid of the sarcasm; say what I mean, and say it at the proper time – not when it’s all gone southwards; pray and listen; believe the 4-letter word will happen sometime; positivity under all conditions; live! don’t just exist; dance?; be friendly; smile some more; etc)

A big thanks to my loyal, part-time and random readers/visitors. I appreciate the traffic.

I can’t promise to always keep it fresh, but I will try.

And if you ever look up and see a man soaring across the sky (“Look mum! No wings!”), it means I finally nailed it – that is, my faith finally made a mustard seed look like a microbe!

Have a lovely weekend. When we meet, we shall smile.

NB: It’s hard to change. I say I want to be straightforward and then I pretend the “stuff” above is random, when it is not. I am hoping “someone” will read it and conclude it is positive rather than offensive.

NB: This is the longest post I have written in a long time. Not because of the length in words, but because it is still not “right”, and I have already re-edited/updated it about 15  20 times. The phone is right here beside me, but “sorry” has lost its meaning …

Last Edit: I wish I could make you read this. That poem wasn’t meant to be taken literally. I want to say I am fine, that I am alright. But I am not, since I have once again caused you pain. What to do …

03/08/2012: No new entries until this “thing” is resolved 🙁