don't have the sunny side to face this

it rained on the eve of the day you were to be laid to rest in power. rain, as the maragoli say is a sign of blessing. but on the actual day of your burial, the sun came out as an invitation for people, who came out in droves, to celebrate your life. in my little corner of the world though, a cold wave was sweeping across europe leaving behind it an icy grey coldness that this black african body hadn't experienced before. but i couldn't even hate it because it mirrored my mood.

the title of this post is from the song graceless by the national.

My body's not connecting, no

This past Sunday, a sudden vibration on the right side of my hip woke me up from a nap in the middle of the day. I was lying on my back on the couch with my feet elevated on the arm of the couch when I felt this vibration that was almost, but not quite like the vibration of my phone. It was continuous. And my sleeping self tried to lift my hand to answer the phone because that's what I thought it was. I couldn't do it, for reasons unknown. And I thought I would just let my phone continue ringing. But just like it happens all the time when my phone rings, I thought I could just check who was calling. But then I couldn't open my eyes. And I started to panic. I couldn't move, yet this vibration persisted. I thought that maybe this is how a body starts to disintegrate. The beating of the heart accelerates and then stops. Eyes can't and won't be opened. Limbs can't and won't be lifted. But then I woke up, quite suddenly. I checked my phone which was on the coffee table and there wasn't any notification; no missed call, no text, no email. I stood up and went to make myself a cup of tea. Since then, I've been trying to figure out where is it my subconscious drifts to that causes vibrations so strong they almost feel real. Where is it do I dream?

The title of this post is from the song Nothing's Real by Shura.

The things we will never know

A woman sat on the paneless window on the 3rd floor of the new apartment building coming up near my place. She was there when I came in to clear the sink off my breakfast dishes and make myself a quick lunch. She was still there when I brought my lunch dishes back. So I stood there wondering what she was doing, but not really. It occurred to me then that the future occupant of that particular apartment will never know that on a particularly dreary Saturday, a woman sat there seemingly doing nothing for almost half the afternoon. Or that the construction guys hang their clothes on the windows. Or that there is a single light that stays on at night long after the construction guys have left for the day, keeping guard. I've wondered the same about the space I occupy. What sort of dreams have been dreamt lying in my bedroom which wasn't mine at the time?

It's Here and then it's Gone

It's currently three hours into the 31st and the last day of January. There is something about time -about dates- that makes me pause, trying to remember what this day represents in my past and to figure out its significance in the years to come--will I remember my thoughts right now? what will I remember of 0300hrs, 31.01.2017 in 0300hrs, 31.01.2018?

Sometimes I want to hold on to days; to be intentionally reflective and to be acutely aware of the passage of time, to track where my thoughts wander and (occasionally) lead me to, to process how this moment is shaping my future self in ways that, right now, I am unable to explain. That said, sometimes time reminds me of people who may or may not be in my life right now. Today for instance (and the seven previous 31st of Januaries) I remember a classmate of mine who sat behind me in class. Close to a decade later, I am no longer in touch with this girl. She turns one year older today which is a stark reminder that I will do the same in about five short months. On days like today, I wonder how she is, how time has treated her, who she has become as a consequence of time, what opportunities time has afforded her and most importantly who she is becoming.

The title of this post is the song Time Decides by Trent Dabbs.

dear 2016,

somebody said you'd disappear in the crowd. i didn't understand then, i don't understand now. throughout your existence, time has been at the forefront of my mind. like, how long does it take for a contract to end, the time it takes to hear from a prospective employer, the number of weeks before a deadline, the hours it takes to write an essay, the number of days it takes to edit said essay, the minutes it takes to construct a text message, how long it takes for someone to read and respond(or not) to a text, how long before you unrattle my brain.

you weren't like rain, you were more like a sea. i wasn't prepared for the flood you'd cause. i floundered, 2016. i tried to swim my way through you. the havoc you've left behind will take a tremendous amount of self discipline and self care to repair because, 2016, i think of self care as warfare, and you've done quite a number on me.

i hated every new day that reminded me of what a failure i became under your watch. every time my white curtains announced a new day i felt like crying. but i didn't because you, 2016, are heartless like that. instead, my eyes became teary with each rise of the dawn. -if you have time(which you don't) i could tell you about the number of times i saw the start of a new day and the end of it, because, unlike normal people, i couldn't summon sleep whenever darkness came upon the sky. i was insomniac throughout your existence, 2016. while i thank you for this because i was able to finish my work before the deadline, i can't help but think of all those sunrises i missed because i fell asleep at six o'clock in the morning- there are times during the day when i decided not to wear my sunglasses just to know how it feels to cry. but just in case you didn't know, tears from sun sensitive eyes are different from tears from hurt filled eyes. you try to hide sun sensitive tears from the public that looks at you with pity, while tears from hurt filled eyes don't care who is looking.

2016, i thought you'd be painless. you weren't that at all. you did what you had to do. i guess it would be rude of me not to thank you for teaching me how to be patient, how to let go of the control i thought i had. so, i am ready to let go of you, but only with love, which, in all honesty, i found it hard to muster. while others dare you to get harder, i can't. i wouldn't. you've proved to me how hard you can get already. you couldn't possibly get harder. i've been a television version of a person with a broken heart. now i want to know how it feels to live a life without you around.

only with love,
the hedonist

this post was inspired by the national's pink rabbits.

I've Heard it Takes Some Time to Get it Right

There are nights, like tonight, when the moon is out, nights that fill me with inexplicable happiness. There are more important things that I could be doing, that I should be doing. Instead,  I am sitting by my window looking at the moon and its surrounding stars. Tonight is different though: I am asking myself questions; 'am I falling apart?' 'am I making a mess of things?' There is so much going on in my personal life, reasons for my absence from the blog. But right now, I feel like I can trust in the moon to lead me home (wherever that is). I also hope that I'll get home soon (whenever that is).

The title of this post is from the song Wasting My Young Years by London Grammar.

What you Want Can Become Something you Need

Sometimes all I really want to kick start my day is a huge bowl of fruit and a much craved cigarette. Other times it is a good beer buzz, classic rock and a book I can't stop reading--especially on Sunday mornings. And sometimes, all I want is to make an elaborate meal for myself (even though I must confess that I am very lazy and what is elaborate to me is a very simple meal to most people). But there are times, like now, when I have taken far too many shots of vodka and all I want to do is sit and read books that I will be embarrassed to say I have read and listen to the radio (because at this time there are no radio presenters and I can't control the playlist) till six in the morning. And in this alcohol induced state, I think this is really what I want. It is what I need. 

The title of this post is from the song Can We Work it Out by Gordi.