Remember how your first sexual experience was as disappointing as Arsenal for the last three seasons? I mean for some reason we all expected the glorious singing of angels, luminescent rays from the heavens beaming on our glistening naked bodies, the realization of some unknown truth and finally we would seal a love so strong only the sword of arch angel Micheal could break by order from His supreme Lord of Lords – juvenile expectations. The actual experience was such a far-cry and the only promise the world gave was that with time things would get better – experience things! Well, I will touch on this in the coming year as I unleash my diary – The Diaries of an Asshole.
So away from the carnal desire that renders men beasts that would rip off lacy red thongs from the ample buttocks of a drunk girl. What I want to talk about has nothing to do with sex (my apologies to anyone that thought otherwise). Let’s talk about the year that was. Yes, two thousand and fourteen. Generally it has been a good year, better than my last but definitely not an angel singing year either.
It has been one year where as a writer I have had to grapple with a myriad of personal decisions. It is not easy when your voice has to be free from bias. This has meant that I have had to look at all issues pertaining to my society impartially. I have questioned religion and now I am at a point I like to call my Schrödinger state. Let me illustrate. You see there is a theory by an Austrian physicists Edwin Schrödinger puts a cat in a scenario where it can be both alive and dead at the same time needing more observation to derive a conclusion. That is me and religion I need more time. To all those that will preach and tell me there is no time well, we have nothing but time.
This year has seen me venture into sex dens preying on lusciously endowed beautiful women chasing a story. This I managed and gave the world In her shoes. I really do not know how my mum would take to that but shh it’s a secret. I have had the chance to interact with minds other than my own. Through such interaction I have stumbled across the blog of a proclaimed prostitute as she pens down her memoirs. I think her name is Sue. Its a cruel world out their and the fact that many of us find solace in sharing our experiences has been one of my highs this year.
I have always been a homophobe – I still am… Though changing. There has always been a phrase thrown around by god knows who that in a nutshell says we fear what we do not understand. With this I set out to look at the LGBT world from an impartial point of view. I took away all sexual innuendo towards the community and dissected their characters as people. I found out just how brave they are for living in world that mostly hates them. I could walk down the street arm in arm with my nonexistent bae sharing passionate kisses from mama Ngina to Haille sellasie with my hand over her ample buttocks lightly squeezing and all I’d get is acknowledging nods from fellow guys, the occasional look of contempt from older ladies and hi-5’s from matatu touts. Now reverse roles these guys would get a black tire around their waist, a high octane shower and get lit up like a ratchet does to a stick of Dunhill switch on a Tuesday night at some dingy joint behind Afya center.
I have had people read my work this year that I thought wouldn’t. I have been growing as a writer and I like it. I have asked myself the obvious question – How will this make me rich? Because in the end it boils down to my bank balance right? Yes that is one more thing the year has taught me – money! We all need it we all should have it. The debate went on and on that in our world we need to write about the vice presidents daughter getting a new tattoo of her form two drop out boyfriend and post pictures to boot. Others argued that if your content is good enough you could pull enough traffic for advertisement contracts. Well, we all can’t make it the same way so I’m still looking for my niche.
I too have read amazing works. Let me start by acknowledging the ladies. Sarah, Lydiah, Canduh, Priscilla, Veon (the one that got away) and others. The gents too have been a great influence on my writing. Dear Doris for instance has inspired my upcoming diaries of an asshole, the real G on the other hand has shown the rest of us writers just how far the pen (or rather keyboard) can take us. Daktari with his funny wit goes a long way to show we all don’t have to subscribe to the strict rules of grammar. One Eric started off with a Facebook page just posting as updates to his own domain and the sky is the limit. The year has been where I have seen synergy between human creatives taken to another level. Watch this space.
It has been good is all I can say. But I am not satisfied. How can I be? Even when Daktari runs out of Makobosto he will still climb other persons lol this guy cracks me up! So here’s to the next year! Cheers!