Food should be tasty. And tasty food must be delicately prepared. Hypothetically, it requires an effort to prepare a descent meal.Continue reading “Budalangi, chaos in the kitchen”
You want to wonder why you got here. you want to toy around around with the fact that you wanted this life. You claim it came to you because of where you had been and whom you were with. Continue reading “Ennui: Of Fantasies and Fallacies”
I want to say thank you for all the the support in the past year. And am most grateful that you were there to make sure I wrote something interesting worth your attention. Still, I hope you’ll stick around for the amazing stories 2019 will bring our way.Continue reading “Thank you, dear readers”
He had watched people like me come and go, many times over. I could tell from the way he looked at me. At that time however I looked past his knowings, and my poor acting; I really needed a way out. It was already getting dark. I was sure to have seen them that morning. Whatever went wrong I couldn’t tell.
My uncle had twins last December and they are turning a year now. And he says those kids didn’t cry hell in his ears. Never. That they allowed him to sleep soundly. Part of me is happy for him. But why didn’t they cry as much? Is it even normal? Maybe am being cynical since I’ve known babies to cry a lot my entire life and it’s difficult to believe that some actually don’t.Continue reading “Baby Sitting!”
No am not. Then why do you write mean stuff? Mean in what way? Just that they are always tied with or rather they are full of mockery emotions. That’s just a way of writing, my style. What style? Satire. Sar-ta what? Yes, see when you write like that they say you are satirical. In writing [and speech], it is mockery [
a style of using mockery] on certain behaviors or things in a humorous way in a way to show the bad side of it, lightly. Most times it may look like you are mean, utterly stupid or plainly mad [insane].
I was chatting with one of my biggest readers the other day and this topic came up so I thought to clear it out to the rest of you dear readers.
“With such an ass my guy, you’ve the jackpot,” It was Chonjo. I sipped my bear, listened and watched.
I had arrived at the CRANKIE’S twenty or so minutes ago. Had intentionally chosen not to bring any company. It was now quarter to nine.
First of all, I don’t envy you as much
As to wish I’d resemble your youth;
The sun-flower seed doesn’t grow into a baobab tree.
The rantings about your skin and nails
You can choose to like it;
You can choose to hate it,
Well, it’s up to you. Continue reading “Well, it’s up to you…”