This post addresses the dangers of forced matchmaking and the importance of ocular sorcery. Don’t sweat it, you will understand soon enough- or not.
Whereas with women there are two breasts, which invites conversation, just as a good behind presents perfect punctuation, something every man knows.
Can’t make sense of the above? Well, neither can I dear, lets move on.
It still is the month of February so we are still on the rather unexciting subject of romanticism. It never occurred to me that Jessie’s promiscuity may have something to do with my lack thereof, or that Kenny is a self-appointed hoe who ‘loyally’ wingmans his way through incalculable flexible thighs and eager hearts while explaining it away as (over)compensation for the absence of my romantic endeavours, simply put, he whores for 2.
Males consider February as the blessed month of fornication. It is also a period where hampers are given out in expectation of favor(s). Friend-zoned males are given temporary status elevation in the hopes of an expensive showing of undying love-in physical manifestation of course. This February, Kenny decided to take on the task of finding me a ‘rewarding’ female thanks to my persistent single status.
I have always loved reading books (text books are definitely not included). I started my reading journey with comic books (shout-out to “Archie and friends” and “Spider man”). My opinion back then was that books that lacked illustrations deserved to be burnt and the Author bludgeoned to death (bless my black heart, I was a creepy kid). As I grew older, I graduated to reading comprehension passages only from English text-books cc Ugo.C.Ugo et al., (remember that? C’mon, we all studied it for Common Entrance Examination. It is one of those books easily remembered by the lead author… Ababio anyone??).
From passages with little or no illustration little Zibah moved up to reading children novels like Arabian Night Tales, Famous Five, Lamb Tales from Shakespeare, Tom Sawyer, Goosebumps (they used to scare the bejesus out of me). I even read a couple of Babysitters and Mary Kate and Ashley. I gradually began to lose interest in books with illustrations and out of the blues I developed a thing for Silhouette, Mills and Boon, Harlequin and the entire romance novel shebang. Yea! Yea!! I got spoilt at an early age, I do believe I experienced my first erection consuming content from this genre of books.
I continued with romance novels for several years till I could predict a book in this genre by reading just the first few pages. Another thing that angered my young heart was how perfect the main characters were; the heroines/babes were always pretty with large creamy bosoms capable of suffocating a grown man, flat stomach (not the Michelin tyres most Nigeria women seem to fancy), spotless skin, ass to rival that of a female Yoruba trader at Mushin Market in Lagos State, Nigeria (with no stretch mark or discolorations though) and the hero/dude always had the face of a god; chiseled jaw, 6 packed abs, Vin Diesel’s voice and rock-hard ass and a huge pecker. I had none of these. Suffice to say it was time to move on to a new genre, I had grown bored.
See why I grew bitter?
Over the years, I flirted with various categories; drama and detective to suspense and presently, Sci-fi. This I reckon started a few years ago when I was still enjoying a flighty romance with detective novels.
From hardcovers and reading at night with a kerosene lamp or the light from my Nokia 3310 mobile phone I graduated to Ebooks. E-books where a blessing, I could have over 50 books on my device and not worry about it fitting into my back pocket or my bag. It also effectively put a stop to paying for books from my local vendor where I happened to be his only male customer.
As a rule now, I always have an android device with my entire collection of books. Why Android? Its open-source, my books are in .epub format, Android devices are cheaper than Apples’ *rants incoherently in geek-speak*. My best reading experience was undoubtedly with my Google Nexus 7 tablet.
Presently, I can proudly say that I have read every J.K Rowling’s Harry Potter, Pittacus Lore’s ‘I am number 4’, Rick Riordan’s ‘Percy Jackson’ and ‘Kane’s Chronicle’, Richelle Mead’s ‘Vampire Academy and Black Swan’, Simon R Greene’s “DeathStalker”, “Nightside”, “Drood “, Jim Butcher’s “Dresden Files” sequels and I’m not ready to quit. I had to dial down my consumption of Vampire books after I started drinking blood from bowls and screaming people’s necks in my dreams.
Moving on to the African scene, I would always respect literature from the Maestros; Ngugi wa Thiong’o (Weep Not Child was an awesome read), Late Chinua Achebe, Cyprian Ekwensi, Eddie Iroh and the newer bloods; Chimamanda Adichie, El-nukoya to mention a few. I agree I don’t consume local contents as much as I do foreign ones but when I come across the occasional stunners like Okechukwu Ofili’s “How stupidity saved my life” I beam at my African heritage.
My book-reading journey has led me thus far to a hybrid genre of fiction, sci-fi, mysticism, adventure, witty-humor and omega-level suspense expertly combined and presented in an awe-inspiring, seat-grabbing, mouth-gaping, ass-farting (chuckles, I’m gross, deal with it) style. I have to be able to connect with the protagonist; feel his/her emotions: anger, hurt, loss, confusion. I have to back-bite and pray the antagonist suffers from intense diarrhea and dies in a toilet. I wouldn’t settle for anything less in a book.
Wonder where next my book journey would take me, maybe write my own? Hmmm! I see a Nobel laureate plaque on my table in the future.
How about you dudes and dudettes? Do you even read? You do, kindly share your in the comment box.