This blog should have jumped online a great deal of time back.But I have been taking my time sweetly. Been trying to pick brains and souls of different blogs to see how this business runs. You see, unlike technical blogs that runs businesses et cetera, a creative blog is one pompous duck. It takes form and life of its own. Free rules apply here. It is a jungle of creativity, a wilderness where the creator can shit his ideas on, hold council and crack wise. A creative blogger think his life is so important that you will stop your existence and get awed by his life. For what is the content of the blog but the torments and thrills of his mind?
Many years back I joined the countless number people out there who always want to write. Underline always wants. This category of ‘writers’ have a common unity of purpose; wanting to write. These are clever, intelligent, creative, brilliant scribes. They have written countless books, received great reviews, and made insane sales of literature in their heads. Heck, they even appeared on celebrity shows that feature writers. We are an accomplished lot. So exciting is this dream that a great number of us are unable to wake up. We are deep in it. Dreaming!
So recently a furious reality blasted my ass. I shot up from the stance and saw all the pages yet to be written staring back at me-blank. A blank page is the horror of any writer. A blank page though empty is so full of character. The characters are laden with sneers, jeers and contempt. A blank page is like that neighbour who blasts your back while maintaining a good candour. A blank page is a snitch, a hypocrite, a rat. It is that friend who screws your girl and invites you for a drink. It’s an enemy of creativity and needs to be eliminated ASAP.
So that reality got me thinking. Should I write a book? Well, writing a book seems such a lonely affair. It demands a thorough hand, bold and confident. These are qualities attained with tremendous practice. You can never attain such by writing for your soul alone. Just like any Art, writing is exhibitionist so it should be displayed out there for all and sundry. A blog seem just the platform for that.
So I thought of blogging. And thought about it some more. But the idea of blogging never transformed .I eventually iced the idea and settled on opening a Face book page, how convenient! And boy oh boy, did I not push the page? Did I not wiggle its ass on people’s noses? I knocked out stories on the page as faster as U.K delivered his laptops. I virtually, with a bit of seducing, shoved it down the throats of many. Smoothie, eh? I posted less and shoved more. I got lazier and lazier. I promised my little crop of readers to re-direct them sooner to a better platform. They waited. But who am I to deliver promises that fast? Many are still waiting for Biko’s kick-Ass logo anyway! He he.
But today we are here! I am excited to finally stare at this blank page filling painfully with words.Its a tedious process but am glad shit is happening. So today we toss a punch and welcome this new baby. I am not sure you are here with me though but that’s ok. That’s what insane people do anyway. They talk to themselves, write about themselves. Miserable loners. Very crazy. It doesn’t matter that I may make history of writing a blog that was never read. I am sure however that that would make a new category, he he! My dreams would be still valid.
Away from little jokes, I am here to steer a sail. This is our literary cruise. I am here to take a journey with you. A voyage. An Odyssey of stories. The latter should have been the name of this blog, apt eh? Do you see that ship up there? (Switch to desktop view if you using a phone)It seems to be coming from somewhere and heading somewhere. The sea is calm, the skies zingy, magnificent. Its twilight. Life in there feels good. But despite the apparent tranquility, you can almost touch the uncertainty hovering above everything else. Shit happens in high seas. Wild gales come from nowhere, maybe a tsunami. A vessel may break, even sink and people perish. Or a shark on its bad teeth day may decide to sink its fangs on a skull. How do we call their teeth anyway? Hence life in a sea is one voyage full of little joys, triumphs, tragedies and uncertainties. The stories I tell here are about the journey we take in this stretch of existence. I like to call it the everlasting present. The ship is about the little joys and triumphs, heart breaks and disappointments et cetera.
I will be honored to have you here. Engage me. Take a stroll, take a swim, enjoy my servings and belch with pleasure. This is a free society. No judgments. If you stumble upon something interesting share with a friend. See you on the other end. Adios!
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