"Guy, how far? You want Pink Lips?"

"Guy, how far? ...You want Pink Lips?"

     Whoever said that it is the way you dress you would be addressed is a certified genius! And i got to find this out the hilarious way. It was about 12.45pm just yesterday when i happened to be walking down Awolowo way in Ikeja. I had on a striped Polo shirt, dark blue denim, sporty slips, really dark shades and my earphones on. In other words, I could easily pass for your everyday yuppy teenager with hip-hop in his ears and saw-dust in his head. Maybe that was why I didn't pass out in shock when this heavily built guy of about 6.1 with pierced ears, tight fitted tee and shorts walked up to me and asked me these very words:

"Guy, how far, you want pink lips?"

I immediately started to laugh hard. Like... real hard. I laughed so hard it seemed the world around me was whirling round and round in an insane bout of vertigo. Like seriously?! do guys really go all out to get pink lips and do people really pay for it?!

I was still bent over double in mirth when about 4 other guys in the vicinity rushed up to me, like i was some sort of finish line and asked me the same question. Suddenly the glee vanished. I realized there was nothing funny about this. These guys meant business! They wanted me to buy pink lips (or is fix the more appropriate word? Well, who knows these things). The first guy who accosted me suddenly added in two quick quips. "I dey also do tatoo and piercings"

I couldn't stop myself. I just had to know! "How much for pink lips?" To that, my good friend (who i later got to know goes by the name 'Wizzy') answered: "3K"

     You know how you've heard of something, maybe even seen it with your own eyes, yet your mind doesn't register it to be true. Truth is that I've wondered with suspicion, when i watch some of these musical videos, what cataclysmic, chromosomal miscalculations of meiosis resulted in full grown black men having pink lips. But of course, I'd be the first to admit there is a whole lot i neither know nor understand. While in Camp Gidi (Lagos State NYSC camp), i was also somewhat piqued when i noticed how much energy guys these days were putting into looking good. I mean, i saw it all:  permed hair, dyed side burns, tats, body piercings et cetera. Funy thing is i confess that Im one Christian with very liberal views on some issues. So im even all for a guy who does these things as part of his hustle. e.g a rapper, or someone in showbiz. For Pete's sake, Denrele definitely caught our attention with his high heeled shoes and eccentric dress sense, and now he's reeling in bucks. Yeah! more like it. If all these conscientious grooming was toward a measurable goal, I think it'd make a lot of sense. As a matter of fact, whenever people pose conundrums at me hinged on morality, I have a habit of telling them what Aristotle told people centuries ago:

"What ever makes you happy is good for you"

     My hope however is usually that the introspective ones realise what the real questions are:

1. What really makes you happy.

2. Is this the sort of 'happy' that gives you moments of bliss and eons of misery?

Maybe we shouldn't delve too deeply into these philosophical musings. Let's keep off all that mental trouble to a more serious post. I after all intended this piece to be as happy-go-lucky as possible. 

Personally ive also spoken jokingly to a couple of such guys hoping to get some insight into why they go all the way for that extra glitz. Believe me, if any of them had told me anything with the slightest shred of acumen, then maybe my fingers wouldn't be hurriedly moving over the keyboard of my 4 year old laptop this late in the night. I guess i'm hoping to get some form of education here on these issues. 

I quickly collected 'Wizzy's no and promised to holler whenever i was in the neighbourhood. I get the feeling I would be seeing him soon for a more exclusive exposé. Maybe I'd even talk to some of the pink-lipped gentlemen in his studio and ask them what problem they had with God's own brand of make-up. As i turned to leave, Wizzy grabbed my hand and looked at me with desperation in his eyes. He told me to ask my friends something very important. I promised him i would. Almost swore to it even.

"Guy, how far? You want pink lips?"

Footnote: When Obama hear the thing sef, he wan laugh kill himself

Postscript: I had the intention to write this piece immediately i got back home as these words kept crawling around in my head like drunken scorpions from The Scorpion King, but was shattered with the news that the grim reaper had visited the household of a dear friend

And so I dedicate this post to the memory of Tomiwa Bojuwoye, and  Anna- the daughter we never got to know. May their blessed souls rest in piece and may the good Lord grant my friend, Femi, the fortitude to bear this great loss. Amen.

The Beautiful Journey

     There is a painting whose possession Ive held for the past 4 years. I had it with me in my last three years in College, brought it down to Lagos when i started my internship in Lagos State University Teaching Hospital, and when i finished and needed to vacate my room there, it was one of the very few things i brought back home. Sometime in the distant future, when you sit down to try to reflect on what the heck i was trying to say in this paragraph, I'd love you to remember one thing only- That I truly love this particular canvas. So now that we've established that one fact, let me go on to describe another painting-

                                                                      the one i did not buy.

Exactly... the actual painting i should have had all along! Perhaps, if i started from the beginning, you'd understand this random rumblings of mine. So that's where I'd begin. Where all good stories should begin anyway.

                                                                      The Beginning.

After 3 years of Med school. I concluded I had had enough! Chill... I don't mean of wanting to be a doctor, but rather of living in the hostel. Seriously. I couldn't take it any longer. For goodness sake, i spent 6 years in F.G.C.L (Ijay) living in the hostel. with its insecurities, decrepit social amenities, and pseudo-jungle habitation. After that, i was bundled in one mushroom like room or another for another 3 years in Unilorin and had to live with other people- an assortment of personal idiosyncracies, everybody with their own unique brand of madness- from time to time. Truth is, till date, nostalgic feelings of shared experiences flood my mind from all the camaraderie Ive been blessed with in the course of these co-habitations, but sometime at the start of my Clinical Postings, I felt i needed my own space so i got a room of my own off campus. One of the very first fantasies i had to fulfill was a need to own an artwork i could put in my own space.
                                                        

                                                                        Enter Post Office, Ilorin, Kwara State.

The fact that town planners (Or whoever the hell it is that names streets) couldn't even spend time to give this place a name of its own, but rather just looked round and called the area by the name of the first structure they could see- gives you an impression that Post Office is not your every day posh neighborhood. By extension, i wasn't out to get a painting by Van Gogh. In any case, I couldn't exactly afford any of these over priced works. At least, not yet. So i worked up to the first stall where art works were sold. That was where it caught my eye.

It was a water color piece. About 2.5 feet tall and 3 feet wide. It was a landscape painting i almost swore had been drawn with the colors of the rainbows themselves! It depicted a sea side with birds, and trees, and tower houses and clear blue skies-each competing in cheerful colours, and depths of beauty as far as the eyes could see. It was like no matter how breathtaking the immediate scene was, each time i peered deeper into the landscape, i found out the scene that unfolded was even more awe- inspiring than what currently held my gaze. A sudden epiphany gripped my frontal lobes like a hungry baby, its mother's breasts. I realized that no matter how rosy things were, there was always the possibility that the future held even greater and brighter promises for me, and that i could never afford to be complacent in life but rather keep on forging ahead, gracefully, hopefully...
That was the day i wrote this. For me, life is definitely a beautiful journey...

The beautiful journey

A time not too far away

Is where I want to be

It is as beautiful as it is obscure

Yet my soul longs for it

Like an eagle for the skies.

Though I stand in pseudo-paradise

I clear my mind of lazy haze

Lest complacency becomes my lot

And I dwell in this place for ever.

I pick myself up forcefully

From my bed of beautiful

And trudge relentlessly

Towards a place that’s more beautiful

To a land that is pretty and fair

Where ravens of fortune shall bear me up

And springs of peace soothe my soul.

Someday when I get there

I’ll rest awhile

Before picking my mind up

Once again,

To begin a journey

Towards the land that’s yet prettier and clearer

Not too far away…

So the question beckons. Why didn't i pick up that painting, but rather chose the one next to it. Equally beautiful, just a notch less inspiring. This one was also a seaside painting, of a ship that had just left the shores. A Little bird looked on forlorn as this ship set sail. Like a close friend had just begun his own journey into life- something which one way or the other, you finally realize is a personal experience, no matter the size of your family...or your heart. There was a calm look of acceptance on its face as it dawned on it that it was time for it to begin its own beautiful journey... alone.

Still, the question begs for an answer. Why this canvas and not the other? Maybe it was because, in some cynical parts of my soul, i feared this was closer to home than the other. It was like this one looked more realistic. More pragmatic... but beautiful nonetheless. Some other parts wrestle with this, and argue that this is just one of those decisions you make but are never quite sure why. But this two dissenting voices in my head are clear on one thing- that the life we've been graciously given was made to be a beautiful one.

As you set sail into this new year, here is wishing that you don't fall short of the great expectations the good Lord had when he made you. 

                                                             

                                   HAPPY NEW YEAR!

 

Christmas Eve

     I wrote this one on the 8th of Dec. 8 Christmases ago when i stumbled on a song by Celine Dion of the same title. In the spirit of the season, Ive dug it out of my archives and decided to share.

Merry Christmas to you!!!

Christmas Eve

It was the day before the angels celebrated

but it was not on the 24^th

It was that instance when I saw Jesus

the moment salvation I got

It was the hour before my second birth

when he wiped away my tears

it was the minute before he placed me over death

and rolled away my fears.

It was the month before all things seemed beautiful

but must I say it was not November?

It was the tick before the doctor came out

and joint me in shouting halleluyah

because the tests which yesterday revealed a tumour

from today I’ll see no more

hence that monster that always made me scream

has become just another bad dream.

It was the day before Christmas

yeah right, it damn wasn’t 24^th

it was that split second before I saw you

the moment your eye I caught

Just like Jesus Christ came to the world

your appeared to set me free

that’s why I refer to that day as Christmas Eve

the second before you were born to me.

Album review: Olamide – YBNL

Album review: Olamide – YBNL (YAHOO BOY NO LAPTOP)

     Interestingly, Olamide did not forget the exact route that led him to the current stardom he is enjoying, following the same concept as his debut; Rapsodi on his sophomore album YBNL. In the features he’s had earlier this year, he displayed a diverse energy on songs with the introduction of drastic aggressiveness in his delivery. Despite the fact that he seems to be concentrated on the amount of cash flow and number of shows call-up he is earning, YBNL is a subtle pointer to the fact that he’s not really paying attention to what ought to be revitalising at this point in his career: His lyrical prowess.

     The album kicks-off on a nice note with a nicely synchronised Wale’ Ambition on Money giving a lucid explanation of his daily routine as a hustler on the street which some what sounds like a skit, nevertheless it was enough to provide an apposite transmission to the laid back brag-infused fucking with the devil where he rapped with a Reminisce alter-ego.

Olamide continued with his alter-ego sampling this time around with a lively delivery. The various imageries he tried portraying on the Buckwylla assisted lights in the air were all elementary as they virtually seemed too be grandiose compared to it’s intended meaning. Buckwylla on the other hand had an energetic verse and hook, handling both with utmost dexterity giving it a pleasant reggae feel.

While he continued to tell stories on street love, owotabua picture, and the anthemic jale, they are all a variations on a theme, besides some guest on the YBNL maintained a guest status all through, while some others acted like they were the host. The likes of Davido and Tiwa Savage were really not at their best, Kay Switch brought life to the tape when everything seems to be monotonous bringing a dance hall vigour to Remember.

He outwitted himself on ewo idi were he chose to sing and rap, while a little production error on Fuji House which had Dammy Krane doing the same thing he did on Overdose’ I Like Your Way ruined what would have turned a very nice party rocker, though the combination of strings and other elements were all okay, but the ineffective bass line destabilized the song.

     Teaming with controversial rapper, Reminisce and Baseone on industreet has him dragged into the protracted Reminisce-Vector on-going beef. He brought out the beast in himself as well as in the other two, but not without stepping on the toes of Vector.

Perchance the only thing that changed in him aftermath Rapsodi is the aggressiveness and a little compromise in his lyrics. Avid listeners probably might have noticed those changes as it added cohesion into a basically attenuated style he started with, even though he didn’t completely exploit it to the optimum despite having a lethal track arrangement.

“they call me five star general/hustler I’m martian/emi oun form diva/ shey mojo Kim Kardashian/gogbo show ti mo ti lo I killed ‘em with passion/” – “it is well I got back up plan/galagala/in the name of the father, son and of the holy spirit/omo oro legbe church/I pray to God that I make it to heaven for going through hell/ let my success shame the devil” ­­–Jesu O Kola

DOWNLOAD LIGHTS IN THE AIR 

DOWNLOAD STREET LOVE 

Thots (tha wordsmith)

Tha Watcha