Sleep is peace. Sleep is calm. Sleep is serenity. And you can imagine with what rage I reacted when I was abruptly woken up from my slumber.
Now, I'd spent all my life encapsulated in a viscous medium. I didn't need anything. Life was simple and straightforward. Before I knew it, I felt appendages prodding and pulling at my head, followed by muffled sounds of what seemed like concern. I shook about vigorously to fend them off, but they remain unrelenting in their quest to disturb my peace. At that point, I just relaxed and let them be. It took them a while, but they eventually found the means to 'liberate' me from my peaceful confinement.
My arrival was greeted by cheers of excitement and sighs of relief. Apparently, my mother was concerned about my tardiness. I had announced my imminent arrival several hours in advance, but I was taking my time to actually vacate the premises. There was a problem and I had to be evacuated via less-than-ideal means. Anyway, here we were. I found myself crying as my lungs filled with air for the first time. but these adults, instead of noticing my pain, they just clapped and hi-fived themselves like I had just recited an amazing poem or won a bet. I was whisked away to another quieter room and immersed in a warm liquid. It felt oddly comforting and I almost fell asleep if it wasn't for the roughness with which I was being handled. Anyway, several minutes later I'm placed in what felt like a warm dry box and I just drifted off into sleep.
I woke up a while later, to a warm sensation on my... Wait. I know what you're thinking. Everything is warm, warm, warm. I don't know why yet. Must be the norm in these parts. I've only felt little pangs of something other than warm. Only for split seconds at best. I guess I'll learn the reason why sometime later. As I was saying, I woke up to a warm sensation on my face. I tried to look up, but I could barely make out the images I'm seeing. I wonder what I was expecting, having just opened them for the first time. I'll save that for later. I needed to do a check on what senses were working before I descend into a state of total panic.
I heard the sound of a familiar heartbeat though. It was a little weak, but I'd know that heartbeat anywhere. I tried to move my limbs, but all they did was twitch about spasmodically. I couldn't even scratch the itch on my face. My hands seemed to be covered in some layer of cloth. I'm aware of the individual appendages at the end of my arms, but they didn't move as well and I'd have wanted them to. It's the same story about my legs. I kept hearing people drawing close and saying, "Aww... She looks just like her mother," and, "She has her father's ears!" I wouldn't know. Haven't had the chance to form my own opinion of their opinions. I tried to ask them why they thought so, but someone shoved a soft conical object into my mouth. My attempt to spit it out inadvertently led to biting into it, which caused a flood of liquid to fill my mouth. Come to think of it, I was indeed feeling queer, and this amazing liquid seemed to be doing the trick in making me feel better.
After being 'around' for a while, I'm starting to think I'm speaking to idiots. They never quite seem to understand a word of what I'm saying, yet I can understand them. They seem to fumble about with different remedies to my summons until they stumble upon what I wanted them to know. It's so tiresome that I fall asleep soon after my need has been met. On the other hand, it's a rather peaceful life so I can't complain that much.
As it appears, I'll be spending most of my days in this semi-sentient state until my motor and linguistic abilities develop some more. In the meantime, they'll keep treating me like and calling me a baby. I don't know why, but being a baby is far from adorable from my point of view. Amidst being randomly poked, tickled, smiled at and called names, I have to at least keep my eyes open to show some semblance of life and interest in what they are doing. They have a tendency to get worried by my inactivity. And yet, the only way I can get away from all this nonsense is by falling asleep.
Sleep is peace. Sleep is calm. Sleep is serenity.
Tuesday, January 12, 2016
Last weekend, I found myself presented with a double-header of boxing movies. Now, I have a mild interest in boxing, but I still like the entertainment a boxing movie brings. Sadly, there are very few boxing matches in real life that are as intriguing as the Hollywood versions. Anyway, I took it upon myself to be entertained by ‘gladiators’ for whom the script of the fight is already written. That’s fine. But it’s the execution of each that created the vast gap that is between these two movies. Let me explain:
#1 – Southpaw
This one, starring Jake Gyllenhaal (Prince of Persia, Nightcrawler), is about a current Light Heavyweight Champion who loses everything and spends about 2/3 of the movie seeking redemption. I shall not fault the acting in this movie. It has credible actors/actresses (with the exception of Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson, whose acting ain’t worth a dime). Maybe it was the flow of the story. I failed to get invested in the life and struggles of Billy Hope, the disgraced champion. First of all, it was his own stupidity that cost him everything. So, we're suddenly supposed to believe that in a few weeks, he's on the path of redemption. And the only way to do that is to fight 'one more time'? It also went to show (or appeared to show) how flimsy riches can be. You go from wealthy to scraping by in just a few weeks, despite having the 'best manager in the business'? I'll let that one slide. But even at the end, while there was a moral exposition, I was barely moved. I was like, “Yeah, typical Hollywood half-assed attempt to make a credible story.” In fact, I spent most of the time WhatsApping and Instagramming and Facebooking. Yeah, it was neither engaging nor riveting, and I found no need to even root for the main character, or care about his story arc. Again, this had little to do with Jake’s acting abilities. Perhaps the movie was better suited as a biography. As for the boxing itself, I'd rather watch Fight Club or Banshee if I want bloody, semi-skilled brutal brawling. And even saying 'semi-skilled' is an insult to my preferences.
#2 – Creed
This one stars Michael B. Jordan (Chronicle, Fantastic Four) as Adonis Johnson Creed, the son of Apollo Creed (from the Rocky movies) and light heavyweight boxing prodigy. He’s a natural talent but at the start of the movie, he has been self-trained and has no professional experience. He’s not had a father figure in life but he’s a pretty sensible guy. He’s rather relatable and even likeable. He refuses to be associated with his father’s boxing legacy, instead preferring to forge his own. But in the end, he comes to terms with being his father’s son, and the pedigree that comes with it. So immense is his fighting prowess that the champion actually calls him out for a fight! It’s a struggle that’s common with children whose parents’ achievements put pressure on them. But this guy manages to shoulder the burden with his head held high. There was not a dull moment and I thoroughly enjoyed watching this movie. And the requisite final fight? Ah, it was splendid. It wasn't just the fight, but the atmosphere of it. The commentators were hilarious. Plus, who doesn't like a capable underdog? It's not even one of those movies where they appear to cheat for the underdog. Nope. This one brought the goods. Left the opponent relying only on his vast experience and even that was barely enough to keep him on his feet. All round, it was an amazing movie.
In summary, I think Creed was the better boxing movie. And it's not even by a TKO. It properly floored Southpaw and even did a victory dance. It wasn't pulling any punches. Okay, enough of the boxing puns. I know some will disagree. If you do, please state your reasons. I’m a reasonable gentleman. No need for frothing and name calling, yo!
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
|Who rocks the party that rocks the party?|
Since Beewol brought this matter to my attention, I've been thinking. Who are these Rich Gang fellas? Are they pretenders or true ballers? Throwing an exclusive themed party at a nightclub shows you got dime, but it doesn't show that you're a baller. and the impression they give when they take selfies lying in bed with stacks of currency seems to imply that they imagine themselves ballers. As if the black SUVs with heavily tinted windows and personalized plates are supposed to bolster that statement. Why must all of them have fur coats? Has so much air conditioning frozen their minds? It’s hot in Uganda! Why the heck would you even need a fur coat? It’s very impractical. Anyway, I digress. Now, if you're a baller, you don't ask 'Where the party at?" You are the party! If you want to party with true baller status, here’s what you should do:
#1 - Throw the party at a mansion, preferably with a pool. Throwing a massive party is something the affluent do. It's the ultimate self-glorification in most places, if the local council won't let you erect a marble statue in your honor. Remember The Count of Monte Cristo? Yeah, pick a leaf from that guy. These things of throwing theme parties at clubs do not filter attendants as well as a ‘private’ house party does. Besides, you can always hire a premium DJ. At a house/mansion, anything can happen, and people won’t have to worry about the bouncers who live to protect the reputation of the establishment. By having the party at your own private premises, you can be in control of a lot of things. Oh, it doesn’t have to be your own domicile. You could rent a furnished mansion for a weekend. After all, you’re a baller. It shouldn’t be difficult.
#2 - Hire military personnel as bouncers. Yes, they are used to following rules and have a great sense of self control even under stressful conditions. You, the baller, also get to order soldiers around. Not many people can do that, in case you hadn’t noticed. By having military bouncers, safety is assured. And they won’t get involved in situations unless there’s real danger. Plus, they’ll only be in the parking lot for observation purposes. They’ll not interfere. However, you must resist the urge to get them to bring you a drink. I assure you, they will not do that.
#3 - Get a world-class mixologist/bartender. Okay, as a baller, you’ll ensure that there’s plenty of drinks for everybody available, but you need that extra touch that sets your party apart. Even relatively well-to-do people can throw a party with free drinks. You’re a baller. You need a mixologist, likely one who can juggle stuff. It adds class to your shindig, and even makes for interesting bar time. You hire that guy, and he'll give you a list of what he needs to make things happen. And if you sort him out, he'll make things happen. Plus, there's no demerit to having the mixologist in your favour. None.
#4 - Send invites through a guy that knows whom to invite. The success of a party largely depends on the type of people attending it. There’s this kind of person that doesn’t know what to do at a party. They go but refuse to socialize at any level, making it difficult for the people they came with to enjoy the party because they are overly concerned by their comrade’s lack of involvement in the revelries. We do not need such negativity at a baller’s party. It’s only for those that want to party. And they must be loud. No one must have a reason to utter the words ‘I am bored’ at your party. Any reference to boredom at a baller’s party shall be swiftly met with a removal of the offender from the premises, with or without their friends.
#5 - Make sure you're the biggest dog in the yard. You don't want a situation where you're rubbing shoulders with your peers. Those ones are not so easily impressed. You want to be worshipped so make sure those that are invited are inferior. Besides, that renders any piss contest among themselves moot. You've seen people puff up their chests while introducing themselves, feeling like the world owes them. That won't be happening at a baller's party. As a baller, you need people who will easily be pleased, and will adore you for days! You must be the centre of attention, and people should mostly be talking about you and what an awesome party you're throwing. If you want to hang out with peers, there's exclusive clubs for that sort of thing.
#6 - Be ready to banish anyone who shows up with the following to your party; selfie sticks, dogs, spouses, relatives, negative attitudes. Seriously, why are you bringing your spouse? So you can trick unsuspecting revellers to occupy her while you go stare at lithe bodies in the pool? Maybe some people have never had the (dis)pleasure of spending the better part of a party talking to a married person. Of all the singles available in the area, why would you want to engage in revelry with a married person? If you're saying that you'd rather not fully engage in activities, refer to #4. You deserve to be kicked out, (with someone's spouse) and go have your 'fun' some place else. That should make for an interesting story. We don't want ungrateful people at a baller's party, do we?
Now, go ahead and show these pretenders how a true baller does it.You can be sure songs will be sung and tales will be told about the Rich Gang of Kampala City.