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Archive for January, 2014

Swift Scribbles: …And One Thing…


There’s this feeling of looseness…of unwholesomeness I get when I wake up in a strange bed.


Not this time.


Which was entirely strange – because I am sure I have never slept in this bed before.


Anywho – I felt totally together and relaxed as I lay there, random beams of sunlight highlighting the lavender bedclothes that enwrap me somewhat neatly. Then, remembering what happened last night I sit up –


And the first thing that meets my startled gaze is the underwear I purchased off Konga.


Uh oh.


As though on cue, the door opens and in she comes.


Instinctively, I touch the back of my head. I’m checking if I’m still plugged into the Matrix.


This cannot be real. This is not happening – not in 2013; not in Nigeria. Definitely not in Lagos.


I’m at a loss for words.


She comes in looking like shawarma – hot steaming shawarma. She’s not wearing a nightdress like the herione in Bond movies – or romance stories for that matter. She’s wearing a loose-fitting t-shirt and shorts. But she’s nothing like the General Manager I have meetings with.


She looks like…she’s a woman.


She smiles and I’m doomed. My heart’s doing things I didn’t know it is still capable of doing. My head…has become a bowl of mush. I try to think. I remember what I say to myself about not having relationships around work.


And then the bed dips under her weight, she places a too-cool hand on my forehead and ask;


“So what happened to you last night?”




Just Like That


It’s just too soon too fast


They always said ‘good things really don’t last’


But then they said ‘to your truth hold fast’


Funny – you always say you’re the one I’ll love last


Been a while – but it’s like we never left


Everything has to be right, is it useless; left?


You said ‘don’t write’ I said ‘that’s all I have left’


You said ‘you have me’ and that’s the problem


29th day in the new year – how much more; the rest?


You show me some kind of bravery


Intent on saving me from this savagery


Even if I don’t want you to


But don’t make me choose


Please. Not between this…


And You.



So What Else Is New?


Good morning.


Had a draining weekend, y’all. I’m not even going to lie.


From attending the NS book launch to another meeting to another meeting to an argument with security…


I’d rather not think about it. Thank God it’s Monday – and we all are still here.


And I’m sooooooo excited! I mean, it’s a week to the date I’ll have the privilege of sharing what has been my days and nights for a while now. Of course I’m talking about the #SavingDapo series!


But first, enjoy a snippet – a ‘preview’ of the series.



First View #SavingDapo. Episode I. Paragraph 32




Drinking’s no longer good for my disposition.


His reflection grinned back at him from the washroom mirror, agreeing with Grace about his appearance. His hair looked like it was run over with a shaving stick, he had three days’ worth of hair on his face, his shirt was askew and his tie – he looked like Frank Donga – up to the bags underneath the eyes.


That wasn’t good enough.


He pulled out his phone and called Grace. “Could you please come? I’m in the restroom.”


He couldn’t have counted up to five before her heels began their singing as they came towards him. One thing was sure; she wasn’t sneaking up on anyone.


Not in those heels.


It always intrigued him how she moved so quickly and nimbly in them despite her build.


“This is a strange place to apologize in,” she said blandly as she entered the room.


“It works, does it not? I’m sorry. I had a very rough weekend.”


Grace walked closer and put a warm hand that had a curiously cold spot against his cheek. “I can help you forget,” she said huskily.


Dapo almost tripped as he stepped back. “I don’t doubt that,” he responded quickly, “but it’s not the time or the place. Right now I need your help to straighten up.”




Saving Dapo Avi

Saving Dapo Avi



Here’s hoping you’ll stay here…stay with me through the duration of this series – and not only that; you’ll share your thoughts, opinions and feelings.


Here’s hoping you’ll enjoy – thoroughly enjoying reading.


Have an amazing week – don’t forget to slow down and smell the ‘flowers’.


Thank you.!

Swift Scribbles: Yes


There’s a feeling bubbling up in my throat. It’s a choking feeling.


No. It did not come from the potato something-or-the-idea I had eaten like five hundred plates of. No.


It wasn’t from the red wine I had guzzled like twenty liters of either. No.


It was just – I don’t know.


I felt like I was going to throw up.


Mumbling an excuse to my beautiful date, I stagger to Bow Tie and ask for the restroom. He points a hasty finger to his left and I follow his directive while ignoring the ‘this one can’t hold his liquor’ look he gave me.


I stagger to the sink and throw up – nothing. I keep retching for about twenty seconds…time during which my hyper-excited brain works on a conclusion – an answer to the ‘why’ question that would be coming soon.


From me, nonetheless.


After I get my breath back I look in the mirror. I’m pale…there’s a glazed look in my eyes. I feel this – this feeling of not really being in a restroom at Protea hotel. My head is swimming…there’s a rusty taste in my mouth. Opening the tap slowly, I douse my face with cold water.


The shocking feeling rouses me just in time to hear the panicked knocking on the door.


“Coming,” I mumble through a mouth that feels two sizes small for the tongue inside it.


That floaty feeling is back, and I watch, helpless as I stagger to the door and open it.


It’s my beautiful companion. She is scared.


I smile at her and I recognize the look on my own face.


It’s the same look Nicholas Cage had on his face when he used drugs for the first time in Face Off.


“I’m fine,” I smile at her and collapse as my legs disappear from under me.


A perfect ending to a second date.


Oh well.


Guest Post: Never Again

Okay. There is something a bit scary about this post.

In that I got a message in my mail asking me to please put this up – but that I shouldn’t by any means reveal who wrote it or sent it to me, as though the mail contained clues.

I wondered what the reason could be – I mean, apart from scouring the piece for death threats or weapons of chemical warfare, I also wondered maybe karma…

Just kidding. Do enjoy the piece – and share your thoughts!

All thanks to you!
Your silly toy I was
Played with, fed up
Without second thought
Flung outta the window
I snapped into bits
Now I need your expertise

I need you
You are my quick fix
I sure know ‘you’ will do

Without you I fought being a mess
I lost because I needed you to feel blessed
I gave you reasons to stay
To my feelings you never fell prey
A trophy I gave all to win
I lost the silent war to your sin

Like a senseless child,
I gave in to your schemes
I chose to be blind
For you I lost my sight
I wanted you
You always, always had me

You, my heart still rebels for
Every now and then, you, I long for
I wish you knew
I’m glad you didn’t
You’ll never know I promise
I’ll never utter those foolish words again

Picture Courtesy Deviant Art

Picture Courtesy Deviant Art

Man On Fire: Saving Dapo



Good Morning People!


Thank God it’s Monday. Yup!


I’m about unveiling something I’ve been working on for a while now – something for my people; something I hope you will love.


Without further ado…



SAVING DAPO - Masthead




Remember Dapo?


The guy in The Wahala With The Truth Parts I & II?


The guy who meets an ex-girlfriend – after seven years of her thinking he was dead? Yeah.


Annoying guy, right?


Well he asks to see her for closure, explains his ‘death’, confesses to still having feelings for her – but then she drops a bomb on him.


She’s getting married.


Too bad abi?


The series picks up immediately after that – taking us some megapixels closer to Dapo as a person, how someone we might have forgotten can still have effects over our life and living – and moving on.


A small blurb…


“Men find love only once – or so they say. What happens when Dapo Ojo looses his ‘one great love’? Will he typically descend the road of self-destruction – or can friendship save him in time? Find Out!”



The series starts on the 3rd of February 2014. Please share and tell your friends about it!


Have a fantastic week!



Saving Dapo is powered by Real Words, Ife Olatunji, Seun Abioye, Ayokunle Moore, Moskeda Pages, Fabolosity Reads, and all my supporters.



Swift Scribbles: And Now


I was born and raised in Lagos – not in the seedy parts of town but in the somewhat ‘upscale’ part.


Not to say I’m an ajebutta but I’m not exactly ‘street’. In other words, I rolled tires in the neighborhood but never wore panties out of the house.


Mum would have killed me. Simple.


Despite that, I know my way around. I know how to handle myself.


So forgive the fact that when I hear ‘dinner’ Protea Hotel is the last place that comes to mind.


And if that makes you angry/hurt/disappointed, hug transformer.


I’m not playing.


Anyways, the meeting went well. In fact, it went too well if you ask me.


She asks me to dinner at Protea on Sunday and I spend the weekend wondering what I’m supposed to wear. A tuxedo?


What is that sef – a fruit-flavored version of shawarma?!


I sha manage to throw together an appearance I hope wouldn’t make the security guys chase me out. But I must look good because when I get to the dinning room she beams, stands up from the table, kisses my cheek and says ‘You look like dinner.”


I mean that’s good, right?


Her shoulders look like the ones on that Joy girl – if you watched Behind The Clouds all those years ago you’ll remember what I’m talking about.


She’s doing her dress a favor – a bright red backless shoulder-less number that would be a formless, shapeless lump without her body filling it.


I say as much and she raises her brows. “The way you’ve been acting I’d thought you were a monk or something equally private.” There’s a speculative look in her eyes. “First lingerie and now flirting? What am I missing?”


I shake my head and smile as some guy wearing a bow tie (see what I did there?) comes up to our table, bows and hands us menus (did it again!).


I’m like ‘really?!’ but of course, my lips don’t move. Everything feels somehow – like I woke up in a movie…one of those tearjerkers my mum loves so much.


She orders and I watch her lips move. She and Bow Tie turn to look at me. I shrug.


“Order for me,” I tell her. She smiles prettily and tells Bow Tie what she thinks I’d like.


She isn’t far from right.


Slowly, I feel my shoulders relax. I can get used to this, I think.