Some things that made no sense to me in Avengers Infinity War:
If you hate spoilers, do not proceed beyond this point. You have been warned.
- How did Heimdall, who can see all nine realms, not see Thanos coming?
- What happened to Korg, Valkyrie and Miek?
- Why did Heimdall choose to save Banner?
- How did he know Dr. Strange’s address?
- Why was Black Widow/Steve surprised to see Banner? He called them, no?
- Why did Thor need a new hammer? Did Thanos’ punches make him forget what Odin said in Ragnarok?
- Really, who send Thanos?
- Why did Thor need a new eye?
- Again, what the fuck was Red Skull doing in Infinity War?!
- Strange could have ended that fight in over a million ways. A simple one; why didn’t he do to Thanos what he did to Dormamu?
Please, if you have a better explanation that ‘plot armour’, do share. And if you have some other things that also made little/no sense to you, please share too.
PPS: If DC committed a third of the atrocities this movie is guilty of, na Zack Snyder and im family alone go watch am. Bias much?
A friend of mine is fond of making fun of sapiosexual people.
I wonder how that makes him happy. Interestingly, he embraces same-sex relationships but cannot make sense of how intelligence is a turn-on. I don’t bother trying to explain it to him; he’s intelligent enough to get it. He just can’t be bothered.
My point however, is it is what it is. He is a valued friend; one of the few people I can share my strangest thoughts with and not feel like a psychopathic killer. We just can’t agree on sapiosexuality.
And that’s fine.
There are a lot of things about me that make people uncomfortable. I accept that. There are a lot of things about me that make some of the people I hold most dear not know what to do with me. I accept that too. I accept these things because I’ve come to understand; just because people do not understand or like a particular thing doesn’t make that thing automatically bad.
It just is what it is.
But; and I can tell you this for free – I did not always understand that. I would have friends, we would fight and I would spend time agonizing over the fact that I have done it again, whatever ‘it’ was supposed to be. And sometimes, I would ask such friends and they would be unable to explain what it was to me. So I thought maybe it’ll be best if I stopped having friends. No friends, no heartbreak. And for a while, I was okay.
And then, as it happens in fiction, I fell in love.
That particular romance shaped a lot of me. I had someone who bothered, who took the time to know me for me, and not based on what someone said or whatever his expectations were. I knew what it felt like to be loved and accepted for who I was.
It felt like I imagine heaven to feel. It. Was. Everything.
Of course, I have flaws and I continually work on making them better. However, there’s a clear difference between bad and unusual/different. A lot of us are unhappy because people are not accepting of us because we don’t meet their idea of perfect. We continually try to fit ourselves into boxes created for us but we don’t belong in and it’s killing us slowly. Daily, we unintentionally commit slow suicide.
That’s no life.
We must learn to embrace ourselves for who we are. Again, to be clear – that is not to say ‘be rude if that’s who you are’ or ‘be an asshole’ and so on. It’s okay to not like Game of Thrones. I don’t. It’s okay to not care for Avengers Infinity War/Black Panther and the rest of those things. I do – and that’s fine either way. Be good to yourself sha, we’re all going through stuff and you deserve to be happy.
You’re beautiful, and your scars are nothing but beauty marks. Enjoy them.
I’m having a creative dilemma.
There’s a new something I’m starting to learn – albeit unwittingly. It starting to be a ‘challenge’ for me to be excited about the things that used to matter to me anymore. I feel as though the anticipation of a thing is more fun than the thing itself.
Case in point: the forthcoming Avengers Infinity War.
Sooner or later it will be the 27th of April. Sooner than later, it would have been the 30th of November – and there will be some other movie (Aquaman, maybe?) to be excited about. In fact, I feel like I am more excited about John Wick Chapter 3, a movie that doesn’t have a release date as of time of writing, than I am about Infinity War.
The anticipation of a thing is more exciting than the thing itself.
Case in point: Sex.
Invariably, I feel as though I’m living from one point to the next, one movie to the next, one book to the next and so on. Like I don’t have the time to truly enjoy the experience of these/those things for what they are. Like I just want to put a stamp on something; like ‘Seun Was Here’ and then, on to the next thrill. Like…life is just a BRT ride – constantly going back and forth, from stop to stop.
No time to break.
I feel like; what’s the hurry though? Why do I feel a need to go from on thrill to the next? Why am I not so excited about Infinity War when anyone who knows me knows it’s a combination of two of my favorite things; comics and movies? Does it have something to do with the reality that I am growing older, or is it some deeper and more complicated reason? Does it have to do with the pattern I have noticed in my doings lately – a lot of the things that used to excite me don’t excite me anymore?
Could it be that I need some new experiences, new challenges (which I have in spades)? Could it be I need to be somewhere else (maybe jail, for instance) to rediscover the spark that made my life an adventure at some point?
Or could I have fallen for the trap that has claimed so many before me, the sudden, utter realization that truly, I have become an adult?
Lord have mercy.
Is it just me – or is there some kind of unfair expectations placed on the menfolk without their consent?
I have moments I want to cry. Moments I feel like coming online to beg for a hug – because I feel so alone my shadow seems like company. I don’t know – maybe it’s just me because I know people ask us men to be vulnerable all the time – and then run for the hills at the first sign of tears.
I don’t know. It probably IS just me.
I probably am rambling because I clearly set out to tell a different story from the one I’m sharing now. I probably am rambling because what I’m saying now is completely different from what I had in my mind when I opened this post slot in my blog. I probably am rambling because this is a moment of nudity; a moment of indulging in self-pity; probably the most unproductive emotion ever known to man.
I probably am rambling because I’ve had more vodka and Vicodin than I should. Sigh.
It probably is that time of the month. And I worried, because I have my little girl with me and it won’t do for her to see daddy with tears in his eyes. Oh, I know. Tomorrow is another day.
Today, however, I bow under the weight of my loneliness and wonder; if anybody understands how hard it is sometimes to be a man.
Set your soul on fire,
Or let me.
We tell a tale across the skies.
I can just lay across your thighs.
My life is in two chapters;
Before and After You.
So I was at this bar late Saturday evening.
Don’t mind me o. I had spent the earlier part of the day working with a new team, and after we were done we’d gone for some drinks and food. Somehow sha, I still wasn’t sated. I was feeling restless, so when we agreed to go our separate ways, I got in my car and started driving. It wasn’t really late, I really had no idea where I was going; I just knew I wanted to stop at a place with lights.
So sha, I was at this lit bar, chilling and sipping Smirnoff Ice…
No. Forgive me. I definitely wasn’t sipping Smirnoff Ice, because I asked and they said they didn’t have it.
My people please intervene. What sort of facking bar does not have Smirnoff Ice on a Saturday evening?!
And then, to add insult to injury, they offer me Snapp.
I mean, it’s bad enough I drink Smirnoff Ice. I know the looks I get when I ask for Smirnoff Ice.
And then, someone thinks it’s a good idea to offer me SNAPP?!
No offense, but that shit makes me think of soiled diapers – some baby shit. Shit!
So sha, I was at the bar, nursing my injured pride, chewing on some peppered gizzard…
When I noticed this guy a few seats away on my left, staring.
At first, I looked his way and looked away thinking it was just a random glance between strangers. However, as the night progressed I realized he was staring at me. Like, really staring.
Okay. That was odd.
Shifting gently in my seat, I moved my left side away from the bar and my right towards it. By the time I stopped, I was almost facing him but no so much he’d notice I had done anything. I grabbed some more sticks of gizzard, popped them in my mouth and looked at him.
He was slim, but not thin. He was wearing a grey shirt tucked in dark-colored pants and shiny loafers. He had hairy jowls and his complexion was hard to tell with all the lights. However, he didn’t look bad.
But it was clear I hadn’t seen him before. So why was he staring?
He would look, take a swallow from the green bottle he was holding around the neck – and while he swallowed, he would look again. And then, he would set the bottle down and exhale.
As I continued to look at this man, I started to have an idea for some mischief. I continued to chew my meat and watching him – but this time, from the corner of my eye. As far as he was concerned, I was ignoring him.
Which was just as well.
As he lifted the bottle, I turned towards him and waited till involuntarily, his eyes started to seek me out.
That was when I winked.
Somehow, he missed his mouth with the beer. Most of it ended up in his nose, eyes and on his shirt. Gasping for air, he fell forward, spraying beer from his mouth and snorting through his nose. I turned away, bent over the bar in laughter but I could hear him coughing loudly. I was laughing so loudly – at some point, I think chewed gizzard would have come out my nose.
Respecting myself, I stood, pulled some money out my pocket and left it beneath my plate. And then, I left jejely before some wise ass decided to ask why I was laughing.
I’m a writer, not a fighter abeg.
One of the things that suck about life – is how the anticipation of a thing is usually more fun/lasts longer than the thing itself.
Case(s) In Point: Remember when you were waiting for Deadpool? Justice League? An intimate encounter?
Your food to arrive at a restaurant?
Morale of my story: nothing lasts. We’re all dust and shadow – but for our memories and the souls that carry a piece of ours. The who you ate the meal with/beside, the who you saw the movie with/beside is a better memory than of the meal/film itself.
Make love not war. Make memories not enemies.
Peace and Love.