Some Odes to an Obsession

It's me talking to myself again.....

Him: So how is the metaphysical you doing?....

Me: Great. (she pretends) And not so great. I have started talking to myself again. It's a sign you are longing for some company bad. And I keep wanting to do these things but I never just go out and do them.....

Him: Hmmm...Like what?....

Me: Like go out on a Friday night. There are all these clubs that play jazz, or have poetry night, I really should go, but then, I think this is not a place to be alone.....

Him: Like what are you doing here?....

Me: Exactly. What am I doing here?..(tilts head to the side and speaks softly) Gosh! I miss you.....

Him: You are not trying hard enough.......

Me: I am. I hope. I have that impossibility option open inside me and it's driving me crazy, it just stops me from trying just because it's for you. That and the nerve not to do anything all together, maybe if I just did for once I could believe that you are on the other end of the stick...waiting.....

Him: Stop saying it's impossible.....

Me: But it is. You know it is. I wish I could stop saying it too.....

Him: You should try meditating. Maybe you won't think about me so much.....

Me: Is that your solution? You should be here. That's the solution. I should be having fun in my life, that is the solution. I should be happier, I will be happier if I was doing something else, with someone, and if I had the ability to do something with myself.....

Him: Nobody's going to let you produce your own movies, or our movie, too many people in line, wait your turn.....

Me: I get so used to expecting No's all the time, I get more shocked when I hear yes. Yes, it's going to work out, yes, you can do this. But that's the inner me saying yes, yes, I will do anything to get next to you.....

Him: I should be there.....

Me: Yes. That's true. For everything that is bad in my life, I will take this to make it better. This would be the one thing that would make me feel better about my existence.....

Him: (blushes) you are just saying that? You would go crazy trying to understand me.......

Me: So would you? Even I haven't understood me...that's the enigma of my person. I hate routine, I hate authority and I hate being told No, even though it's done all the time. And you know, or I think you hate it too.....

Him: So what if I am just a muse?....

Me: Then, I am stupid and I need a shrink more than I thought before. But something tells me it's not just that, if I hate routine so much and I get bored with sameness, how come this has stuck with me for so long.....

Him: Because you haven't gotten it?....

Me: Or because I know I can't. (pauses...starts to cry in soft bursts of tears) I ask myself, can I wake up one day and not want you to be a part of my life...can I? And then, I think that life would not be fun, it wouldn't be the same...it wouldn't feel like me, and maybe I wouldn't write so much I wouldn't create as much, I would be somewhat of a bigger space than I am now. It should stop.......

Him: (angry that she is crying because of him and he is unable to do anything about it) I am sorry. I could go...but you would only bring me back almost immediately. (he hears her laugh amidst the tears such a sweet sorrowful laugh) I will go now.....

Me: I love you (she calls out before he leaves) Or I have some deep confused misdirected fascination with you that lets me believe it is love. For now, we'll call it love....

Him: Yeah. That'll do. I'll see you. ....... 

I don't want to explain this piece, perhaps it need not an explanation, It is just one of those times you reach deep inside you and these are the words that come from it. 

Written in 2022. Present day me in 2024 is so far removed from these emotions. Like quite far. 

Every obsession eventually dissipates...

Belle of the Ball

Had a dream about a tall dark man. Tall. very tall. 

This time it was Negro. And he called me, "Babe." 

He came to get me, crowd filled with people he made sure to grab my hand and we walked together through the crowd to this roof top to watch the stars and fireworks. 

Of course, as in all my dreams, I was in a place I've never been. The next building had lights, across the empty rooms, hallway. I asked what it was, he said, "Wait, you'll see." 

The next minute, classical music echoed through some speakers loudly and couples line danced in each of the rooms, spilling out into the hallways. Most of them were older couples. It was as beautiful as it was sweet. Then, we began to line dance. He pulled me into him and we twirled and dipped. 

I laughed in disbelief. I had never seen him so playful. Then he stopped and said, "These are horrible," referring to my nails, and asked me to go get my nails done. 

I apologised and he said, "This my Babe."  

Then I woke up from shock.

Search Synopsis for Notes to a Negro

During the "Notes to a Negro" promotional tour, one of the assignments that I was asked to provide to improve the sales of the book was for it to show up in various search engines, Amazon's, Google, etc. I needed a synopsis with key words, SEO words that would be picked up by different search engines. 

Looking through my files, I found one of the many, many summaries that I had provided which is all naught now because only Kobo Books and Selar produce the book. 

I just thought to share it here for all the booktoks, as it is now available through other publishers, and mainly because 4 AI tools rated it a strong piece of non-fiction, a solid 3.5/5.  

Notes to a Negro is a raw, unflinching memoir that explores love, heartbreak, and self-discovery through the lens of one woman’s tumultuous relationship with a man she calls "Negro"—a name that embodies the strength, complexity, and cultural heritage of Black masculinity.  

Set against the backdrop of modern African and Nigerian society, this deeply personal narrative weaves together journal entries, WhatsApp transcripts, and poetic interludes to chronicle a love story that is as intoxicating as it is destructive. From the heady rush of young love to the painful unraveling of trust and intimacy, the author lays bare her vulnerabilities, mistakes, and triumphs, offering a searingly honest portrayal of what it means to love and lose in a world that often demands too much of Black women.  

Through moments of passion, betrayal, and self-reclamation, Notes to a Negro challenges societal norms around race, gender, and relationships. It celebrates the resilience of Black women while interrogating the emotional unavailability and cultural pressures that shape Black men. At its core, this is a story about finding oneself in the wreckage of love—and learning to love again, not just others, but oneself.  

The morning of June 27, 2020

The morning of June 27, 2020

I had a good dream. Been meaning to write about it all day since I rarely have good dreams. But it was a soft tender delicate dream one that I sincerely hope and pray comes through. 

I dreamt I was in the arms of someone. Someone young, soft-spoken and British, specifically he was Hero Fiennes-Tillman. But that representation in my dream doesn’t necessarily mean it will be him. We had broken up and were now back together and stealing embraces with each other at work. he was staying nearby and I stole away from work to cuddle with him on a bench. And as we intertwined hands and hugged affectionately he said he’d never been so happy, that everything was working out in his life, our lives and he wondered why we were so lucky. The entire world was going through a hard time but here we were, in bliss. We had broken up but were now back together. Our work was great and our personal life, our relationship was great. What did we do to deserve to be so lucky? Then, we kept on embracing and then I woke up. 

It was 10am. June 27, 2020. 

Interesting dream. Rather interesting inspiration. This what happens when you go to sleep reading your fan-fiction.