MY MIND MY MOUTH
It is interesting how powerful the mind is. What’s more interesting is that the mind is not like the face. The face expresses itself publicly and people make immediate judgment about one just by looking at the face. But the real truth is that face is not where the real matter lies. It is within the mind that lays the formation of ones’ true self. Within the mind resides the initiation of decisions, actions, and emotions, and it’s the constant encore of actions past and present. For those of us who enjoy the gift of a creative mind, we notice that with it come the troubles of a bubbly and ever busy imagination. Your thoughts travel far and wide, create images that are yet to be from images of things seen already, and even cause you to live in the reality of the unreal with the attendant satisfaction derived from the former. The more creative you are, the more troublesome your mind becomes.
Sometime ago I watched the stories of some serious offenders who were apprehended and interrogated. One common feature they all possessed was a powerful and creative mind. In the case of a guy who was a serial killer, he skillfully attended to his evil craft and avoided being caught for 30 years, with 10 murders in his trail. He wrote letters to the police and often left mysterious clues for them to solve and still no one could unravel his identity. His mind was obviously being fully engaged in his imagination that, up to the point of being caught, he was still actively enjoying the whole process of being traced for 30 years. Several others as well are undeniably very intelligent men who simply fell for the overpowering of their minds and let it totally out of control.
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AN ODE TO ‘EWA AGOYIN’ AND ‘AGEGE BREAD’
Agege Buredi (Bread)
This is one of those days that my taste buds are on a full scale rebellion against my current state of affairs with regards to the nature of my meals. Somehow I had seamlessly graduated from the typical Lagos Island staple meals to a more gourmet kind of New Yorkish cuisines without any guilt of abandonment to those delicacies that strengthened my bones and made me more hopeful of a better life. Funny how we despise the things that we so cherish when we find something that outclasses them? Those days when I flip magazines that display foreign dishes, my tongue begs for an escape beyond the boundaries of the lips, just for a sneak peak at what the eyes are communicating to the sensory organs, creating a flood of saliva rushing over my wash-red flab.
I had thought to myself that I wasn’t the kind that could be affectionately attached to anything that would create a longing feeling in its absence. I could easily let go, especially in the light of something new and thrilling. I longed to dine in the Olive Gardens and the Chart Houses, while snacking on the revered New York Pizza, and relishing a hot cup of Starbucks Frappuccino; after the weird routine of inhaling the pleasant odor, perhaps to catch a feeling of the contents in their original state. Have I been disappointed thus far? I wouldn’t say so. I have my days when my bowels literally run ahead of me looking for something in the classic food network recommendations, and confessing the Burger Kings and allures of the Big Macs do place a spell which I so effectively dispel. But in all, there remains this inner feeling that I just ate something that just ain’t right.
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Thoughts of a Calabarboy. 