Notes on John Lennoning AND STUFF

Ah!! My friends!! Life has been difficult.

First of all the stupid dog died. I was gutted.

I should probably say more about the Captain (may he rest in peace) but I won't. I can't look at a Rottweiler without wanting to kidnap it, so I'm still not fine. When will I be fine? I don't know, but I want another Rott. I've already named him. He'll be Moose. And then it'll be the Ramblings of a Madman and his burgeoning commander Moose. You see, I told you. I've already named my next animal child - The Burgeoning Commander Moose Odi. I have a knack for naming things. Yippee Kai Yay. However, as I cannot presently afford a pedigree Rott, I will appreciate a donation. He'll have a good home, and he'll be happy. Things will be amazing and more than a little bit disgusting because the love he'll receive will be stupendous. I didn't know this at the time, but the good old captain Reginald consumed a fair bit of my emotional energy. Since he's been dead I have been crushing on people like a villain. My intensity cannot be curbed. While he was alive, I was positively asexual. But now, don't stand so close to me. If you do things will get weird. You'll be overwhelmed by the pheromones in my man funk. Yeah, I don't shower as much as I used to. Actually that's a lie. I don't know why I said that.

After my dog died, I turned 24. That killed me. I was not ready. Twenty four is dangerously close to twenty five, and that's when I have to be serious with everything. I'm a little bit serious with most things already, but twenty five will be the game changer. At twenty five, I'll have to have moved out of the country, so I can get better at all of this. Nigeria's a little bit of a creativity killer. I mean how can you be creative while you're battling mosquitoes and putting on the generator, and waking up at 5am to queue for petrol and other other other other traumatising things. Lagos has not been kind to me. My tyre blew out on third mainland for christ's sake. Third Mainland bridge is the longest bridge in West Africa. It is devoid of both a speed limit and a service lane. I had to change it while cars whizzed past me at 70 miles an hour, and that took some doing.

And as if all of that wasn't enough, I got a little bit confused about who I was. You see, technically I don't exist. The guy whose body I inhabit exists, but I don't. We are not the same. We will never be the same. That guy's soft spoken, and introspective and deeper than a thousand wells, but I'm not. In my moments of weakness he was seeping into my thoughts and appearing in my words, and that was unacceptable. For those of you who do not know the story of my birth, I'll tell it.

There was a boy, a very strange enchanted boy, he was going through many things, bang ups and hang ups, and he got tired. He needed an escape, and he took it, and then he ran with it. While he was running with it, I emerged from his head fully formed. I do things that he will not, and I say things that he will not.

Happy Days,
Afam

Peace out!

Ps. After looking at these pictures of me John Lennoning (there's no other name for what I was doing) Mama AFAM said that I would have made a very pretty girl. I resent that. I am a finely formed man. I am so manly that I can install a weave on my head and still look like a rugged manly dog god alien man.

Psss. I'm going to this thing today.