ALMOST PERVERSE

I find my solace in many things. Most times it’s in things that allow me to express my creativity. Writing of songs and stories, crafting instrumentals and making songs, or writing poetry. Sometimes I doodle or take pictures. That’s the productive bit. Sometimes I take alcoholic beverages or smoke banned substances, engage in twitter wars with people I barely know or take it out on friends and family, and chase every beautiful woman in a skirt. That’s the unproductive side.

Drinking has had such a debilitating effect on me to the point where I have lost a lot of progress I had made since I left my father’s house 8 years ago with nothing but the clothes I was wearing. All gone over a two year period that I sought validation and acceptance the wrong way. I sit and look back with a sense of regret and a determination to make good.  I am a survivor and definitely God’s favorite so my will is definite.

I started this note about a year ago and I couldn’t go on because my mind was blank. Now after reading it, I feel like the intro is a bit too tabloidish. Something The Post would lap up like Iris Kaingu’s Instagram pics for political and capital expediency.

Last night a very good friend of mine who goes by the alter ego Stretch.DJ (Stretch Dot Dee Jay) vented on the social media platform called twitter. He spoke about his baby momma and her perceived ways and about her current man’s lack of manliness (apparently the dude spends his nights at her boarding house cooking noodles and can’t loan her money forcing Stretch to help out. The good guy that Stretch is), he ranted about the perception that people have of him being a rich boy, a sponyonyo of sorts. (Definition: Sponyonyo; a spoilt brat…one born with a silver spoon…a Yo Bally who goes around showing off his parent’s wealth…also apparently, a girl who advises, albeit correctly, for younger people to think outside the box in pursuit of a livelihood), he ranted and vented and ranted and ended the rant with a virtual middle finger to the world.

So much anger and hate and sorrow and depression on social media these days. What could be the cause of this? Is it that we don’t interact much on that human level or the world is just fucked up? What is it?

The good old paper diary and shrink has been replaced by social media. We take our hurt there, our joy, our pain, our wins, challenge etc. there. And it’s simply because we are too busy to talk to each other. We would rather communicate via technology than on that intimate, personal level. We are controlled by technology, slaves to the intelligence we created. What we are is not human but cyborgs of some sort. This in turn has led us into some forced isolation where putting our stuff all over social media equals clutching at straws and shouting out for help.

“Are you not entertained? Is that not why you are here?”

“@stretchdj once told me he felt violated by how people can't wait for his next rant. It’s almost perverse. Munzanu is in pain!” - @kryticismusic

It’s amazing how much the world loves a sad or angry story. We enjoy it when the tormented souls spill their innermost thoughts and feelings on our timelines. We feast on that shit like our lives depended on it. We feast upon it like the devil feeds on our sins. We are a dark people. I mean, only depraved human beings make love to misery. Only stained and scarred human beings enjoy seeing another divulge their broken souls to the world. In truth a lot of us need a good old exorcism because mere prayer won’t help. The way y’all jumped at Stella Sata when she suggested thinking outside the box though. The filth that spilled out on our timelines. Her legitimacy brought to the fore by rabid dogs posing as humans on both Twitter and Facebook and the appropriately titled Zambian WATCHDOG. The hate within us is clouding our good sense. The jealousy and envy is turning us into the devil’s puppets.

This was supposed to be a note about me. But…fuck it. This year is epic already.