Why this blog?

When I was younger I was one of the better writers in my class and I always loved the high I got from people reading my stories and enjoying them and so I will now allow you into my imagination: crazy, erotic, vulnerable, disgusting and every other adjective you can conjure up.

I wish to experiment a lot and I think the story below will explain why:

I had been in Australia for 2.5 years and I was in Year 12. I had developed a great relationship with my English as a Second Language (ESL) teacher, Mrs. Gordon. Our class was small and intimate and we pretty much discussed everything. As the only chocolate chip in the middle of fried rice (aka the only African in an all Asian class-the one Arab quit to pursue his passion as a house painter, I understand its doing quite well) I regaled them with tales of mob justice, chapati and all things Nai. At times our conversation would turn even more personal with people in the class discussing their sex habits and Mrs. Gordon sharing sexual practices that I am sure to carry with me to the grave (start and stop a number of times before climaxing, that way the ensuing climax is like a floodgate that bursts with 2, 3, 4, 5 or hell even 20 times the water that would have flowed out had you gone for a two-pump romp)

It is for this reason that as I presented my Kenyanesque piece of literature I did so knowing that the vunerable parts of my soul were well taken care of.

Digression: I know all the Kenyans know what I am talking about. Kenyanesque literature (in the form of primary school compositions/inshas was basically an art form in which a writer like an overzealous tout would try to see how many huge words, metaphors and proverbs they could fit in an A4 foolscap with the storyline only being secondary to the grandiloquence (my huge word for today).

Mrs. Gordon got about a quarter way through the story, gave the paper the look of a virgin lover trying to please a prostitute (the sexual metaphors end here), cringed her face in my direction and ever so gently crushed my heart into a million pieces by saying, "It's cliche."

"WHAT? This is prime rib! This is top cut! This is the type of writing that brings the bacon in. Why put me back in my native land and this story would easily have made any primary school magazine. How dare you! Your sex tips are horrible; I will be a one minute man for the rest of my life, so shove that into your hamlet and smoke it," I thought to myself

I managed to let out an all-encompassing, "Huh!"......and so from then on I have made it my mission to write things that are completely unlike anything I would have ever written had I stayed in Kenya for the reason that.......................I CAN.

Btw I absoloutely adore Arundhati Roy's writing style in the book God of Small Things, its almost child like and oh so beautiful and for no other reason read it for that ending (for anyone whose ever read that book, tell me you didn't have to read that ending twice to believe it.)

Enjoy and let me know what you think.