Of Random Little Things

A clear concept of a fuzzy idea

Twenty random little things about me, all perfectly true.

1. I have no middle name, I have always wanted one, all my siblings do, but then I dont want to be like everyone else, I want to be like me.

2. When I eat, I start from least favourite, progressing to favourite; I save the best for last.

3. My birthday is exactly a day after the President’s (Zimbabwe) that makes me Pisces, a water sign but my totem is fire. What happens when a water elemental meets a fire spirit animal

4. I have a love affair with words, addicted to each sublime curve.

5. I am afraid of snakes, sticks which look like snakes and creepy crawlies in the bush that rustle like snakes.

6. I am not afraid of heights but I am afraid of falling to my death from a really high place. (there is a difference)

7. I used to think “Dru Hill” was the guy with the bleached hair, then discovered years later Dru Hill was the group and the guy with dyed hair name was Sisqo.

8 I used to have a dragon tattoo (inspired by Sisqo’s unleash the dragon) on my left bicep.

9. I did it (the tattoo) all by myself too with a needle, a mathematical compass and and some (semi)permanent ink it’s long since faded, my dragon tattoo, but in the right light, if tilt your head at a rakish angle and you squint your eyes you can see it.

10. I listened to Tupac’s greatest hits album 1 & 2 enough times to be able to rap along to each song.

11 I remember my first mass service I attended the priest opened with the lines “….you are all dust and you will die and return to dust..” it freaked me out!! (it was a funeral mass)

12.I used to think the Roman Catholic priest (at funerals) said “Glory be unto the faaarthaaar unto to the son and into the hole ye goes

13. I have an OCD about perfection, if a thing is not worth doing well, then it’s not worth doing.

14. My personality type is INFP that basically means I’m like this onion, deeply metaphoric, layers beneath layers and if I cut myself I cry.

15. I don’t remember the last time I had my hair cut.

16. I used to honestly believe if you swallow a fruit seed, it would sprout in your stomach, and the leaves come out of your nostrils, ears and mouth and the roots in your toes, and you would die. (horribly)

17. I am allergic to bee stings, first time I got stung I woke up in a hospital I.C.U. incidentally that was my first time in an ambulance.

18. I know the first 20 elements of the periodic table by head including the group, atomic mass and postion in the reactivity series

19. I have never been to the beach but I really really want to, (hint, hint) the closest I been to a beach was lake Malawi, its really big you could almost pretend you are at the beach.

20. My heart and head never seem to agree though I wish they would

……or is this a fuzzy concept of a clear idea 🙂



Of musings over a game of chess


Game Of Chess

Chess is just like life with its checkered board of day and night.

An interesting analogy.
Looking at it from that perspective, there’s more to chess than a game, than the mathematical permutations, than the gambits.

  • the king is the most important piece once, it falls the game ends but the queen is the most powerful piece losing it, reduces chances of winning.
  • thou the king can move in any direction it can move one space at a time,so it relies heavily on the queen to rule the board.
  • White moves first. hmmm
  • Black pieces can move on white squares and white pieces can move on black squares
  • it is in you best interest to move your pieces in well thought out movements
  • pawns make up a majority of a chess set but they are the least important and usually sacrificed to gain advantage
  • if all the pawns moved together in a co-ordinated gambit the monarchy would fall
  • once gone a piece can not come back onto the board during the current game.
  • at the end of the game all the pieces go into the same box, the kings together with pawns

If life is a game then its a game always rigged, in the end Death always wins.


PS So there are Kings, Queens, Bishops, Knights, Castles but someone tell me what in the all the squares black and white is a Pawn.?

Photocredit Shutterstock

of possible body snatchers

I felt movement along my leg and casually flicked away the annoying insect, then I felt another and another and another. That’s when I looked down and saw them. Looking at me with more than an insect awareness, seeming as if they were gauging my weight, checking to see, if they could drag me underground, to their lair, as they would a discarded food crumb. They were all around me, the ants, standing there, in a coordinated formation, almost military.

The word troop came to mind.


*inspired by a bunch of ants*

Of a brother’s keeper

Genre: Mystery/Crime 

He liked to imagine himself as some sort of Godfather just like in the movies. He did not just watch mafia movies, he devoured them, memorised all the lines. The duvet covering his bed had lots of fish designs on it, and thus he slept with the fishies every night and lived to tell about it.

Walking into the kitchen, he opened the fridge and took out the milk. He drank it straight from the bottle because he was hardcore. Hardcore, that meant he was tough as nails, unlike James, his brother, who was in the next room, probably still crying. “Suck it up” he had told him “Men do not cry.

People always assumed he was the older brother, not just because he was bigger or that he spoke with a certain authority, that demanded obedience, but the way he spoke first, answered for the both of them and fought his battles.

Swigging his milk, as if it was snake venom that could kill a cow from a hundred paces, he went to check on his brother. Anything he did, he made to look gangster, it was all about the right attitude. James was trying hard not to show that he had been crying, he knew his brother despised any sign of weakness.

“See, I told you it was just scratches, but you almost had me convinced you were dying” and indeed now that he was all cleaned up, there was nothing more serious than scrapes, no bandages were even needed. James looked suitably sheepish as he replied “I felt like I was dying. Thank you for carrying me home.”

“You are not heavy at all you are my brother” he said with a smile. “To business” suddenly all serious as he took a sip from his milk “you know this injustice must be answered blood for blood. I’ll call up the troop, they are good little soldiers afraid of nothing, except me.”

Soon they were all gathered in the tool-shed at the back of the house. The door was bolted shut and would not be opened to anyone who did not know the secret way of knocking. Club houses had to be secure, it said so in the rules he had written. One had to live by certain code of conduct, otherwise you fell for everything. “Gentlemen” he begun “One of mine was attacked today, he was minding his own business and some fell creature jumped him. I am my brother’s keeper and the brute must learn his lesson, it also serves as a warning to others. I keep my brother. I will dine on the bones of one who crosses me, gentlemen we go to war.” The army of six all yelled huzzah in unison.

They spent the entire afternoon seeking out their mark but failed to find it. “The beast seems to have gone underground, must’ve figured out we were coming for it” he finally concluded “but I have a plan __”

Just then a tall shadow loomed right over where they were crouching and an authoritative voice along with it.
“Boys, it’s time to come inside and your friends must run along home now, it’s getting rather late.”

“Yes mother” he replied
Mum can we have goose for dinner tomorrow?
“Yes my darlings, why not.”
“Troop, tomorrow we eat the beast!”
Huzzah!!” the other boys cheered.

~The End.

And this week’s #Blogbattle

Of Kingsman

Of Kingsman *A review of sorts*


Recently watched Kingsman: The Secret Service and the movie had interesting quotes on being a gentleman. I watched it twice pausing and playing back some parts twice times twice to get the words. I could have googled but I am old school like that.

A suit is the modern gentleman’s armor.

Now, the first thing every gentleman needs is a good suit. By which I mean a bespoke suit. Never off the peg.

You’re going to need a pair of shoes to go with your suit.

A bespoke suit always fits.

A gentleman’s name should appear in the newspaper only three times:
When he’s born,  when he marries and when he dies.

-“Being a gentleman has nothing to do with the circumstances of one’s birth. Being a gentleman is something one learns.”     “Yeah, but how?” “Alright, first lesson,you should have asked me before you took a seat.”

-“So you gonna teach me how to talk proper like in ‘My Fair Lady’?”
“That’d be absurd. Being a gentleman has nothing to do with one’s accent. Its about being at ease in one’s own skin.
As Hemingway said: “There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man.””True nobility is being superior to your  former self.

manners maketh the man

The movie starts on a My Fair lady type of feel to it but in this case, its a young man being bred into a better man, a gentleman. He’s recruitment speech that goes like this:

I see a young man with potential. A young man who is loyal. Who can do as he is asked,and who wants to do something good with his life. Did you see the film “Trading Places”? How about “Nikita”? “Pretty Woman” ?

NO My point is, the lack of a silver spoon has set you on a certain path, but you needn’t stay on it. If you’re prepare to adapt and learn, you can transform.”

” Yes, like “My Fair Lady” Only in this case, I am offering you the opportunity to become a Kingsman.

and you know its about to get real when on the first day of class the instructor says:

“you will write the details of your next of kin. On that body bag. This represents your acknowledgement of the risks that you are about to face…as well as your agreement to strict confidentiality, which incidentally if you break… will result in you and your next of kin being in that bag. Is that understood? Excellent.”

When I was a kid, that was my dream job. A gentleman spy. I always felt the old Bond films were only as good as the villain.ME TOO ok even skipping the spy stuff I’ve always wanted to be a gentleman

and the villain is certified insane (according to me, never trust anyone who offers free WiFi for everyone forever there is always a catch) and when he takes out one of the main good characters his epic rant:

“You know what this look like? Its like those old movies we both love. Now I’m gonna tell you my whole plan …and then I’m gonna come up with some absurdly, convoluted way to kill you…and then you’ll find an equally convoluted way to escape. That sounds good to me. Well, this ain’t that kind of movie. *and shoots him dead*

And then weird views on humanity:

“Humankind is the only virus cursed to live with the horrifying knowledge of its host’s fragile mortality.”

And an even weirder take on global warming, makes sense in a twisted kind of kill the whole human population kind of way:

When you get a virus, you get a fever. That’s the human body raising its core temperature to kill the virus. Planet Earth works the same way: Global warming is the fever…Mankind is the virus. We are making our planet sick. A cull is our only hope. If we do not reduce our population ourselves,there’s only two ways this can go :The host kills the virus,or the virus kills the host. Either way…- The result is the same: The virus dies.

So when the bad guy gets whats coming to him ( I aint spoiling nothing its obvoius its the kind of movie good triumphs over bad no matter how logical the villain’s train of thought)

“Is this the part where you say some really bad pun?” “Its like you said to Harry this ain’t that kind of movie.” *dead villain movie mostly ended*

and my favourite random line from the movie

You know what I love about pen and paper? Nobody can hack into this sh**..

Of Castles in the Sand

Fireside Tales

Fireside Tales

The moon shone brightly as would a freshly minted silver coin, polished and valuable. He could feel the many pairs of eyes on him their silent plea almost palpable. He stoked the fire they were all gathered around, then cleared his throat as if he was about to speak but settled back into his ancient rocking chair. The chair creaked like a dying creature of the night. “Please sir” a little voice piped ‘Tell us a story” another chimed in. He looked around at the heads all nodding in agreement. This was part of the ritual on nights like this, he told stories, sometimes they had meaning, the value of a story without meaning you ask, why that’s the best kind of story, told simply for the telling.
“Very well” he finally acquiesced he took a long deep breath and let it out slowly “I will tell you the story of the day I died.” There was a collective gasp and a young voice asked “But grampa, if you died how come you are here with us?” He laughed then replied “Well maybe I am a ghost, anyhoo, I am the storyteller and the storyteller reshapes the tale but never lies.”
“Where to begin, where to begin” he muttered almost to himself. “Start at the beginning” someone yelled “The beginning is always a good place to start” another agreed.
“Very well, let me start at the beginning. On a moonless night, unlike this one I was born__” A voice cut him off just then, “But grandpa isn’t that too far back? Ma says we mustn’t stay up too late and you mustn’t tell us scary stories some of the youngins are scared of the dark.” “Child are you not afraid? You should be, witches are abroad this very hour” “Grandpa you mean the witches are overseas? Did they fly by aeroplane?” The old man laughed then replied “Remind me to never send you to law school.”
“I was born at precisely midnight on a moonless night unlike this one many moons ago. I was delivered by a half blind midwife in a hut without lights on the darkest night of the year. They tell me I never cried, not until sunrise and some said it was an omen that the darkness walked among us as man that day, marking souls to reap. I grew up knowing that the night was simply a shadow of the day and the time would come when I had to face the one who walks in the shadows, planted in the desert sand just like a root___”
“That’s when you died grampa, am I right?” a voice cut in again “No silly, he didn’t really die gramps was being metaflolyric” another answered.
“The word is metaphoric, now hush, as any man, I cared not much for darkness or being planted, so I went to see an old man, who knew many secrets, and is said to see more kneeling down than someone standing on his tiptoes on top of the highest mountain and that is metaphorically speaking. He told me, this man, that my destiny was to walk and find the secret at the heart of the desert. Many men attempted this journey, never to be heard of again but I knew I was different, was I not born on a dark night feared by wise man. I set out with only the clothes on my back, some sensible shoes and not much of common sense, because after what seemed an eternity of walking, I grew thirsty and had no water. I asked myself if anything could possibly get any worse, the desert accepted the challenge and conjured up a sand storm. Sand blown all over the place, howling as if the gate keepers of the beyond had come for me. I kept walking, by then rather, I think I was crawling up and down the massive dunes that seemed to pop up from nowhere. The storm passed, as all things do, nothing lasts forever, not even the bad things more so the good, the irony of balance.”
“After the storm, I had sand in my eyes, my clothes, sand in places you do not even want to know” Some giggling broke out, he waited for silence. “I was at my lowest my dreams crushed, lost and waiting to die, the desert does that, destroy dreams and kills flowers, it is a desert after all.” He paused to stoke the fire and to shift his position, the chair he sat on groaned as if in sympathy. “That is when I saw it, the oasis. A perfect island of lush green on a sea of sand….. and a castle. A castle in the desert, with a fountain in its courtyard I could almost taste the water that sparkled more precious than diamonds, diamonds to a man in the desert mean nothing but water, is life, and here was a fountain full of it, life. I descended from atop the dune tumbling, crawling and clawing my way with a purpose of singular intent, water. I dived into the fountain and that’s the last thing I clearly remember. I am told that I must have gotten lost and went round in circles till I ended up diving into the ancient well next to the old man’s house. I was found days later, dead they thought but miraculously I was still alive and recovered. They say castles in the desert are simply sand dunes and mirages of thirst addled brains but I know what I saw, now off to bed all of you us old ones never sleep because the story never ends, that’s immortality for you. When everyone was gone, he was the only one left, such as it is with all things. From underneath his tunic he brought a bottle on a silver chain, with water that sparkled beneath the silver moon, poured a drop on the ground and took a small sip.
The End.

On a whim I decided to dabble in a #blogbattle hosted by Rachael Ritchey and the theme: Oasis. This feels like my first night at Fight Club 🙂

Blogger Recognition Award


Lisa from Rebirth of Lisa has most graciously awarded my blog with a Blogger Recognition Award. This is my first award of any sort since I started this blogging thingie so I decided to play along, thank you very much Lisa and I must say it does give me a warm fuzzy feeling or could it be from the celebratory glass of a sweet red I am having *cheers*

Just the other day I got a notification from WordPress congratulating me on my second year anniversary (makes it seem like a marriage) since the start of this blog, so I will accept this award as a well deserved “birthday” present on behalf of my blog. #WeOwnAugust I was listening to ZiFm and they having birthday celebrations, that’s the tag they have been using  (but how does one own the a month unless you named after it or you buy it but from whom would you have bought it? those are things that keep me up at night, that and the internet its like a modern day Hotel California, you login any time you want but you never ever leave *insert evil laugh*)

How did this blog start? Honestly I do not remember it must have been some fear of missing out thing, you know you open an account on a social media site, tinker around a little then leave it, I think that’s what I did so I have scrolled to my first post to see what I was on about, then it hit me.

I started this blog simply to be myself and take off my mask, We All Wear Masks  to write down the crazy stuff in my head (Things I can not speak about lest people look at me like I done escaped from a mental institution. My head does not need examining I had it checked, I looked in the mirror and it looks pretty darn fine to me, end of discussion) so that I could clear space for more but`yeah I was mainly on a poetic phase Of being Me now I am not following any formula when the mood moves me I write something and in my head I look at you looking me at looking at you and I laugh and laugh and laugh, there is no judging here, right? When I cant sleep these are my musings.

So I have left sublime indicators for links on some of my old posts that I would love you have a look see over cup of tea perhaps, here’s to my old friends to my new friends and to the random blogger who just happened to end up here how did you get here welcome anyway and do stick around.

My advice to new bloggers, hmmm, hey just do you and mostly have fun. I write mainly to me, for me by me (sounds cliche to you? sue ^_^) and I get pleasantly surprised when I find people having as much fun reading as I had writing. A friend said to me “tune in to your natural frequency and feel the resonance”

on to the hard bit finding people to nominate. So I have been meaning to give a shoutout to the blogs which I constantly check up on to see what they been up. Know this I stalk each and everyone of you I might not comment but I watch you while you sleep post, I mean I read what you post.

please note This is in no particular order 

*Drum roll please*

  1. Cardboard Express
  2. I came for the soup
  3. The Mind Ramp
  4. Odenbk
  5. Paida
  6. FeelingStation
  7. Writing Verse
  8. Life through the disability lens
  9. teemadzika
  10. kyrosmagica
  11. missmona263
  12. Sparkling
  13. Makupsy
  14. Geletilari
  15. AE DogBe

and a special shoutout to bold blind beauty because I can and I have a sneaky suspicion that if I didnt things would not go well at all.

Many thanks again Lisa this actually was kinda fun I was thinking it would be such a chore.


The Rules: 

  • Select 15 other blogs you want to give the award to.
    Do some digging if you must! Find those blogs. You cannot nominate yourself or the person who has nominated you.
  • Write a post to show off your award! Give a brief story of how your blog got started, and give a piece or two of advice to new bloggers.
  • Thank whoever nominated you, and provide a link to their blog.
  • List who you’ve nominated in the post.
  • Make sure to also attach the award itself! (You can do this by right-clicking, saving, and uploading the image above).
  • Comment on each blog and let them know you’ve nominated them.
  • Provide a link to the award post you created. 
  • Provide a link to the original post on Edge Of Night. That way, anyone can find the original guidelines and post if needed, and we can keep it from mutating and becoming confusing!

of musing at the moon

confession confession confession there is something about the moon when it is shining big, round and full that I love and I want to howl at it, like a beast. Sometimes I do, it drives the neighbour’s dogs crazy, then they bark, random dogs bark back and all the neighbourhood dogs start barking, yeah it gets real noisy real quick and you hear a voice from across the fence asking, is someone there? who is it? (I wonder about that, if there is a criminal element outside your house or knocking at your door at night and you ask who is it chances are they are not going to say its me an escaped convict, nothing bad ever knocks, to my limited experience)  and that is my cue to go back into the house, quietly.


What do you see when you look at it, the moon? The answer is not something profound about shooting for the moon because it makes a bigger target than the stars and even if you miss you still wind up somewhere in space, that makes for interesting logic right there but I was simply pointing to the shadows on the moon’s surface. The dark shadows on the moon to me look like two things, and do not even get me started on the shapes I see in the clouds that look like giant marshmellows in the sky.

The first thing is a rabbit or maybe its a bunny or is it a hare (or all three are the same thing I forget) with pointy ears looking almost as on the old Zim five cent coin


The other is a woman with a baby strapped to her back carrying a bundle of firewood on her head, if you look carefully you can even see the scarf wrapped around her head (or maybe you imagine you do, well that`s what I do) and she is walking, lost, always walking, trying to find her way back home. (fine you can not see that she is walking or even possibly know that she is lost or going back home but that’s the story I see when I look at the moon)

my camera was not good enough to capture the shadows on the moon but they are there, you will have to wait till the next full moon to see what you can see, what can you see?

DSCF6640 DSCF6641

    A moon howler in a moon howling world

in the night of my soul the moon always shines big bright and whole