Idolor | Juggler.Referee. Extention of my beau's ego

G.L.i.B-bed: A week with Chuma Nwokolo Jnr

There’s no art to find the mind’s construction in the face. Ironically, I hadn’t set my eyes on Chuma Nwokolo Jnr when I happened upon some scribblings of his on Facebook last year. Using photos taken from different activities (panel discussions, informal gatherings, etc) of the recently concluded Ake LitFest, he generated seemingly appropriate dialogue for each. Dialogue which resulted in hilarious, uncivilized, out-of-control guffaws. More than enough to google the creator and find out about him. Nothing prepares you for the unassuming, gentle-looking, friendly visage which confronts you in all his images. It is certainly not what you’d expect from one who has honed the comedic writing style to seamless perfection. His face gives nothing away; you never see it coming. The first book I read, Diary of a Dead Nigerian, is a short one. A short read. But one I’m certainly not wistful about. Divided into three parts – one for each protagonist – it is an amusing tale of three men, a father and his two sons. Chuma Nwokolo beautifully captures the events preceding their deaths and encompassing their lives as well. The choice of words, their actions and streams of consciousness set each character apart and[…]

The good, the loud, and the questions…of the holidays

By now, I’d have gone off the rails. Screaming every other five minutes. Disciplining for the next five. A threat hanging dangerously on the tip of my tongue or silencing with a look that shouted volumes. But no, I still have my wits around me; my sanity’s intact too. Except for bone – tiredness at the end of each day, all is going swimmingly in my world. Stick with me, please. There’s a method to my scribbling madness. Or is it a message? A moral? Perhaps, just a plain ol’ rant. Whatever. There’s something to be said (or rather written) here, and I’d make it crystal in a minute or two… Arm cardio Back in the university, a friend of mine, Biggie, could churn out (quite effortlessly) food enough for eight of us in our cramped hostel room. She never broke a sweat while at it and even had leftovers for later. I’d stare at her in awe. Cooking like this in school? In less than ideal kitchen conditions? For more than two people no less? She was my culinary hero then. Biggie was the first girl in six children. Catering for eight people was routine – a[…]

Origin story

From a virtual storage space to an intrinsic part of me, my blog has evolved in the few years of its existence. From a link where I stored short fiction stories to a place of documenting life’s experiences, piling my passion, honing my craft. From no category whatsoever to several, with the most recent one included at the start of 2017. From plain, unappealing white look and feel to striking, personalized purple theme. From idolorsdomain.wordpress.com to idolorsdomain.com. Over time, my blog has constantly morphed according to my whims and fresh ideas. No longer is it merely a web warehouse for fiction(as was the original plan for its creation) but also a vestibule of memories, a platform to share, engage and release.

Bragging rights

Michael’s gaze narrowed slightly as he eyed the half-eaten pain au chocolat suspended mid air before it rested on the person holding it. ‘Aren’t you overdoing it?’ His husky tones inquired. ‘The croissants or the trumpeting?’ Across the small round table between them, big, brown eyes belonging to his long-time personal and professional friend, Anne, danced brightly as her cool tones wanted to know before popping what was left of the pastry in her mouth. ‘Both.’ He adjusted briefly in his chair, then reached for the tall glistening glass of colourless liquid in front of him. A smile chased across her thin line of lips. ‘Yet you take me out to lunch to indulge? ‘ He shrugged, saying nothing; raising the drink to his lips, he drained it. She leaned, slender arms on equally slender crossed legs. ‘Admit it, M. I’m good.’ He met her gaze. ‘That’s probably the 1,000,000th time I’ve heard that in the last 15 minutes. There’s no doubt about it, Anne, you are.’ ‘Ha!’ She clapped her hands, temporarily drawing the attention of other diners. ‘I’m awesome like that. I can’t help it. Mad skills that are in demand; o e of the best at the[…]

July 31, 2017
idolor
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G.L.i.B
like a mule bringing ice cream to the sun, novel

Too few pages. An unexpected protagonist with memorable, sometimes , eye – brown raising quirks. She makes ageing a journey you wouldn’t want to avoid when the time comes. The story – telling style from each character’s unique point of view is as enthralling as it is insightful. The author’s juxtaposition of different cultures and languages, and traversing the globe in the protagonist’s recollections makes this small novel packed to the rafters, and an easy favourite of mine. Her writing style, subtle wit and smattering of non-English terms combined to the appeal of the book for me. I thoroughly enjoyed every written word of it and wished it had extended for a 100 pages more. A delightful read.

July in review: Best month yet

Because I have mentioned some of the things which occurred in this month in previous posts, I’ll keep it short and sweet. July was, perhaps, my best month yet. The weather added nothing whatsoever to the success recorded. It was anything but fine most of the 31 days contained therein. At least two rainstorms wreaked havoc on human lives and property. The water they left behind turned buildings to mini dams and major roads to major rivers. The children’s long vacation commenced fully and it has been cartoon binging since July 1, with some home assignments thrown in between screen time. And so far, I’ve been able to work undisturbed, focus and achieve daily. My reading practice received a boost to three books this month. Adding one or two more is next on my agenda. And I completed a 31-day writing prompt challenge. For the first time in a while, I wasn’t scurrying around at the end of another month in an attempt to reach my required posting target. Happy anniversary, my workout routine! It has been one year since I began exercising three/four days weekly. The changes are minimal and only just obvious; so are the practices which have[…]

August: The bridge, the break

August called. She said she’d be here tomorrow. It is uncertain if she’ll come along with the break she’s famous for. With changing weather patterns and global warming, anything could happen. This year has taken its toll on her too, and she’s contemplating allowing the perennial rains to continue in order to wash away her disappointments and failures. We can go ahead and keep our fingers crossed though; no harm in it. Hope is a good thing to have. However, there’s no doubt about that breather she’d provide before the -ember months come banging in. That is a given. Well…until she arrives. Until tomorrow.

The Perfect Comeback

“If that’s your working theory, how come you found out Sam was cheating on you and you guys just broke up?” Ama shot back sharply, slanting her friend, Wunmi, a reproving look. Only she had said absolutely nothing two hours ago. Both girls had been together, discussing Ama’s recent relationship upheaval. “I don’t think you’re putting enough in it, Ama.” Wunmi’s voice sounded all – knowing, condescending even. “In a relationship, the girl gives 70% while the boy gives 30.” The other girl felt her anger rise through her chest, shimmering just below the surface of her cheeks. Wunmi didn’t know half of the issues she had with Omo, her boyfriend. How could she tell if she, Ama, wasn’t giving her all? And where on earth did she get that ridiculous percentile distribution from? A relationship was a 50 – 50 partnership; both parties worked equally hard together to make it flourish. But she had uttered nothing. Instead allowing her friend continue her crappy counsel.

State of My Year

I was going to open this speech with a dismal one – liner; so far this hasn’t been a particularly good year. But of what use would that be? Dwelling upon the seeming short fall of the first seven months instead of devising ways to make the most of the remaining five, while learning from past mistakes. There is still time enough to turn things around, to get things right. And I intend to do just that. It is not over until 12.01am on January 1, 2018; only then would I stop trying. On to the issue at hand. When 2017 rolled in, I had a single item on my list. To dance. In every aspect of my life. How have I fared? The moves on my blog were targeted at one post per week, four posts every month. Sometimes, I fell abysmally short of that goal; other times I exceeded it, and, in the course of the last seven months, I added two new categories – the month in review (highlights of each month) and G.L.i.B (Getting Lost in a Book). More rhythmic and vigorous were the heart-pounding , sweat-inducing steps involved in my workout routine I promised myself[…]