Wednesday, June 29, 2011

The Sounds Moving Me...

The Sounds Moving Me…

I love my music. And I love it mostly loud. Yea, I perfectly understand the implications of ‘listening’ to deafening decibels via 12-inch direct radiating Klipsch Heresy III speakers or clasping its kid brother; the 110dB Image One enhanced bass audio headsets to your ears. Don’t worry, I’m not getting deaf soon, sorry to disappoint you. Of course, I can’t be loud at all times of the day for very obvious reasons and also for the fact that not all genres of music can actually be enjoyed loud. If I had my way though, I would be playing Vivaldi’s Four Seasons on 8- ohm 5000 watts Titan Moon audio system speakers; at least that would make up for my not being able to witness a live orchestra. But then, that won’t be possible too since the Devil himself fixed the prices of those twins, (a whopping $500, 000). What’s the sum in naira? Erm… I’ll convert that later.
My music does not live in a box and does not belong to a single voice. Oftentimes, after being lost in a particular tune, I sit back and laugh at the ‘strangeness’ of actually enjoying that kind of music. But then that’s me and I’ve never ceased to surprise myself. I grew up listening to phonographs of Skeeter Davies, Willie Nelson, Eric Donaldson and good old Kenny Rogers and the homegrown tastes of Victor Uwaifo, Rex Jim Lawson and Prince Nico Mbarga. Then, I remember angling for a chance to hear some of Sting’s Fields Of Gold and also some of The Police, The Commodores, Madonna and much later, The Mandators. On my way to school, I hummed Marley’s Redemption Song and drifted to Eric Donaldson’s What You’ve Done on my way back. Alpha Blondy came in when I needed some distraction from my homework and yes, Ras Kimono took over when I’ve totally lost any interest in doing any academic work afterwards.

I remember buying tapes of Chris Okotie, his sister Lorraine and Blackky from my pocket money. In those days, the radio talked way too much and I hated all that talk of what government would do and not do. I hated the dry classicals NTA Channel 6 belched on Sunday afternoons; that never ending drone could kill a poor soul. Nowadays, when I look at my CDs of Tchaikovsky, Albinoni, Mozart, Brahms, and Chopin, I ponder on how some things could change drastically once one is still alive. I couldn’t have imagined Verdi’s Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves caressing me to sleep 24 or so years after. Then it was Oliver De Coque, Ebenezer Obey and Osadebe on Sunday evenings, but never Pericomo Okoye’s Ikeji Music. It’s still not it.

Today, you’ll find me waking up to a Darlene Zchesch CD, a Sade, Jennifer Hudson or Madonna after the news at 7 and Usher Raymond/Jeremih/Lemar just before lunch. You might see me do a jig to remixes of Kelly Rowland’s Motivation (ah, I love that song) or nod slowly to Nas and Marley’s Patience while tackling a fat wrap of Bole and Croaker. If you’ll remain patient enough, you might still catch me waltzing to Ricky Martin’s latino beat or mime a Kanye West/ Lil’ Wayne verse.

The other day, I tactfully avoided the fight that would follow her “why do you Igbos always play these songs” after she had obviously endured my putting Joe Nez’s Business Trip on repeat for 2 straight hours. The other day it had been Osadebe’s Ije Awele. In appeasement this time, I simply slotted in a copy of Nicki Minaj’s Pink Friday; win-win, I equally enjoy that too.

I love new music. I love Barbie Girl. I love Weezy (heard he calls himself Lil’ Tuneche these days). I love Chrisette Michele. Yea, I love the whole of the Young Money Cash Money Billionaires. Give me Drake, Jay Sean, Gucci Mane, James Fauntleroy, Travie McCoy, Bruno Mars, Lupe Fiasco, T. I (whenever he can afford to stay out of prison), Jay Z, Jessie J., Sugarland, Pussy Cat Dolls, Ludacris, Nas, Bey, Riri and Ye, and you’ll get a fat thank you. Of course, I still have my MC Hammer, Coolio, Dr. Dre, 2 Pac, Eminem songs and will also dance to my Nigerian P Square, Tu Face, Dr. Sid, Ice Prince, Timaya, Naeto C. and the best of them all, M.I.

It doesn’t end there. I believe I might be one of the very few who actually listen to rock…well, alternative rock and pure pop in this country. I have CDs of Linkin Park, Evanescence, Breaking Benjamin, Nickleback and collections with songs of Kings of Leon, One Republic, Savage Garden, Coldplay, Artic Monkeys, Greenday, Tribal Ink, Maroon 5 and of course the lords of the ring, The Beatles and The Rolling Stones (the last two largely as some form of connoisseur). You’ll also catch me listening to stuff from bands with some strange names like Arcade Fire, Alice in Chains, Age of Chance, 30 Seconds to Mars, Bedhead, The Melvins, Foo Fighters, The Bluebells, Slipknot and The Home Of Love.

However, there are times the body and soul seeks greater peace and an urge to engage in some form of music inspired dialogue with its Maker. Then, I seek to be one with the Brooklyn Tabernacle Mass Choir or the soul lifting crooning of a Shirley Ceasar, Fred Hammond and Bishop Clarence McCledon. Add that to the comtemporary stomping sounds of Kirk Franklin (picked that in the University), the voices of Nicole C. Mullen, Mary Mary (wonder what’s happening to them), Winans Phase II (wish they had another album after that classic first), Israel Houghton, Yolanda Adams, Kierra Sheard, and good old inspirator-in-chief Don Moen. True confession, only recently did Jadiel, Frank Edwards and Sinach strongly stir my interest (I know am not alone) in the local gospel scene, even though I’ve had CDs of Paul Nwokocha and Njideka Okeke; I believe tapes of Voice Of the Cross and Agape Love Band are still lying around somewhere. Maybe, I’ve not built a steady interest over the years because that’s one genre I think is relatively static and grossly plagiaristic. Maybe, because oyibo been dey too enter ma mouth… not sure which one.

Right now, musical tastes can be like the sea before a storm; all calm and peaceful then, suddenly so chaotic. Currently, I’m listening to some Angolan music I found and copied from a friend’s PC. The artiste bar says it’s by Lulas da Paixao. I don’t think I’d be listening to it again; that album by Irmaos Almeida is enough torture already. Crazy head I think I am. Did I say Crazyhead? That would make a good name for a rock band… Weird.

Of men, women and claw hammers…

And there it goes again! “Giggs brother went after him with a claw hammer”. I took a long hard stare at the monitor after I read details of the Manchester United football star’s sexcapades come to the surface. With more revelations that Ryan Giggs even went after his girlfriend’s brother’s girlfriend’s 49 year old mother , the case involving former IMF head Dominique Strauss-Kahn and recently that of US Senator David Vitter; I just couldn’t help but wonder what is it on earth is the problem between men and women.

In trying to make sense of it all, I tried relating it to why young males piss in the hallways, older males join them in pissing beneath the footbridge (and everywhere there’s a pillar) and why men engage in extra-marital liaisons.
Those days in the University, I often wondered why most guys who could have easily had a bevy of willing ‘chicks’ to choose from would still want to go pick a lady of the night… well, for the night. Now, he might have a girlfriend who is probably shivering form cold as he rams away for a fee. I wondered why agile young teens had to go competing with some semi-senile old men in the night marauding adventure. Why these mostly rich and powerful guys do even had to hustle and pay for sex when most times all it would have cost is a knowing wink and a business card? Then I thought these men were stupid and simply pathetic based on the reasoning that it is useless paying for what you can get free! I thought; why pay for an MTN Fastlink modem when you can use St. James wi-fi hotspot for free? Why buy a CD when you can go to thousand of free MP3 download sites and get the same content, plus… ah, the remixes, without any cost at all? And to think of your doing this over the freebie internet network linkup… Hahaha, good bargain. So why would DSK risk his reputation for something a lady would be glad it was you she gave it to? Why even pay for it?
Recently, in my quest to find a rationale behind every so-called stupid act, I have arrived at the logic that what drives men into soliciting for and paying for sex goes beyond the act itself and deep into other facets of male life itself. Imagine if DSK had paid a lady of pleasure (yea, I know about the Gov. Elliot Spitzer incident and the potential for disastrous consequences, but most high profile comfort women don’t squeal)? The case of Spitzer, Vitter and Weiner even made bigger news because of the hypocrisy of the men involved – Gov. Spitzer and Sen. Vitter worked to make prostitution illegal. If a politician stands for ‘family values’ in parliament and elsewhere while frequenting bordellos or getting married to 13 year olds like Sen. Yerima reportedly did, then that presents a moral debacle and the scandal in a highly moralistic society can be simply catastrophic. Now, talking about political hypocrisy, don’t ask me which politician is actually an advocate of adultery. Lol! So back to where I was before I digressed: Imagined if DSK had ‘cooled’ himself off with paid ‘service’? And that’s the point! Most prostitutes don’t even know the real identity of their ‘customers’. They don’t squeal afterwards. You don’t father love children with them. They don’t call you when they missed their periods. They don’t ask you for that watch they saw at the Mall. They don’t ask for school fees or sleeping fees. They just let you be! They would have just let DSK be! By now he probably would have been trying to negotiating a bailout for Boko Haram infested Borno State after tying up the newest Greek economic rescue package. Stingy ass didn’t wanna pay until he ran into hot Ukazi soup; now look what he’s got himself into….Hahahahahaha.

Seriously now, you see, when you are younger, you don’t want to pay for a lot of things. You don’t have a lot of money, but you have a lot of time. You can walk 3 kilometres to the dirt patch behind St. James to sit on a rough slab, just to browse free. You can sit back and watch the bytes trickle in as you download a 9.2 mb Kelly Rowland Motivation. You can hang around you girl target’s neighborhood for hours on end because you have the hope you might be rewarded handsomely after some more hours of sugartalk. These men of power – million pounds earning footballers, governors, lawmakers, captains of industries – they don’t have time for trysts. So they are left with the harrowing experience of lusting after their secretaries (and/or indulging in a potentially damaging affair with a Monica Lewinksy wannabe) or again, putting a call across to the girl simply known as Sweet Pea. So when you are an adult and averagely successful, foregoing the sweet talk and throwing some woman some change isn’t much of a sacrifice at all. You can have the taste of Egusi, far away from the Okra at home and lalala… life goes on. Of course, all these would be if the rein of personal morality and religion does not do much work in holding you down.

I still do find it difficult understanding why a Giggs would have an affair with his brother’s wife, his brother’s girlfriend and his brother’s girlfriend’s 49 year old ma. Impressive randyness, I’d say. I also can’t understand why a Strauss – Kahn would want to shove his er… LGA Chairman into the buccal cavity of a very reluctant and unwilling Nafissatou Diallo know too well he could get a life threatening bite the next instant (with his ‘eyes wide shut’ of course). I’ve wondered about how he got her ‘struggling’ mouth open… dang! He had a gun with him or he pulled off some life threatening slaps – the kind that immediately initiates you into cosmic travelling? How come DSK’s semen was already on her dress when it’s still ‘attempted rape’? So much questions, so few answers. For sure, this is one case I’ll be following closely.

So it’s crazy; this thing that pushes and tugs at men when it comes to women. But if it’s got something to do with our default settings, then maybe we’ve got some serious customizations to do. Its high time people stop going after other people with claw hammers, mehn… that’s one dangerous tool!

Saturday, June 04, 2011

Just do me, dammit!

Okay, I know I should have the word fcuk in the title, but then you should equally understand that normally I don't do this… that is, post NSFW material… but then, this is an exception. Maybe it's the benumbing explicitness of the post or the sheer honesty of it, but it's something that offers a disarming insight into the world of the female as regards what she in the depths of her mind wants the male to do to her in bed. Sounds like it came from the mouth of a 'hood-rat', but I believe all men should read this… and of course women too. I culled it verbatim from Craigslist. It's allowed to squirm if you feel like it... Enjoy.


"Dear Men of Craigslist,

Look, I know you men have it difficult. Women are just about impossible to understand, much less please. In a post-feminist society, you never know exactly what you should be doing. Women are bloody picky, I know we are. It can be scary, too, when women freak out about what appear to be benign issues. And men who do their best to be respectful, female-positive humans, I salute you, I do.

But please, please just fuck me already. Honestly, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I like that you want to take things slow. I can totally get behind the idea of emotional connection, but dearjesusinheaven, FUCK ME. We've done dinner and drinks. We've gone dancing. We've cuddled and watched a movie. I'm wearing a low cut shirt and you've been staring at my breasts all night. Goodgodalmighty, get to it and fuck me.

When we get hot and heavy, please take charge. Please, please fuck me. Trust me, I'm not going to just lie still - I'll get involved. But don't make me force your hand into my panties. That makes me feel like a rapist. We've been kissing for a half hour and your hand keeps grazing my ass. That's nice, but it's time to move forward. Get on top of me. Don't make me get on top right out of the gate and start bobbing up and down on your cock like I'm practicing some crazy new aerobic yoga because YOU won't go down on me. Roll on top and start dry humping like a good boy should. Don't gently suck my nipples and then pull back when I moan with pleasure. You being coy is totally not what I want. It's not what WE want.

OK, I know it's scary. There are lots of women out there who make fucking really difficult. So, I have compiled some handy tips. Don't think of this as complaining, or as schadenfreude for the Andrea Dworkins of the world. Just some simple tips, for timid men who have forgotten what it means to fuck like men:

1. Taking charge is not bad. Oh, there will be some women who feel that you are pushy. If you are making out with a woman, and she starts to push back, ask nicely if things are moving too fast. If she says yes, say something like "I'm sorry - you just look so fucking delicious. I'll go slower." Otherwise, skillfully move forward. If you start kissing a woman, and she responds well, and before long, you're both on the floor with her skirt pushed up, and you on top of her, it's not the time to roll onto your back and start awkwardly stroking the top of her head. Seriously, grow a goddamn pair. YOU'RE the man. Act like one.

2. Ohmyfuckinggod, please learn to respect the clit. It's different for every woman, so ask what she likes. Do not, I repeat, do not just wiggle your fingers around her pussy like you're trying to tickle her. Do not drum your fingertips against her vulva like you are impatiently waiting at the Sears Tire Center for your receipt. Do not push the clit like it is a doorbell at some house that you need to get inside of. Start by using all four fingers with firm yet gentle pressure against the outside of her pussy. Do not charge in with a single finger and start jabbing at things. And if you really don't know what to do, ask her. Just ask. "How do you like it?". It's a simple question, and most women will answer straight out. If she's being all coy, ask "Do you like pressure? Is it sensitive?" The clitoris is a varied item, indeed. Treat each one as though you have never encountered one before. Forget everything that your last partner liked.

3. Most women like to be fucked, and fucked well. Yes, there are women out there who want to "make love" every time - sweet, gentle, rocking love with lots of eye contact and loving kisses. Those women are not the majority. The majority like to be pounded. The majority like to have their hair pulled. The majority like a good, solid jackhammering. When a woman is bucking wildly against you, it's not because she wants you to pull back and slowly swirl your cock around her vagina like you're mixing a cake batter up there. It's because she wants you to hold down her arms, or grab her hips, or push her legs above her head, and fuck her harder. Don't be too afraid of what this means as far as gender equality goes - I am a raging feminist bitch, but I still want to be penetrated like you are planning on fucking my throat from the inside out.

4. A little roughness is nice. Do not pretend that you had no idea that some women like their hair pulled. Do not act shocked if she wants you to spank her ("Really? Spanking? Won't it hurt?" - yes, it does. That's the fucking point). We know you've read Stuff and Maxim, and that's all those laddie mags talk about in their "How to Please Her" sections. Start with light, full handed smacks to the area of her ass that she sits on. Judge her response and continue on from there. You don't have to bend her over one knee and tell her she's a naughty girl and that Daddy's going to punish her; save that for the fifth date. Women are less delicate than you think, so don't worry about breaking her hip.

5. It's OK for you to make noise. Otherwise, we feel like we are fucking a ninja. Unless you actually are a ninja, and have sneaked into our rooms with vibrating nanuchaku and zippered black pajamas, please, please make some noise. If you're banging a woman, and she's crying out and saying your name and moaning, and you can't even manage a grunt, she's going to feel like an idiot. You don't have to make the sounds she is making, but do SOMETHING. You know how when you are watching porn, and the girl does something great to the guy and the guy kind of goes "Ah!", half grunt, half yell? That's HOT. Do that. Whisper our name (assuming you know it) gruffly. Groan against her neck when you're in missionary position. You don't have to grunt like a mountain gorilla, but if you are totally mute, she's going to get worried.

6. Most women like dirty talk, in addition to the grunting. If you'd like to get some dirty talk going, ask her if she likes the way you fuck her. If she responds well, continue with something like, "I love fucking you. God, you look so fucking hot." Is she still moaning in response? "Your tits are so beautiful." Does that work? If she doesn't respond well to the term "tits", you might have to stop there. If she keep moaning or responding, pass Go and collect $200. Try the following:

"Oh, god. Your pussy is SO tight."
"You're so wet - are you wet because you like the feel of my cock ramming you?"
"I think I'm going to come inside you. I'm going to fill up your little cunt." It doesn't matter that you're wearing a condom; we LOVE hearing this.

If all of those work, you can then progress to things like "sexy little bitch" and "dirty whore". Tread carefully, but please, tread. Do not tiptoe. Do not sit down. Charge.

6. You're not obligated to eat a woman out. In return, she's not obligated to choke on your dick. Don't skip one and expect the other. If you do eat a woman out, the only comment you should make about her pussy is how nice it is. The length of her labia minora, the color of her interior, her waxing job or full bush - you are not John Madden. No time for color commentary.

7. Do not bitch about condoms. Oh, we hate them. Trust us. They hurt us more than they hurt you. But we don't want to be preggers, and you don't want to catch anything, right? Don't whine about condom sex. Do not explain that you can't come with one on. LEARN to come with one on, or if not, help us figure out what to do with you once we're satisfied and it's time for you to let loose your load.

8. We really like it when you come. It's called a money shot for a reason. Watching semen shoot out of you is one of the most gratifying things EVER. However, do not assume that she wants you to jack it off onto her face. She might, but don't assume. Seeing and/or feeling you come is rewarding for us, so there's no need to deprive us of it, but please do consult us before unleashing. "I think I'm going to come - how do you like it?" is a fair question that shouldn't rob you of your testicles.

In recent memory, I've been fucked by a very aggressive, manly guy, and I've been... well, fucked is the wrong term here. I've been penetrated by a total and utter wuss. Who am I going to run back to when I'm ready for my fill? Manly McHardon, that's who.

*New point of clarification - some people have brought up some really great issues in response to this post, so let me say this: I don't mean to imply that all women like to be treated like whores. I do mean to say that most women I know have told me that they like sex rougher than most men give it to them. Rough does NOT equal chains and bondage. And this applies to the bedroom only, and does not mean that she wants you to choose her dinner for her, or treat her like less of a person. **Some women have said that they don't like it rough and what the hell am I thinking? Well, girls, you're in the minority. HOWEVER, all women need to remember that, in addition to be straight forward about your sexual desires, you need to be straight forward about your sexual limits. Don't be afraid to ask for more, but when something feels wrong, say so. Don't ever do something you don't want to do in silence and then blame the guy. Silence is dangerous."