I decided to start from first principle and thought about thoughts today. Now, if thoughts are initially non-existent, before the thinker starts to think and then, suddenly they crowd the brain in activity, it means they can be generated and they can be turned off.
If thoughts are generated, it means they require specific instructions to exist, particular conduits to pass through et cetera. Which means, blocking those conduits can limit thoughts, same as designing new conduits can change the flow of thoughts.
If thoughts elicit a response, in electrical activity which has previously been detected by scientists, but which we can reason by the consideration of how they are generated: by signals of neurons and snapping synapses, then they can be measured as any electrical activity.
If it can be measured, it can be read and interpreted.
Thoughts are generated by the thinker and understood by the thinker, intimating a particular method of generation, conduction and interpretation. If methods exist internally, they can be replicated externally. Artificial methods of interpreting thoughts can be designed.
Now, is it possible to read minds? Is it possible to hear the sound of thoughts?
We begin with generation and conduction. Structural design of a typical brain; generator, conductor and interpreter of thoughts, is uniform in any regard. However, some brains record a higher level of thought generation and interpretation than others, indicating a higher level of conduction. Meaning that conversely, some brains exist with structural elements which are unused, pathways available for conduction but due to limited generation, cannot be utilised to proper interpretation too.
Those brains should be able to serve as conduits for external electrical activity. Should be able to read other minds.
Patching the measured signals of an existing, normally functioning brain activity into another brain, limited in activity should allow conduction and eventual interpretation by the less utilised brain. Should. Since the structures exist.
This can also be actualised by taking a full functioning brain of an individual in a complete drug induced dreamless sleep. The limited brain activity of a full functioning brain, should allow for conduction and interpretation of external activity.
When I picked up my laptop this afternoon, it was to type something, anything. Just have my fingers play on the keyboard. You see, unlike last year when I practically lived my life behind a laptop screen averaging something like 80-100 words a minute while watching TV, since this year and my new job which only requires I handwrite descriptions, type the occasional email and spend the rest of the time relating verbally while reclining in ergonomic seats, I have not had to type as much. As such my belly has gotten flabby(-ier) and my fingers now make mistakes with every sentence, even though I am staring at the keyboard as I type. Smh. Thus I needed to write something, anything at all and it was not so difficult to find the right topic. Continue reading “The Janusaneni Guide to know if you have found the LOYL”
I was thinking on my way from church this afternoon. It was one of those deeply introspective moments where you are staring out the taxi window at the passing gala and La casera hawkers while your stomach roils with ASH.
ASH (ay-sh) (abbreviation)
meaning: After Service Hunger. The mysterious hunger known to afflict churchgoers every Sunday immediately after service. eg. Omo na to go Bola house go chop after service o! This ASH no be here
There must have been fifteen different alternate beginnings for this post before I finally went “Simbelah it!” and typed this one anyway. It’s been an irregular past couple of years on this blog and too naturally a lot of the regular readers have fled (ja lo sibe?). As you might imagine, I spent a lot of time this evening thinking of possible posts I could drop here that will bring my readers back.
The reflection holds power over the actual. Breaking the habit is more about what is given back to you than about what you do to destroy it. The luckiest thing that would happen to you is finding that person who would reflect a different image and thus give you the chance to break away.
The first time is never the last time
turning and cycling,
a revolving door fitted in with mirrors,
the same event reoccurring in rapid successions of
So, I held a pen last night and didn’t stop scribbling till I slept off. NB: This was after the lamp I was using had died. If this piece ends abruptly, it is because I cannot read most of what is at the end and I am afraid I cannot get back into the same zone as I was last night to complete in one breath. If this piece does not end abruptly however, then I confess, you are most loyal of all readers and probably more brilliant than I.
“How far have you fallen? How far have you fallen,” the wingless bird muttered to the wizened tortoise squatted above him. “It’s easy sitting there pretending to be sagacious when you haven’t felt any pain. Not the pain of loss or incompetence”
The tortoise stared back, her lined face expressionless in the gathering gloom of the forest dusk. Then she turned away and ambled out of the grove and through copse of trees for the rocky cliffs beyond. The bird stared, wet eyes glazing over as they strained to focus through a haze of pain. As the mist came down upon his eyes, washing on both sides in the same hue as the spreading blood around its form, he saw at the end of his tunneled vision, a hunched back figure striding to the cliff’s edge to plunge over to the rocky bottom.
I wrote the first half of this post almost a year ago, and I stumbled upon it a couple of days ago, and what I read touched me in some way, revealing answers to questions I was currently asking myself. I hope it does the same for you.
30th May, 2014
“Do you stop because it seems futile or do you give up? Half of the time you ought to consider your actions before you perform them, the other half the time, you just act. In recent times, I think I have been doing too much of doing, there has been no real action. For every ten or twenty movements, only two or three have been by my will. The rest occurring as if one kind of tidal flow, with the events and scenarios and me; I have just been moving. No thoughts as to why or the end. Or perhaps some thought, but nearly enough.
Tears are not enough What did you assume, little fool? You think your spine is curved for no reason? Wailing will profit nothing sobbing and weeping will not suffice. As your eyes can never empty the curve will never straighten. Embrace the wet dust then you’ve only just begun. If mucus were wine surely you’d be drunk. Keep at it, furrow your brows Calluses and scars Blood and sweat Wrinkles and age These be the only propitiations you can make Because tears will never be enough.
Every time I am under duress, my already small voice becomes smaller, fading away with each blow life or the devil delivers, until my mouth produces squeaks barely audible to whichever perplexed person is listening and I eventually become mute as I stop talking altogether and become wrapped in my misery.
I like to think that I am not a lazy person but sometimes when challenges come, my first reaction is to stop and let the lamentations spill through my eyes, like a few days ago when I was just celebrating a successful August and looking to shock myself and colleagues by steadily climbing higher this September, and then all of a sudden, a brick wall just sprang up in front of me, right in the face of my joy. I hate that I cry at these times. I hate the weak feel it gives and the frail person it projects me as but try as I may (and have in past times to no avail), my frown always gives way to salty leaks.
Ironically, I feel better after a good cry. So much better that only after tearing up can I function normally again. Only after sobbing and thinking of how the universe is against me am I usually more alert, as I am now, barricading my feelings and emotions, preparing to wave off future blows.
My smiles these days are more from self-pity. I keep comparing myself to friends that have achieved what I am still dreaming of but I find that I am being ungrateful. There are thousands in this country that will be happy to have even half of what I own so I try to replace my stupid self-pity smile with one of gratitude and hope.
I’ll keep pressing forward, bending my back to the full glare of the sun with SZA’s Omega and Sia’s Titanium sending me to sleep when it has set.
Look at me talking like I have a choice.
I realise this post isn’t exactly going to earn me any fans, but like you know, on this forum I say what I will, especially if it’ll cause trouble. Hehe. Please read this, with as open a mind as you can, and perhaps I might convince – as I hope.
Since Chimamanda wrote her article a couple of weeks ago, I’ve been pressured to respond to the issue, both by people close to me, and my conscience also. I am a writer and a Nigerian, and quite easily, Chimamanda Adichie has been a role model, an example of some of what I can aspire to achieve, and after reading her post, you can imagine my sadness and disappointment.
A vast majority of the Nigerian youth idolizes Chimamanda, and rightly so, it is thus doubly agonizing to see her piping them, us, all the way over the cliff and into the sea.
In her article, she explains with a story, whether fictional or not, about a fellow called Sochukwuma and his ‘difference’ and why such a difference is no crime because he was too young to have chosen the lifestyle he was given, and there was no victim involved.
Very recently, in a conversation with a family friend, we examined Chimamanda’s position and he was very caustic. In his opinion, one carried by many others I must add, Chichi was suffering a malaise often endured by African notables who have experienced and become elevated in Western culture and thus, in a desperate bid to maintain that position, forgo their values and a bit of common sense.
Amusingly, according to her story, even at a very young age, she and her friends were able to quickly spot even then that Sochukwuma was “different” and “not like the other boys”. But we know, nothing can be hidden from children, and the truth is in the mouth of babes. Oh, they had no name for it, or they’ll have said ‘Gay’ and maybe Sochukwuma would have been hurt and not played with them again, and gone to another part of Nsukka or changed his ways. After all humans learn, and can un-learn bad habits. But Chimamanda says nothing of what happened to Sochukwuma or his alternate lifestyle after the boys threatened to throw him off a second floor balcony, but that does not concern us. Of course, Chichi would only have us bothered about how much of a crime against humanity it is to label an inhuman action, as a crime.
Fornication, adultery, human vices in all, and sinful things in every holy book, yet not crimes. And do you know why Miss Chimamanda? Because, they are very human vices. Polygamy and Abortion, also crime and non-crime, depending on the society. But since Western culture abhors one and extols the other, perhaps we should reverse and do also, democracy and freedom being nothing but the opinion of the civilised fostered upon the brute.
Tolerance is the African trademark, and in that you are right. Punishment, swift and merciless, for all things against the very nature of man is also our trademark. But this is not a question of what is African or what is not, it’s a matter of what is natural and what is wrong.
Homosexuality, is no benign difference, dear Chimamanda. It’s not the difference between aquamarine and turquoise, it’s the oddity that results in the end of the human race, a pervasion of the sexual relationship and the worst legacy you would leave your children.
The constant argument is that people are born homosexual, and thus it is not their fault they behave how they do. “If it’s so wrong, why were they created like that?” But people are born dyslexic, schizophrenic, manic-depressive and kleptomanic. Is it normal? Do we tolerate these ‘benign’ differences? Do we allow it fly because they are human beings also, or do we try to correct it?
If for some reason, you had recommended that appropriate measures be put in place in the corrective institutions the Nigerian homosexuals seem to be destined for, to ensure they are not merely punished but rehabilitated, I would have applauded you to high heavens and supported that course of action. But no, your very, very civilised mien and perhaps the image of fellow author Binyavanga Wainaina slimming while his green hair goes back to black in a Nigerian institution kept you from that.
Sir Arthur Clarke, anointed by the Queen and affirmed homosexual and atheist said, “One of the greatest tragedies of mankind is that morality has been hijacked by religion.” And he was right.
I am a Nigerian, living in Nigeria, and across the Atlantic and over the Mediterranean, I see societies where the true freedom is being practised; where a man cannot express his distaste at the sight of a cross-dresser without being persecuted as anti-democratic.
If I say I will not kill, or be promiscuous or lie, it is quickly assumed that I am a Christian or Muslim or belonging to some religious order which forbids such, forgetting that these are moral values. Human values. Things I am not supposed to do because they are wrong, by any standard. And thus in a bid to divest himself of religious leanings, so that one may be seen to be truly liberal, secular and freedom-loving, the 21st century civilised fellow becomes amoral.
The same man in the Senate or Parliament, makes laws which would not expose him to criticism by any liberal group, ensuring his re-election and popularity, and legalising inhuman activities in the process; since the forbidding of such activities may be interpreted as religious and thus unworthy of logical backing.
“Kill a baby in the womb! Marry same sex individuals! After all, your only argument against it is that is a bad thing. And we’re not Religious people here. We’re all about common good!”
Aunty Chimamanda, homosexuality is not wrong only because it is sinful and against the tenets of every true religion. It is wrong and unlawful because, it is immoral and un-natural and a very base activity.
* I am not a card-carrying, gay-hating communist. LOL. These are simply my opinions on the matter, and open to discourse. Like the man said, it’s wiser to examine for yourself and decide, rather than loping with the gang. 🙂
PASTOR JAY: Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Pastor Jay. If you are under the influence and unction of my voice at this hour, I command every problem in your life to become a solution! And every evil to push you to a new level. Amen.
I just want to present to you my new book. It’s titled Old Roger. It’s on sale at bookshops and blogs near you. Buy it, and every Old Roger in your life would be destroyed. You see, Old Roger was an evil man! This is why when he died a mango tree was planted over his head. You might not understand the significance of a mango tree. Lemme explain: mango is one of the seven forbidden fruits in the old Greek. Apple is number one of course..see the book of Snow White among others.. Mango is translated as Aniba or Mangifera...words which from looking alone sound evil. But this is not why we’re here today. Please, can our testifiers come forward..
TELEOLA: LOOOOOL!!!! I HAVE FUCKING MISSED YOU!!!
JANUS: (<_<)..Hello everyone. Been a while.
So sorry we’ve been absent from here, lots of issues being resolved, too much on the mind, Writer’s block in some cases and whatnot. But the year is at an end and it’s time for thanksgiving.
First of all, I want to thank you. You.
There hasn’t been a new post here since maybe November, despite a steadily filling drafts folder, and I post this and all of you come running like I’m sharing recharge cards. Wow. You guys are such loyal fans or readers. Whichever it is, I thank you. You’re very awesome. I am full of awe of you.
Tele say something..
TELEOLA: Something. And please, call me T-Baby.
JANUS: (<_<) Well, as it is done, a recap of the major highlights of the year. First off, this has been the second year of “All in this life’s journey” and despite my lack of care, it’s not been so bad.
Tried my hand at a blogging challenge this year. You guys would remember “A Twist in the Tale” that featured Weirdoo, Haemlet, JontheZaptist, OWex, and many others, and of course, where we introduced the beautiful Teleola. I still apologize for not finishing the challenge, circumstances way beyond my control prompted me to end on such a note. But here’s to promising better things in 2014. Finished things of a way awesom-er feel.
TELEOLA: Yes. Hai ham buriful. Ehm.. It looks like we are always apologizing to you guys. It’s not you, it’s me. Writers can be flirts you know. I have been flirting around with other aspects of my life but writing is my second true love (see what I am saying), and I will always come back no matter how long I am away.
Like that prophet that married the prostitute in the bible.
And I said you should call me T-Baby na.
JANUS: Biko sweetheart, don’t be vex. Just look at this filth. Early this year, on the 1st actually, I promised I was going to find a co-writer who would be fair of face and awesome in ink. Did I? Did I?? Was I right or was I right? Clap for me. (Awesome is my word of 2013. It is going. I promise.)
Personally, 2013 recorded achievements for me. On some days I was distraught, on some, the feeling of traught was on a high. NYSC ended. I got a Best Corper award. I entered the real world again.
TELEOLA T-BABY: So, I finished NYSC this year and also got employed. I didn’t win any award. General CDs for life mehn. But I learnt a lot of things. The most important being you cannot force friendship.
I have undergone military training as far as I am concerned. Camp was not beans, I don’t care what anyone has to say. Gimme gun and send me to Sudan to protect the people.
No, please don’t be rash. Don’t give me any stupid gun.
JANUS: LOL! ♥_♥ Oshey Lara Croft ____o_ command me, Confessor.
I improved my British accent in 2013. And it didn’t have to be an International airport! I learnt all my British at Okada Airport, Benin city.
Another nasty breakup this year (becoming quite the habit) and possibly some of the reason for the block in my writing. (Tele massage my head biko). But I made new friends this year. Vundie, Jyte, Niro..these are the Twitterati you would know. And got closer to a few who had been friends before. The there’s-a-treasure-in-the-rotten-chest-right-beside-you sort of friends. People like Teleola.. Come here, let us hug.
T-BABY: You keep me in a rotten chest, ba? Now, you want to hug. Better hug Justin. Rub chest with him. Shebi he is your secret weapon.
Do you people see what I go through?
I have added one more state to my Nigerian-states-I-have-lived-in list. Akure. The land were goats are valued more than children.
Okay, I am exaggerating. But, those people can eat from the same plates with their goats and I hear sharing-bed rumours. Can you believe that! Ondo people are still cool though. Yes, I am subtly apologizing.
I also lost my phone. It actually got stolen at a party. The person carried my whole bag from under the table where i hid it as I was dancing. Fam, I cried. But I serve a living God, the God that answereth by fire, the God that broke palm kernel with egg to shame the stone, the God that sends money through uncles that have refused to pick my calls since I entered university, the….
JANUS: T-BABY ca’m dan na..you’re my only secret weapon. The only arrow in my quiver. The only project in my Manhattan. The last scene of my Jet Li film. Haba..
And Akure is a state abi?
T-BABY: Okay. *wipes lone tear that had begun falling from right eye*
I sha bought new phone. And no, no uncle sent me any money.
Sorry, Ondo state. I was in the spirit.
JANUS: Family wise, lots of travails (abi that is the English?) Y’know, trials that were in the end surpassed? Yeah. From about April, certain troubles, issues and disappointments up until December. But the LORD delivereth us out of them all. Accidents and Robberies and Kidnappings and jailings, but like I said, the LORD delivered. Miraculously.
Still didn’t win Diamond Bank Salary4Life, or Toyota Corolla, or Silverbird and Genesis iPads. These people never like me. But I won tickets to see shows, and for the first time in my life attended a paying comedy show and nearly coughed up my lungs in an apoplectic fit of guffaws [LWKMD].
T-BABY: Single bloggers, gaan look for your missing writing rib, JANUS and I are in sync.
While I didn’t sleep in jail (I am sure his afro was part of the reason why he was there in the first place), I was caught driving without a licence. But praise Jehovah, I was released.
I also made new friends. Vundie (who must be convulsing with excitement that we have both mentioned his name), Obehi (the girlfriend Janus and I share), Dunni (who writes beyond her years) & Lanre (who I don’t know if he is alien or human but writes awesome poems). And, Bayo, my bestest friend of five years is still with me. We will go more, bae.
JANUS:Simultaneous coitus is an …wrong post. Come! Come! It’s not me that entered jail oh! And you can drive?? How fa na? Come take me out..
Didn’t read as many books as I planned in 2013. I think in total, read only 24. But 4 of them were by Nigerian writers and that’s a plus. Read Nigerian books and books by Nigerians!
Was least involved in real politics this year. There were no scathing newspaper articles, no activism. Plenty propaganda documentaries though, for which I’m slightly embarrassed, but that changes in 2014.
Ehen, you know I promised podcasts last year. Hehe. We had a youtube session shebi? Heehehe. Before January runs out though, we’ll do something about that. Abi Teleola?
T-BABY: Yes. You guys have heard Janus’s voice when he murdered Raymond. You will be blessed with mine soon.
Take you out, abi? No problem. Sha bring extra seat belt. 007 was my tutor.
You read 24 and you are complaining. I won’t reveal my number. And since you are into politics, comman gimme contract. Even if it is to plant flowers in the whole of the state.
Before I forget, I cut my hair this year. Last week sef. You can call me African Queen.
JANUS: LOOOL! African Queen..LOOOL! Abeg do and Twitpic lerrus see. LOOOL!
Basically though, 2013 had ups and downs, many downs for me, and we’re super glad we conquered them all. It’s all been by GOD’s Grace and we’re looking forward to 2014. Thanks for bearing with us so far. Stick around this next year..
T-BABY: TAAAAA!!! Not until I reach your length. Yes oooo. Baba God noni. His mercies endure forever.
The names mentioned are of course people we seek to inveigle favours from and need to keep happy. If your name is not there, it means we do… Wait.
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