12.23

His glistening chest heaved in the half-light. Would she notice him in his pseudo-erotic pose? He sincerely hoped so. He hoped something unexpected would push their paths together. He hoped Chaos theory would finally be on his side. He hoped and hoped, and panted quietly.

2.21

The solstice is a time to feel closer to the creator, the thunder and fury of the storm. Winter wind whips around my heart, sapping my heat. I draw near to the throne of power and am disappointed by what I find--warmth and love. I wanted fear and I got love. I leave to find the winter chill somewhere else.

12.8b

This magic rectangle spits light into my life. It outshines everything else and ruins my retinas. I look at you now, but you don't flash and blink, so I grow bored.

12.18

I'm in an airplane to meet Josue. There's a woman across the aisle from me who's poised and refined and attractive in her hoodie. It means nothing.

[From a journal I told myself was worse than it is]

12.15

I'm slowly becoming aware of my left hand again. I had to dig it out of the snowbank I landed in and had to pull myself into my car, but I can feel my hand again. I'm burning bits of seat cushion to stay warm. I just hope someone drives past and realizes I'm still in here, because I'm feeling awfully lightheaded. Tell Marcia I love her.

12.11b

I am a neophyte. An acolyte of a different temple. I am a worshipper of words, not a shaman of sounds, and my inexperience puts me in a new place entirely.
[I wrote this because I said "I am a worshipper of words, not a ----- of sounds." And I can't remember what it was and it kills me. Shaman is as close as I can remember.]

12.11a

When did Samantha get such a large nose? I'm sure I should have noticed it; I've seen her every day for the past fifty-odd years. Maybe that's what love does: it lets change creep up on people.

My First Coup D'Etat

[This is the most beautiful thing I've read in ages and I want to share it.]

If being in the band wasn't going to be a possibility for Sulimaila, then he at least wanted to be around the band. There were a couple of other boys who felt the same way. They volunteered to be the band's helpers. They would attend every rehearsal and performance. If a band member needed a glass of water or a towel to wipe the sweat off his brow, one of the helpers would get it. They were the ones in charge of setting up and packing the band's equipment.
Sometimes when the show was over, the stage lights had been turned off, and the band members were out in the crowd receiving adulation, Sumaila and the other boys would stand on the stage and hold the instruments. They wouldn't play them, they'd only stand there and hold them for a few minutes while starting into the empty chairs in the audience. They'd let the energy of their dreams seep through their hands and into the instrument, as if it were a Bible or the Koran. Maybe one day, they prayed, their dream would come true. Eventually, the other boys grew weary of being so close to something they wanted but knew they couldn't have. They stopped coming to rehearsals and shows but Sumaila didn't. He continued to dream and believe.
Pages 155-6
My First Coup D'etat
John Dramani Mahama