This is so cool! But what country are they from? “Africa” is really vague.
Their names are Duro-Aina Adebola, Akindele Abiola, Faleke Oluwatoyin, and Bello Eniola and they’re from Lagos, Nigeria. There’s a neat video about them here.
That was the thing. You never got used to it, the idea of someone being gone. Just when you think it’s reconciled, accepted, someone points it out to you, and it just hits you all over again, that shocking.
—Edge Of Desire
I wasn’t sure if this should’ve been posted or linked or forwarded. I didn’t have answers for a lot of things of recent. But this was the song on my heart all month. Too little too late, perhaps.
Dear friends of the round table,
I’m a friendly person, at least I can be. I like to think of myself as such, as a person who can be thought of as a friend. I’d like to think even more so that you consider a dear and treasured friend. That’s what I’ve been called many of you in the past, especially around the times of celebrating something, whether that be a wedding, a birth, a new car, a new relationship, or a new year of to celebrate life on Earth. Our years are short, even if we all made it to 100+. Age doesn’t slow time, that’s for sure. Within these years I have on this planet, which right now is only a variable x since none of us know when the last day will come, I want to spend most of them doing whatever I want to do. At the top of that list of things I wanna do, spending time w/ you is tops.
But a great many things have happened since…hmm, hard to say. Hard to say when it all started. Perhaps it was when I joined DG, or maybe it was before, or maybe it was after. I know myself to be a busy person these days so time does elude me. Just recently, I saw an all-time great friend for the first time in a year even though it’d only felt like yesterday. Point is, I know I’ve been scarce, elusive, almost invisible to the social eye. But the fact remains that I don’t think any less of you because I see you less, talk to you less, end up not being there as much I’d been in the past. It’s the reason why the great lot of you were invited to Chicago. 20 invited…2 came. Some would say 10% attendance to a party is a pretty raw deal, even with circumstances like lack of funds, bills, illness, commitments, and all of these things I was told just before departure to the Windy City as to why the great lot of you couldn’t go. These all sound like things beyond your control, and I’ve been there. I missed a beach wedding some years ago because of the same circumstances (but in the end, the marriage didn’t last long so the only real bummer in that is missing out on a beach house experience with great friends, both bride & groom). But that wedding still had all the guests it needed to be what sounded like an epic time. That’s not to say I didn’t have a great time in Chicago for my milestone 30th birthday—I did! And yet, it ended up not being the weekend I’d envisioned.
What it really boils down to is that I woke up the morning I traversed to Chicago with the realization that I was really hurt by your absences. You see, in the end, out of the invitees that didn’t come to Chicago, only 3 people had the decency to tell me they couldn’t go. I didn’t even hear from the rest of you, even after reaching out. Correction—when I did reach out individually, I got rousing approvals and affirmations…until the week before departure. Then the tunes changed. I get it—traveling to Chicago is not the cheapest plan in the book. It’d be kind of rude of me to sit here and get mad if I sprung such a trip on you. But I’d made it very clear in 2012 that this was the plan—Chicago, March, 2014. But I suppose in the noise that is our lives, that kind of long distance plan can get washed out.
However, the truth of the matter is that the feeling I’ve come away with from this is that the plan for many was never to go. Fuck you, Rocky. What should I expect? Perhaps I think too much of yourself. I mean, these people had the decency to reach out to you, minus those that need fucking personal space for whatever dumb reason I can’t fathom. Nevertheless, it won’t change how I felt when I turned 30. There was a little fanfare. No cake, no cards. The clock struck 12:00 AM, and I drank my shitty beer. Perhaps parties are for retirees, bachelors and bachelorettes, and double-digit anniversaries at this stage. I can live w/ that. But I thought friendship was supposed to stay the same, if not get better at this point. We’ve weeded out the cliques, friends by locker proximity, and friends forged by Greek letters. But in reality, it’s all a cycle. My only hope is that when the time comes for support, love, and celebration, I won’t let you down too.