Hey Book People! It is another Top 5 Wednesday albeit the lateness (smiles). The books todays covers:
It’s party season, whether that is high school prom, weddings, or summer holiday events. What books would make a good party/event theme??
Let us dive into it:
.The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Glamour, glitz, glitter and all the other adjectives for throwing a massive ‘elegant’ party; just ask Jay Gatsby for all the 411 he did it mostly every night till daybreak.
.The Jane Austen Club by Karen J. Fowler
Very suitable for a book club event. You will get tips in how to break down the book in sections for reading, throwing quotes here and there to motivate and the social aspect of people gathering together. P.S Look out for some hook-ups/growing friendships and how to read the signs.
.Just This Once by Rosalind James
This could be a go to for a summer retreat to a tropical country or if you want to go bag-packing in nature. Snorkelling, swimming, hot springs, hiking, lovemaking, fishing, rugby etc. The sun is out bright and summer never sets in this story.
.Emma by Jane Austen
Listen if you want dips for a ‘gentle’ tea party theme party- leaning more on the Regency era- check out Frank Churchill for the venue and arrangement. Emma and Jane Fairfax will aid in the music and Miss Bates will teach you how to not let your ears fall pry to the most talkative person at the party.
I like feeling cold but cuddling in bed watching Youtube.
I like reading romance set in a historical phrase.
I like kitkat bars.
I like love coconut water.
I like my hair when it cooperates.
I like that fresh feeling after a shower.
I like when it rains heavy when I am indoors.
I like watching waterfalls.
I like dimple smile, I just do.
I like holding moving conversations.
I like many things. What do you like?
A poem for #PoetryMonth2017.
Why do so many black people love to point out all the flaws of their ethnicity like parents blaming teachers for their children failing grade. Yet when another ethnicity takes the same flaws and appreciate and show love, the same black people erupt a volcano of “it is our culture, we are the only ones entitled to wear hair like that or use that hastag.” Do they hear themselves sounding like Judas before the Last Supper? This is why we cannot have anything nice because we are busy throwing dice about ownership over trivial matters. If a young Bangladeshi-American growing up in New Jersey used #blacklivesmatter in answer to one question on a Stanford application flustered so many black people then shouldn’t black people express more than lackluster dismay? Shouldn’t one be happy that another ethnicity is marching to the proud loud drums of equality for all. Instead many are lashing out that it was not his hastag to use, leaving my thought process dashing in an array of dismay. What is wrong with our sense of reasoning? Are we so mess up in the head with such strong yet low opinions of ourselves that we fail to realize that if we keep segregating that we are defeating the fight against laws of Jim Crow?
Islam is a religion and its fellowers are called Muslims like Christianity is a religion and it’s followers called Christians.
Sign off with a sigh for #PoetryMonth2017
“From short stories by a surrealist to an account of 12 trees around the world, these titles should sit on your shelf this month”
If I could taste a piece of you I would betray like the Last Supper. Yet I would not kiss anyone because my affection would be momentarily just for you.Will you satisfy my six lust groups or will I dominate? If I could taste a piece of you I would surrender that future hour to your justice. Dictate your verdict Sir: locked in wonder or free to wander?
It seem so difficult to concentrate on any task of pleasure for too long. I am not sure why my mind goes on its own leisure away from the task at hand in flights of other objectives bourne out of a type of mind fuck. It is that fleeting mask green with jealous yet teasing my thoughts to unsettling nerves of fright. I cannot finish my novel in the timely manner of before because the sight of a familiar sends my paranoia running marathons. Why am I cunningly manoeuvring between settled and haste? It was moments of strategic thinking but now it feels like a waste of embarrassing analysis. Something is slipping away turning in times of torments and aimless mind mummbling. Dipping into cascades of shining nothingness,something is mind fucking.
A poem for Poetry Month. I may dip into the world of writing more than twice weekly for Poetry Month.Happy poetry month