CRUSH Momentum

How do you watch movies? What's your usual experience? Are you critical of the content i.e. cursed by 'wokeness'? Are you engrossed in the tale? Are you mesmerized by the well choreographed violence of John Wick? Are you geeking out over the choices the production team made? The camera angles and 'em? Do you think your style of watching movies suits you?

I don't. At times I hate how I am unable to enjoy a movie because my standards are unable to cope with what I am perceiving. Here's a possible punch to your throat: I stopped watching Extraction halfway through. Honestly, it bored me senseless.

That's because Quentin Tarantino ruined everything! He set the bar so high with his films that it feels disgraceful to lower my standards for other movies. The rule I apply to movies is simple: capture my attention. Draw me into your world and make it difficult for me to wriggle out.

Take it from me, having such high standards tattoed on your forehead without your consent isn't a fun adventure. You will find yourself on Netflix for 15 minutes: 12 minutes will be spent trying to find a show you can watch. The other 3 minutes are spent cursing the TV remote for not being a proper keyboard. A few weeks of this and a cinema darkness descends upon thee. Movies just ain't hitting like they used to. Despite watching them in the dark cozy caves of cinema halls, the audio blaring as it forcefully tries to keep your attention, something is always amiss.

"That movie was awesome!" your mind tells you. But your heart is unsatisfied. Silently, it curses and blesses Quentin Tarantino simultaneously.

Overthinking is regular activity. Overthinking Pro Max is what you may experience as a geek. An overclock of mind as well as emotion: sounds fun. How grateful I was when that branch saved me from drowning. Life is always so simple. We just love complicating it. Here's a quick simplified outlook on the world of cinema before we get into the actual content of this post.

Films are like people. Each has its own unique personality and style of telling stories. Cursing a movie for not being Tarantino-like is akin to telling your partner that they are subpar in comparison to your ex. Unless you want to be single and heartbroken (again), I wouldn't recommend that course of action. Dance. Learn your new partners rhythm and dance to it. Lest you find yourself odi dancing to Celine Dion. This paragraph isn't about partners.

Thankfully, I can now ease into the rhythm of a movie before deciding if I will like it or not. I wouldn't recommend you do the same. Just watch the movie and enjoy it. Keep it simple. However, if you do wish to take a deeper look into what I uncovered on 'movie rhythms', let me know in the comments. It would be an honour to be at your behest, Your Geekness. [This is where I bow]

But this blog post is not about the movies I like or don't like. It's about a solo experience you and I have gone through. You may have told your bestie about it, but it still is an experience exclusive to you. And that's what makes it special. Do you remember the first time you felt horny? Back in your teenage years when your hormones were nini-ing. I will make an unscholarly move and assume that it was the same for all of us.

The electricity that ran through your nerves, veins and on your skin. The breathlessness you don't really notice. You just feel that breathing has become difficult. Your throat is dry. Your heart is pounding like crazy. Your mind and body are foreign to you. You are confused. But yet, in some way, it feels great. You can't stop thinking about the feeling for days, maybe even weeks later. Or maybe you just can't stop thinking about the situation itself. Or the person who made you feel that way. Your mind and body punish you relentlessy if you didn't make a move when they shouted at you to do so.

SYSTEM OVERRIDE. A former close friend told me that was the most accurate way to describe being blindingly horny.

But this post isn't about being horny either. Though, the topic itself may remind you of times when you were.

So, who is your celeb crush? Wait.

Nah. No no no. That doesn't quite cut it. I think the better question is:

Who is your movie crush? Who played a fictional character so well that it forced your mind, body and emotions into a different kind of system override? If you're like me, maybe you notice that you even have a type.

By the time you finish reading this post (or even now), I want you to lean back into your pillow, couch, office seat, matatu or bus or nganya seat and reminisce on that feeling of your first fictional character crush. Enjoy the memory and feels from that moment. As we grow older, life seems to gradually desaturate and lose flavour. And we're never sure when or how that happened. Relish the colour and beauty of that time.

Feel free to comment the name of your crush, whether the fictional or real name, and the name of the movie. If you're feeling generous, try and give a description of what it felt like.

I'll explain how I will make magic happen with your descriptions later in the post. But for now, picture a 6 foot, dark, South Sudanese guy with a failure of a beard. Unlike most of the ones you know, this South Sudanese is a bit fat. Now imagine taking a walk with him on a murram footpath beside the tarmac. It's about 5pm. The orange-red glow of the sun relaxes you even further (there was no hurry in the first place). In this slow atmosphere of golden hour, the grass and forest in the distance breathe slowly. They are in a deep slumber. Even the occassional kiosks and pathways leading away from the main road appear to be in a lazy relaxed mood.

The moment is perfect to talk about 'deep life issues'. But this time, the tall kinda fat South Sudanese guys tells you about the crushes on fictional characters he has had up to that point in his life. You smile and ease into listening to him. Of course, anything goes in that calm unhurried mood of golden hour.

1. Sarah

DsTV was still exciting by then. Someone was watching TV. I was beside them. The channel was one of the Mnet ones. A thrilling movie was on. I remember all the intense feels that arose within me as we watched it. The tension as the woman and her child couped themselves up in the panic room had me glued to the screen.

But not as much as the child did. That was the only time in my life that I can genuinely say I experienced gender confusion. The child looked as much like a boy as much as it did a girl. I was attracted to the child like blackouts are to KPLC power. I was twelve or thirteen at the time.

That system override came through. My mind went blank. My body was in a weird mix of emotion and sensation. How I wished I could dive into the scene and help calm the distressed sick child. I think the adult with the remote changed the channel. Naturally, I can't remember what they changed the channel to. I couldn't be bothered either. I kept reliving a certain frame from the movie where the child said "tap it" to the goon about to give her a shot.

We were at my Aunt's big house somewhere in Westlands at the time. I went into one of the empty bedrooms upstairs and sat on the carpet. Who knows how long I was up there. During the whole period, however, I kept imagining the child saying "tap it" in a weak voice, looking all perfect in even in a sickened state. A deep forlorn engulfed me. I would never see her again.

Ten years later we were re-united. A few hours ago, to be precise. I am writing this on 24th September 2023 at 8.15pm. The child was the young Kristen Stewart. The movie is Panic Room, directed by David Fincher.

2. Hermione Granger

I shall go ahead and assume that you dare not offend the nerd and geek community by saying you have never seen Harry Potter...

Also, the picture shows a young Hermione because I was a teenager when I had a crush on her. To make it more confusing, the DVD was lent to me by my classmate Ann. We had some sort of chemistry between us. You can imagine what my hormones and feels were like when I got to crushing on Hermione.

The first time I properly watch Harry Potter is thanks to Ann, my sort of sweetheart from primary school. And the same weekend she lent me the DVD (it was one of those that came with multiple movies. It had the collection of Harry Potter movies up until then. This was around 2012), Hermione made me feel some type of way.

I didn't get to watch all the movies, I think. Because I recall watching Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban during end year holidays a while later. My cousins were around. I think it was Christmas time. We, the youngins, were running around the compound having mindless fun. My older cousin (maybe aunt. She was in her late teens heading to twenties by the time) called out to me from the door, the curtain partially covering her.

"Yoooh! You said you didn't want to miss Harry Potter, right? It's on KTN right now."

God bless her heart for remembering. The mature feel of the production of The Prisoner of Azkaban caught me off-guard. Seeing a more mature Hermione... man! Despite there being a lot of noise and activity going on around the house, I don't recall it ever bothering me.

3. Hit-Girl

It started off as a momentary fling. This is also from my primary school years. Having being brought up in a staunch Catholic Christian family, Kick-Ass 2 rubbed me the wrong way. The blatant vulgarity and violence just... eeenh.

But Hit-Girl caught my attention. I ignored it. At the time it hadn't occurred to me that the names of the actors and actresses were in the credits section. In high school, at the peak of my hormonal circus act, I saw If I Stay. A romantic film starring Chloë Grace Moretz.

I rewatched the movie a number of times. Class time was the perfect time to imagine myself in a relationship with her. In Form 3, I saw The Fifth Wave starring her as well. Needless to say, she was my main crush throughout high school.

The crush faded naturally. All good things must come to an end, innit?

4. Victoria

Imagine watching a movie taken in one shot. Yaani once the camera hits record it doesn't stop for the next like 2 hours. And somehow, all the shots, framing, angles etc are on point. It feels like you are experiencing the movie WITH the character(s). It's like you are right there.

The movie Victoria was a mind-boggling experience. As well as my introduction to the character also called Victoria. What drew me in about her was her fragrant femininity. Most of the women I had been interacting with and seen on TV up until I watched Victoria last year were 'hardened'. Maybe as a result of a lot of women empowerment and women equality brawls? Or maybe life has just become harder for women? Honestly, I don't know.

Laia Costa re-introduced me to the soft (not weak), flowery, mind-numbing femininity I had forgotten about. Naturally, during some points, I would take my fantasies with my crushes to the PG zone. Laia's fragrant aura is so soothing I want to simp for her instead. If the horned system override is a virus, her fragrance is the antivirus.

Of course I looked up her discography and watched other movies she was featured in.

Fellas, has a woman (fictional or nah) ever made you so attracted to her that the only thought that comes into your mind is, "I MUST be a better man. I NEED to. It is my duty."?

Huh? Nah? Ok.

Anyway, I seriously recommend y'all check out the movie Life Itself. Picture this cast: Laia Costa, Oscar Isaac, Jessica Chastain, Samuel L Jackson, Sergio Peris-Mencheta (Gustavo A.K.A El Oso from Snowfall) and Antonio Banderas. To tell you you're in for a treat is an understatement.

---

Silence.

I have stopped talking for a few moments. A nduthi noisily whizzes past us. Not to worry. The unhurried chill mood of golden hour envelopes all into a beautiful experiential work of art. Even that question that has been bugging you as you listened to me drone about these fictional characters from majuu.

The voice in your head urges you not to voice it. It may offend me and ruin the vibe. But this is one of those moments where that voice is reduced to a whisper. You have enough balls to ask,

"Yo, Dip. Umm... Why are you telling me all this?"

I smile. Of course I will smile. I smile too much. Sometimes it's because I don't know how else to react or what to say. This is not one of those times. I have a proper response. I ask you, "Do you see any similarity in these pictures?".

"You mean aside from the fact that they are all white?" you ask. I nod. Truthfully, I wasn't even thinking of that fact.

"No," you add. "They are all different. Now I'm curious. Why are you..."

"Let me explain. I'm getting to it," I cut you off.

"Ok, but ..."

"Hold on. Hold on. Let me..."

"I have question. Do you..."

"D... Damn. Can I finish what I'm saying?"

"Do you see a similari..."

"Cheki. Cheki! Cheki. Hold on."

"Just answer the question and then..."

"Look. Is this my fantasy or yours?"

Your mouth is open but the words don't come out. You feel sheepish. Finally, you respond, "Weeh. Sawa. Continue."

I give a mock disapproving look, then I continue:

"Weirdly enough. I can see a similarity. It's not really visual. There is something about them that seems similar. It's a feeling I can sense. That feeling then manipulates my eyes to visually see a similarity in all of them. It might be their expressions, predicaments, personality... I dunno for sure. All I know is I can see this similarity."

You squint at me, confused.

"What the hell is this guy with a failed beard talking about?", you probably ask yourself. Still squinting, you watch me recognize your confusion and take a deep breath. It looks like I am deep in thought.

Nope.

I just have a bad habit of panicking when explaining things to people at times. Especially when I am telling stories. I get nervous and foil up the whole tale. Or so I think. Well, you are confused anyway. How much worse can it get?

"Ignore the pictures. You know that ka-feeling you get when you're talking to someone, looking at someone or watching an actor on screen? There's this kind of sixth sense that goes off. You feel something. When you go through the checklist, nothing ticks off. Am I attracted to them? Not really. Am I just horny? Nah. Maybe I am lonely? Not this time.

Then what is it? What else could it be? And why are you feeling so?" I add.

You squint again, deep in thought this time. A vague memory comes to your mind that fits the description. You nod slowly.

"I read in a book once (classic geek segway) that a neuroscientist discovered that feeling is a form of thinking. Sure, there is the left side of your brain. Factual and all. There's the right side; creative, wild and free. But what part of your body are you using to feel that ka-feeling and other feels?"

This is becoming too much. The only item in your agenda is to enjoy a late afternoon stroll during golden hour. There is room for nothing else.

"Where are you getting to with all this?" you ask, clearly eager to put the conversation to an end.

"I... I don't know. Some writer on Geek Speak wrote a blog post about movie character crushes that sent me spiralling," I reply. Clearly, the filthy muggle is in no state to spar with the higher magical intellect of a nerd.

You watch me go silent and feel kind of bad. So you try to keep the conversation going, "You said a writer from where?"

"Geek Speak. It's like a community hangout spot for geeks, nerds, gamers, weebs etc. with a radio station that feels like X Fm blasting in the background," I reply, my eyes never meeting yours.

"Aaah. Sounds cool. I'll go check it out," you reply.

A few minutes pass. There is an occasional "whiiishh!" and "whoooosh!" as the cars pass. That unpleasant awkward silence ensues. Should you say something or not? As you try to brush aside the mosquito thoughts, it hits you.

What does he do with this ka-feeling?

"So... what do you do with it? This ka-feeling?" you ask.

I frown a bit, searching for the ideal word.

"I experiment."

"How?"

I stretch before answering. My kitambi bulges from behind my t-shirt.

"Well," I begin. "There's this girl on Instagram..."

"Oh my gosh, no. Another girl?"

"What are you implying?"

"Is all of this just a way to tell me about this girl on Instagram that has you in a bind? Really bro?"

"Wait, ngoja. Cheki. Is this..."

"Yes, yes. I know. It's your fantasy not mine," you roll your eyes.

"As I was saying," I put emphasis on 'saying'. "This girl would always make me feel some type of way whenever I see her posts. She is an alt girl. I dunno what exactly that means, but I love it. As an illustrator, the normal instinct would be for me to draw her. But the ka-feeling from her is often so strong and complete that I am unable to draw. Once, I nicked her hairstyle and placed it on a different character I sketched. It looked awesome, manze!

Then this one time I decided to draw her. But instead of sort of copy-pasting her likeness and pose from a single reference, I sketched a badass pose and transfer her features and style to the rough structure. It was a fulfilling experience. I thoroughly enjoyed creating the illustration. She loved it! I tagged her when I posted it, by the way.

However, that ka-feeling isn't fully present in the illustration. There's just a lick of it. I can't help but wonder if I can fully capture the feeling in my artwork."

A few moments pass before you reply.

"You're an illustrator?"

I roll my eyes. THAT is what you got?

"I'm joking. Chill out. Can I see the artwork?"

I pull out my phone and show you the illustration. Is it an I-phone? Or is it an Android? Who tf cares! Just look at the illustration.

Of course, you love the illustration. You ask if I have bundles to show you what she looks like. I remember she had tagged me in her insta stories. I show you that.

"Whoa! How do you do this sh*t, my guy?" you ask.

"The same way I do this,"I reply.

"Do what?"

"This," I motion to our surroundings.

"I don't follow," you admit.

"That's okay. I only need you to experience,"

"Experience what?"

"What I create. Peep this:

I don't even know you. I don't know your gender or what you look like. I don't even know if you're wearing clothes as we take this nice late afternoon stroll. Yet here you are, reading this sentence."

"Dude, what are you talking about?"

I abruptly stop. Unbeknownst to you, I have reached my chuom that will take me home.

"Well, it was nice chatting with you. I'll see you next time," I begin to walk away, following a thin murram road that has those prickly green fences on either side of it.

"Wait! You can't just leave me like this,"

The laugh that comes from me catches you unaware.

"There's other things I must do. Other experiments I must conduct. If you need to talk to me or hear from me... Actually, wait. You still owe me. Look below you,"

You glance. There's nothing there. I smile knowingly.

"You'll see it soon," I tell you.

"See what?"

"The way that you can reach me if you need me. I hear that it's called a 'comment section',"

"What the f*ck are you talkin about, my guy?"

"I haven't forgotten either. You're supposed to comment the name of your crush and the movie they are from. Also, once I figure out a formula to capture that ka-feeling, I will create loads of content for my future self. When I reincarnate and write another blog post about fictional crushes, they won't be all white."

This is BS. You have a sudden urge to bite my forehead. That should teach me not to F around with you. But even before you take the first step, the world vanishes.

You are back, phone in hand. (Or in front of your monitor)

As

You

Scroll

Down

Further,

...

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It

All

Begins

To

Make

Sense.

At

The

End

Of

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Of

Text

It

Patiently Waits.

Behold!...

...

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The ...

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Comment section.

Word from the sorta fat South Sudanese with a dissapointment of a beard,

Dip Vulgar