Ivan Musoke

Ho Ho No

I suspect this is the part where I wish you and yours a Merry Christmas. So here it is, take it and enjoy. MERRY CHRISTMAS.

This is not the post I wanted to write. I’ve been procrastinating for a bit with that one. I wanted to write something from the point of view of my lung. If you’ve seen the movie Fight Club, I’m sure it rings a bell. Something like;

I am Ivan’s once collapsed lung. I am okay now, no thanks to him, but God loves this kid. I sit  here and chill, manipulated to do the bidding of other organs that he abuses. They don’t have the guts to take any course of action, but I do. Actually, it was not in my plans to have Ivan admitted, but the thing is, the liver kept whining on and on about how hard it had it and unable to put up with it’s spiel I opted to move. unbeknownst to me, the air that makes the rounds in the body is, contrary to popular belief, eager to stay in. It thus assumed that I would not be coming back and it took up residence in the right quadrant of the rib cage. I’m a fairly decent organ, you see, so I didn’t think much of this…but a few month’s later it was getting greedy, pushy even. That’s when I thought to myself, “screw this” and…well, you know the story from there.

What I’m trying to say is, I’m fine, really. You don’t have to worry about me. More importantly, I want you to know that what happened could have happened to anyone. Alcohol was not a factor. That usually goes after the liver, but that’s a story for another day. Not mine.

Till next year, I’ll be here. Hanging around.

Yours truly,

Ivan’s lung

Like I said, something along those lines… I would have loved for something more poetic, something that would make you think. Something that didn’t look like  I found it floating in my drink. Something that would make you meditate, send you on a journey and levitate to levels unknown unseen. Something kinda cool, kinda mellow. Something awesome, something wholesome. That would move you, that would prove that there’s a groove in the midst of all the text, a lyric that would flow, that you would carry everywhere you go, but no, all I have is this. no more, no, ho, ho, but I do wish you a Merry Christmas.




  1. And after that two things: I am John’s Lung was a feature from Readers’ Digest, a magazine that was in popular circulation in the sixties. Before both our days (though you will probably have a hard time believing that there was actually a time that can be called “before my days.” Har. Laugh.)

    Secondly, you didn’t sound like Fight Club, but you managed to do Charlie Kauffman from Adaptation pretty nicely.

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