A Mason's Story

For 'Oma, who inspires me to build again and again. For DR, whose brilliance rubs off on me in seemingly minute ways. And for Fisayo, whose donuts and diligence are truly, truly, remarkable.

10:32am, Saturday October 14, 2023.

In the past 12 minutes, I have tried to start this new post on the Substack app on my phone. This spark to publish here is inspired by these 2 essays I have read this morning. I want to recreate them, I want to make my own spark. I have no idea what it is that I want to post but I am convinced that starting yet another draft on here will propel words to fall from my head unto the blank space. I vaguely remember being able to do that on the phone app, but the recent app updates seem to have taken my productivity hack for this space, away. Is it okay if I blame the contributor of my success in writing for my failure to do it in 2 months? Or is that the equivalent of biting the hand that feeds me?

In August, I begrudgingly started a Bookstagram (‘begrudgingly’ because this is the case with things I want to do but feel awkward about starting). It’s been a journey of cute pictures of the books I’ve read with long captions about why I liked them, what the books made me think of, and the sentences that had onions before my eyes. It’s been the space that has received the caused sparks in the past few months since I have been away from here. But this morning, I have decided that ‘Dolapo’s Attempts at C.S. Lewising’ will enjoy some of that as well. For this reason, I have now written two paragraphs about everything, and nothing.

12:32pm, Saturday, October 14, 2023.

I have a a picnic with friends in a short while. It has suddenly occurred to me that my friend, DR, sent me this link to read about 3 months ago. Being that I am still on a high from reading the 2 essays, and I am unable to produce any of mine, I have started the hunt for the next one when I remember DRs essay. I scroll to find the link and start reading what is likely a 30 minute read and I go on to read 3 paragraphs. As I feel the excitement and pause to send him a message saying thank you for it, I see the accompanying message he sent with the link.

I laugh and pause here. Having read only three paragraphs, I know it’ll be a good read. I abandon it so I can prepare for the picnic.

5:24 pm, October 14, 2023

I’m at the picnic now and I’ve wolfed down 2 donuts. I start to think of my to do list for the evening and what I can realistically achieve with the energy I have left. I think of what I was doing before I left the house. Consider finishing this Substack post. Or maybe not. I remember DRs article again and get giddy about it. Maybe I will finish that today.

The walk from the park (no pun intended) to my parked car is tiring. Something about an uphill movement after hours of running around seems like a design flaw to me that the authorities should be arrested for. But the energy in me is for the drive home, and so I do not start on my rampage of complaints. I get to my car with a few friends who will be riding with me and we get into conversations about what it means to exist well. We talk about the seeming audacity of the 30s, dealing with fear, moving when uncertain and suffering blows even when you are sure. It’s the kind of day that has you feeling hopeful about life.

5:57pm, October 14, 2023

My friends have left the car and my drive home continues. People are strolling casually to or from their weekend leisure activity, holding polythene bags, and walking regally in their outfits. In less than 15 minutes, I notice 3 incomplete buildings. One with scaffolding, another with complete roofing and another one that I am sure a mason will not see any time soon. The city I live in seems to adore them. Many have been there for years, some are new, all seem to have been forgotten by their owners. Because for Dolapo, everything is and can be a metaphor, I think of my Substack.

10:47pm, 24 November, 2023

I have just made a post on my Bookstagram and remember that I have this other space. I open this draft, seeing what I had written on October 14. I smile and pull up my laptop. Abandoned projects are for returning to. I have returned to mine.