Long LonG tiMe aGo...
Well, I guess it has been a long time since I've posted anything. Ironically, it is the holidays now. It could only mean one thing, I guess. My life is one hell of exciting and enriching and fulfilling and {adjective}...How I wished!
Yet it is at times when life reaches a certain monotomy that we start to desire thrills. Like fantasizing about the Japanese Language teacher's bra. Nylon or Lace or Cotton? Like blogging at 4am in the morning. Like singing 'American Pie' softly to myself and thinking of creampies. But it isn't all about sex and the likes of it. Anything that doesn't stimulate my mind doesn't stimulate my physical body. Therefore, pornography and lewd books are out. They no longer provide the much needed dose of high to sustain my lust for something beyond sex.
Dear brothers, I think I am the anti-thesis of the copulation theory. I'm not denying that I love sex. But it is not my only drive (I should put a stop to cheesy puns) in life man. Currently, the only thing that I am driving is myself--- up the wall, with layer after layer of merry-go-round ideology and thought. Oh yeah, life how I drove my Dad's car up the wall. Literally. I'm beginning to like the word. No, not sex. DRIVE.
But anyway, why are there people who are so darn bored that they have to resort to pointless ramblings just to hoax their active minds to a tired sleep? BoredOm. It is all in the name. But alas, it remains nothing more than a name. If I were to be French, maybe I'll be Jacques. If I were to be Korean, maybe I'll be Lee Bo Yuan. If I were to be Russian, maybe I'll be Nichola Valdomiv. If I were to be Thai, maybe I'll be Surajachai Kutalipong. Take my name away now. Take it away and tell me, what remains? Nothing. Nothing my dear brothers. Not all the women, not all the riches, not all the talents, not all the achievements remains if life is reduced to a name. Which explains why I am so darn bored. Oh? It doesn't explain anything.
Sorry, I refuse to spend my life trying to explain to others what I mean. If I said something, it was meant the way I meant it to be. It was meant for you to interpret. So I am crafty.... because with a certain degree of gilbness, I can manipulate my own words. I could make them melodramatic. I could make them rationalized. I could make them spin on a ferris wheel. Which is why I've decided to stop explaining altogether. Because nothing is wrong with any interpretation in the first place. It is just a matter of making sense of it.
Who the girl is doesn't matter. They may all be different and unique. But the need to love someone stems from an innate need to be loved. For the moment, I do not need either. Correction. For a lifetime to come, I may not need either. But what cannot be disproved does not necessarily make it correct. (Exactly what I was trying to tell my old friend who sent me weird messages) I have not gone out on a date with any lady for almost a month. I've never felt this freedOm. The tranquility of solitary life is amazing. Who the girl is doesn't matter. The girl doesn't matter. I have written a 10000 word thesis on the sacred subject of Love. It is published in every girl I've loved. If I could put all of them together and remove all their vices, then that will be the true love I seek. Hence, I believe nobody will disturb my peace for a long time to come.
Still waters run deep. The angst only lies submerged beneath a superficial calmness. It will explode one day, like a torpedo finally reaching a hull. Then everything above the surface will sink. All the hopes. All the dreams. All the wishes. They will all be disrupted by ripples from the explosion. They will all sink with the angst. Great! Then there will be a desperate struggle to stay afloat, to breadthe, to survive. That, is the thrill and stimulation I had always wanted. It is orgasmic. (Puts fingers into mouth) That, is the ultimate state of bliss, because finally, there can be a resolution between angst and dreams. There will be blending, and hence, there will be balance.
Time for digression into a history lesson. D-Day, June 6, 1944. 2500 Allied men died. 15000 Allied troops landed by the end of that day. Almost two thirds of a century later, we have the luxury of reviewing the splendor of a conflict between angst and freedOm.
And then....and then I realise every part of life was meant to be an ardent, but stimulating journey. Even more stimulating than black laced bras or double creampies.
Yet it is at times when life reaches a certain monotomy that we start to desire thrills. Like fantasizing about the Japanese Language teacher's bra. Nylon or Lace or Cotton? Like blogging at 4am in the morning. Like singing 'American Pie' softly to myself and thinking of creampies. But it isn't all about sex and the likes of it. Anything that doesn't stimulate my mind doesn't stimulate my physical body. Therefore, pornography and lewd books are out. They no longer provide the much needed dose of high to sustain my lust for something beyond sex.
Dear brothers, I think I am the anti-thesis of the copulation theory. I'm not denying that I love sex. But it is not my only drive (I should put a stop to cheesy puns) in life man. Currently, the only thing that I am driving is myself--- up the wall, with layer after layer of merry-go-round ideology and thought. Oh yeah, life how I drove my Dad's car up the wall. Literally. I'm beginning to like the word. No, not sex. DRIVE.
But anyway, why are there people who are so darn bored that they have to resort to pointless ramblings just to hoax their active minds to a tired sleep? BoredOm. It is all in the name. But alas, it remains nothing more than a name. If I were to be French, maybe I'll be Jacques. If I were to be Korean, maybe I'll be Lee Bo Yuan. If I were to be Russian, maybe I'll be Nichola Valdomiv. If I were to be Thai, maybe I'll be Surajachai Kutalipong. Take my name away now. Take it away and tell me, what remains? Nothing. Nothing my dear brothers. Not all the women, not all the riches, not all the talents, not all the achievements remains if life is reduced to a name. Which explains why I am so darn bored. Oh? It doesn't explain anything.
Sorry, I refuse to spend my life trying to explain to others what I mean. If I said something, it was meant the way I meant it to be. It was meant for you to interpret. So I am crafty.... because with a certain degree of gilbness, I can manipulate my own words. I could make them melodramatic. I could make them rationalized. I could make them spin on a ferris wheel. Which is why I've decided to stop explaining altogether. Because nothing is wrong with any interpretation in the first place. It is just a matter of making sense of it.
Who the girl is doesn't matter. They may all be different and unique. But the need to love someone stems from an innate need to be loved. For the moment, I do not need either. Correction. For a lifetime to come, I may not need either. But what cannot be disproved does not necessarily make it correct. (Exactly what I was trying to tell my old friend who sent me weird messages) I have not gone out on a date with any lady for almost a month. I've never felt this freedOm. The tranquility of solitary life is amazing. Who the girl is doesn't matter. The girl doesn't matter. I have written a 10000 word thesis on the sacred subject of Love. It is published in every girl I've loved. If I could put all of them together and remove all their vices, then that will be the true love I seek. Hence, I believe nobody will disturb my peace for a long time to come.
Still waters run deep. The angst only lies submerged beneath a superficial calmness. It will explode one day, like a torpedo finally reaching a hull. Then everything above the surface will sink. All the hopes. All the dreams. All the wishes. They will all be disrupted by ripples from the explosion. They will all sink with the angst. Great! Then there will be a desperate struggle to stay afloat, to breadthe, to survive. That, is the thrill and stimulation I had always wanted. It is orgasmic. (Puts fingers into mouth) That, is the ultimate state of bliss, because finally, there can be a resolution between angst and dreams. There will be blending, and hence, there will be balance.
Time for digression into a history lesson. D-Day, June 6, 1944. 2500 Allied men died. 15000 Allied troops landed by the end of that day. Almost two thirds of a century later, we have the luxury of reviewing the splendor of a conflict between angst and freedOm.
And then....and then I realise every part of life was meant to be an ardent, but stimulating journey. Even more stimulating than black laced bras or double creampies.
posted by sUmmEr heAt at 12:55 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home