She didnt tell me that she liked her little boys. I wasn't angry cos i didn't hav a choice. Had i had a choice; it was too armorous, her voice.
She seduced me with a tiny little gleam; deep inside her dark brown eyes, but to me it passed unseen. Had i had a choice; i would have saved myself, had i wondered; wondered...
Never before had the waterfall stopped falling, never in history was the cliff top so unseen. And as the sea went on from horizon to horizon; i passed by in my black ship with sails torn and mast destroyed.
Disguised, protected beneath a veneer of broken flesh; Lest the siren see me once again and tempt me to her warm cold lonely breasts.
Showing posts with label Women. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Women. Show all posts
Friday, July 10, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Pick up fine
We travel back in time a decade or so and...
There i am, a confused teenager wondering how the whole guy girl thing works. Slowly, pop culture exposes me to the phenomenon of pick up lines and i confront the holy grail of sexual pursuit; this is what i had been waiting for, this was the secret!
I put my newfound knowledge into practice. I started off with the lame 'have i seen you somewhere before?' line at an Interact event. A series of bemused girls say mixtures of things like 'er. i dont know hmm let me think about it', 'er, have you? where?' until, jackpot! one goes 'oh yeah at drama comp right?!' (i had never been to a drama comp in my life) i say 'yeaaah, i think you could be right!'.
So this one is really pretty and im all excited and manage to carry through a conversation and get her number and promise to call her sometime. Only i was so excited to have pulled it off i had to ask her three or four times afterwards for confirmation. Just to make sure it had really taken place outside the confines of my mind.
This other time, im at a rock concert and im walking up the stairs at MKOP. There are these two girls and one of 'em, as far as i could discern, was checking me (or possibly my friend, assuming she was slightly squint eyed) out while we were going up the stairs, so i go upto them and ask the one who was looking;
'Have you been feeling kinda tired lately?'
What can only be retrospectivey described as confusion, but disguised to my eyes in the heat of that moment as charmingly aroused curiousity, passes across her face.
'Uh tired? No?'
A pause, she was obviously not wondering which lunatic asylum i escaped from; Angoda or Mulleriyawa, and then she drops the question i've been waiting for...
'Why?'
So let her have the punchline.
And lean against the bannister and look into her eyes, not a lot unlike Elvis, expecting to see that brief moment when she would melt as her walls of restraint collapse beneath a river of uncontrollable adoration.
Instead I see horror. And indignation. And she blurts out;
'Excuse me but my mom is here!'
That was probably the only thing she could think of, but she was refferring to the 'chick' standing next to her, and the scary part is that I think that really was her mom, who was leaning on the banister like some rocker chick and giving me a look as if to say; where did you get the balls??
So i followed the first instinct of wisdom, I flirted with the mom. No, not really, I walked away before any fathers or brothers could materialize. See the thing with instinct is you gotta make sure its not too influenced by the latest installment of American Pie, or you'll find yourself getting into a sticky situation, rather like that unfortunate pie in the movie.
There i am, a confused teenager wondering how the whole guy girl thing works. Slowly, pop culture exposes me to the phenomenon of pick up lines and i confront the holy grail of sexual pursuit; this is what i had been waiting for, this was the secret!
I put my newfound knowledge into practice. I started off with the lame 'have i seen you somewhere before?' line at an Interact event. A series of bemused girls say mixtures of things like 'er. i dont know hmm let me think about it', 'er, have you? where?' until, jackpot! one goes 'oh yeah at drama comp right?!' (i had never been to a drama comp in my life) i say 'yeaaah, i think you could be right!'.
So this one is really pretty and im all excited and manage to carry through a conversation and get her number and promise to call her sometime. Only i was so excited to have pulled it off i had to ask her three or four times afterwards for confirmation. Just to make sure it had really taken place outside the confines of my mind.
This other time, im at a rock concert and im walking up the stairs at MKOP. There are these two girls and one of 'em, as far as i could discern, was checking me (or possibly my friend, assuming she was slightly squint eyed) out while we were going up the stairs, so i go upto them and ask the one who was looking;
'Have you been feeling kinda tired lately?'
What can only be retrospectivey described as confusion, but disguised to my eyes in the heat of that moment as charmingly aroused curiousity, passes across her face.
'Uh tired? No?'
A pause, she was obviously not wondering which lunatic asylum i escaped from; Angoda or Mulleriyawa, and then she drops the question i've been waiting for...
'Why?'
So let her have the punchline.
And lean against the bannister and look into her eyes, not a lot unlike Elvis, expecting to see that brief moment when she would melt as her walls of restraint collapse beneath a river of uncontrollable adoration.
Instead I see horror. And indignation. And she blurts out;
'Excuse me but my mom is here!'
That was probably the only thing she could think of, but she was refferring to the 'chick' standing next to her, and the scary part is that I think that really was her mom, who was leaning on the banister like some rocker chick and giving me a look as if to say; where did you get the balls??
So i followed the first instinct of wisdom, I flirted with the mom. No, not really, I walked away before any fathers or brothers could materialize. See the thing with instinct is you gotta make sure its not too influenced by the latest installment of American Pie, or you'll find yourself getting into a sticky situation, rather like that unfortunate pie in the movie.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Disillusionment tactic
She was standing on the sand. Her dress giving itself up to the whims of the wind. Her hair like wisps of night in the evening air flowing in waves around her face, revealing in turns to me her eyes, her nose, her gently curved mouth.
She was smiling slighly. She knows what im upto. What im trying to do. I try to hold her hand but she slips it away deftly, i cant resist reaching over to push her hair away from her neck. she winces.
She tells me she's changed her mind.
Ouch.
I take a step back, mentally. I should have thought this out better. Here i am, with her again knowing fuck all what i want to do. What I expect of her and what she thinks i expect of her. It is aways hard to approach the ones whom you are slightly in awe of. It is like approaching something frightening, like your principal's desk. You are unsure, you are hesitant, yet you push through with all the courage you can muster and a nonchalant expression on your face only to get suspended for ten days, or to be ordered to bring your father to school the next day.
I push on nevertheless, because i'm a think skulled man who doesn't know how to take no for an answer. And i reach over and place my hand on her neck. I expect her to stiffen but she doesn't. Or perhaps she did but i was deluding myself into thinking she didn't. Or perhaps i was so filled with self doubt that i could not imagine her not to stiffen at my touch.
I stoke her neck, her shoulder, her hair. I ask her why, i try to explain things, show her that this will work. That this can work, but she's not buying it.
In a minute or two she says she has to head back.
And that was the end of that.
Theres a voice inside that tells me to fight back. To go on. Deep inside the knowldedge lurks that when a woman says no, she usually means yes in a very convoluted and inexplicable way. She is beckoning me into her own mingled maze. But that is a maze you will get lost in if you attempt to walk it. That is a maze that hides the Minotaur of madness, waiting to grasp you and send you to your doom if you take but a single wrong turn. Is it a test of your manhood? or of your sanity and pride?
She was smiling slighly. She knows what im upto. What im trying to do. I try to hold her hand but she slips it away deftly, i cant resist reaching over to push her hair away from her neck. she winces.
She tells me she's changed her mind.
Ouch.
I take a step back, mentally. I should have thought this out better. Here i am, with her again knowing fuck all what i want to do. What I expect of her and what she thinks i expect of her. It is aways hard to approach the ones whom you are slightly in awe of. It is like approaching something frightening, like your principal's desk. You are unsure, you are hesitant, yet you push through with all the courage you can muster and a nonchalant expression on your face only to get suspended for ten days, or to be ordered to bring your father to school the next day.
I push on nevertheless, because i'm a think skulled man who doesn't know how to take no for an answer. And i reach over and place my hand on her neck. I expect her to stiffen but she doesn't. Or perhaps she did but i was deluding myself into thinking she didn't. Or perhaps i was so filled with self doubt that i could not imagine her not to stiffen at my touch.
I stoke her neck, her shoulder, her hair. I ask her why, i try to explain things, show her that this will work. That this can work, but she's not buying it.
In a minute or two she says she has to head back.
And that was the end of that.
Theres a voice inside that tells me to fight back. To go on. Deep inside the knowldedge lurks that when a woman says no, she usually means yes in a very convoluted and inexplicable way. She is beckoning me into her own mingled maze. But that is a maze you will get lost in if you attempt to walk it. That is a maze that hides the Minotaur of madness, waiting to grasp you and send you to your doom if you take but a single wrong turn. Is it a test of your manhood? or of your sanity and pride?
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Managing Expectations
I am not much of a talker, and i usually try to mind my own beeswax when it comes to the personal arena or coliseum, owing to the particularly spectator unfriendly nature of the blood sport, which nevertheless, is enjoyed by some. But perusing through Jerry's blog i realize that the poor boy is smitten by some damsel, whilst wishing him al the luck i am appalled at the rate he seems to have escalated his phone conversations with the said certain someone. Huge doses of talk time totaling up to an almost six hundred percent increase over a period of two months! While the telecommunications industry executive in me is cheering him on into the pits of doom, the caring fellow blogger is slapping his forehead in utter disasmagoria.
Now i know he will say it is none of my business, i know he will tell me to go flub myself, but i have to tell him what i have to tell him. Cos sometimes it takes a man to shake another man by the shoulders and say; Hey! Snap out of it!Or in this case it takes a man to shake Jerry by the shoulders and tell him the same thing.
Conversations are all very well when you start dating, you positively cringe at the very sound of the other person’s voice and the initial instinct dictated from the deepest bottom of your gut is to get into the fetal position on the floor and wiggle about curling your toes with your thumb in your mouth.
And that’s when another part of your brain, buried deep within a smog of black illusion-matter pulsing red with the effort like the unseen bottom of a long dead volcano, tries to send a signal to your right arm, and that signal is commanding your arm to slap your face. Hard.
Listen to that command! Slap your face hard! Snap out of it.
You gotta manage people's expectations, you can't hire a secretary and pay her a million bucks only to realize that your organization is crumbling as a result because a million bucks is barely your annual revenue inflow! Cos then you gotta reduce her wages because you don’t want to lose her but she’s not gonna like it.. Oh no, so then she’s gonna mess up your paperwork and make you look bad in front of your board members, she'll start hitting on your clients just to spite you. and she'll start telling your employees what color your boxers are and reveal the fact that you wear the same holey banian to work every day because you clearly do not believe that what lies underneath counts for anything much.
She will challenge your intellect and call you stupid. She will blast you to smithereens if you so much as imply an intellectual deficiency in her regard, she will pester you and trouble you and distract you from your life, she will in short become that number one scourge in all organizations; The Unsatisfied Yet Essential To Running of Organization Employee Who Is Perfectly Aware Of The Fact.
This is a point when a tough decision has to be made, you can either sell the organization, give up on your dreams and run away to the jungle to live with the secretary and keep her happy, whereupon she may well get sick of your incompetence as a man to take care of her 'the way she deserves' and run away with Tarzan's chimp. Or you can fire the secretary, go through some real rough times but somehow persevere and recover your business intact, but largely shaken.
If it comes to the crunch, I’d advice you to take option number two, but the crunch doesn’t have to come! Oh no, yes the crunch can be avoided if you just Manage her Expectations before she starts using and/or implying in a roundabout way the dreaded A word. Yes well. She’ll call you an asshole at some point of time sure but i mean the other and far deadlier, the king of all fearsome A words.
So don’t let it get there, Managing Expectations is key to long lasting happiness. For after all we are all CEOs of companies that are our lives, and market forces will determine how you sink or swim, figuratively speaking of course. So take heed! Let us save ourselves some corporate hassle and stressful job loss here.
Now i know he will say it is none of my business, i know he will tell me to go flub myself, but i have to tell him what i have to tell him. Cos sometimes it takes a man to shake another man by the shoulders and say; Hey! Snap out of it!
Conversations are all very well when you start dating, you positively cringe at the very sound of the other person’s voice and the initial instinct dictated from the deepest bottom of your gut is to get into the fetal position on the floor and wiggle about curling your toes with your thumb in your mouth.
And that’s when another part of your brain, buried deep within a smog of black illusion-matter pulsing red with the effort like the unseen bottom of a long dead volcano, tries to send a signal to your right arm, and that signal is commanding your arm to slap your face. Hard.
Listen to that command! Slap your face hard! Snap out of it.
You gotta manage people's expectations, you can't hire a secretary and pay her a million bucks only to realize that your organization is crumbling as a result because a million bucks is barely your annual revenue inflow! Cos then you gotta reduce her wages because you don’t want to lose her but she’s not gonna like it.. Oh no, so then she’s gonna mess up your paperwork and make you look bad in front of your board members, she'll start hitting on your clients just to spite you. and she'll start telling your employees what color your boxers are and reveal the fact that you wear the same holey banian to work every day because you clearly do not believe that what lies underneath counts for anything much.
She will challenge your intellect and call you stupid. She will blast you to smithereens if you so much as imply an intellectual deficiency in her regard, she will pester you and trouble you and distract you from your life, she will in short become that number one scourge in all organizations; The Unsatisfied Yet Essential To Running of Organization Employee Who Is Perfectly Aware Of The Fact.
This is a point when a tough decision has to be made, you can either sell the organization, give up on your dreams and run away to the jungle to live with the secretary and keep her happy, whereupon she may well get sick of your incompetence as a man to take care of her 'the way she deserves' and run away with Tarzan's chimp. Or you can fire the secretary, go through some real rough times but somehow persevere and recover your business intact, but largely shaken.
If it comes to the crunch, I’d advice you to take option number two, but the crunch doesn’t have to come! Oh no, yes the crunch can be avoided if you just Manage her Expectations before she starts using and/or implying in a roundabout way the dreaded A word. Yes well. She’ll call you an asshole at some point of time sure but i mean the other and far deadlier, the king of all fearsome A words.
So don’t let it get there, Managing Expectations is key to long lasting happiness. For after all we are all CEOs of companies that are our lives, and market forces will determine how you sink or swim, figuratively speaking of course. So take heed! Let us save ourselves some corporate hassle and stressful job loss here.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Big Matches Island Style
I have long been confused with this particular aspect of Sri Lankan adolescent/post adolescent annual rituals. During Big Match season we generally tend to see an uprising of sorts from boys school all over screaming in enraged defiance at their opposition and at the world in general for no particular reason other than that two school teams will be playing a cricket match a week or two later.
Most of them wouldn't even know any of the players in a team but will usually have a rough grasp of which team is favored to win since this is an important factor in determining the level of defiance in your roar and levels of virtual testosterone in air humping movements made on top of moving pickup trucks.
The whole deal as a matter of fact, is nothing about the cricket. the big Match is just a chance for some legitimate skullduggery, some legitimate jumping into girls schools and some license to feel like alpha males for a little while at least. Everyone's a little tolerant of these things come big match season yeah? Principles are in a boys-will-be-boys mood, the girls are coy, the teachers wear grim faces yet undergo tremendous stress to keep amused smiles from breaking out. Pedestrians are annoyed, yet secretly wish they could prance around without a care just like the objects of their annoyance.
And they All contribute, knowing full well that the money goes to nothing more than an alcohol, papare band, and smoking material fund that will probably contribute next to nothing to whatever cause they claim to be collecting it for, and that claim usually goes something like 'for the big match', which is very vague and that’s the way everybody likes it. see no evil and the rest of it.
And the girls. I think the number of girls at big matches would outnumber the boys if there weren't already so many boys inside the place already. It's like they actually enjoy being amidst a rowdy bunch of hooting males drinking and smoking everything drinkable and smokable regardless of legality and screaming and fighting and pushing and taking their shirts off at a moments notice. The attention factor must draw them to it. Because i suppose there is nothing more gratifying for a woman than to be ogled at by a hundred guys at the same time. Which is roughly the proportion of males to females at most big matches. And the alcohol and intoxicant content would ensure that pretty soon any woman seen on the grounds would have her own fair share of oglement. We're very politically correct that way.
Not that I've done a statistical analysis of these things, I've never been trucking or jumped into a girl’s school mainly 'cos the school i went to didn’t have an operational big match. But crazy rumors and stories circulated telling of a of a big match that once existed which was abolished due to some chap 'from the other school' dying, as in being stabbed to death, of course, our guys say we did the killing. Versions may differ. There is a bit of an ugly side to the whole thing, sure. But isn't there an ugly side to everything?
The chap sitting next to me sums it up best, big matches are not really about the cricket, once you leave school they are mostly about catching up with your old mates and having a slice of that carefree life you used to enjoy. Not really about enraged fans screaming for a win and more about a bunch of males with a rowdy license meeting for a good old booze up and a smoke up and a screaming fest with constant ogling action thrown in. It's the atmosphere. The cricket is only what holds it all together.
Most of them wouldn't even know any of the players in a team but will usually have a rough grasp of which team is favored to win since this is an important factor in determining the level of defiance in your roar and levels of virtual testosterone in air humping movements made on top of moving pickup trucks.
The whole deal as a matter of fact, is nothing about the cricket. the big Match is just a chance for some legitimate skullduggery, some legitimate jumping into girls schools and some license to feel like alpha males for a little while at least. Everyone's a little tolerant of these things come big match season yeah? Principles are in a boys-will-be-boys mood, the girls are coy, the teachers wear grim faces yet undergo tremendous stress to keep amused smiles from breaking out. Pedestrians are annoyed, yet secretly wish they could prance around without a care just like the objects of their annoyance.
And they All contribute, knowing full well that the money goes to nothing more than an alcohol, papare band, and smoking material fund that will probably contribute next to nothing to whatever cause they claim to be collecting it for, and that claim usually goes something like 'for the big match', which is very vague and that’s the way everybody likes it. see no evil and the rest of it.
And the girls. I think the number of girls at big matches would outnumber the boys if there weren't already so many boys inside the place already. It's like they actually enjoy being amidst a rowdy bunch of hooting males drinking and smoking everything drinkable and smokable regardless of legality and screaming and fighting and pushing and taking their shirts off at a moments notice. The attention factor must draw them to it. Because i suppose there is nothing more gratifying for a woman than to be ogled at by a hundred guys at the same time. Which is roughly the proportion of males to females at most big matches. And the alcohol and intoxicant content would ensure that pretty soon any woman seen on the grounds would have her own fair share of oglement. We're very politically correct that way.
Not that I've done a statistical analysis of these things, I've never been trucking or jumped into a girl’s school mainly 'cos the school i went to didn’t have an operational big match. But crazy rumors and stories circulated telling of a of a big match that once existed which was abolished due to some chap 'from the other school' dying, as in being stabbed to death, of course, our guys say we did the killing. Versions may differ. There is a bit of an ugly side to the whole thing, sure. But isn't there an ugly side to everything?
The chap sitting next to me sums it up best, big matches are not really about the cricket, once you leave school they are mostly about catching up with your old mates and having a slice of that carefree life you used to enjoy. Not really about enraged fans screaming for a win and more about a bunch of males with a rowdy license meeting for a good old booze up and a smoke up and a screaming fest with constant ogling action thrown in. It's the atmosphere. The cricket is only what holds it all together.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Boy meets girl, boy eats girl
Girlfriends. There. I am coming to this elusive topic that has been causing me to stop, stare and hyperventilate every time i sit in front of my screen to write something. and i cant fucking handle this. when i cant write, my work suffers, and we all know how much one should care about one's girls work.
I haven't had any sex in months, I mean im not a exactly a bed hopping charged battery-bull but you know, i like the occasional roll in the grass or more like the pavement you know. But you can't even get laid in this land without undergoing torturous psychological trauma where the girl will give you no end of hell accusing you of knocking her up and jumping the gun.
I am sorry, i may be offending a lot of ladies here but to my credit, i really don't care. I almost suspected myself of turning into a homosexual for goodness sakes! i have been for so long removed from womankind by choice that there are points of time when i am seriously concerned about the true nature of my sexuality, this is a serious, serious problem.
This all started ages ago, along with my first experiences with women. I have always been careful not to be too sexually involved with a woman that im emotionally involved with and my list of encounters of the close kind have mostly been with causal flings. But then again this is not a very telling point seeing as i've only really been emotionally involved with about 3 women (and only two of them anything close to serious). But the thing is, sexual experiences in my book feel nothing as good as when there is a bit of emotion involved.
Casual flings are great. but there is a reason they are casual and pretty soon you get bored and move along yeah? and the more time you spend in casual flings the more you tend to start wanting something more real and more exciting and then poof! before you know it, you are treading the Menstrual Swamps, with bitch fits, hissy fits (apologies to DQ whom i met over the weekend and whom i thought was very nice), underground arguments waiting to grab you by your feet and drag you under, and the occasional extremely dangerous surprise landmine that will explode the moment you keep your foot in the wrong place.
It takes a long time to navigate out of the Swamp, and its a tough, tough process. There will be many vines that grab you. Many zombified 'other people' who will involve themselves and perform slave rituals in trance like dreams to make your life even more of a living hell than it already is. The swamp itself will play mind games on you, it will make you believe that you don't really want to leave! it will try and convince you that it is in reality a paradise, and it will actually show you a some wonderful times to prove it. But these wonderful times will soon be few and far between and one must know to get out whilst one still can. One must be strong and determined. And immune to the temptations of the flesh.
Such drama and torture is not worth the sex on tap that is probably the sole benefit of the whole operation. Oh of course there is love and understanding and caring and all that, but that's nothing a guy can't mostly do without, cos it all comes at such a great price see? And like i said, sex in a relationship is different from just plain old sex. No, to me its more intense, more thrilling, much more of an experience than just a wham bam thank you m' am at Big John, Dehiwala. Sex with emotion is truly ecstatic. And the other kind simply pales in comparison.
So what do we do then? this is quite the perplexing conundrum (not the blog). Here i lie frustrated the fuck out, wanting to get laid but pooh-pooh-ing at a casual fling, checking out boys and wondering what the fuck is wrong with me, examining this post and wondering why the fuck i've written the word 'fuck' so many times. Trying my best to stay the hell away from emotional involvement with women and not finding it all that hard either because i'v become jaded and cynical and most of the women i know don't make me feel like i should be in a relationship with them anyway.
Yes, the world is boring and nothing presents me a challenge worth taking.
Change man, change is what i need.
Obama! is this the thanks i get for telling my best friend in Maryland to vote for you? So what if he was not a citizen and couldn't actually vote? and so what if i didn't actually tell him anything in the first place? %%$^#$!
I haven't had any sex in months, I mean im not a exactly a bed hopping charged battery-bull but you know, i like the occasional roll in the grass or more like the pavement you know. But you can't even get laid in this land without undergoing torturous psychological trauma where the girl will give you no end of hell accusing you of knocking her up and jumping the gun.
I am sorry, i may be offending a lot of ladies here but to my credit, i really don't care. I almost suspected myself of turning into a homosexual for goodness sakes! i have been for so long removed from womankind by choice that there are points of time when i am seriously concerned about the true nature of my sexuality, this is a serious, serious problem.
This all started ages ago, along with my first experiences with women. I have always been careful not to be too sexually involved with a woman that im emotionally involved with and my list of encounters of the close kind have mostly been with causal flings. But then again this is not a very telling point seeing as i've only really been emotionally involved with about 3 women (and only two of them anything close to serious). But the thing is, sexual experiences in my book feel nothing as good as when there is a bit of emotion involved.
Casual flings are great. but there is a reason they are casual and pretty soon you get bored and move along yeah? and the more time you spend in casual flings the more you tend to start wanting something more real and more exciting and then poof! before you know it, you are treading the Menstrual Swamps, with bitch fits, hissy fits (apologies to DQ whom i met over the weekend and whom i thought was very nice), underground arguments waiting to grab you by your feet and drag you under, and the occasional extremely dangerous surprise landmine that will explode the moment you keep your foot in the wrong place.
It takes a long time to navigate out of the Swamp, and its a tough, tough process. There will be many vines that grab you. Many zombified 'other people' who will involve themselves and perform slave rituals in trance like dreams to make your life even more of a living hell than it already is. The swamp itself will play mind games on you, it will make you believe that you don't really want to leave! it will try and convince you that it is in reality a paradise, and it will actually show you a some wonderful times to prove it. But these wonderful times will soon be few and far between and one must know to get out whilst one still can. One must be strong and determined. And immune to the temptations of the flesh.
Such drama and torture is not worth the sex on tap that is probably the sole benefit of the whole operation. Oh of course there is love and understanding and caring and all that, but that's nothing a guy can't mostly do without, cos it all comes at such a great price see? And like i said, sex in a relationship is different from just plain old sex. No, to me its more intense, more thrilling, much more of an experience than just a wham bam thank you m' am at Big John, Dehiwala. Sex with emotion is truly ecstatic. And the other kind simply pales in comparison.
So what do we do then? this is quite the perplexing conundrum (not the blog). Here i lie frustrated the fuck out, wanting to get laid but pooh-pooh-ing at a casual fling, checking out boys and wondering what the fuck is wrong with me, examining this post and wondering why the fuck i've written the word 'fuck' so many times. Trying my best to stay the hell away from emotional involvement with women and not finding it all that hard either because i'v become jaded and cynical and most of the women i know don't make me feel like i should be in a relationship with them anyway.
Yes, the world is boring and nothing presents me a challenge worth taking.
Change man, change is what i need.
Obama! is this the thanks i get for telling my best friend in Maryland to vote for you? So what if he was not a citizen and couldn't actually vote? and so what if i didn't actually tell him anything in the first place? %%$^#$!
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Dude, Where's the Party Yaar??
He was a bored boy with idle hands,
a dangerous mind and devious plans,
he walked into the neighbors' when no one was there,
he looked through the key hole,
and saw her standing there.
she was bare with not a thread of clothing..
except for a towel, she'd just been bathing..
he was shocked and confused,
but at the same time his eyes started glowing..
curiousity gripped his little frame,
and eagerly his neck he craned,
breathing as silently as silence came.
He looked through as she let the towel slip..
she bent over and the sunshine crept,
through the slender gaps between her legs.
he scratched his head--
he looked again...
It wasnt there!
Sensations gripped him afresh,
and now he was obsessed..
Possessed by a plan,
to get to the bottom of this mystery, man!
so later on, when she was sleeping--
he crept in, and his hand slowly snuck in,
he felt his way inbetween her thighs,
beneath her undergarment and on inside..
And....
She woke up with a scream!
Quick as a flash--
His hand was no longer where it'd been.
Their eyes met.
She must have thought she was having a dream..
'Cos she just dropped back and slept.
Hmmmm...
he thought to himself
so that's it then..
He thought a little more--
and more impossibilities opened up;
like 'how do they pee?' for example.
and then he was inducted into a world
of whole new mystery.
Which is altogether,
A very different story.
a dangerous mind and devious plans,
he walked into the neighbors' when no one was there,
he looked through the key hole,
and saw her standing there.
she was bare with not a thread of clothing..
except for a towel, she'd just been bathing..
he was shocked and confused,
but at the same time his eyes started glowing..
curiousity gripped his little frame,
and eagerly his neck he craned,
breathing as silently as silence came.
He looked through as she let the towel slip..
she bent over and the sunshine crept,
through the slender gaps between her legs.
he scratched his head--
he looked again...
It wasnt there!
Sensations gripped him afresh,
and now he was obsessed..
Possessed by a plan,
to get to the bottom of this mystery, man!
so later on, when she was sleeping--
he crept in, and his hand slowly snuck in,
he felt his way inbetween her thighs,
beneath her undergarment and on inside..
And....
She woke up with a scream!
Quick as a flash--
His hand was no longer where it'd been.
Their eyes met.
She must have thought she was having a dream..
'Cos she just dropped back and slept.
Hmmmm...
he thought to himself
so that's it then..
He thought a little more--
and more impossibilities opened up;
like 'how do they pee?' for example.
and then he was inducted into a world
of whole new mystery.
Which is altogether,
A very different story.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Irrationalia
'Man is a rational animal’?
Whoever said that definitely has NOT driven through the traffic ridden streets of Dehiwala in the morning whilst being terribly late to work. A manic paranoia that my boss will call at any moment now to ask for that presentation I promised to polish up first thing in the morning had my earpiece firmly planted to my ear. There is a sound of someone knocking on a door. And no don’t worry it's just my sms tone. NOT a 'visitor among us from the 'other side''. And for a wonder, the usual 'news alerts' seemed to have dried up of late as well and the sms was from an actual person! Guess there are not many people dying, major disasters happening or a lot of ass kissing going on at Temple Trees. (I’m pro Mahinder, no really, I am! What? No I’m NOT crossing my fingers…)
I was having breakfast calmly at home (already 10 minutes late to work) when I got the message.
‘Boss in office’
Yelp! What the hell is he doing at work so early anyways? Goddamn. I remember a call at 8.30 last night
'You can give it to me first thing in the morning no?'
I wanted to say NO! You shmuck I… NO!
But I said yes.
And I could’ve given it really, no problem.
Except I was late.
So I pretty much drove poor old Angie like a maniac.
With ridiculously random thoughts running through my mind like,
"Why does no one ever Work on Labor Day?"
"Why am I so fucking horny lately?"
"Why are the morning jokes on TNL so dumb?"
"Why do I chill the hell out every morning taking my own cool time only to be late to work?"
"Why the hell am I working here?"
And the mood teeters on the brink of depression;
"I’m not made for conventional work"
"Don’t want to be a regular worker bee"
"I see no point in it, I’m not happy with my work".
Sure, I’m happy with my job. Now that’s a different thing. At this point in my life and times this is probably the ideal job for me. For reasons I shall allow to remain mysteriously unrevealed. I suddenly realize how much I’m riding on my dreams. And I get that feeling. You know, the one you get when an alien mother ship is about to light beam you into the bowels of its mysterious insides? Utter helplessness and loss of control.
Dreams, hopes, whizzing AC busses, waving cops, wrong side of the road, glaring drivers, hurt pedestrians (feelings feelings! not physically hurt. I usually respect pedestrians, ‘cos we’re all pedestrians at one point or the other), huffed tuk tuk drivers, busting AC that I keep having to switch on and off.
Delusional truck drivers who insist on traveling in the fast lane when it’s so fucking obvious that there are faster things like cars and push bicycles whose drivers are tearing their nerves up in impatience behind them.
The urge to stop and literally, literally beat-up the guy in the idling Camry eating a cheese sandwich slowing me down to 20kmph is overwhelmed by the urge to beat the ticking clock.
Finally the old girl and I got to work.
And now I’m chilling out writing a blog post about all this.
Did the best I could with the presentation, though my boss is the type of deranged dude who’d be perfectly happy with it one moment and then go completely berserk because the font size and background color creates sensory overload in combination with that little picture sitting on the side. Screw the actual content of the thing; leave that to the business world. Over here, we’re into politicking.
Whoever said that definitely has NOT driven through the traffic ridden streets of Dehiwala in the morning whilst being terribly late to work. A manic paranoia that my boss will call at any moment now to ask for that presentation I promised to polish up first thing in the morning had my earpiece firmly planted to my ear. There is a sound of someone knocking on a door. And no don’t worry it's just my sms tone. NOT a 'visitor among us from the 'other side''. And for a wonder, the usual 'news alerts' seemed to have dried up of late as well and the sms was from an actual person! Guess there are not many people dying, major disasters happening or a lot of ass kissing going on at Temple Trees. (I’m pro Mahinder, no really, I am! What? No I’m NOT crossing my fingers…)
I was having breakfast calmly at home (already 10 minutes late to work) when I got the message.
‘Boss in office’
Yelp! What the hell is he doing at work so early anyways? Goddamn. I remember a call at 8.30 last night
'You can give it to me first thing in the morning no?'
I wanted to say NO! You shmuck I… NO!
But I said yes.
And I could’ve given it really, no problem.
Except I was late.
So I pretty much drove poor old Angie like a maniac.
With ridiculously random thoughts running through my mind like,
"Why does no one ever Work on Labor Day?"
"Why am I so fucking horny lately?"
"Why are the morning jokes on TNL so dumb?"
"Why do I chill the hell out every morning taking my own cool time only to be late to work?"
"Why the hell am I working here?"
And the mood teeters on the brink of depression;
"I’m not made for conventional work"
"Don’t want to be a regular worker bee"
"I see no point in it, I’m not happy with my work".
Sure, I’m happy with my job. Now that’s a different thing. At this point in my life and times this is probably the ideal job for me. For reasons I shall allow to remain mysteriously unrevealed. I suddenly realize how much I’m riding on my dreams. And I get that feeling. You know, the one you get when an alien mother ship is about to light beam you into the bowels of its mysterious insides? Utter helplessness and loss of control.
Dreams, hopes, whizzing AC busses, waving cops, wrong side of the road, glaring drivers, hurt pedestrians (feelings feelings! not physically hurt. I usually respect pedestrians, ‘cos we’re all pedestrians at one point or the other), huffed tuk tuk drivers, busting AC that I keep having to switch on and off.
Delusional truck drivers who insist on traveling in the fast lane when it’s so fucking obvious that there are faster things like cars and push bicycles whose drivers are tearing their nerves up in impatience behind them.
The urge to stop and literally, literally beat-up the guy in the idling Camry eating a cheese sandwich slowing me down to 20kmph is overwhelmed by the urge to beat the ticking clock.
Finally the old girl and I got to work.
And now I’m chilling out writing a blog post about all this.
Did the best I could with the presentation, though my boss is the type of deranged dude who’d be perfectly happy with it one moment and then go completely berserk because the font size and background color creates sensory overload in combination with that little picture sitting on the side. Screw the actual content of the thing; leave that to the business world. Over here, we’re into politicking.
Monday, January 19, 2009
More subjective shit - Nice guys and coming last
Ah! so through my meanderings and random stopping by's through the blogosphere i came across quite a thought provoking item done by Papare Boy (sorry, i cant seem to get that little line above the 'e'). I of course, use the word 'shit' here merely to quantify, and not to degrade. Think of it as if i was saying 'stuff' instead and not 'shit'. As a matter of fact, i could have just gone and changed it to 'stuff' and saved myself all the trouble of explanation but i am in a rambly sort of mood, and will indulge myself.
So Nice Guys, do they really finish last? several ladies opined on the topic among them the Goddess and Makuluwo who by her own admission (read, blog URL) is slightly mad (:p - sry, couldn resist doing my own tame MoB). Makuluwo raised quite an interesting point when she said "I think the definition of NICE, goddessofvileness, is always relative!"
Hmmm.. okay, now before we delve into this little study of ameteur sociology, i suggest you read the full thing along with the whole riveting discussion which can be found here. If you're interested enough that is, otherwise stick around here lets see what we can dig up.
All right, so first of all what i do is a google the term 'nice guys finish last' right? and obviously i straightaway head into wiki. dont even know why i google most stuff anymore, i inevitably go into wiki from the search results.
One main thing we've got to get clear. We are strictly talking about matters closer to the libido and heart here. Since it appears that it really doesn't matter what kind of man you are for the whole world to accept you, the main problem area seems to appear when it comes to being accepeted by the oposite sex.
First, what the devil is a nice guy? is he, as Papare Boy postulates, someone who doesn't beat you over the head when you mess with the remote? With all due respect to PB however, i think expertise lies with theinfe superior sex (on the topic) so why dont we go straight to the source?
Actually, Harold and Millhausen (1998) have already done this so lets just save ourselves the trouble and have a look at their findings shall we?
They found that women associate different qualities with the "nice guy" label:
"Some women offered flattering interpretations of the nice guy, characterizing him as committed, caring, and respectful of women.
Some women, however, emphasized more negative aspects, considering the nice guy to be boring, lacking confidence, and unattractive."
There is also a negative phenomenon associated with the "nice girl" in the same respect. She may be considered to be a prude, boring and submissive. (this is not really relevant to the topic so lets just disregard this)
The bad boys were also divided into two categories, "as either confident, attractive, sexy, and exciting or as manipulative, unfaithful, disrespectful of women, and interested only in sex."
Hmmm so according to Harold and Millhausen basically you can look at nice guys in one of two ways. Positively or negatively. Am i safe if i say that? no arguments there? So if you're 'committed, caring, and respectful of women' it makes you nice and if you are 'boring, lacking confidence, and unattractive' well IMO that just makes you a wimp.
And if you are confident, attractive, sexy, and exciting that makes you Bad (but bad like Russel Crowe) whilst if you're manipulative, unfaithful, disrespectful of women, and interested only in sex that also makes you bad but this time somewhere along the lines of Commodus (Joaquin Pheonix in Gladiator) or maybe Jack (the Ripper).
So women like nice guys (lets call them honorable guys) but dont like wimps. Women also like heroic chaps but also dislike the more perverted variety. Simple as that. You have to be nice but you cant be a wimp. You've gotta be bad, but you cant be an asshole.
There we go, problem solved.
I think it will be a while till even i come to terms with the magnitude of it all. For what we have accomplished here boys and girls is nothing short of phenomenal. It is the answer to the age old question that has baffled all men since Adam, ever since he discovered that part of his rib was missing and that he was no longer alone up there. The perplexing conundrum (not the blog) that all men inevitably think of when they gaze at the stars or when they look out the window or when they eat, sleep, wake up,jog, work, study etc. What do women really want?
And ladies, dont think that this day is no less important to you, because through empirical analysis you have finally been shown what you really want as well. Because if there's one thing we guys have instinctively known since the beginning of time is that; while we have no clue as to what women want, women, have even less of an idea about the whole thing.
So start thinkng ladies. You know what you want now. Just go out there and get it. Im right here. hyok.
*disclaimer - this post was written on a lazy monday afternoon, so by default, is justified in all its implications. And that includes the marginal meaninglessness of this 'disclaimer'.
So Nice Guys, do they really finish last? several ladies opined on the topic among them the Goddess and Makuluwo who by her own admission (read, blog URL) is slightly mad (:p - sry, couldn resist doing my own tame MoB). Makuluwo raised quite an interesting point when she said "I think the definition of NICE, goddessofvileness, is always relative!"
Hmmm.. okay, now before we delve into this little study of ameteur sociology, i suggest you read the full thing along with the whole riveting discussion which can be found here. If you're interested enough that is, otherwise stick around here lets see what we can dig up.
All right, so first of all what i do is a google the term 'nice guys finish last' right? and obviously i straightaway head into wiki. dont even know why i google most stuff anymore, i inevitably go into wiki from the search results.
One main thing we've got to get clear. We are strictly talking about matters closer to the libido and heart here. Since it appears that it really doesn't matter what kind of man you are for the whole world to accept you, the main problem area seems to appear when it comes to being accepeted by the oposite sex.
First, what the devil is a nice guy? is he, as Papare Boy postulates, someone who doesn't beat you over the head when you mess with the remote? With all due respect to PB however, i think expertise lies with the
Actually, Harold and Millhausen (1998) have already done this so lets just save ourselves the trouble and have a look at their findings shall we?
They found that women associate different qualities with the "nice guy" label:
"Some women offered flattering interpretations of the nice guy, characterizing him as committed, caring, and respectful of women.
Some women, however, emphasized more negative aspects, considering the nice guy to be boring, lacking confidence, and unattractive."
There is also a negative phenomenon associated with the "nice girl" in the same respect. She may be considered to be a prude, boring and submissive. (this is not really relevant to the topic so lets just disregard this)
The bad boys were also divided into two categories, "as either confident, attractive, sexy, and exciting or as manipulative, unfaithful, disrespectful of women, and interested only in sex."
Hmmm so according to Harold and Millhausen basically you can look at nice guys in one of two ways. Positively or negatively. Am i safe if i say that? no arguments there? So if you're 'committed, caring, and respectful of women' it makes you nice and if you are 'boring, lacking confidence, and unattractive' well IMO that just makes you a wimp.
And if you are confident, attractive, sexy, and exciting that makes you Bad (but bad like Russel Crowe) whilst if you're manipulative, unfaithful, disrespectful of women, and interested only in sex that also makes you bad but this time somewhere along the lines of Commodus (Joaquin Pheonix in Gladiator) or maybe Jack (the Ripper).
So women like nice guys (lets call them honorable guys) but dont like wimps. Women also like heroic chaps but also dislike the more perverted variety. Simple as that. You have to be nice but you cant be a wimp. You've gotta be bad, but you cant be an asshole.
There we go, problem solved.
I think it will be a while till even i come to terms with the magnitude of it all. For what we have accomplished here boys and girls is nothing short of phenomenal. It is the answer to the age old question that has baffled all men since Adam, ever since he discovered that part of his rib was missing and that he was no longer alone up there. The perplexing conundrum (not the blog) that all men inevitably think of when they gaze at the stars or when they look out the window or when they eat, sleep, wake up,jog, work, study etc. What do women really want?
And ladies, dont think that this day is no less important to you, because through empirical analysis you have finally been shown what you really want as well. Because if there's one thing we guys have instinctively known since the beginning of time is that; while we have no clue as to what women want, women, have even less of an idea about the whole thing.
So start thinkng ladies. You know what you want now. Just go out there and get it. Im right here. hyok.
*disclaimer - this post was written on a lazy monday afternoon, so by default, is justified in all its implications. And that includes the marginal meaninglessness of this 'disclaimer'.
Monday, December 22, 2008
solutions from machines
you're my luncheon
thats what I thought but then
you sprang a trap
and I was almost caught
within it's sharp pointed
metal gaps
you smiled like a baby
then you drew your claws
oh you're crazy
and I'm glad I'm not yours.
You almost trapped me
oh yes you almost got me
but the traps have come before
and I know a thing or two
about women now.
hahahaha!
Free!
thats what I thought but then
you sprang a trap
and I was almost caught
within it's sharp pointed
metal gaps
you smiled like a baby
then you drew your claws
oh you're crazy
and I'm glad I'm not yours.
You almost trapped me
oh yes you almost got me
but the traps have come before
and I know a thing or two
about women now.
hahahaha!
Free!
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Snappy
Damn, is everyone having a bad time? I swear, things have been doing the solo from 'November rain' on my nerves all week! Twanging them and twisting them beyond all recognition. This morning I lost my temper with my mother. Something I immediately regretted. Apologized right away though. Last person I want to hurt is my mama (makes gurgly baby noises)
Ok now back to my week. It all started with my ex. She doesn’t consider a conversation worthwhile unless she manages to piss me off somehow. She keeps going on and on pushing my buttons and I always keep my composure you see? but somehow she breached all my defenses yesterday and boom! I went Fick.
Some might wonder, if she's my ex why am i still talking to her? plain answer is I don’t know. Its not like we're romantically involved anymore. that ended a long time ago. But we tried, very stupidly it seems. to do the whole 'lets be friends thing' and before you know it, when we are in the middle of a totally normal conversation some monster from the past creeps in and metamorphoses into a raging beast of wrath destroying everything in its wake.
You know when you're sms'ing someone and things start getting heated up and pretty soon you're having two different conversations at the same time? when that happens, either someone backs down or someone cracks and unleashes the verbal demon so to speak. because pretty soon, two conversations turn into three conversations when you start having to discuss several points at the same time, and start splitting up more and more so it’s not surprising that pretty soon everything blows up sky high.
You might wonder how I’ve become such an expert on the intricacies of sms dominated conversation. Well you try having a long standing relationship with someone with sms as the chief (and mostly only) mode of conversation, and see. ‘Unhealthy’ you may say. I'll say 'uh, you think?'
Add to that an annoying iron that burns your shirt in the morning, the discovery that you have run out of clothes to wear and your laundry has been piling up, rabid dogs ganging up on you on the beach, people at work being total bitches, losing your temper at these bitches, exams looming up, assignments looming up, delayed presentations, delayed personal portfolio documents, disillusionment about my job and an unfulfilled dream to break away and get out of this place to somewhere free and floating and you will probably understand why I’m not that much of a happy puppy these days.
So if I yell at you, please understand it’s nothing personal, I’m just mentally charged up and badly in need of a fight. Any takers? Huh? ANYONE WANT A PIECE OF THIS?????*
*kidding kidding, Im calm. Ooomm, oomm, ah, i am a flower on a green field, floating like a feather, drifting on a summer breeze, a wisp of cloud. Ahh.
Ok now back to my week. It all started with my ex. She doesn’t consider a conversation worthwhile unless she manages to piss me off somehow. She keeps going on and on pushing my buttons and I always keep my composure you see? but somehow she breached all my defenses yesterday and boom! I went Fick.
Some might wonder, if she's my ex why am i still talking to her? plain answer is I don’t know. Its not like we're romantically involved anymore. that ended a long time ago. But we tried, very stupidly it seems. to do the whole 'lets be friends thing' and before you know it, when we are in the middle of a totally normal conversation some monster from the past creeps in and metamorphoses into a raging beast of wrath destroying everything in its wake.
You know when you're sms'ing someone and things start getting heated up and pretty soon you're having two different conversations at the same time? when that happens, either someone backs down or someone cracks and unleashes the verbal demon so to speak. because pretty soon, two conversations turn into three conversations when you start having to discuss several points at the same time, and start splitting up more and more so it’s not surprising that pretty soon everything blows up sky high.
You might wonder how I’ve become such an expert on the intricacies of sms dominated conversation. Well you try having a long standing relationship with someone with sms as the chief (and mostly only) mode of conversation, and see. ‘Unhealthy’ you may say. I'll say 'uh, you think?'
Add to that an annoying iron that burns your shirt in the morning, the discovery that you have run out of clothes to wear and your laundry has been piling up, rabid dogs ganging up on you on the beach, people at work being total bitches, losing your temper at these bitches, exams looming up, assignments looming up, delayed presentations, delayed personal portfolio documents, disillusionment about my job and an unfulfilled dream to break away and get out of this place to somewhere free and floating and you will probably understand why I’m not that much of a happy puppy these days.
So if I yell at you, please understand it’s nothing personal, I’m just mentally charged up and badly in need of a fight. Any takers? Huh? ANYONE WANT A PIECE OF THIS?????*
*kidding kidding, Im calm. Ooomm, oomm, ah, i am a flower on a green field, floating like a feather, drifting on a summer breeze, a wisp of cloud. Ahh.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Women
Bah! they are good for one thing and one thing only. cooking. and maybe a couple other things. when i was young i never felt the urge to associate with them. i changed my mind somewhere down the line and now im suffering!! argh. they are distracting!
They distract me when i walk down the road, they distract me in class, they distract me when i look over my cubilcle at the guy-next-to-me's PC. they distract me at work in general. i just cant help noticing them. their curves, how they hold their neck up. is she confident? is she proud? or is she just too scared to be her-self?
i am fucking intrigued by them. i tell you they are a scourge on humanity.
and their hair! now dont get me talking about their hair! theres nothing like a well endowed graceful figure of a woman raising her arms up to tie her long glossy black hair into a ponytail to stop you mind from working. At moments like that you just tend to glaze over and there seems to be this primal instinct that kicks in and forces you to slump in your chair and stare like a moron. God! the hair. Fuck.
Man, if i could i would brianwash myself into not thinking about women. its even worse if you're in a relationship with one of them. cos then you feel guilty everytime you admire another one of them. No, much better in fact, to be like a zoologist on a safari or something. if you have to look.
They distract me when i walk down the road, they distract me in class, they distract me when i look over my cubilcle at the guy-next-to-me's PC. they distract me at work in general. i just cant help noticing them. their curves, how they hold their neck up. is she confident? is she proud? or is she just too scared to be her-self?
i am fucking intrigued by them. i tell you they are a scourge on humanity.
and their hair! now dont get me talking about their hair! theres nothing like a well endowed graceful figure of a woman raising her arms up to tie her long glossy black hair into a ponytail to stop you mind from working. At moments like that you just tend to glaze over and there seems to be this primal instinct that kicks in and forces you to slump in your chair and stare like a moron. God! the hair. Fuck.
Man, if i could i would brianwash myself into not thinking about women. its even worse if you're in a relationship with one of them. cos then you feel guilty everytime you admire another one of them. No, much better in fact, to be like a zoologist on a safari or something. if you have to look.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Male Strippers
…are short in supply. There are various hen parties in Sri Lanka taking place as we speak, well not AS we speak since it is daytime now and most hen parties tend to take place at night, with many forlorn women chugging the wine out of sheer boredom and misery because of a lack of lascivious male bodies sheathed in a coating of oil, shaking to ‘I will survive’, to entertain them.
Jeremiah Sunandasami Johnson, an enterprising er, entrepreneur, has decided to change all that, and it is with the plight of these poor neglected ladies in mind that I publish this short (and rather drab I should add) PR cum advertising supplement courtesy his newly incorporated organization.
That’s it folks. So please help Mister Johnson out will you, he’s got a great idea I think and I’m sure he can boost up our economy a bit.
Jeremiah Sunandasami Johnson, an enterprising er, entrepreneur, has decided to change all that, and it is with the plight of these poor neglected ladies in mind that I publish this short (and rather drab I should add) PR cum advertising supplement courtesy his newly incorporated organization.
Entrepreneurship is at its best when a potential entrepreneur identifies an unsatisfied market segment and caters to it. The more unsatisfied the better. And my research has indicated that there are some VERY unsatisfied ladies around Colombo especially during the months of June & July and from September to December.
‘An organization of male exotic dancers to cater to the exclusive tastes of the discerning Sri Lankan woman of marriageable age’ is what I propose. An exclusively positioned service organization that offers the best and only service of it’s like to a select clientele. I am currently looking for investors although not much investment is needed in terms of infrastructure due to the purely service oriented approach of the whole operation, my main needs are performers.
ARE YOU MALE, between the ages of 19 and 30, possess an attractive physique and great rhythm in your bones? (bones? lol - W). Then drop me a mail with a recent picture and let’s set up a meeting. An attractive remuneration package and numerous perks (er hehe - W) await you!
I am also looking for ideas on how to improve my business model and incorporate needs and wants that may have escaped my attention. So please do contribute your ideas and be entitled to win gift vouchers, DVDs, t-shirts and even investment opportunities! Come share in our success!
Thank you.
Jeremiah Sunandasami Johnson.
jsjenter@hotmail.com
That’s it folks. So please help Mister Johnson out will you, he’s got a great idea I think and I’m sure he can boost up our economy a bit.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Jujups
I'm sitting in the bus today and there's a lady sitting across from me to my right.
Suddenly she starts rummaging in her bag. The bus turns in from the bridge and i look up at the digital clock in the front. Its 8.20! gonna be a bit late to work again...
I look across at the lady, she's got a pack of jujups in her hand.
She starts eating them. One.. Two.. Three..Four..
I'm watching from the corner of my eye..Suddenly remembering that I need to try and glance through some notes while ive got some time. I look at the clock again 8.21.
My eyes are dragged back to the lady on my right. She's devouring the jujups like er, well, let's just say she was devouring them shall we?
Five.. Six..
She's delicately taking them out of the pack one by one and shaking them into the pack as if there are stray drops of sugary honey dripping off of them and she's afraid of them dripping on her shirt. In reality they are just regular sugary, colorful jujups. I imagine their rubbery taste.
Seven.. Eight.. Nine...
The pack finishes. she calmly puts the piece of wrapper ripped off when she opened it back inside. Wipes her mouth with one hand. I look at the clock again. it's 8.22.
I feel slightly pukish.
Suddenly she starts rummaging in her bag. The bus turns in from the bridge and i look up at the digital clock in the front. Its 8.20! gonna be a bit late to work again...
I look across at the lady, she's got a pack of jujups in her hand.
She starts eating them. One.. Two.. Three..Four..
I'm watching from the corner of my eye..Suddenly remembering that I need to try and glance through some notes while ive got some time. I look at the clock again 8.21.
My eyes are dragged back to the lady on my right. She's devouring the jujups like er, well, let's just say she was devouring them shall we?
Five.. Six..
She's delicately taking them out of the pack one by one and shaking them into the pack as if there are stray drops of sugary honey dripping off of them and she's afraid of them dripping on her shirt. In reality they are just regular sugary, colorful jujups. I imagine their rubbery taste.
Seven.. Eight.. Nine...
The pack finishes. she calmly puts the piece of wrapper ripped off when she opened it back inside. Wipes her mouth with one hand. I look at the clock again. it's 8.22.
I feel slightly pukish.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Dilemma
The pain is in vain,
Just closure for my soul,
the gain though, is plain,
freedom to the floor!
The sweet release of guilt
the big relief i felt
the painful blow i dealt
is making my insides melt
But now the road is clear,
or at least its supposed to be,
but they still distract me dear,
blurring what i see
Odesseus and the sirens,
Samson and and his girl,
they both had their chances,
but only one came out the whirl
The other, on his knees
reduced to half a man
captured, confined,
broken, reduced to plead
So Samson? or Odesseus?
whose path will i chose?
but there are a lot of holes
and this theory may be loose
For odesseus was married
happily with a kid,
and Samson no doubt,
thought the same fate was his.
So Penelope or Delilah
either one of them could trick
so how do you find out
which is which?
Just closure for my soul,
the gain though, is plain,
freedom to the floor!
The sweet release of guilt
the big relief i felt
the painful blow i dealt
is making my insides melt
But now the road is clear,
or at least its supposed to be,
but they still distract me dear,
blurring what i see
Odesseus and the sirens,
Samson and and his girl,
they both had their chances,
but only one came out the whirl
The other, on his knees
reduced to half a man
captured, confined,
broken, reduced to plead
So Samson? or Odesseus?
whose path will i chose?
but there are a lot of holes
and this theory may be loose
For odesseus was married
happily with a kid,
and Samson no doubt,
thought the same fate was his.
So Penelope or Delilah
either one of them could trick
so how do you find out
which is which?
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
AARGH!!
I am numb and I am erased. Erased of reason and erased of sense. Why am I so irrational and why can’t I think straight only when it comes to this particular aspect of my life? I mean what bullshit. What freaking bullshit! Yeah I know, I feel like swearing. But the actions that I just did are so devoid of reason and clear thinking that it has me reeling so much. In fact, I think more than 75% of the discomfort I am feeling right now has resulted from me not knowing Why the hell I’m doing what I am doing rather than the infuriation over what actually happened.
Let me start at the beginning, or as far back into the beginning as I can go. She is impossible to talk to. You should know that. Her reasoning is beyond my comprehension and her thought trains are so complex that they twist within themselves everything I see as rational and real. What is so horrible is the fact that I repeatedly try and fail again and again to walk away. Or at least that has been the case for the past few weeks. Some months ago I totally walked away from her and was quite at peace. Till my life got skewed once again because of her external influence and Boom! Now we are both stuck in the confused mire of the quicksand of emotional turmoil that results from the mental amalgamation of two people with a torrid history getting back into familiarity.
And my God! What familiarity it has been! It’s like all the worst aspects of emotional arm twisting is taking place all over again. She is adept at the art of keeping you in suspense, adept at doing and saying whatever she wants while throwing a massive fit if you so much as imply that you are going to do the same. She is a master of deception and a master it seems, however much I refuse to want to believe it, of lies.
Yes that’s right. Lies. Plain cold hard downright emotional and factual, realistical and imaginary lies. I tell you it is so damn frustrating to be lied to. The funny thing is, she doesn’t even seem to be aware of the fact that she is lying. And lying comes so easy to her; I feel that it is now a second nature. From small little white lies to family members that we all think are innocent, to outright factual inaccuracies flung at your face, to outright refusals to accept the fact that she said something that was loudly and clearly heard by me and presumably anything and anyone within a goddamn ten foot radius.
It is virtually impossible to talk to her. You try getting at the truth and it is always the offensive. Boom! I come somewhere close to actually telling her the truth and what I really think that she is up to and you should see the defenses go up and the archers take their places in the narrow slitted windows! There follows an extensive barrage of ‘how dare you insult me’s and ‘how dare you call me a liar’s and ‘no one has ever talked to me this way before’s. And all I can think is that she is like the teapot that sings when the water gets hot. Except that in this case the water is the truth and the heating up is happening because my words are brushing way too close to it.
And why can’t I walk away? I don’t bloody know. That is killing me even more! I know I should just kiss this valueless situation goodbye and go live life like any sane male in his early twenties should. I should. But I can’t. Well I can. I just did it this morning. I had walked away and was making up my mind to never see her again. When she suddenly sends me text saying ‘Im already beginning to miss you :-(‘. Yeah I know, I can’t Believe I fell for that… spineless moron! I deserve every single thing I got!
So there followed the inevitable meeting up for lunch. And numerous other complications into which I will not go into detail over right now at the immediate and very probable risk of me smashing my PC into bits and pieces.
!!!#!@R$!$#!@!@@#!!!!!
And then there followed more instances of more drama, and then some more. I tell you, I was well and truly dragged into the bloody dramatic role of Oscar winner for ‘this year’s most embarrassing role in theater or film’. With the ultimate result of me, yes ME! Now having to wait till SHE reaches home and calls ME. How did I even get into this situation?? How the hell do I get out? This is very, very, very Bad. Very Bad.
I am a freaking Drama King that’s what. I need to take a step or two back and evaluate the situation in the cold hard light of reality. Yeah. Like the Godfather you know, keep my head about me. Not lose my wits in a frenzy. The Godfather tells me to just cut my ties and walk away (we’re talking a very tame and somewhat pacifist Godfather here.) and I know that it is the right choice.
But then (:() who will admire me and laugh at my jokes? Who will look at me with those shining eyes and give me that shy look from the side of their faces. Who will constantly turn me on with their presence and make me so horny all the time? Even though I dare not do anything about it? Who will most of all be there for me when I am lonely and always be ready for some light banter when I need some cheering up?
Do the pros outweigh the cons? I don’t know. I definitely don’t hope so. Because if it does, even after all this time, it just proves me to be an emotional weakling. This mental gullibility of mine will have to disappear. And if a cold hard disregard for emotional dependence on others is what needs to be cultivated. Then so be it. Anything has to be better than this.
Let me start at the beginning, or as far back into the beginning as I can go. She is impossible to talk to. You should know that. Her reasoning is beyond my comprehension and her thought trains are so complex that they twist within themselves everything I see as rational and real. What is so horrible is the fact that I repeatedly try and fail again and again to walk away. Or at least that has been the case for the past few weeks. Some months ago I totally walked away from her and was quite at peace. Till my life got skewed once again because of her external influence and Boom! Now we are both stuck in the confused mire of the quicksand of emotional turmoil that results from the mental amalgamation of two people with a torrid history getting back into familiarity.
And my God! What familiarity it has been! It’s like all the worst aspects of emotional arm twisting is taking place all over again. She is adept at the art of keeping you in suspense, adept at doing and saying whatever she wants while throwing a massive fit if you so much as imply that you are going to do the same. She is a master of deception and a master it seems, however much I refuse to want to believe it, of lies.
Yes that’s right. Lies. Plain cold hard downright emotional and factual, realistical and imaginary lies. I tell you it is so damn frustrating to be lied to. The funny thing is, she doesn’t even seem to be aware of the fact that she is lying. And lying comes so easy to her; I feel that it is now a second nature. From small little white lies to family members that we all think are innocent, to outright factual inaccuracies flung at your face, to outright refusals to accept the fact that she said something that was loudly and clearly heard by me and presumably anything and anyone within a goddamn ten foot radius.
It is virtually impossible to talk to her. You try getting at the truth and it is always the offensive. Boom! I come somewhere close to actually telling her the truth and what I really think that she is up to and you should see the defenses go up and the archers take their places in the narrow slitted windows! There follows an extensive barrage of ‘how dare you insult me’s and ‘how dare you call me a liar’s and ‘no one has ever talked to me this way before’s. And all I can think is that she is like the teapot that sings when the water gets hot. Except that in this case the water is the truth and the heating up is happening because my words are brushing way too close to it.
And why can’t I walk away? I don’t bloody know. That is killing me even more! I know I should just kiss this valueless situation goodbye and go live life like any sane male in his early twenties should. I should. But I can’t. Well I can. I just did it this morning. I had walked away and was making up my mind to never see her again. When she suddenly sends me text saying ‘Im already beginning to miss you :-(‘. Yeah I know, I can’t Believe I fell for that… spineless moron! I deserve every single thing I got!
So there followed the inevitable meeting up for lunch. And numerous other complications into which I will not go into detail over right now at the immediate and very probable risk of me smashing my PC into bits and pieces.
!!!#!@R$!$#!@!@@#!!!!!
And then there followed more instances of more drama, and then some more. I tell you, I was well and truly dragged into the bloody dramatic role of Oscar winner for ‘this year’s most embarrassing role in theater or film’. With the ultimate result of me, yes ME! Now having to wait till SHE reaches home and calls ME. How did I even get into this situation?? How the hell do I get out? This is very, very, very Bad. Very Bad.
I am a freaking Drama King that’s what. I need to take a step or two back and evaluate the situation in the cold hard light of reality. Yeah. Like the Godfather you know, keep my head about me. Not lose my wits in a frenzy. The Godfather tells me to just cut my ties and walk away (we’re talking a very tame and somewhat pacifist Godfather here.) and I know that it is the right choice.
But then (:() who will admire me and laugh at my jokes? Who will look at me with those shining eyes and give me that shy look from the side of their faces. Who will constantly turn me on with their presence and make me so horny all the time? Even though I dare not do anything about it? Who will most of all be there for me when I am lonely and always be ready for some light banter when I need some cheering up?
Do the pros outweigh the cons? I don’t know. I definitely don’t hope so. Because if it does, even after all this time, it just proves me to be an emotional weakling. This mental gullibility of mine will have to disappear. And if a cold hard disregard for emotional dependence on others is what needs to be cultivated. Then so be it. Anything has to be better than this.
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