You know the need is about to reach a crescendo when a flight attendants innocent genuflected invitation to pass is seen as an invitation to mount. You know that the need is becoming an irrational beast and needs to be put down like a dog that has developed a taste for it's masters blood. The self destructive, self harming, reckless nature of this beast deserves attention and insight, but by it's very nature is manipulative and crafty. The squinty moist eye of this creature has only one thing in mind. The hunger. The thirst. The unchained, freed incarnation of it is seldom seen, but when it is sighted, and tamed, it's power is palpable. It pulses with an unidentifiable earthy aura that it's lessors meekly succumb to. Captive and tyrant alike.
Like many of natures most endearing creations, this edge has two equally bloody curves. The first seduces, entices and enthralls with temptations and sensations of physical transcend ace. The consequences, however, like the cold hard light of day, reveal the brutal truth of reality.
And like most of mans mistakes, the suggested follys of his inn voice are doomed to be repeated.
Sent from my iPad
Friday, July 22, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
Planking or Cranking?
I have spent many moments thinking about what to write about over the past 6 months or so. In that time I have been published in a respectable scientific journal, but have found little motivation for recreational writing. Without a goal or target in mind, i find writing to be much like a “crank”.
Hold. This was the segue i needed today, as the craze of “planking” hits the media i show my disgust of, and contempt for, it by mentioning my views on “cranking”.
The “crying-wank”. It is sad and pathetic but you are left satisfied afterwards. You have imagined an ex-girlfriend at a tender point in a then perfect relationship. You have pictured yourself in her perfect arms, her perfect body, your perfect rhythm. The impulse for a Crank only hits when you are a t a low point. You focus on all the little things; her hair, her pubic hair, the smell of her hair, the way her hair moves when you move her. You delve even deeper into the depressive territory that separates a Crank from a wank, you imagine her eyes, and the feeling of her looking into your eyes. You know you are about to have a Crank, and you know that you will feel like a low down Cranker afterwards, but your train of thought and blood flow has gathered too much steam so you continue.
You imagine the hope. The hope of a future that you know you will now never have. You imagine her thighs. For some Crankers these are large thighs. In the cases of these Crankers, the shame and emotional self loathing is most venomous. You continue to immerse yourself in the feelings and sensations of times gone past and start proceedings. You look away from an imagined mirror in front of yourself, your head turns to the side as if evading your own gaze in shame. The feelings and thoughts become reality. A particular moment is stark in your mind. A sequence of a particular embrace manifests itself in your memories and your palm. The feelings are conflicting, you want release but the emotion is holding you back. Insight into your failure, her failure, and the hope once felt makes the ongoing climax fade. The Crank makes you work harder. The harder you work the more the Crank takes hold. You want to, but a tear and a sob are growing just behind the lust and animal need.
The flickering images of these better times oscillate in time with your Crank. As the feeling gains intensity, so your gonadal pressure builds. Paradoxically, a Crank offers intense physical release. It comes at the cost of extreme self pity and loathing. A high price is charged by the mind for a Crank. As the body charges onward, fuelled, ironically, by the emotional power of these memories and sentiments, the mind recoils, understanding the hopelessness and feelings of isolation that will overtake the Cranker at the moment of truth. You know this is going to happen. Images of ankles, thighs, belly button, neck, of a hand clenched, of toes curling, battle feelings of regret, remorse, jealousy and pain for supremacy in the perceived reality of the Cranker. As the race finishes, you realise you have no choice but to have both.
A tear escapes, and so does everything else. You have subjected yourself to yet another Crank.
There is hope though. For some of us the Crank is a thing of the past. A remnant from a time when you thought the world was a sad place. So sad that you would lie down really stiff on random stuff in an attempt to be creative? Not for me. One person in the world of planking is funny; the person who made it up. Everyone else is not. But, even plankers have hope. They can always have a Crank.
i thought i put this up earlier. from the vault.
I came across a really nice mullet in vietnam some time ago and had a brain spew into my blackberry at the time that wandered into the murky waters of flamingo musings and ligers. Probably says something about my state of mind at the time. Anyway, here it is:
I wonder if mullet wearers from the middle east are the equivilent to the social trailblazing mullet wearers in other countries. Do people in the middle east look at him and think, wow, that's an epic mullet, I want to eat hummus with that guy. Or do they think he is just normal.
How did flamingoes evolve to be pink? How has this color proven to be advantagous for them? Did all the purple flamingoes get eaten as they did not look quite as good? Did predators take pity on them? How do male flamingoes live with it? Do they say to their mates," hey dude, you are in pink, what a faggot". I wonder if when a flamingo son grows up to be gay its parents put it down to them dressing it in pink as a child, vowing to not repeat their mistakes. Seriously, why pink. Stupid flamingoes. Why couldn t they be a cool animal like a killer whale. Or a panther. Or a jaguar. Or a Liger. A cross between a lion and a tiger, very cool animal. Flamingoes are pretty crap compared to ligers.
Reasons why I did not like hanoi:
Traffic was nuts and wanted me dead.
Vietnamese people, from the smallest child, to the oldest elder, I am pretty sure wanted to kill me.
It stinks.
I am sick of noodles.
Reasons I liked hanoi:
The traffic was nuts and was never dull, liked the excessive use of various horns.
Vietnamese people did not kill me.
No one complained about my stinks.
I got all the noodles a man could want.
I wonder if mullet wearers from the middle east are the equivilent to the social trailblazing mullet wearers in other countries. Do people in the middle east look at him and think, wow, that's an epic mullet, I want to eat hummus with that guy. Or do they think he is just normal.
How did flamingoes evolve to be pink? How has this color proven to be advantagous for them? Did all the purple flamingoes get eaten as they did not look quite as good? Did predators take pity on them? How do male flamingoes live with it? Do they say to their mates," hey dude, you are in pink, what a faggot". I wonder if when a flamingo son grows up to be gay its parents put it down to them dressing it in pink as a child, vowing to not repeat their mistakes. Seriously, why pink. Stupid flamingoes. Why couldn t they be a cool animal like a killer whale. Or a panther. Or a jaguar. Or a Liger. A cross between a lion and a tiger, very cool animal. Flamingoes are pretty crap compared to ligers.
Reasons why I did not like hanoi:
Traffic was nuts and wanted me dead.
Vietnamese people, from the smallest child, to the oldest elder, I am pretty sure wanted to kill me.
It stinks.
I am sick of noodles.
Reasons I liked hanoi:
The traffic was nuts and was never dull, liked the excessive use of various horns.
Vietnamese people did not kill me.
No one complained about my stinks.
I got all the noodles a man could want.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Gullible fool or lucky sod
Every now and then I think we all come accross what i like to think of as a, "this is how porno's start", moment. I felt that an offer I recently received is close enough to a moment of this nature to merit a return to the misty zone.
So I am at the gym, just like any gym you are likely to visit. a university gym. Doing gym stuff. In an out of character moment for me i found myself conversing with a member of the fairer sex in the gym. generally i adopt a strictly business approach at the gym. time and place sort of jazz.
she suggested i attend one of the less manly fitness classes. i voiced my disdain for said type of fitness and something along the lines of that i could do that sort of stuff with one hand tied behind my back. It is probably a good time to mention that this girl is of the fit persuasion, in both the cardio and cockney slang senses of the word. It was silly to brag. I maintained I was adament i could defeat this class before breakfast the following day. I was inviting a reaction from this lady, that is why i said it. but i did not expect the reaction she juiced at me.
she says "I bet you do not turn up tomorrow."
i say "What do you bet. Make it worth my while."
she says "ok."
i said "go on then, what do you bet."
(at this stage i got that little tickle between my balls and my anus _my banus_ that signalled to me that i should grin and brace myself for the something either really good or really bad to happen.)
she looks me dead in the eyes, and in a level calm, conversational voice says, "ok, the winner gets an oil massage from the loser".
I try to maintain composure on the off chance this is my moment. If i burst into histerical laughter at this critical point i risk the potential reality that is an oil massage from a strange attractive woman. I cannot explain the offer. If i maintain too much composure and take this obviously out-there offer too seriously she will think i am some sort of regular receiver of oil massages and probably not want to massage my gear with her oily gym toned thighs. I tried my best in the split second I had to process this to produce something that was not a mess in my pants. . . .
I say, "so i turn up tomorrow and i get an oil massage from you, i do not turn up and i give you an oil massage." i do not smile, no loss of eye contact, no feet shuffling and looking around for hidden cameras, i held fast. i tried to go for gold. i want this to play out into the porno that has been hovering around, never to eventuate my entire life. i could feel her evaluating, testing, probing my worthiness.
a moment of hesitation crosses her face. i seize it before she has too much time to think and blurts out some excuse about brothers wifes party that she needs to vacuum the church for or some shite.
i say, "that hardly sounds fair, it is a pretty easy class isn't it.....", i silently pleaded for my goad to work......
she replies, "if you can stick the session out, no piking, for the whole hour, your massage includes special attention". i shit you not, she said this. i did not even know her name at this point.
at this point i faltered. i had never had the privilige of meeting such sluttyness head on in such an unexpected situation prior to this. i started to crack one. not a smile. not a joke. I started to crack wood. in footy shorts. in the gym. in the face of hot slutty sluttyness i can feel the unmistakable flow of blood that i know, in a matter of seconds i will not be able to conceal. i betray this with a lightning fast (but unfortunately detected...) glance to my junk. her eyes folowed. but thankfully returned to mine. back to the locked eye contact. her eye contact is somewhat different to before. her eyes are a little more glossy, her head is tilted downwards slightly and to the side just a hint. her wieght shifted to one hip just a little more then the other so it seemed to me that her curvy bits all seemed to grow just a little.... i was in deep shit. she knew it. i knew it.
what i like to think of as a 3/4 happened. it was there. it is what it is. the situation is what it is. there is no other possible explanation for this, no glib way to talk my way sideways out of it.
i say," that sounds like a bet. i like winning bets". I worked out the logistics of the session with her (including her name....)and made as graceful and fast exit as humanly possible.
I do not know what will happen tomorrow. this is a great feeling. i have high hopes and sincerely hope i did not miss a chance to complete the elusive "gym pickup" (a cousin of the airport pickup, but that is another story for another day...). i hope that in years to come i am married to this woman so that i can retell this story over and over again, complete with a triumphant ending that will give others hope and inspire people the world over.
if anybody reads this please please please pray to every god that has or will ever exist, beg for me, plead and grovel. she is soooo hot...... PLEASE!!!!!!
So I am at the gym, just like any gym you are likely to visit. a university gym. Doing gym stuff. In an out of character moment for me i found myself conversing with a member of the fairer sex in the gym. generally i adopt a strictly business approach at the gym. time and place sort of jazz.
she suggested i attend one of the less manly fitness classes. i voiced my disdain for said type of fitness and something along the lines of that i could do that sort of stuff with one hand tied behind my back. It is probably a good time to mention that this girl is of the fit persuasion, in both the cardio and cockney slang senses of the word. It was silly to brag. I maintained I was adament i could defeat this class before breakfast the following day. I was inviting a reaction from this lady, that is why i said it. but i did not expect the reaction she juiced at me.
she says "I bet you do not turn up tomorrow."
i say "What do you bet. Make it worth my while."
she says "ok."
i said "go on then, what do you bet."
(at this stage i got that little tickle between my balls and my anus _my banus_ that signalled to me that i should grin and brace myself for the something either really good or really bad to happen.)
she looks me dead in the eyes, and in a level calm, conversational voice says, "ok, the winner gets an oil massage from the loser".
I try to maintain composure on the off chance this is my moment. If i burst into histerical laughter at this critical point i risk the potential reality that is an oil massage from a strange attractive woman. I cannot explain the offer. If i maintain too much composure and take this obviously out-there offer too seriously she will think i am some sort of regular receiver of oil massages and probably not want to massage my gear with her oily gym toned thighs. I tried my best in the split second I had to process this to produce something that was not a mess in my pants. . . .
I say, "so i turn up tomorrow and i get an oil massage from you, i do not turn up and i give you an oil massage." i do not smile, no loss of eye contact, no feet shuffling and looking around for hidden cameras, i held fast. i tried to go for gold. i want this to play out into the porno that has been hovering around, never to eventuate my entire life. i could feel her evaluating, testing, probing my worthiness.
a moment of hesitation crosses her face. i seize it before she has too much time to think and blurts out some excuse about brothers wifes party that she needs to vacuum the church for or some shite.
i say, "that hardly sounds fair, it is a pretty easy class isn't it.....", i silently pleaded for my goad to work......
she replies, "if you can stick the session out, no piking, for the whole hour, your massage includes special attention". i shit you not, she said this. i did not even know her name at this point.
at this point i faltered. i had never had the privilige of meeting such sluttyness head on in such an unexpected situation prior to this. i started to crack one. not a smile. not a joke. I started to crack wood. in footy shorts. in the gym. in the face of hot slutty sluttyness i can feel the unmistakable flow of blood that i know, in a matter of seconds i will not be able to conceal. i betray this with a lightning fast (but unfortunately detected...) glance to my junk. her eyes folowed. but thankfully returned to mine. back to the locked eye contact. her eye contact is somewhat different to before. her eyes are a little more glossy, her head is tilted downwards slightly and to the side just a hint. her wieght shifted to one hip just a little more then the other so it seemed to me that her curvy bits all seemed to grow just a little.... i was in deep shit. she knew it. i knew it.
what i like to think of as a 3/4 happened. it was there. it is what it is. the situation is what it is. there is no other possible explanation for this, no glib way to talk my way sideways out of it.
i say," that sounds like a bet. i like winning bets". I worked out the logistics of the session with her (including her name....)and made as graceful and fast exit as humanly possible.
I do not know what will happen tomorrow. this is a great feeling. i have high hopes and sincerely hope i did not miss a chance to complete the elusive "gym pickup" (a cousin of the airport pickup, but that is another story for another day...). i hope that in years to come i am married to this woman so that i can retell this story over and over again, complete with a triumphant ending that will give others hope and inspire people the world over.
if anybody reads this please please please pray to every god that has or will ever exist, beg for me, plead and grovel. she is soooo hot...... PLEASE!!!!!!
Friday, April 16, 2010
Masturbation is the answer
I was having a discussion with my housemate and could not find any logical, ethical, moral or otherwise based problems with the following theory;
"Masturbation can fix anything"
Think about it and I defy you suggest any reason why when faced with turmoil, heartache or crisis in your life you should not turn to masturbation. I bet that this solution would result in less conflict, more love, and generally a better world.
Admittedly discretion is recommended and some fancy footwork may be required to achieve full enlightenment in the PC world we live nowadays.
Do not let anyone get in your way. Throw social convention and conventional ideas on therapy and stigmas surrounding masturbation out the window and get back to basics. Sort yourself out.
This solution makes undeniable physiological sense. Ladies, get some oxytocin happening. Get that euphoria into you and let it do its work in your heady weddy. Let nature take over and fix that achy breaky heart. Forget Billy Ray Cyrus, he is a chump compared to the power of a good bean flick.
Think of it like a drug that you can administer to yourself, that is tailor made to be so good that is considered by mother nature to be adequate motivation for our species to continue the process of existing. Boil it down and thats what you get, a combination of hormones and receptors that are geared to react to this feeling, to lure you into procreating. Thats a pretty important job that those recpetors have evolved to do. Don't waste them.
"But I m more then an animal, i have thoughts and can make choices and don't need to have sexual gratification to be happy". That is the voice of misguided evolutionary superiority suggesting to you that you ignore your brain and your body and to bottle that frustration up, making you into, if you think about it, less then human.
I put it to you that if you ignore your impulses and urges then you are sub human. You are throwing a beautiful gift back in the face of mother nature, spitting in her gorgeous earthy face and and deserve to be de-sexed. Controversial? Maybe. Will embracing this theory cause problems for you in today's society? almost certainly. Should you do it anyway? almost certainly, get into it. I guarantee you will have fun and you sure as shit will be happy.
I'll be back in sec.
All done. much better. oh yeah.
Evidently i prefer the company of a special person as an alternative to widely discussed masturbation. and to clarify i am not a rapid animal, searching for willing victims to satisfy my uncontrollable urges. Contradictory? I feel no reason to explain this paradox.
I just think masturbation does not get the credit it deserves. We should have a public holiday for it. The country can take a day off, reflect and unload, we could be the happiest country in the world.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Courting
You always think there will never be a time that you stand in front of a judge on a possession of explosives charges.
I felt that the day that I faced a court on a charge such as this would be a sad day and that I had lost some sort of proverbial plot. However, having been in said court room facing said charges I can not admit to feeling bad about this. I felt embarrassed at asking an authority figure for a lighter soon after being identified as carrying fireworks. I feel regret that I had to fly interstate to face the music and wear additional cost in the form of a fine. But I like fireworks still. Next chance I get I will enjoy fireworks again. I may not be so brazen in my attempted execution of fireworks but I will not shy away from them. Make of that what you will. Unintelligent assertions of a firework addict high on the tide of lights and the smell of magnesium or realistic expectations of someone who has resolved to enjoy things while he can when he can in a world where these simple pleasures provide the most valuable fuel to the fire of life.
However, I do not want to be in a court room ever again………..
I felt that the day that I faced a court on a charge such as this would be a sad day and that I had lost some sort of proverbial plot. However, having been in said court room facing said charges I can not admit to feeling bad about this. I felt embarrassed at asking an authority figure for a lighter soon after being identified as carrying fireworks. I feel regret that I had to fly interstate to face the music and wear additional cost in the form of a fine. But I like fireworks still. Next chance I get I will enjoy fireworks again. I may not be so brazen in my attempted execution of fireworks but I will not shy away from them. Make of that what you will. Unintelligent assertions of a firework addict high on the tide of lights and the smell of magnesium or realistic expectations of someone who has resolved to enjoy things while he can when he can in a world where these simple pleasures provide the most valuable fuel to the fire of life.
However, I do not want to be in a court room ever again………..
Monday, December 7, 2009
Sure I do, stupid
When people say ridiculously stupid things it is sometimes hard to be tolerant and patient. I have a tendency to react with no thought for how abrasive the resulting conversation might seem. This lady spoke to me at a bar and the following unfolded;
Lady: “You look like that guy out of that vampire movie, have you seen that movie?”
Conversational Expert: “No. You look like this chick I saw in a porno that I watched this morning. I really enjoyed it. (Grin) “
Lucky not to get slapped, smug grin when watching for reaction probably did not do me any favors either. I did enjoy the humorous awkward pause as she decided that she no longer wanted to talk to the guy that “looked like” someone famous. She even decided that she no longer wanted to stand near me, nor did she feel like she needed a drink anymore. I did not see her again all night in the bar. I do wonder why people say stupid things then are surprised when someone does not swallow it.
Lady: “You look like that guy out of that vampire movie, have you seen that movie?”
Conversational Expert: “No. You look like this chick I saw in a porno that I watched this morning. I really enjoyed it. (Grin) “
Lucky not to get slapped, smug grin when watching for reaction probably did not do me any favors either. I did enjoy the humorous awkward pause as she decided that she no longer wanted to talk to the guy that “looked like” someone famous. She even decided that she no longer wanted to stand near me, nor did she feel like she needed a drink anymore. I did not see her again all night in the bar. I do wonder why people say stupid things then are surprised when someone does not swallow it.
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