rechallenged the addiction

I’ve got pick up last night. He is a married man. Two of his wives probably at home preparing his meal or his bath. His children nicely tucked in bed, ready to have some shut eye. He is twice my age, with a stocky build. Race and religion didn’t get between us. A chinese and a Malay.

It happened in his car. The temperature was right, even though it was drizzling outside. I can see my breath in the window. His hands were moving about as he spoke to me. Confident in what he is doing. The backseat was leather, emitting a sense of warmth. I couldn’t hear him well with the sound of the radio playing in the background. I had to move front and back. Then I made up my mind it was much more tiring to do that, so I rather not rest at the back, but stay afront.

He was interested. I was ready to enlighten him. He couldn’t have done it any better. He kept it steady and knew exactly when to pause. It was his first, but not mine. Yet the mood was not tense. Surprisingly with so much of taboo, it was going really well. And I was amazed at how comfortable both of us are.

It was the longest ride I ever had. He dropped me off at my place. It has been awhile since I done something like this. It does feel real good. Even now as I typed this, I am glad that I did it.

Last weekend was really something. Not the “something” of me finding someone, but “something” of an usual agenda. A good friend has bought a new apartment and will be moving in before Christmas. Thus the weekend was spent painting the walls yellow and green.

We started later than initially planned as we went about hunting for furnitures. As usual, I am a great shopper to bring along; always ready to tell you in the face that bed frame too unstable for any leisure activity. So we began with the yellow paint one of the living area wall.

Then the bedroom green. The green paint really disgusting.

The next day we did it in the kitchen, behind the front grill door, then back to the bedroom. It has hot, tiring, and satisfying. And we had the yellow room… which was half-baked cos not enough cream.

Yea, I painted it with my foot. And the green room.

And the rest is lost. I forgot about the camera as I was too caught up doing it. But I never forget to pose for the camera.

Meanwhile there also food to indulge, right before and after doing it.

The funny bit is that we went to pasar malam (night market) straight… hmm i mean narrowly… after the paint job. I looked like a freaking labor worker and getting all kind of stares.

Since I am talking about food, I shall go into the snack my boss bought from Japan. The contents just so-so, but the box is fabulous. Really talk about packaging!

Today I ordered from our usual caterer nasi tomato and ayam masak merah. I asked from 3 pax, thinking that my colleagued will share with me. But ended up everyone has lunch appointment. Since I never unlikely to waste food, more so good food, i will attempt to have them all. One for lunch which was a late lunch at two and another for tea at 5pm. And now it is half past eight! dinner time… hmm what should I have? I think I will have nasi tomato with ayam masak merah. The quick fix of microwave oven.

You still want me to bend

Down

And I will do as you wish

Now

If you ever speak so softly

To me

I will never obey

Fully

Is your fault or mine

You must be wondering why I posted SpongeBob instead a half-naked hunk. It is because Ian emailed me and “you look very much like SB”. I hope you are laughing your arse off when you sent this off to me, together with a long email about himself, his dog Lark, and his endless sex drive (shameless, but at least he’s having some… I wish I have some).

Seriously which part of SB looks like me! I really demand an explanation, which he will never give. I don’t have a square face, or body, and I don’t wear square pants; closest is boxers. I have more than my two front teeth. I don’t have limpy arms anymore (not that I remember having any before this). My eyes don’t bulge, and if anything that is bulging, you can look lower. I certainly don’t have holes in my face… well maybe some… hmm more like pores. I hate to wear tie, unless it is used for other reason. And finally I don’t do jumping out of the box with rainbow trick. Too gay for my style. The only similarity I see between SB and me is that both of us are CUTE, and likeable by most people (I did say most).

I admit… I’ve been cruising… for that bite of juiciness… that ride I would look back and smile… that prospect of a meaningful pleasure… that hit of a pulse… that orgasmic expense…

And I found this truthful blog, and his significant other.

If you only have a minute to spare, then I suggest you head over to sex/love. You can thank me later.

I had the weirdest dream last night. Bruce Willis and Brittany Murphy was in it. The scene was in a dungeon, or maybe just in one of those Beverly Hill mansion with all the lights not on. And there’s Count Drake. LOL, it was really demonic and scary to some extend. Bruce was being sacrificed and
Brittany… well she was just annoyed and upset that the Count didn’t choose her to be his subject. Perhaps she was hoping for S&M, in which the Count really did to Bruce. It was vivid, but once I woke up I couldn’t remember much of the details.

I ought to be careful what I eat before sleep… must be that spicy dahl that did the trick!

The further we go, the closer we get

That was what I was told

The small part we play

In which no one realized

We’d cry to the applause

But the curtain is half-way down

(Courtesy of this Indonesian lady for willingly posing for my camera)

Be the first audience for this spectacular

Or be the late comer who knows next to nothing

But just don’t make me wait

And don’t expect me to do so out of politeness

Since the photographer does not appreciate posting of his work elsewhere, yet personally I like some of his work too much to ignore. So here goes…

The elegance of human structure in shadow

http://www.flickr.com/photos/randomlyroaming/137009793/in/set-72057594054004219/ 

The blend of sun-ray on luminious skin

http://www.flickr.com/photos/randomlyroaming/207808075/in/set-72057594054004219/

Stiff neck! And I am complaining… Probably it is ’bout time I go pillow hunting. By that, I mean for real, not being indecisive about buying new pillow, while easily spent hundreds on unnecessary bargains. I do have some serious shopping habit; something I ought to evaluate soon.

And just days back during dinner with a friend, I casually mentioned that not everyone is rich enough to live it luxury, unless [1] rich parent, [2] high-paid job, and [3] rich partner. He somehow seemed slightly taken aback with the third. Perhaps in a relationship, a rich partner doesn’t necessary mean generously lavishing lifestyle for the not-so-rich partner. By doing so, does it mean selling your soul? Does it mean that one is more superior over the other?

I guess no one will ever comment on you spending your parent’s money, or your own hard-earn money. But when it comes to your partner’s money, it so often has that prejudice, against all odds. Understandably in certain situation that spending on the one you love is the best thing you could do for yourself. Somewhat like the “I scratch your back, you scratch mine” concept.

— blah blah blah —

I finished that book in less than half a day in Borders.

And the new-flavored muffin and blended mocha in Starbuck.

But still haven’t buy that bloody pillow!

I probably deserved the stiff neck after all.

What exactly is it that you want? That came expectedly, yet surprisingly I was caught speechless.

You see, I’ve always wanted to be in a loving relationship… hmm, who wouldn’t. As rhetoric as it may sound, it is nonetheless the toughest task ever. How is relationship define?

What qualify as a relationship? One year. One month. One week. 24 hours!

Or is it fall under the “living under one roof” or “meet the parent” or “no more going Dutch” or “commitment in paper”?

7 out of 10 people that I know practice open relationship - a monogamous relationship with *terms and conditions apply. The rule is that you are still allowed to fuck anyone or get fucked by anyone within the proximity of agreement, in which usually is “purely sex, no love or small talk”.

(Courtesy of Duane Romanell)

The question remains “Why is it tough to be in a solely monogamous relationship?” Is whatever contentment rely upon how much satisfaction one gets in bed? Or is it the pleasure of being around each other that counts?