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Mar 27, 2004
The Book I am currently reading has a hermaphrodite as a main character. Meaning, the main character's gender is undefined and androgynous. My evil mind thought "What if I was like that?", or thoughts like, "Wow, that's cool, I could either go from one sex to the other". These kind of condition however, only occurs 1 every 1000 babies born, according to the book. Now, I'm not sure if the writer did a thorough research, but as far as I can remember it was around that statistics.
How would my past lovers (?!) react if ever I was born with this condition? Will they be happy? Or , I myself, will I be happy with this kind of undetermined condition?.The thing is, I'm heck of a heretic to claim that I don't have to be male to *get on (trademark) with a girl and vice versa. As long as any partner is happy the way I am, the way I do. I guess it will all result to healthy living.
Posted at 08:20 pm by tarararan
Mar 26, 2004
You're So Sexy, It Hurts.
Like I said, this is not my love machine. And this is not the page of devotion for past hookers. Yea, hookers. Kidding aside, I am writing my story here because in another way or two, I don't want you to find out I am writing all of this. And in case, you have that marvel feeling of who I am , tell me, go ahead and knock me on my head, because I need that.
NOLOVEMACHINE 1 : Tatoos Are Not My Way.
I don't know why I still give a fuck over J (not the real name). First, J never came from one of those elite schools which was a standard I observed since childhood and loathed since I entered the pseudo-liberated university atmosphere. Nonetheless, I was amused to the fact where in subdued cases, these people who came from "the schools" should be either, read : rich or intelligent , hence , if they're not rich, at least they are intelligent for I pity the rich and nonsense. J, in the first place was not anywhere near those characteristics. I can say that she is , by far, have some profound deep understanding of some things, cited by the example of which films she'd seen or which she would like to see. I bet. If she only paid attention to schooling or at least could shell out a few hundred thousand bucks for college, I could be on my way, fantasizing of sandstorms with J.
Have I not?
Of course, I did. While on the theatre, gazing at J's powerful smiles (fuck, cliche). Her laugh that made her sign on her head "I'm a queer" appear as boldly as her tatoo beyond her ass.
"Lift it baby". I ordered. Lift the damn jeans so I could see that tatoo just beyond your ----. Hmm. This is getting blatant.
I mean, after three years, you were the only one who could give me nightmares, I was scared at you. Scared that you are possible to screw me, because you remained ungentle and insensitive of my infatuation towards you. And yes, J. Two words. ---- --. Whatever those six letters meant to you. I cannot say, for I cannot disclose that in reality, I patronized you. Damn.
Posted at 03:24 pm by tarararan
this is not a love machine
This is not a love machine. Though, from a withstanding point, you can claim, these are little unabridged careless shouts. Oh yeah. Look up on google , Love Machine. Can you find me there? No. will you find me anywhere? No. All I want to do is to let things out or keep them toxic. Bear with me.
Posted at 12:56 pm by tarararan
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