My Blog

If one wants to eradicate a bad habit, he or she has to replace the bad habit with a good one.

If one wants to get rid of the habit of sleeping late, one has to sleep early.

If one wants to quit smoking, he has to do sports or other activities to cure his addiction.

If one wants to stop a certain attitude or behaviour, he has to replace it with a new one.

If one wants to forget about the past, as reminiscing too much is also a form of bad habit, he has to be present. He has to focus on NOW. TODAY. THIS MOMENT. THIS MINUTE. THIS SECOND.

I want to stop watching porn and ending up masturbating so I will have to replace it with something. I will replace it with healthy sex.

After watching porn for years, it has dawned on me that it is rather meaningless. Watching other people in action while I hide behind the screen or under the blanket rubbing my own penis is pathetic. I want to be in action and I do not want to end up with ugly girls again.

Everyday I receive a few hundred porn emails and a moment ago, I have unsubscribed from the porn group. My gmail for now will not be full anymore. My cup is empty and I have begun to be realistic. Though Michel Foucault said that viewing porn is a kind of sexual practice, I would prefer the traditional way of releasing my seeds.

Now my seeds will land somewhere else…

I made a promise to myself and I do not want to break it. What I say I do and what I want I get. To be more precise, what I say I do so what I want I get. My new year’s resolution ain’t failing like other people’s. It has begun because I made it happen.

Fortunately, I set the time early because malaysians are never punctual. We were supposed to arrive at Maison at 10 p.m. but made it there at about 11.30 p.m. Despite some friends telling me that the place ain’t happening, I wanted to experience it myself. Besides some middle finger pointing in the car to reckless drivers, some bullocks were always good enough to heighten our spirits.

It has been a long time since I let loose of myself. Or probably I never really did. I was too conscious. Conscious about some motherfuckers squeezing and shoving their way somewhere. Conscious about the girls who ‘might’ be taking a glimpse of me. Conscious about whether my dance steps were cool. I met this guy named Paul and he taught me a lot. He seems to be the kinda guy who would just enjoy himself when he clubs. He will be in his own heaven and his ambience turns into heaven to him. No worries. No consciousness. It is all about turning one’s world into heaven. Why did I have to care so much? I cared about how I looked, I cared about how I danced, I cared about how I smiled, I cared about how I moved. That bullshit has ended tonight. With my mohawk, people can look at me, but I no longer give a damn. It started when I gave dangerous drivers middle fingers. I could not find my black crystal earring and handphone cover. So what?

When we arrived, we were scouting for a good seat. I scrolled around alone and captured a hot chic. I returned to my friends and told them. My friend Zheng Hong did not believe me. I wonder why people always think that I am talking crap when all the while I never really did. I told my friend that I know how to swim all styles and he did not believe. I told him that I know how to moonwalk and he thinks that I was lying. Well, maybe I am ‘too good to be true’.

I saw my bodybuilding buddy in the house and his brother. Ghevin was complaining about the not so happening crowd. I went down and resumed drinking. I was already shaking my booties although the R&B was yet cool. Then, not long after, my friends and I went near the stage to dance. It was getting crowded. It was when one of the most wonderful views in the world flashed before my eyes.

The second best view appeared 1st. Those pretty chics whom my friends and I agreed in consensus that they are pretty were dancing on the stage. We were all eyes and I believe all the other hamsapfellas danced with their heads aimed at those girls. Every guy had the ‘target locked’ signal in their vision but too bad that there was no missile to launch. And the only thing I could do, was also just to stare with my penetrating eyes, sexually objectifying them. I stripped their tops, bras and panties and penetrated them with my eyes. I realize nobody really ever dares to walk up to pretty chics and say hi. I am one of them. Guys would always think too much. They would think about how a girl would think of them. I was more of being shy. I must have blushed. When I spot a pretty girl, my immediate response is to look away. I am too chicken. I have got small balls. Next time, I am going to blow up my balls like big balloons and gaze at them without blinking. Then everything else would be easy. Because I have already passed the stage of caring about what they would think about me. Maybe these pretty girls are too bored with people staring at them and giving them too much attention. They are waiting for a bold guy to step out and be daring enough to talk to them. Oh yes! And who could be a better candidate than the former King of humsup? I ain’t bad looking. I ain’t a fat ass. I ain’t a stammer hammer. I ain’t a pencil neck geek. I ain’t a china boy. I ain’t a punk. Oh wait…I am a punk! But so what if I am one of the above? Confidence is all I need. My friend said that he will be confident even when his face is scarred, his ass is big and his dick is small. No…I exaggerated what he said. My point is, confidence should come from nothing.

Then, when I looked up, the sunlight poured on me. That did not happen. The best view gleamed. A girl was dancing upstairs in a mini skirt and what was underneath the skirt was snapped by my sharp vision. I shook my head and trembled like Hulk Hogan, as if hulkamania was running wild on me. It was lustamania though! I was peeping all the time and I also caught my friend peeping all the time. I love to be a peeping tom. I love to be a voyeur. But I prefer touching.

To be continued…

My friend asked me to fight with another fellow and I said: "He is big!"

My friend said: "But you are bigger!"

Another friend said that I am bigger than him when I think that he is bigger than me for he is. He is taller. He is heavier. He is bigger.

I asked a friend whether it is my way of walking, that is, swaggering, that makes me look big. He does not think so.

Once upon a time, I thought that someone was bigger than me. I thought that he was superior than me. I thought that he was more charming. But the fact is, I have been the diamond and he is plastic. My low self-esteem had driven me to think that I was a smaller man.

Different people will have different perceptions. I look at the mirror everyday thinking that I am a small man. But people around me think that I am a big man. Now I look at myself from other people’s point of view and yes, I do look tough. As tough as a bull. Yes I look hard. As hard as Rocky Balboa. Yes I am big. But not as big as Brock Lesnar. I still think that I am a boy that is why I think that I am small. But actually I already have got a man’s body. That is right. A man’s body. A hairy one. A tanned one. A muscular one. I have been a small kid trapped in a man’s body. Now that I have come to the realization, things are going to be different.

I am no longer a big man with a small heart. I am a big man with a big heart. I am a big man. Bigger than Bill Goldberg. Taller than Dave Batista. I am a big man. I have the boldness and perseverance of John Cena. I have the wit of Triple H. I have the lightning speed of Muhammad Ali and Bruce Lee and I have the strength of Mike Tyson. I am a man with a big cock. I am a man with nuclear power. Styling and profiling like Ric Flair, I am the man. Woooooo! Here I come (cum) and I will knock you out!