Wordgasm is a portmanteau of "words" and "orgasm", an outburst of words with the same euphoric effect of squirting your DNA. Nihil sub sole novum, the Ecclesiastes say; there is nothing new under the sun. It is only but words that grant the world a whole new spectrum of perception. And the point is? I have no idea.
She lives and works from her laptop on a little paradise island in the Philippines. She's a writer, graphic artist, and mountaineer. During rainy days she loves to sleep and oversleep and dream and daydream and then write. More »
 
Saturday, 08 March 2008

Let's call her Confused Humpty Dumptress. She is squat and corpulent with a large marshmallow-soft face, dorky black-rimmed spectacles, and straight commercial-black hair. She has the mammary glands and reproductive system that she never wanted, the tight unripped vaginal orifice that she wished were a giant twatsicle instead. I emerged from the bathroom in Korean Girl's brother's room where the only available restroom was, and there Confused Humpty Dumptress stood in the dark, eyes bloodshot from alcohol, she glaring at me like the gates to her fantasies of repressed barbaric fornications. She charged at me with a passionate kiss and murmured in between kisses the three most worn-out words you'll find in any sappy script. WTF. I jumped back, goosebumps prickling my arms and the back of my nape, and tried to flatten myself on the wall. "What??" cried I. I could barely see her face; her liter-sized Coca-cola-shaped silhouette blocked the pale blue moonshine that glowed from the diaphanous-curtained windows. Patterns of intricate flower designs from the window curtains painted shapes and shadows on the walls. She kissed me again, her lips soft and smooth, her tongue slick and wet, and hugged me tight, sticking her bigass arms around me like scotch tape. "Tobey, gusto talaga kita Tobey." "Tsong," I said, "lasing ka na tsong," and inched my way backwards to one corner, the bathroom door at my behind. She advanced forward and kissed me again, forcing her muscular bubblegummy tongue inside my mouth. "May natutulog," I whispered, "ang ingay mo." "Hayaan mo siya," she replied and kissed me over and over again. "Lasing ka na," I repeated and tried to push her away. "Gusto talaga kita," she reiterated. "Ah okay," I said. "'Ah okay'? Yun lang sasabihin mo?" "Eh ano naman?" I forced my arms to break from her tight tentacular embrace and stormed out the door. She trailed me to the binge place where Giant Herculean Shoulders, Geek Existentialist, and Korean Girl were waiting, tippling Grand Matador. I just pretended nothing happened, that she didn't exist. I don't blame her; I am a hot motherfucking beast. Harhar, ang kapal pwetngina.XD

Dude, I may have lesbian tendencies but she ain't my type.XP

I'm starting to fall for Dotaboy Chakito... Hm. Sweet daw ako. SHET.XD I'm turning into a woman!XD

To Geek Existentialist, who confessed he's googled me and has been stalking this blog, uhm, that time capsule of a few short hours of mental, emotional, and sexual frottage--I don't know what to make out of it. Yet. Yes, you could pass by as my male alter ego, my virile subconscious, that compliments the missing half of my earthbound ephemeral existence, but there appears to be a vital missing link: that neurological activity in my head that's supposed to foreplay an epic of amorous combustions of lust and love. Your words are Greek poetry to my ears, your mind the wavelength of my own, but there's apparently no torpedo stirring my--how would I say this--libidinal gratification. Or maybe I was just sozzled over Red Horse and Grand Matador...

Word did you say?



Format?

|