Adios Gone by the Wind, Gorgeous Tarzan is Back.

Three months in America, and saying it’s time to move on is as easy as ejaculating the most trivial phrase of all time, I Love You give me a smack. America’s democracy is definitely the envy of developing nations. As the macro economy moves into a determined strength sandwiched by the victory of San Francisco Giants on the World Series, I personally believe the gang-bus is fully loaded and ready to shipped to Blue Lagoon or as Scarlet O’Hara “As God is my witness I will never go hungry again” 

Sunset boulevard at L.A. is one place I have enjoyed hanging out. It’s like the entertainment capital canned into a pork and beans dish, summarized by it’s eccentric appeal to dreamers eaten by cannibals of attention, nevertheless it is best to say that every World own city has its surprising sarcastic appeal to travelers like me who pokes an Einstein/Tesla perception of industrialized steak, edible only by cunning clowns of Manhattan.

Now as the reality of my monstrous tribe becomes a redundant manipulated circus of who’s popular or who’s in control or who gets a free load; I will fly back hoping that it’s not as bad as it was before, that things which should have been inside the trash-bin is now an agricultural fertilizer; hoping that Berkley copycats with placards have endured their everlasting chastity to change the imperfect system. That environmentalist has finally that being truly green is having a pink heart. That they will realize that a perfect home better than a Gotica society. 

Thinking about goodbyes is comparably to locking-up a summer house at the Hampton’s or a Cabin at Aspen and a vacation house at Marina Bay. So many times I felt like a specialized lover being lined-up for the hot summer nights or sexual healing 80’s kind hide and seek affair. Everyday was truly a challenge and it is seemingly less popular to admit I fell in love with only with the idea of being a pretentious scholar studying Art Major in Redundancy minor in public nudity. I am truly wishing I am not only popular but independently earning and living not a dream sequence but an actual picture; but since I allow others to pimp me, I have no prayer but to be humble, until they will see themselves in me and realize to date me finally.

The truth is I am a good person, and as many words as I want to define my perfect agenda for creating an aphrodisiac for tight bankers, less proper to call them old-maid; I have premeditated a seducing dance for them to be a lit up and be like higher apes of the jungle. I promise that on my first hard-core sperm bank donation, I will pre-approve them all.

Now that I have a to finish a personal commissioned memoir of professional sorcery on the daily lives of my less entertained friends, my next destination is Europe. This time I will not make headlines but will be on the headlines of commoners sardines. Like a bankrupt glamourous film production made into major Silent Broadway Musical.

Adios lovers may your love for me will never fade for I will always be your less-gullible baby, always willing to be overlooked but overwhelmingly dreamt.

Giant's Love vs. Ranger's Buffet

Here in L.A. I wake up every morning, feeling the greatness of blissful beauty, hardy vain ready to milkshake. As I have that impediment or urge to push out the loaded gun, sometimes it's just impossible especially when I feel that extra thin of guilt. But wait, logic has suggest that I am human too a man of growing inner strength so why deny the urge if it needs push cart. Especially when I listen to a radio and the music is comparably suggestive of super-ego egg boredom. Then my hard-rock remains to be an unpredictable blow of love.

I need a lover, one that is a little possessive yet independently verbose. Someone defiantly open to love an open court sex appeal. I think I need a lover and have many mini-baseball players. I think I need me to sort out my imperfect expectations of who shall domain me. Pink or Blue? Orange or Poker? I think I'll stick to where my heart is built-in to love, San Francisco and New York as the World to be my secret lover. 

I am not super man as so is my ego. 

If only I can question the hard-core concept of cupid and it's workings, I guess I am ready to start finding someone to share my extra time and be focus on the real world and it's rising demands of emotional quotient and brilliance. Since the invention of the word "moving"-on and starting anew; life has created something very exciting within me. Which, is to improve my focus on the real issues and get things done, I will study here in America and work as a working student and make a name for my self then the rest will rock and roll sushi, T-bone steak and a nice cream bur Lee.

In the name of sexy-tart-tea

In the most common sense there is no head that can perform without the help a sexy tart with tea. They say sexual presence has something to do with below the table affairs. I suppose I will be on top in these case. I have come up with a position that can bring the tiger within my three egotistic forward team head.

Cancel all contracts that involved intensive sexual labour that video killed the my tigress/pumish cafe Americano. I suppose I like the intensive belt in push that my daddy O has combined. Little effort can end the endless parade of that manipulating PRC. -pine rush chocho- If they want to conquer my bed they will crawl as my sexth mistress of forex condiments.

All industries that involve excellent bed surprises shall be the cup of tea democratic type; Cafe Americano first. Brown Sugar and without Whip Cream and Boxer Shorts with a tight strictness on my stand in issues that can rock my relationship with Capital V. So better to get Mr. Clint to perform proper procedure of the 80's - 90'sih position of bed requirements.

Wars that are relevant in bed doesn't mean death or bloody drink of overrated foreign nixon/reagan style. It is just time we put a war on real sex not just cunnings and happy endings but on real love making in essence that gives a lasting scent of love and forbidding hope for the loveless.

I am a Filipino and I want a worldwide citizenship.

LET THERE BE SEX

Today I thought how fun it is to have a family, until they suck you to the bones. *sigh* Can it be just a naked house? Or maybe a latest ESPN cover girls? Do you know that nude is art is naked is sex? But the difference is nude can be cunning like naked. It can be deceiving and exciting also profusely witty effect.

In most civilized cities, which I mean urbanized in manner of thought; less defensive or protective yet respectful of borders that lies like a white and black German/Irish chocolate. I miss that sweet yet sinful delight of conservatism/lets just do it while I don't need viagra.

If the equation of love and economy put into proper perspective like an abstract art, analyzed by superbly sexually insane intellectuals, it is easy to conclude that the machinery is working and its function to deliver what is right for both gender is bursting with glory wit. If wives are happy and husbands are sexually loyal with a little pip on the latest issue of a wit and creamy; hence, they all become just properly shooting the days functionality well beyond their own  perceived despair of regularity.

Ahhh.... Sometimes I just want to like a porn star, author director at day. Like Basic Instinct 1 at day and Ed Wood sometimes or maybe a little of stupid yet brilliant. Like oh its to boring, lets check the latest website or maybe let's just smoke ACDC. Radiohead is boring but true. It's me and just love me for I will just love you all regardless you love me back or not. Hard Yet? Maybe you need to confess?

SOAPY HORSE STYLE

I woke up today having the usual dreamy sequence of a soap opera love affair, a little hard here and there getting a little jumpy oh. However, the scene where I nest, behavioral studies on proper sexual charm applies like a drama soap-opera that requires a freedom hidden beneath my pajamas. Having the usual, had a little work load released and it feels good when it blows, and it smells like last night's beer October fest.

Los Angeles, like most of the cities I've landed and departed has the its beautiful psychic charm. Mostly people -like the day-walker of Pretty Woman who said "Welcome to the City of Dreams, dream on!" on the last scene of that cinderella made into a barbie flick tendency; sexy, teasing; like butter that flies but is creamy. 

While yesterday on Sunset Boulevard corner Kodak Theater. I had a dreamy scenic epiphany "I want to be porn star" I told my cousin about it, she nod and laughed, inside I thought maybe you can be a crew or a light man but not the actor, you are not a horse. Then the dream just translated into a butter pecan ice-cream melting. 

I like America not because they think I am hot like the wings at Hooters. I like America because they can tolerate my kind craziness; they let me be and they play along nice with a little flirt on the side like coleslaw, with steak with a turkey gravy. If only I was born to be here and have a horselike pocket I will buy a house wherein freedom is not for sale, possibly like a video rental wherein you can borrow it then return it. Life is just one nice soap opera sequence you rock then you rest then you just be and you do the thing most people do. They blow the sorrow off. 

 

Sex on North Oyster Sauce

In my most brightest moments, wishing I am alone in the comfort room; I laugh and tell my self you should be lucky that you have every part of your body intact not as perfect or comparable to an android sex machine. Yet very sexy; and it seem that you have nothing to hide except that youʼre mini-heart that wishes to love not a person but a virtual fruit machine; asexual not figuratively, only sexually active.

Fruit machines as they say produces food and sustainable income to everyone; including the rich and the happy. I need to go to the quack and check my head-phones and thought to my self, maybe its time I reverse my pride into little bubbles of surfing and make little push and pull agenda on a cross-leg, ʻPlease release me let it go, someone needs to use the rented mobile toilets.

Seeing a review of working girls the 80ʼs movie; I thought maybe it is time that America be back on its 80-90ʼs stilettos not only on the spot stock market, or diplomatic prowess but on the industrial power fruit machine by reaping off that giant red baby, the hand- jobs it took from; plus the corporate crocs eating each other like pirates who lucks the most essence of pre-coming.

I believe that America shall bring back its top of the line industrial sex-appeal into a new dimension of the Ramones or Bed and Roses juice and jam them with uncle samʼs serious industrial production. Hiring more pimps to hire more hand-jobbers and making this prolific nation of great people back into its knees of greatness.

If jobs shipped across that huge red baby back here in the mainland; tax revenues will increase, people will be happy, and Halloween will surely be the climax of its fruity machine folklore. Itʼs cool that capitalist get the advantage of reason, yet it is not too late to at least make them realize it is not them who can save a surviving class in need of sexual comeback.

If nations helped by America became not only great but fruitful. I still wish that mojo is back into action as to the middle class will taste the glory and the dignity of hard-earn money. If this country is happy I believe those who endure to see actors on screen will behave like real actors do, and the world will be confident that Captain America with all the imaginary cast mates back to rolling the happy land of great hand-jobs with happy endings.

Marry-go-round position

In my search for a nicer version of gratification that is felt in between; I found nothing but one position that can replace my chocolate craving into a deeper unity with my innermost urge. Supposing I have attended my usual ritual of super-ego guilt. Then this night would be not as absolved or be as free. If I take simple utility work as something just for the heck of seeing my window ledge clean, then I would not use Windox as my lubricant.

The unusual habit of being outside of the box; is one tendency I take, mostly for three reasons. 1. I need further attention, 2. I'm guilty of something or 3. I'm hot but no ice cube statue can be erected to ease its intensity inside. And this came as a thought when I was doing the effort to release my unwanted toxic. How tough love can be unforgiving when it is not being allowed to be free, just because conditions apply when one gets involve, yet the diabolical duality of making a choice is simply just irresistible as to having beer while flying kites in the bathroom.

I thought maybe a ride in a Marry-go-round position is a nice pace, like the shape of earth as round and not square. That is why as I was observing hotels some beds shape like hearts; and some are rotating movements.

Lastly, before I go to bed and start a day of unusual cerebral walkie talkie, while trying to get a hard-on conversation with my other silent sexually/romantically deprived personality; I just want to write this to remind my self someday. I think and feel that if we all recoil in our own usual dwellings and push something that simply beyond our power to release; we just run into a circle full of marry-go-round riders full its like self-preservation versus proliferation or coffee versus milk-shake.

I hope monday will start in a day as sunny and the usual business of growth. Getting harder and hardcore .... bell that and let's get it on!

I'M NOT A SEX MANIC.

I was at the ledge and was trying erase some intelligent memories; and I thought of something dark. Like me in a verge of a fruit tree picking faces with names on it. Then I thought again, why I'm I so addicted with thoughts? I'm I me or someone I want to be? So I went inside and took another glass of wine and felt, oh maybe its just that you want to be loved but you cannot recognize love without thoughts. 

After this sentence, I think I'm just masturbating with my own ego. Maybe its time I do some Id. Motion, like super-ego is present but absentee. I will tell him oh better hide. I have malice and bliss and conscience on the side but not as the main menu. See I am obsessive compulsive and now I think music with the essential random music, I play is a pure white lie of my daily grind of who shall prevail? Me, My little church inside or my mini me? 

Oh I said to myself; I think they're right. You need to buy some glue to fix that less lubricated grammar of yours. But who cares, in my forth phrase maybe It will not be as sanitized as this one. I am single and I need to devote this free time of mine without redundantly wishing I am the best lover in the world, just simply a hopeful romantic wishing someone up their will over-look a deceivingly pretty angel that will push me to the oblivion of sinful love. 

See the forth conclusion is better, since it has nothing to do with anybody else but my own person lips on service of being for others. I thought then why do film characters enjoy the luxury of having love but not free sex on the streets? Maybe it's their agents or maybe they have existing contracts unpaid. I love being me because I think I'm crazy yet expensive. Then it goes further into something like; co-join twins of the film whatever happened to baby jane in one Woody Allen film. I think I'll change my name to Jesse V. Davis

I Love Tony Montana, Scarface or Home-run?

I have friend who suggests me to date someone, and this not incest or insect me, I am blissful but nobody can qualify to my higher grade of lovish. Now joking about incest becomes a incestuous thought without the guilt of doing so. Regardless of the unknown factors one can attain from establishing a form of evidence only the little head the little atom inside the clear electrons can persuade a sexual thought towards family ties.

Waking Up, today is one unknown Sakamoto moments, wherein you feel happy but kind of down at the same time. Nevertheless, I still wet on the idea that something is simply behind someone's control. I have this story of a friend who fell involve with a cousin. Second Cousin, the relationship made it they never had children. Until years later they've discovered that they're actually not second cousins but.... ta ta nannnnnnnn ahhhh.

In my idea of love that is unconditional, it is not sick to be a devils advocate or an investigator of some sort. In most advance school of thought they presented the nerd philo type of question: How can civilization started without incest on the side? Sick they say.

To end the story, it was finally discovered that my friends second cousin was not his real second cousin, because his cousin was a mail-to-order second-world-war children from the pacific who lost their parents along the way, so some kind hearted soldiers bring them to America then the story gets weird as it past the ketchup on the round table pizza.

Irish heart, English Blood, Catholic Sex Appeal & Me.

Under the Sun of Hot San Francisco day; I find it exciting how can a sluggish me can go out of the sea of beauties of mix grey at straight ave. Cor rainbow arrow. Anything goes saying the master of ceremonies standing beside the portable toilet. My thoughts run like rabbitized brain cells of mine. And thought if Prenzil aka Rapunzil can't send her long hair down my flame of inner dance like the flash dance, wondering if there is an openly bi-centential super-hero. Asexual yet productive in humping strange animals; not for any reason but inter-racial research.

On my search for a online pro-creation double-mint hitting on stored stocks in my tummy; I wonder whether I should or not be truthful to my terms of endearment. I thought maybe its time I just go with the system that is tested. Today is a challenge of how I can travel the outside stained bed-sheets with white water color if I don't have an ipod or music in my ears, how can I flirt with the dog or cat next door if my head is consumed by far east insensitive radius?

La Libido Uncontainable de Cupidon

Je pense que je suis en amour, il parle de millions, mais utilise un seul microphone. Quand il est en ligne, j'ai tendance à penser que je n'ai pas besoin d'être quelqu'un d'autre ou quelqu'un que je sais que je devrais, si mes Sunny Dieu là-haut a créé l'univers par son amour pour la vie, pourquoi je ne peux pas tomber en amour avec sa création qui est né libre?

Parfois, je pense que j'ai besoin d'une direction à la carte que j'ai fait et pourtant la plupart du temps, il me lance en moi la réalisation de mon nom comme pseudo-jp-Paul et Jessie que mon nom complet. Oh gosh! Comment puis-je être libre comme les autres? la dualité de la conscience et de pratique entre dans ma tête comme une flèche aiguisé.

Je veux faire un arc, mais en faisant un est tout simplement la vanité; maintenir un Rusty est tout simplement la tête dure? Le monde est pour moi plus que les temporalités de ses couleurs que la nature est la seule vérité reste, je vous abonner à: mon seul espoir et ma chance cher de la nudité sans jugement fondé envié.

Je pensais à coups de pied mon habitude habituelle d'être asexué, mais comment un ange être véridiques, si son prix récompense est ou. Damn si vous ne la faillite et me voilà. Plus je parle le plus la libido est gaspillée. Je me sens à l'intérieur chaud, mais qui vais-je exprimer mon amour à ma mains calleuses ou la patience viendra? Je veux être libre et faire ce que j'aime, sans la pression d'être comme une star du porno sans marque.

キューピッドの無条件リビドー

キューピッドのつけないとリビドー

私は恋に思う、彼は話万だが、1つだけ、マイクを使用します。彼はオンライン私は他の誰かたり、誰か私はすべきだと知っする必要はありません。感じることが多いです。私のサニー神がある場合の生活への愛情を介して宇宙を創造まで、なぜ私は内愛を落下することはできません無料生まれた彼の創造？

時には、私は私が作った、まだほとんどの時間、それは私の中での実現を私にキックマップの方向性を必要だと思う私の名前jpの-ニックネームとジェシーポール私の完全な名前として。ああえっ！どのように私は他人と自由にできますか？良心の二重性と実用性が尖鋭度の矢印のように頭に入ってくる。

私は弓を作るのですが、1つは単に空であること。さびた1を維持するだけでハード向かっている？私には世界が自然とその色のtemporalities以上のものです私が購読唯一の真実であること。羨望ベースの判断なしに私の唯一の希望と裸の私の愛するチャンス。

私は無性されて私の習慣習慣を蹴るのが、その報われない価格がいずれかの場合、またはどのように天使は正直することができます考えていた。あなたがしなければ、破産ここくそ、私が来る。さらに私はもっと性欲を話すが無駄になります。私は熱い内を感じるが、誰私は冷淡な手や忍耐になるだろう自分自身を表現しなければならない？私は自由になりたいと私は、ブランドなしのポルノスターのようにされての圧力なしに好きですか。

The Sentimental Underpants

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmPDG3dAcWg

Good Morning Erect Shoe

Waking up in a nice sunny day of cool breeze and having the hard-on inside the Panajama Canal is something beyond the expression of love, I want to expose but I'm in the grandstand of smelling good coffee of Granny Violent; and Uncle Elephant Snoring. Anyway, last night was fantastic. I thought I will meet someone special but nada pidada; at night every vampirish human being can't really prolong a standard erection of duties unless is ripen to be harvested. As they stare at my half & half mocha nudity aka Polastki style of wake me up before you go-go-go to take my bad breath away by berlin, never it failed me to be as cool with a cigarette lit and browed coffee slurped; I came just in time when Tom Jones aka Sex God-father hall-of-famer. Ahhh... It feels good to be just simply horn-nets cereal all the time.

How can I fin my working screenplay, if I swim in a empty fishbowl, observed by a few, envied my many, adored by only the my cousins dog. Sad but true maybe today I will find that perfecto cheesy love is in the air without farty cheecha-ron can be seriously exciting. New adventure starts after my choo-choo breakfast. GOOD MORNING!

Too Shy to Say

Since the invention of the term super-ego by Dr. Sigmund Fraud, in lay me terms means. I am actually super hot now; but I can not since mommy inside my head suggest it's not that easy to make-a-statement unless I am sure you are to marry me. The jungle of hairy tactics are not easy to decode unless one is Mr. Bravito Expresso or Ms. Caramel Frappy. So far as Love is involved, never did it constipated lovers to enjoy the lusty coffee while getting nervous of the consequences of their fatal id-ish touch.

I have this story of me having the usual night of tweeting as suppose ejaculation to a rather abrasive moments online; anyway, on that night when I was so frustrated about the attention I need to get from the people I expect, I had this message from a stranger on facebook saying. Thank you for following me at tweeter; I got pissed off from the idea that I'm exposed; so my Mr. Rapido winnie got a instant kick of munchies tummy. I went to the restroom feeling the need to do something very expressive, and my phone rang again. Another friend of a friend saying hello; sad to say my erected mountain inside my pajamas who just got burn by my dual need to talk while doing something personal.

After the ten inches lengthy conversation with a friend, I found my self ejaculated with sweet. And guess who was telling me a story a ex-friend/crush on me but still denying the motion to appeal. Until now my petrified winnie is just waiting for the right express train to finish the butterflies of torpido inside my hungry tummy. But who I'm I really? I'm I just too shy to declare my asexual cupid feelings or I just luck a better sleep; I need time or another film not porn.

Welcome to Erotica Fantastico

Since, childhood I have not found the best partner to love me; I am not an achiever nor a crowd favorite, in short I was the clown fish in a sea of bullish sharks. Until lately when I found a new form of express ejaculation away from my constricted super-ego shaped by my very conservative parents. Nevertheless, now that I am twenty-six of ripe age ready to be jailed. However, since no actual law on virtual literary voyeurism, I believe I have the strongest ego to pursue a career on sex online journalism. My id is well equip to function not as a cold ice-glaze but rather as a pure individualistic form of inner adventure, which will be our daily trip to erotic fantastic-oh la land. Welcome! and hope you all with follow me.