aloque

Somesense

You are definitely going to understand what I am talking about. You must. If you are reading this page I assume that you have grasped some fundamentals of working a mouse and have attended your quota of pre-school. If you do not understand the content to follow, then please try to master the fundamentals of working a remote (no pre-schooling required) and watch about 5 mins of any episode of Sex and the City. A formal introduction that says that you are going to have an idea about something that is yet to come must not lead to assumptions that I know what I am about to type in the next few lines. Mostly, I will be talking off the top of my head and a little out of my ass. And even I do not know what lurks in there sometimes.

I am talking about the human obsession for intercourse. Saying that word 'intercourse' might lead you to believe that henceforth follows a mature and meaningful discussion on the topic. Just to put things into the proper perspective, HaHa. Again, I still do not know what I am going to say further into the discussion. But, I am confident of the human race and will rest assured that a promise of further mention of sex will keep you going. Those who read that and have left the page, you will not have read this and this makes any insults a waste of my time and those who are continuing reading this, your time has already been wasted.

Inherent in the somesense that has been typed up above, and the undeniable fact that you are still here exemplifies the fact that we are indeed obsessed. But I have recently discovered, well actually confirmed, (the debate rages on whether personal validation is required to call popular opinion a discovery) that there broadly exist two distinct obsessions for sex. One is the pre sex obsession for sex, which manifests itself before the primary sexual encounter (the text book language still should not lead to assumptions that this is off the top off my head. This has all the makings of a vile sulphide bomb) (and if i have not lost you with innumerable strategically placed brackets, I will continue abruptly from where I left off) and make the average guy think about sex about 5,398 times in a day i.e all the time. This data should not lead to assumptions that extensive research has gone into the writing of this article. About seven minutes of typing without looking at the key board interspersed with 3 mins of hitting the backspace key and 3 yawns have gone into the writing of this article. (also just discovered that when randomly typing 4 numbers I give selective preference to 5 3 9 and 8 in that order). There is also the other variety of sexual obsessing, the post sexual encounter sexual obsessing, which manifests itself after the primary encounter, which makes the guy have sexual thoughts at all times except of course when having sex. I have been informed, as reliably as is possible, that options in thought during the actual encounter include reciting the ABC to and fro (Pre- schooling required) remembering the players of all the cricket teams in the world, thoughts about all the old naked women seen in the past 23 years, krishan kumar (well, no, no one should ever think of krishan kumar). After finishing that broad classification of sexual obsessing, we will go back to the top of the head for some pretence of normalcy.

Staying true to my identity I will now ask a few questions of myself. Of course, no one else is still reading this.

Q 1) YOU ARE???

Q 2) Is it true that it is impossible to be stimulted anymore by the time honoured pre sex sexual obsession aids such as soft porn when a person crosses the line over to post sex sexual obsessing?

Q 3) Do Harold Robbins' readers focus on the *gasp* story-line after the big thinggamagoo?

This post would not make any sense if there wasn't a BIG thank you in here for Adi, who has inspired me to this state of somesense.

Some after thoughts:

So, the word is out. A l o que is short for a lot of questions. So you thought that it would be something deeper than that. Well, genius sometimes misses the simple things, I say.

I have also been told that reading my page conjures up pictures of a fat, middle aged, lonely man who is trying hard to be nice to everyone in his perennial search for acceptance. Per cep tive.

Neuro has realized the immense responsibility he has as the last of the particans, and has now resolved to breathe fresh nicotine fumes and pour the rum and coke back into Hyderabad's lungs and veins. Bless you, man.

Most of the reasons that I have started this blog have been fulfilled, and I am thankful for that. And the biggest relief of all has been that I am past obsessing about it. Now, all I have to do is remain carefree and also reasonfree. Security has a tremendous way of allowing a person to do that. Another thing I have to do is get a thesaurus.