satrus

chaCHA zona jeffry aku tidak pintar berburu. aku hanya bisa menunggu. aku tak tahu bgmn mrk bertiga masuk dlm hidupku. kunikmati kebersamaan mrk hanya sekejap saja. aku tak tahu bgmn mendatangkan mereka kembali. aku hanya berharap tuhan bekerja dengan caranya agar menjodohkan mereka bertiga denganku. sdh berapa tahun aku bergentayangan di dunia ini? sdh berapa kali aku tapah hati? tapi tak pernah kurasakan yg seperti ini. sakitnya ruar binasa. aku harus memperbaiki fisik ragaku agar semua org itu takluk dlm pelukanku. cintai aku seperti aku mencintaimu hambakan aku seperti aku menghambamu aaku takkan pernah selesai mencintaimu ccinta ini takkan habis oleh waktu hanya tuhan yang tahu aaku akan selalu menunggumu zina tak lagi mengobati lluka orang tak lagi indah di mata nikmat tak lagi terasa aaku hanya mendamba jangan kau tinggalkan aku eengkaulah seluruhku fana tak llagi kupunya fikir tak lagi kurasa rrasa yang semua sirna yyang mana yang terus mendamba

A Very Educational Game

AwesomeDude Home Gee Whillickers Home

by Gee Whillickers g.whillickers@gmail.com This little story was inspired by a question in the Awesomedude.com forums about how you can tell if someone likes you. I decided to answer this way. Hope you like it. "Yeah, but how do I know?" repeated Luke to his friend Byron lying beside him on the living room floor. Luke's fingers continued to dance over the XBox360 controller, "It's not like I can just go up and ask him. It's just so unfair!" Luke punctuated this last with a nice headshot on his enemy. Luke's brother Jared, sitting behind them at the dining room table, heard the enemy, who sounded like he was about ten years old, say a very bad word through the XBox Live interface. Jared wondered if his little brother had remembered to turn his mic off. The kid he just killed might be getting a bit more schooling than he bargained for. Jared tried to ignore his brother and friend, and turned to the next page of his calculus book. "I dunno,” answered Byron, “you just know, I think.” He seemed to be having no more difficulty than Luke playing the game while engaging in what was, for thirteen year olds, a rather heavy conversation. "Easy for you to say. You like girls. With boys it's different," Luke said. Then he said, "Fuck!" which had nothing to do with the conversation and everything to do with the fact that he just got blown into about four thousand and eight little bloody pieces by the ten year old, who had apparently re-spawned. They could hear the little guy giggling through the speakers. Jared continued to ignore them, swearing and all. "Aren't you guys supposed to have, whaddyacallit, gaydar?" asked Byron. "Nah, I think that's just something on TV. So, how do you know when a girl likes you, Byron?" Byron's fingers mashed a button or two before he replied, "Well, I dunno...you just do!" Jared couldn't stand it anymore. He closed his calculus book loud enough to get the younger boys' attention. "Well, since obviously a guy can't actually study around here," he pretended to glare at them, "I might as well let you guys know all the tricks to getting laid...errr, I mean to finding true love." Byron and Luke grinned at Jared, their attention drawn away from their game. "Think about it guys. Use your heads. You already know more about this than you think. What does someone do when they like you?" Byron and Luke looked at each other. Luke said, "I dunno. I guess they don't avoid you?" Byron giggled. Jared rolled his eyes. "Don't think negative, think positive. What do they do?" "Well," said Byron slowly, thinking out loud, "I suppose I can tell if a girl likes me because she seems to be around me more, and then...yeah...they usually giggle a lot more than usual, and smile a lot. And, like, make lots of eye contact. And laugh at my jokes. And want to talk to me and listen to me." "Nobody laughs at your jokes, doofus," said Luke with a shove. "Do too!" answered Byron with a shove back at his friend. "See, told you that you already knew," said Jared. "So, then, what about you, Luke? How do you know if a boy likes you?" Luke blushed a bit, but answered, "Well, I dunno. Maybe, I guess, it might be kinda the same?" "Bingo!" said Jared, standing up. "Think about it. If this boy, whoever he is, likes you then you watch for that stuff. Eye contact. Blushing and smiling. Laughing more than usual. Going out of his way to spend time around you. Doing little nice things, like picking up your pencil when you drop it, before you can. Stuff like that. If he's doing that, then do the same back. See what happens." "Isn't that, like, flirting?" asked Byron. "Bingo again. Told ya you know. Now, Luke, it's maybe a bit harder for you." Jared ignored the younger boys' giggle at intentionally taking that comment the wrong way. "Not that kind of harder, numbskulls. I mean, harder because you not only don't know if he likes you, you don't know if he's gay. But still, I'd think it's much the same thing. At least Drew seems to think it is." Drew, Luke and Byron knew, was Jared's best friend. And he was gay too. "When you flirt long enough, the flirting tends to get a bit more, uh, flirty. More obvious. Usually obvious enough that someone feels safe enough to take a risk to ask the other person out. Or whatever." Luke and Byron laughed at the 'whatever.' "Now," Jared finished. "Forget that game. Let's go into the kitchen for some ice-cream." All three boys got up and began walking towards the kitchen, just as a voice came from the speakers behind. A ten-year-old voice. "Thanks guys! That was a very educational game." Then more giggling. All three boys looked at each, then said in unison, "Fuck!" AwesomeDude Home Gee Whillickers Home http://www.awesomedude.com/gee_whillickers/a_very_educational_game.htm

kamis 15 11 12

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rabu 14 11 12

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selasa 13 11 12

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[Halloo!]

I'd been shopping, though it was more to get out of the house for a breath of fresh air and a walk than a real shopping expedition. I'd ambled around the second-hand-come-antique emporium, then gone on to the co-op and bought a couple of packets of half-price biscuits. From there I'd popped into the Azmart, a shop run by a nice bunch of Iraqis who had come to England to escape the war. They offered halal meat, had shelves stacked with Arabic labelled what-have-yous which seemed to me to be very exotic, and cheap smuggled cigarettes. Jamy - probably not his name, but the approximation we'd agreed on - grinned at me, his gold tooth glinting devilishly, as he handed me a packet of blue face lights. Grinning back, I waved goodbye and wandered up to the seat on the public plaza where I settled down to people-watch. As daylight faded into twilight time they came and went: couples hand in hand, kids in tribes, dealers, panhandlers, skateboarders, reprobates, upright sorts and all the others. From maudlin mothers holding screaming kids with push chairs carrying more, to those indefinable hard to place members of the human race. If you spent enough time they all moseyed by, sooner or later. From the pretty to the drear, from the outrageous to the mere normal. I found it entertaining to create stories about them, to pick individuals, mould their characters and have them play out scenes that would curl toes - though truly only they and their gods knew their lives and what they got up to behind closed doors. People-watching is endlessly fascinating, though had it been colder I might not have stayed as long. Nonetheless, eventually, it started to get cold and I was thinking of leaving when my phone chirruped. I pulled it out, saw it was an email and was about to read it when someone sat down close beside me, right within my personal space. The seat was circular, set around the base of a young stunted tree that, because of its location amid unseen traffic fumes, was probably never going to grow and mature. Curious as to who would be crass enough to sit that close, I glanced at the person beside me and saw a young man. Maybe late teens; maybe early twenties. He was angled away from me, intently looking down the high street. Then he turned. He looked directly at me, and smiled. "Odd, isn't it?" "What?" I replied, frowning as I hadn't meant to be spotted looking. After a drawn-out moment, during which my frown faded and his smile became a grin, he answered. "Humanity, of course. Humanity, with all its foibles, angst, and peccadilloes. So vibrant and exciting, yet seemingly half asleep." He nodded at me, his grin fading. I liked his grin. I liked that he'd talked to me, and wanted more. I cleared my throat. "Have we met before? You seem… somehow familiar." "We might have. But if we haven't, we have now," he said as he got to his feet and walked away down the street towards the station. I say 'got to his feet,' but it was more that he was sitting and then he was standing. Instantaneously. Open mouthed I watched him go, then, unable to stop myself, I stood up and followed. I was drawn. Utterly, viscerally: as if I'd met an adult Pied Piper. I felt that if I didn't follow I'd be making a cataclysmic mistake. Yet if I did…. The street lights flickered as they came on, casting long shadows behind those walking up from the station. Still, I could see him in the near distance and I wasn't worried as it seemed I was catching him up. Then he vanished. I stopped, blinked to clear my eyesight, then walked across the pavement to look from a different angle. A crowd of revellers spilled out of a pub to the right, their laughter counterpoint to the distress that now swamped me. It was ludicrous. I didn't know him; hadn't even met him, yet there was something…. I jumped as, with a clatter, the metal shutters on the newsagent's window beside me slammed down. "Are you alright, sir?" the elderly newsagent asked. He looked concerned. "Yes, yes I'm fine." I said and began walking again, aware the old man was following me with his eyes. I'd not gone two steps before he called after me. "Be careful sir." I stopped and turned around. It seemed an incongruous thing for him to say. Now, the newsagent was looking worried and kept glancing past me, up the street towards the station, towards where the young man had vanished. "Careful? Of what?" I asked. "Him." The old man said. "Him. But if you must, be honest. Please, be honest. He plays around the corner shop." I turned to look. When I turned back the newsagent had gone inside, the small metal entrance door in the shutters was closed, and the shop's light, that had spilled cheerily onto the pavement, was reduced from a sliver to darkness. Crossing back to the side of the road where I'd last seen him I walked on toward the station, the desire to get home warring with an ever growing and urgent need to see him again. "Halloo!" the young man said, stepping out of the corner shop like a surreally beautiful jack-in-a-box, and standing in front of me. "Want to come on a journey?" He quirked an eyebrow. He wasn't entirely blocking my path so I looked at him briefly, caught the slight smile and twinkling cerulean eyes, before I side-stepped and stumbled on towards the station. I hadn't gone five steps before I was inwardly cursing my stupidity. I stopped. Stopped and stood, feeling foolish as I began to shake with emotion. I wanted to laugh, I wanted to dance and sing and cry with joy; yet above all these I wanted to turn on my heel and scream, 'YES! I want to journey with you.' Roiling emotions were crucifying me. I felt them physically, my heart pounding in anticipation and clenched in the pain of certain truth. Eventually - a second, a minute, an hour? I know not - I chose, and turned. Slowly, frightened, but determined to face what I realised was my innate nature - which seemed to include an unquestionable and raging desire for this total stranger. The street was gone. He stood bathed in ethereal light, his wings wrapped around his naked body like an open overcoat, revealing more than was decent, his foot tapping in irritation. "Jesus Christ, Jack. Here we are again. How many turns of the goddamn wheel will it take you to realise who you are? How many times are we going to trip the light fantastic and play this game, Jack? Hmm?" "I got there in the end." I muttered. "Yes, I suppose you did. Too late though," he said, as he took my hand. "Maybe next time." * * * Together, they watched from their flat above the paper shop as a ball of coruscating light flew heavenward. Shortly afterwards, amid a crowd of gawping onlookers, a gurney was loaded into an ambulance, its flashing lights turning the end of the street disco. "Heart attack," the shopkeeper said to the newsagent. "Mmm, maybe," the newsagent mused. "Maybe. 'To each in their own time,' that's what he told me." "Pardon?" The shopkeeper said. "Oh, nothing, sweetheart," the newsagent murmured, as he leant over and gently kissed his beloved on the lips. Yet again many thanks to C.P., my ever patient editor. He rawks, though he'd deny it. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone - I'm mean like that! Please consider donating a little dosh to keep AwesomeDude.com alive. As most of us are skint I know it's difficult. But the price of a couple of beers, once in a blue moon, isn't a lot for such a wonderful place to hang out. Or, you could buy a copy of Midnight Dude in either paperback or eBook. The proceeds go directly to help the site AND you get a great book to read! Donate HERE - paypal button at the top of the page on the left. Buy Midnight Dude HERE Oh wow! look! It's a blue moon! ;) * * * Feedback would really be appreciated! Either in the AwesomeDude forums or, if you'd like to, please email me. HOME © Camy Sussex - all rights reserved http://www.awesomedude.com/camy/halloo/index.php