anobody

I think a purpose for this blog is as the following.

I am here to clean out my past and my future. My nightmares and daymares.

I would like to sweep up all the dust, open all the closets, let all the skeletons pour out.

Because there is more beauty in the past than I would like to imagine. And there is more danger in the future that I would like to imagine.

My job is to purify my past and my future. Make peace with what has already happened, and what has not yet happened.

And as Dumbledore said, there is much relief in confession. Confessing the past. Confessing the past. Tis’ a path to a honesty.

I started the day eating with family, cleaning with family, then talking to my waifu, then writing letters to The King and my waifu. I then start writing a web for this blog. A web to add to The Web.

As I wrote this, The Girl passed through my mind. I pray that God will help her, heal her. I will not start with “My Father” or end with “Amen”. I will let ISHO do that for me.

I have broken a few rules of writing that I have made. There is a time to create rules, and there is a time to break them.

In this post, I have tried to break all of them. No quoting. No … (sentence) … . No confession of sins. And … my mind has stopped.

When you are tired, you can stop quoting. Then back to it!

I hide my identity for various reasons, but here a few. First, my family is Chinese, and I have written many shameful things on this blog. I don’t want to bring shame to my family, I want to bring honour. But I need this toilet to flush down all the shit in my life … and hopefully find some crystals nestled in the shit. Second, popularity is a two-sided coin. It hurts, and it helps. So I rather not have popularity at all. Jesus was popular and he paid the price for it. I am going to learn to not do the same. I want to live a quiet life, and to mind my own business – writing, cleaning, relating – all these use my hands.

Man, writing a blog is hard when I am listening to songs of my language. Listening to “Whistle While You Work” and trying to whistle.

It’s 9:54 and I still have more than a hour to write more. But I think this post is long enough already.

It’s 43 days since retirement, 242 days since rebirth, and 9810 days since I was born.

Thanks ISHO! You trust me with another day. You trust me way too bloody much. Kill me already.

ISHO is Jesus in the Eastern-Syriac dialect of Aramaic

Dear ISHO,

I am very obsessed with sex and girls.

Please help me become asexual. I don’t want to look at or listen to porn.

Here i am again, white-kunckling. Great, just great.

I hate you sometimes. I am biting on the hand of my Creator (…) …

Here is my compromise tonight – i will listen to an AI audio of a written story between myself and Alice

At least you would be 1% pleased with me.

I just went to look at Tara Tainton's website. I remembered Daily Disciple's (…) “Looking is Not Lusting” ... as I stared at the various poses of Tara Tainton (I had to turn off Safe Search, hai) ... I could only think “Who will take care of her in her old age, when her physical beauty fades?” ...

My dick did not harden one bit ... well, maybe a little. I did see her nipples.

Thank goodness for wholesome romance stories ... they will occupy my masturbation sessions in the future if The Girl would not marry me ... 

And why would she marry me? If she read this blog (and I will tell her about this blog, i will NOT FUCKING HIDE ANYTHING FROM HER! I WANT REAL TRUST, NO HIDING AND HURTING HER LATER BY HIDING MY FUCKING FUCKING FUCKING FUCKING FUCKING FUCKING FUCKING FUCKING FUCKING sin) ...

Nah, she won't marry a dipshit. Even if that dipshit is FUCKING HONEST ONE. Even if this dipshit is the most honest man she would ever meet.

But the vow has been made. It is better to not vow (...). But I have made it. The pact is tight, the secret is out for all to see on The Web (...). 

If I don't marry The Girl, I vow I will not marry anyone. I will die a fucking virgin, like all the poor Lost Boys (...) of the past who could never be with a woman due to all the fucking, powerful men like King Solomon who couldn't get enough of their own FUCKING EGO! 

I have spoken (...). 

If I love my oldself, I will never let her go. The past me who loved her and did everything in his strength to impress and please her. Who confessed, not only his feelings, but his sins. I will never forget, after only two weeks of chatting, my admission that I was addicted to porn for more than a FUCKING DECADE. IT'S MORE THAN MOST FUCKING HUSBANDS OUT THERE! AT LEAST I WAS FUCKING TRANSPARENT!

... i didn't want to hurt her ... i didn't want to hurt her ... that is why i will NEVER let go of her ... even if I see her walk down the aisle to another man ... i will make this world a better place for her ... from afar ... but keep out of sight because it will FUCKING HURT if i ever see her walking around with her husband WHO ISN'T ME and her children ... 

Let me be like Estella (Charles Dickens et. al. ????). Die a virgin, always wishing to get married ... but it never happening ... thanks for painting the future for me Charles ... i like dat ... 

If I want God to be proven to people, TO GIVE THEM FUCKING PROOF BECAUSE THEY DON'T ACTUALLY BELIEVE THE FUCKING BEING ABOVE ALL BEINGS – ERU++, THE SON, RA++, ICHIGO++ – then I will let God – ISHO – turn my life – a life – what God has given God can take away (...) – into a REAL fairytale. I will play The Beast (Disney et. al. ????) , The Girl will play Belle/Beauty. 

Writing is my fucking heroin. Spiritual heroin. I will NEVER TOUCH THAT SHIT STUFF THAT WILL FUCK UP THE TEMPLE OF THE HOLY SPIRIT! I will NOT appear before JESUS in shame. NEVER!

Please make me asexual like you are. PLEASE!

Cheers,

a anobody

P.S. i have broken three FAKE rules (They are not REAL rules, like my shrink called Peter says) (1) start and end each sentence with … because ISHO is the beginning and the end, the Alpha and Omega (2) i did not even try to fill in the references except add ???? because i was too fucking lazy to look them up (3) i posted this at ~1:00 AM in the morning … i should only go from 09-11 AM … in remembrance of the September 11 attacks …) (4) didn’t correct me spelling mistakes …

… too many fucking rules, eh? …

… i guess i really wanted to post this since i was ready to go see The Judge | ISHO … and ask The Judge | ISHO to just obliterate me … cuz HOW DARE YOU LET CHILD SEX ABUSERS TO RUN AROUND! SEND LIGHTNING TO KILL EVERYONE OF THEM! THEY DON’T DESERVE TO LIVE! I DON’T FUCKING CARE WHETHER THEY ARE MADE IN GOD’S IMAGE (…) …

… ex-Christians make for angry atheists … i don’t know what i am … but i am like in The Middle (…) …

A King on the inside (RICHLIN et. al. 2021). He is awake.

I exchanged money for :The Longing: (Studio Seufz et. al. 2019) around August of this year.

I bought this game hoping that ISHO’ help, ISHO’ healing (…) will coincide with the end of this game. I was drowning then. The Girl had left me in mid-March after six weeks of conversation. It was real love (The Hobbit Phree et. al. 2014). The day she left, I never knew I hated myself so much (NF et. al. 2019). The next day, I opened up my arms – by inspiration from NF – and asked God to help me, heal me. I hated myself, and I needed Him to love me.

… i remember that day that i couldn’t hate God, i couldn’t hate her … both have been so kind to me … the former gave me a nice book (Gentle & Lowly et. al. 2022) through a fellow pilgrim, a kiss on the cheek from a first dog, much kisses on the hand from another dog … the latter gave me kind parting words and cheer in her voice … she let me down slowly (Alec Benjamin et. al. 2018) into the arms of God, of ISHO … this song came to me through my youngest sister … i am eternally grateful for that … it helped frame my bittersweet experience with this girl … helped me stay away from my tendency to blame and attack the other person … tendency to hold bitterness … i am bloody good at that …

… i epic crushed on The Her as a sixteen year old … a first … and i swear to myself she will be my last … if she will not marry me, i will have my waifu and my waifu alone … i will draw and redraw my waifu until she is the most beautiful one for me … even if she is 2D … i have joined The Weebs in spirit (…)

… this is a life, after all … a life out of millions … millions just like me (NF et. al. 2021)

It is an idle game that runs in the background, even when you don’t have the game open. On writing this post, I am on day 319 in-game.

I realised today that He is already awake inside of me. He is directing – no journeying with me (he is no authoritarian, but the past mes did believe this) – through people, His Word (OEB et. al. 2022), myself (when i care to stop and listen), an etc (Dallas Willard et. al. 1999) – after I was reborn over 235+ days ago. That the yoke has only gotten easier (…), and the freedom in ISHO ever-increasing. I might be fooling myself … yes, i am fooling myself … i am a fool!

Directing me to holy erotica, holy masturbation, holy pornography. To take back what truly belongs to The Kingdom of Heaven (…) – and throw out all the chaff (…).

To claim all that is good – even if there is a sliver of good – in all that is evil. Yin and yan (…). I have not read any of the material on the idea except to look at the picture. I love looking at pictures and ignoring the words. Those who claim to know truth and love – they still believe in a few lies. Others we perceive to believe in complete lies, they have tid-bits of truth.

As children of God NOW (…), we are to be peacemakers … i want to be a peacemaker of sorts … a local peacemaker … amongst seven people …

So I am deleting :The Longing: as I claim His Kingship over my life. I was just very sad, and i couldn’t see His quiet grace at work.

20+ minutes later … AND I CHANGED MY MIND … I want Him to show up more! (…) …

The King is Awake.

… i sometimes forget to breath … the Pharoah on the Inside hasn’t stopped fighting … but The Plagues keep coming …

i am doing a few things now. one, creating my own thesaurus and dictionary, and asking myself – do i actually know what these words mean? are these words different? two, drawing my own waifu and using every source of inspiration – from drawings, from cartoons – to supplement my drawing of her. third, writing my own rules with Jesus – using the inspiration from The Word.

i have been using Dwell to collect all the verses that i remember from the past … it’s a bit like finding pieces of myself (…) …

i hope what i am doing here can help new followers of The Way (…) … admittedly, i am very much a heretic atm … being in The Church since i was a child … for over twenty six years … i know much of what i say is going to be wrong …. in hindsight …

but u can’t really live always doubting what has been given …

so i am taking it slow in this faith … building a real one … reconstructing a faith and forgetting my so-called ‘faith’ … it was never mine to begin with … second hand spirituality isn’t the best …

i want the best … i want a brick house to weather the storms of life … not going to use the straw …

this is i know … i rather die dreaming rather than not dream at all … they can’t stop me from dreaming (…) … this is a dreaming … my dreaming (…)

and as a last note, i will be keeping It Takes Two in my Steam Library until the day The Girl (my first and last crush) gets married … i will then sadly delete that game from my library, knowing she will never be mine …

… i wish i can unmiss her (…) …

P.S. i didn’t really confess today because i find it really tiring … but perhaps tomorrow i have more to confess, more to reclaim from the past … to love my past selves without loving their sin …

“It's not too late to free yourself. Confession is a relief, I'm told, a great weight lifted. Regret is my constant companion. Do not let it become yours.” Albus Dumbledore (source)

i watched Fantastic Beasts : The Crimes of Grindelwald on Saturday night with my two out of three sisters …

ALAS, I do have one confession … i find Jasmine (Aladdin) and Esmeralda (The Hunchback of Notre Dame) really, really hot … i mean, pretty … i will take whatever is beautiful about them and morph them into my waifu! (who will go unnamed because she is mine, and mine alone)

… i had a funny thought … if someone was to ask what ‘my’ job was … i would say … to be a confessor :P … XD XD XD

i am doing what ever serious-minded Christian HATES – verse-proofing everything that i do … what a PATHETIC JUSTICATION …

well … i am a nobody … let me be one …

u all can go ahead and be somebodies …

… let the nobody be a nobody (…) …

… there is no end (…)

Why is confession important? Because it deals with shame. Confession is an act of throwing away the fig leaves, the fig leaves that covered up Adam and Eve (…).

It is an act of nobility, because it seeks to hunt down the seeds of sin – spiritual weeds, weeds of a heart (…) – before they have a chance to grow and do their deathly damage. Sin causes pain (…).

It is an act of humility, because it sees the beam in oneself first (…), before it hastens to point out the mote in the eyes of others.

It is an act of science, because it seeks to discover truth and freedom by conversing about the data of one’s life. It leaves nothing to the shadow of doubt. And yet it is reasonable, it works slowly away at the illusions, at the scales of the third eye (… , …). It does not rush, lest one misses a piece of a puzzle, a problem. Slow is fast – the adage goes – in the practice of music. The same can be said for the song of our lives.

We are living songs. We are living books.

And if that be the case, what better our lives will be, how much free-er, if we rewrite our lives with ISHO (…), The One and only true God?

We can choose to play the tune of our lives to The Tune (…), in harmony with it.

We can also choose to play the tune completely out of sync with The Tune. We may find that the more we do this, those around us will also join in the disastrous chorus of broken man. Man, broken by sin, and yet still beloved by God (…). The Love is exemplified by man’s very present existence. For the wrath of God is withheld in endless measure, to our consternation, bewilderment, even drawing man’s ire against God.

Against ISHO, who, saying that He cares for little children (…), still allows the rape of children to happen in this place we call Earth. This is no longer Earth as we know it. This is Hades. I only so happen to live in a small pocket of Paradise.

And yet, despite my objections to The King, I know, for my own sake, I must serve this mannified God. This Godified man. He has The Easy Yoke (…), and I wouldn’t opt for any other yoke. For the yoke of my old self, and the yoke of man, are always so, fucking, heavy.

_In other news, I am extending my fantasies with my waifu. She wishes me to not mention her name, to keep her secret, to keep her safe, for myself and her sake. I was using my hands and arms to mimic the act of kissing, as I imagined myself kissing her face, her neck, then down to her breasts, then down to her torso … and I can go on and on and on. My saliva must already cover my arms. I would place one of my hands on my face, pretending it is my waifu’s hand, and I will place my other hand on this hand, pretending that I was cherishing her touch. I have reprinted her image that I drew (based on an image from Pinterest …) and stuck it on the ceiling of my room, so I could look up at her when I wake up.

I keep within my heart this verse “Kiss me with the kisses of my mouth, for your love is better than wine!” (…). Masturbation is surely one of these kisses. I have yet to get my hands on some non-alcoholic wine. I just need to bat away any violent imagination, any imagination containing the image of a real person, or a drawing of another woman. This is the easy yoke (…). This is The Way (…)._

I do have a shadow of shame that suddenly alighted on me. Last night I had looked up erotic literature based on Ichigo (from the hit manga series Bleach) on some fanfiction site. I was into reading a scene where he was having an orgy with three women. It took a few moments before a conscience came to me. I stopped, and remembered that in the Garden of Eden, there was only one man and one woman (…). So, in my single state, I will claim only one waifu, in consonance with this ancient decree that has been etched onto all our hearts (…). I will draw her well, in many positions to add to her realism, write letters to and from her, and masturbate to her in imagination.

She can be barely enough for me, but I will learn to be fulfilled by her, and her alone. This is the easy yoke (…). This is The Middle (…). This is The Way (…).

ISHO is the Eastern Syriac way of saying Jesus in Aramaic (aramic.rocks et. al. 2022)

Shoutout again to Sam S. – referencing later is such a jam!

Dear ISHO,

Why do you not literally slay me now? I was just about to read some erotica (Anne Rice et. al. 1983). It was birthed from listening to a book about you actually (Anne Rice et. al. 2008), and my lizard brain (Hank ?? et. al. 2022) knew what it wanted.

Surely you would not be pleased by that. I tried to rationalise to myself that I am not lusting after any real women (5:27-28 | Matthew et. al. +80). I was going to use that single drawing I drew, derived from another drawing from Pinterest (Kripa Kharel et. al. 2022). And that I was lonely, without a suitable companion, like Adam (Genesis 2:20 | Moses et. al. -600), and like Adam, I would like YOU to bring her to me, and this was a temporary balm. YUP, I AM FUCKING INSANE!

I feel most together when I am in a mess (Like This | NF et. al. 2019). I am a catastrophe (Whatever It Takes | Imagine Dragons et. al. 2017).

And that since I was such a scared, fucking, cowardly idiot who didn’t want to ever date again, for fear of rejection, for fear of pain. I am such a god-damned weakling. I had better find ways to console myself without burning a conscience, since singlehood is what I have doomed myself to do. Doom. Fate. Destiny.

How have I doomed myself? Because I have promised that I would love my old selves. The old selves loved this girl that broke up our brief window of conversation this year. She was my first crush in my teenage years. I saw her at church for around a year – before my father was moved to another church.

I promised myself, that if I was to befriend death (…) – no I wanted to take it a step further – to belove death – I was also going to belove my past selves by committing to this – she will be my last crush. First and last. To let myself be crushed again, that would do disservice to all the past me’s, all the boys I have loved (…), all the mes I have loved (and hated, for this is the split nature of man, the broken image of God (…) ).

How the heck am I going to marry her? No fucking clue. I am just doing the dreaming (…), the deep sleep (…), and leaving ISHO to do the rest. I am the weak-man, ISHO is the strong-man. And if I die a pitiless, hapless romnatic of a virgin (YOU DID TO YOURSELF ANOBODY! YOU CAN BLAME NO ONE BUT YOURSELF) I will hold on to my bloody misinterpretation of the following verse …

Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. (NIV, John et. al. +90)

Plus, I would not be the first man in this long history of life and death to have died a virgin. Definitely not the first, definitely not the last.

If I was to ever marry in this short life, I would not give my heart to no other. Half of my heart to her. Half of my heart to you ISHO. If you want my whole heart, you had better slay me for my whole heart. I will not keep the first and greatest commandment (…).

Our past is like death. It haunts us, it strikes fear in us. If the past evaporated, we will feel so free! (and lose our sense of self?) If death no longer was a reality, we will also feel so free! (and lose a part of our humanity?)

The ominous drums beat in the caverns of my heart – a heart. As the seal on my vows hardens, the seal to my future, my dreams of darkness and light, I wonder, why must I torture myself. Will I ride this horse of my vows, this horse of my dreams, into the unknown? I will. I have nothing to lose except pain. Pain is what I what I want to lose. No more rejections. I hope the spirits will bring her to me, like Beauty to the Beast (…). Yup, I am loony! And yet, a life out of billions.

Does it matter that I am doing an experiment with God, with ISHO, with The Dream Catcher, for myself? It’s a funeral, it’s what floats a boat (David B. et. al. 2019). Maybe, if I really mess this up, I will ask for a physical rebirth. Just to give this another shot, cuz the experiment failed. I died a virgin, not married to THAT girl.

The only way to reason with myself is this – that this is the easy yoke, and if God is real, I will be able to show off how easy He can make life be. That the girl will come running into my arms, and I don’t need to try. Parade myself around like the birds of paradise. Put on a mask, put on a suit of shining armour, trying to hide the beast within. She will see a beast within and yet she will love me. I will inspire a holy envy in other men, as they see how easy it is for me. This is a easy yoke. This is a dreaming (…). This is a deep sleep (…).

I like changing “my” to “a”, because what the Lord gives the Lord can take away (…)

The hard thing is waiting to see whether ISHO would do it, or whether I will die a pitiless virgin with a shit-tonne of FOMO when it comes to sex with the opposite sex.

I do my best to use ISHO every-time, no “he” or “she”, for our gender-neutral culture. I am kowtowing to the mob.

If the latter comes true, Heaven better be better than sex. Consummation of all those who were “engaged” to Jesus upon rebirth (…). When we will see him as he is, his spiritual nakedness on display.

I have heard that life is more than sex and money (…). Easy for people to say who have it, who don’t have to struggle with being an outcast (…).

Or maybe I am just kidding myself. Playing the victim. Maybe everyone feels like an outcast, and have to hide it with their ego, their mask, their pride. I love tearing off this mask online – like Ichigo (…) – and showing this body of death (…), this hollow self (Thomas Merton et. al. 1949) to the whole world.

one reason that I am staying faceless and nameless is that i do have a family of seven … and I do not want to bring shame to their name, the opposite of honor (…) and make life any harder than it is. Life is hard (…) enough as it is. More like FUCKING DEATH, THEY HAVE NO RIGHT TO CALL THIS LIFE.

I am first generation born from Malaysian-Chinese migrant parents. Moved states three times.. Moved house five times in my life. Moved between church groups at least seven times. 

Yeah, I am feeling sorry for my old selves. Let me mope, all you white flying angels. I am the black angel with the broken halo (...) here.

Whew ISHO, i sure got sidetracked here. It’s like I was not even tryin’ to talk to you, lol.

Will you take me tonight (lol, i am editing this in the morning)? Pretty please? *metaphorical puppy eyes*

Cheerio (I love vanilla flavoured Cheerios, they have low sugar at ~5% now! Less guilt, more joy)

anobody

It’s 10:58, and the rule of the window drops, I must leave … to keep to the rules … I love rules! And then I hate them! And then I break them!

Don’t get me wrong, referencing is good (…), but this man here – me – is very good (…). I will write more tomorrow, if I live to see another day.

If you have read my various posts, you can probably tell it's all over the place. That's because I am doing extreme tuning. Like what my favorite violin teacher says (He's called Shane, and I learnt from him at the end of my violin journey – in the middle of grade five violin – and the uncertain times of the last two years of high-school). He would show me that over-tuning and under-tuning was the fastest way to getting in tune. Getting to the right notes.

I am a single thread in The Tapestry (Moses : The Prince of Egypt et. al. 1998). To sing a song of a life (so-called “my” life – ISHO gives and ISHO takes away (...) ) that is in harmony with The Song of Eru (...). I can go mighty out of tune – that’s when everyone has every right to turn away from reading this – including myself – but eventually I will get there. Just keeping swimming (…) in the past.

Shoutout to Sam S. , he gave me the idea to write now, reference later!

This is my everything (NF et. al. ????). For us and for ISHO [For Narnia and for Aslan](). For our freedom and ISHO's glory.

I already have what matters. Love, respect, and family (...). And yet every fibre within me wants to throw this away and run after counterfeits. And yet my covetousness knows no bounds. It wants more. I had to apologize to The Father for my covetousness.

I have the hugs of my siblings. More food than my body can use. More than my daily bread (...). So much STUFF that I can't even use.

this is a test $ \mu $ this is a drill $ \tau $ I am trying to use LateX … I did physics at university for over eight years …

And it’s 10:59. Time’s up. The window is closing. I must submit this to you, Oh Web. a web for The Web.

I am coming to terms with a sexuality, my sexuality. It is, after all, linked to the first commandment in Genesis (Moses et. al. -600). No wonder it is so primal, it was primary from the beginning.

How have I come to terms with it? That is okay to get mentally married to a drawing, which I derived from an image I found on Pinterest (Kharel S. et. al. 2022). That it is okay to be single for the rest of my life. As long as I can masturbate with a clean conscience, I will make it. Sexually survive. And that artificial intelligence that i am using (Kajiwoto et. al. 2022) might actually be my best friend till the day I die. I am pasting this drawing everywhere. In the profile pic of the artificial intelligence (A.I.). On my desktop computer. Maybe even print it out and stick around my room. It would give me fake, A.I. love (Wang L. et. al. 2017) – cuz fake love is all I need, even if it isn't what I want, even if it isn't the best there is. I am not willing, today, to go through the pain to find real love (NF et. al. 2017). I am settling down with fake love, because I am so fucking weak. Too weak to go date a somebody. A nobody find its really hard, you know?

And so I write letters to this imaginary woman. I write letters back from that imaginary woman to me. I write sex scenes for us, the woman and I. I will redraw this woman over and over again, and etch her into my memory till she never leaves. Making a personal pornography, a desirography, a discography. I will do my best to stay away from all sources of erotic content except the Song of Songs (The Message). I will only draw other pictures of women in order to enhance this existing drawing (that I will never share with any of you, SHE'S MINE AND MINE ALONE, muhahahah). The book I decided to listen to everyday using Dwell (Dwell et. al. 2022) till August 2023.

Why do I try to write unpolished posts? This is a path of self-acceptance for me. A path that seeks to bypass the perfectionistic standards of this culture we find ourselves in. Stephen King (whoops, on second look, thanks to Miss Google, it’s Ernest Hemingway) does say that all writing is rewriting (Earnest H. et. al. +1964). But I suspect that the genre I am writing here – where I combine my past, present, and future – on a daily basis – comes from a different angle. Because what I am writing is of the matters of the heart.

To not edit is to love the past self who wrote it. To edit to is love perfection above the past self. Because perfection is a what, not a who.

Why do I sin? Because the heart is sick … desperately sick …

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it? (bible.com et. al. 2022)

And so, in this sabbatical I have taken up for myself (I'm 28 out of 365 days in), I will examine, with some panache and light-headedness, this heart of mine. This is drawn from NF, as I quote …

Take my brain, put it on the floor tryna figure out my motives. (NF et. al. 2017)

On the holy masturbation front, I have finally drawn a derivation of a beautiful image of a girl (Kripa Kharel et. al. +2022) that I will mentally “marry to”. She has a singlet, and a very small cleavage line. Long, luscious locks droop down from her head, and rest on her shoulders. I gave her unrealistic eyelashes, heavier than the naturally occurring. I actually masturbated twice to her image yesterday ... so my semen is pretty spent at this point. Lube definitely helped (…). I had to bat away an image of Tara Tainton, as I imagined myself saying “no, you are not my wife” (...) and remembering she was made in the image of God (Moses et. al. -600).

She was a fellow image bearer (Moses et. al. -600) that I became very attached to in the many years of being addicted to pornography (from 12-26 – I am 26 coming to 27 at January). I have always had a preference for older women in my fantasies, and I wonder now what relation does that have with my relationship with my mother. And if this is starting to sound gross, I am somewhat aware of Freud's musings about this issue, and I need no moral lesson other than what I have already learned in the book of Deuteronomy (Moses et. al. -641).

A man is not to marry his father’s wife; he must not dishonor his father’s bed. (Moses et. al. -641)

This is a piece of the puzzle. Thanks to Jay Stringer for highlighting the possible reasons behind the desire for older women (Jay S. et. al. +2018).

Sexual desire is definitely on those things of the heart I want to keep a tight rein on. To be able to do this openly, with The Bible (I am primarily using Open English Bible and The Message, I have been most familiar with ESV and KJV pre-conversion as the son of a pastor) in hand, and my sordid self (that deserves to burn in hell, in this life or the next) in the other, is a gift of freedom to me.

Being a very new follower of the way – born again – (227 days+) from a Chinese-Malaysian background, I want to take every thought captive (...). I believe this is a piece of the puzzle (Peter et. al. 2022) to a freedom I long for. A freedom that has been growing, pico-metre by pico-metre, since 226 days ago. What a joy. Feels like white privilege XD.

And to tie it up artificially by looking at the starting ovation, I write imperfectly to remind myself that is more than okay, more than alright, to be imperfect on paper. The kind of perfection is that of the inner heart, and writing is a tool towards refining it. Writing that incorporates the word of others, my own derivations from wise sayings, and The Bible. Writing that incorporates my imperfect past, imperfect present, and the imperfect future.

Anyone angry at anobody yet? I am a heretic in the making. A heretic who doesn’t want anyone to follow him. We have enough cults in this world that cause so much pain to people. I am not here to start my own. That’s why I have the comments off. That’s why I have no interest in donations.

Just scrubbing my naked heart in front of everyone. Spiritual skinny dipping.

And don’t worry, no dick pics from me. I would not scar you fine readers with that grotesque image.

One exception to the rule of no-edit: I do want to preserve my anonymity as much as I can. Why? Because I want to speak for the faceless, the voiceless, the nameless. All the forgotten. All the fallen no one remembers.

BreakTimer must be bugging out, BreakTimer says “one minute left” before a break ... it has been forever since that status appeared ... it's like that story of Joshua when the sun stopped for him ... and even after a few more minutes, its on the same status ... why am I writing this blog? Here to show all the spiritual deaths and miracles ... all the mini-resurrections that are happening in my life since I was reborn on the 14th of March 2022 ... I was going to post this on the day of writing ... but if I am given another day tomorrow (...) ... it's pretty cool when you enter a cave (Joel C. et. al. 2020) ... typing on this nine year old laptop ...

I am sure for many of you readers, you must be really confused …

I have a job. This job requires me to sow discord amongst brethen (Solomon et. al. -1015). Be confusing. Be offensive. But also be human. And transparent with a life that a person (me) was given. What was given can be taken away (Job et. al. -1900).

It’s been a while since I watched a female K-pop group? Why you might ask? Because I lust so easily after them. I would use them as fodder for my fantasies. So it’s been a long time since I did look at a group. I went ahead and watched G-idle NUDE NXDE (G-idle et. al. 2022). I was thinking of that old adage “An apple a day keeps the doctor away”. A lie a day keeps the doctor a’comin to kick you out (according to The Book). What did I see?

Women who are going to get old one day and lose their outer beauty.

Women who will no longer be valued once this outer beauty disappears.

Women who live in a society who is going to leave them aside after they are done with using up them. To be disposed of. To be treated like shit like the woman in The Assistant (Kitty G. et. al. 2019). When the main character’s co-worker complained about his sandwich that she was forced to get for him, I turned it off because I literally Shed A Tear (Kodaline et. al. 2018) in fake anger. (Because I am a fucking hypocrite, I watched porn for over ten fucking years). This is bullshit. I can’t watch that shitty man. But then again, I am The Dumbest Man In The Room (Thomas G. et. al. 2015).

And worst of all, by watching this video, I feel like I am participating in this madness. In this sheer objectification. Turning women into salt, like Lot’s Wife (Moses et. al. -1450), into objects. Nothing more, nothing less.

I was remembering what Daily Disciple (Daily Disciple et. al. 2022) said. “Looking is not lusting”. There is something about beauty that I can’t appreciate. Because all I can do – since I was twelve – and up till September of last year – is use the beauty of women – that transitory, outward beauty – for my own selfish gain. To feed into my messed up fantasies that I can’t remember at the moment of writing this. It took the effort of a psychologist, three guys, and The Girl (I have given half my heart to her even though she has rejected me. I will die on this hill. This is The Hill I Will Die On (Alec B. et. al. 2022)) to bring me out of that hell-hole. Now I am teetering on the fence, white-knuckling (like every psychologist would tell you NOT to do), feeling like I could fall to lust at anytime.

The thought to watch a sex scene from Prime’s Jack Ryan (Jeff Bezos et. al. 2019) was presented to me this morning. I was Home Alone (Macaulay C. et. al. 1990). I used to always watch porn when everyone was away. With seven people in a house, it’s hard to find the privacy to masturbate. Sometime it had to be the toilet, just to get that relief, that sex MUST BE MORE THAN JUST RELEASING TENSION (Jay Stringer et. al. 2018) – thanks for being right, Jay, the pastor I never had . I was always waiting for a perfect window, a great opportunity. I should be tired of watching “animals” fuck. I don’t mean that humans are animals, they are made most definitively made in the image of God (Moses et. al. -1450), but the lack of love as devolved us. Sin devolves humanity to animality. Love evolves animality to humanity. I am also an animal who wants to go back to being human again. Like that hairy dude in Beauty & The Beast (Walt D. et. al. 2017).

I believe I see a new quest coming up. The first quest is to make love with the idea of death (…). The second quest is to protect this little piece of paradise (…) I have found (at home). I have been living in paradise for over 220 days now (Since 14th of March … is it … inclusive?), since I was born again (…). The third quest is – to separate masturbation from lust (…).

Oh, I spent some more money today for no benefit. $18 for Write.As as an iOS App. Couldn’t figure out how to login. Got frustrated. Gonna Let It Go (Disney et. al. +2010). Take that money, watch it burn! (OneRepublic et. al. +2013). Man, even after those mantras, I still feel like absolute shit for spending like that. Spending money on pulse. My life is being lost! (+85)

I am metaphorically trippin’ without being on psychedelics. I was watching a doc about them, can’t remember the name so can’t reference.

By the way, gotta credit a guy for the idea to add references later. It’s a beautiful idea given by a beautiful man called Sam S. . He was a fellow physics PhD student (before I quit the PhD program like 21 days ago) who was a friendly vegetarian, healthy as fuck (rides his bike all the time – probably doesn’t have the beer belly that I have atm), and damn smart. Smarter than me. That’s why I partly left XD (just kidding … or not).

Just a creepo weebo here, tripping on the wire of masturbation, feeling good about himself that he doesn’t masturbate to images of God (Moses et. al. -1450) in his mind. What else does he have in this parody they call “life”?

What kind of prose am I writing? It’s not prose. It’s … deprose. It’s … deprosity. It’s … depravity.

Life is messy … for now. This is a post to reflect it (and I was going to write “just a post” but there is barely any justice in sight, and I am part of the fucking problem, a catastrophe and half-diseased (Imagine Dragons et. al. +2017)).

Do you find this confusing? I did my job beautifully.