Archives for posts with tag: Love

God in London – SMML 6

After John had bought the silicone mask from Dean – the mask that showed the face of a fat white guy – he stumbled out of the garage into the streets of London. Dean’s basement studio was close to Piccadilly circus and John could not get the scent out of his nose. He ran into St. James Church, found a seat, and stared at the glass windows.

“What is happening with me”, he thought. “Honestly, I am becoming a maniac because of this urge to find this woman, and you just sit there, do nothing, and wait.” He looked at the shape of the man in the glass window, sitting on a chair, with arms wide open, observing him calm and knowingly. “What are you doing with me? What do you want from me? It is completely impossible to find this person – unless the Argentinian police finds me – completely impossible. And you asshole just sit there, watch my misery and enjoy, or what? You can’t be true. I do not even understand what you want me to do in this very minute. You know exactly what is going to happen. You know exactly, how my future is going to look like – you asshole, on your chair, with your arms balancing the whole universe – why do you not just tell me what the heck is going to happen? Why do you not just tell me?” John took a deep breath. He slowly calmed down, folded his hands and started to pray: “You asshole. Sorry for this. Here I am…I am in your hands. At the end you murder me. I simply do not understand this… and if you murder me… why the heck do you need to torture me – torture me with the desire to find this woman and put myself onto her, into her, penetrate her, with my tongue, my fingers, and my cock. This is completely ridiculous. It does not make any sense. I am getting insane.”

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Sex in London – SMMGL 5

“My name is Leila Schmitt”, said Leila and looked the Argentinian police man into the eyes to read what was on his mind. He took notes. An attractive man, she thought- oh no – stop it!
“I was there, three days ago, in the morning, when Mister Ribeiro was killed. I did not see who killed him, I was in the bathroom.”, she said.
“What was your relationship with Mister Ribeiro?”, the police man asked.
“Well, nothing. I mean, just sex”, said Leila.
The policeman stopped talking notes and looked at Leila.
“I am not a professional”, Leila said.
I am always to bloody direct, she thought – this guy now sees my long blond hair, my short skirt, and of course, he thinks that I am an escort girl. Silence in the little room. The guy cleared his throat.
“So, what is your profession?”, the police man asked after a little while with his Argentinian accent.
“I am investment banker, working in London”, she said and watched his sparkling dark eyes, his sportive body, while he ran with his hand through his black hair and took notes.
Do you want to get laid here on the table, in the police office, right now? – she thought and smiled – without saying a word.

Later in the evening, after the interrogation at the police station, she met him, Giovanni, for a drink and tango – and sex. He turned out to be a passionate and hot lover. She got dressed, and made her way to the airport before he woke up. On the flight back to London, she repeated her lines “I did not see who killed him.” – and thought “Oh yes, I saw him – I saw the killer – and this endless coolness when he closed the door of the balcony and moved over the balustrades with the smoothness of a cat.” Leila asked the blond and assiduous steward to come over and serve her a couple of drinks – until she felt high.

 

Sex in London – SMML 4

3 days later, John was back in London. It was a rainy, windy day and John visited his friend – or almost friend, Dean- who was a master in manufacturing silicone bodies, silicone masks, silicone toys, basically silicone everything. It was over ten years back when John landed by accident in Dean’s basement studio and discovered the ingeniously artistic pieces of work. Dean, back then, still studied economy and worked in the evenings as entertainer, doing card tricks in bars.

“This must be an incredible fat man” – John said to Dean, who showed him a new piece, a pale, heavy face of an unhealthy, German executive manager, with bald head, probably a wife and grown-up kids at home, somehow dissatisfied with life, just going on and on without exactly knowing, why, sometimes using escort ladies to work off masochistic desires – or not even having the balls to letting this out – just masturbating in the toilet of his company with a guilty conscience when everyone else was already out.
“Yes, this is Heiner”, said Dean and grinned broadly, “I can make you a fat-suit again for your body to fit Heiner’s face.” – “No, no, no, never again”, said John, “I hate these fat-suits, I had it once, simply hell. Never again. I tell you – you’d rather make this face thinner, or…” – Dean interrupted him with a loud laughter – “I know, man. Whatever you need these costumes for – I do not know… but here you go.” He took off fat-Heiner’s face from the rack – and underneath the first mask, another deceptively realistic human face turned up. “Sweet”, said John and looked at a thinner version of Heiner’s face, “this is still one of the most unsexy men I have every seen, exactly what I need.”

When John pulled the mask over his face, he suddenly had the flashback from himself lying in the room in Buenos Aires, three days ago, and smelling the scent of something that incredibly turned him-on. “Shit. I cannot jerk off again”, he thought, “I was sex maniac in the last 36 hours, a complete lecher, just thought it was over…”
“Man, what is happening!?” – Dean shook John’s arm. “Are you alright, pal? You look like you wanna kill someone.”

Murder in Buenos Aires – SMMGL 1

The man knew that this was his end. He was clear and composed, and observed John, who walked calmly through the room with his gun, touching the newspaper on the sideboard. “So this was it”, the man said. He sat naked in his bed. “I know that I did fucking shit in my life. I fucked around with too many people, too many Russians, mafia from China, Italy and Mexico….” John watched the man through the eye slits of his silicone mask and did not say a word. “Now you come here and are looking like fucking Antonio Banderas. I hate it. A fucking mixture between Antonio Banderas and Javier Bardem”, the man said. “This is definitely the least I wanted to experience – dying through the fucking hand of fucking Antonio Banderas”. The man laughed bitterly. It was not only a funny joke that John had chosen this mask that made him look like an Argentinian gaucho. Instead, in the beautiful city of Buenos Aires, this appearance was the most unobtrusive.
“Fucking shit – at least tell me who sent you. My latest friend from Italy? Or China? You are about the fucking age of my son. Who sends you?”
– “Stay calm – I don’t even know you or your billionaire friends from Italy. God sends me”, John replied.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
– “I will tell you.”
John took a seat on the bedside of the man. He felt like a father who tried to calm down his kid that does not want to sleep. In his right hand, he felt the coolness and weight of his gun and the black and long silencer on top of it.
At the end, you murder // You have a force that no one can understand // At the end you murder what you created // Beyond any human comprehension // I want to – and cannot – defend // You love and will murder me, at the end“, John murmured calmly and raised the gun.

 

At the end, you murder

You have a force that no one can understand

At the end you murder what you created

Beyond any human comprehension

I want to – and cannot – defend

You love and will murder me, at the end

Dear all, I am happy to present you this hot hilarious reading tip by RT: “Love in the Time of Algorithm – What Technology Does to Meeting and Dating, by Dan Slater. Here we go:

Love heart uidaodjsdsew

The majority of us may be math-averse, no matter what sex or age, but when it can be mixed with sex who knows what may be happening. So Dan Slater is exploring that relation in modern-day dating services and the implications it has on personal relations and the economy. After all, alone in the United States it is a 2 billion dollar business. Beyond economics, Slater offers insights which should interest people interested in the fields of anthropology, psychology, sociology, business administration and yes of course math.

Can science predict love? Well, if the mathematicians can model financial flows until they collapse what do you think they do in the matchmaking business? Same thing, well not quite, since their business bosses have a big problem, because they fear that “a happy customer is bad for business.” He or she may be happy after the first round of being matched and could be used as grateful customers who are willing to spread the word, but they also drop out the moment they have found their match, and may be unwilling to bother to be used as advertising tools. So you have to diversify and develop sophisticated models for second and third attempts and – even more important – for special relationships.

Slater goes through the ever-increasing breadth of partner online services. So here we go. In the case of FarmersOnly.com you know what to expect, but what about Ashley-Madison.com? The author tells you: “Life is short. Have an affair.” You get further specialization on DateG-inger.com, if you are looking for redheads etc, etc. .

Now you say how boring, I know all that, but hold on, there is more. Of course there is a “real life” story showing up just in time to catch your attention. Alexis, a young lady (20 +) from New York, who is swinging online and off, after all she lives in the Big Apple, where people meet, right? To what these excerpts are based on a real story is for you to decide but unless you are  one of those urban hipsters who don’t care about spilling your most private acts and thoughts in public, it could be an uncomfortable look into what can be called futuristic despair.

That leads to the question which the author is considering pretty thoroughly. What does this wonderful connectivity of supposedly loving partnerships do, not only  to “old fashioned” courting, commitment and monogamy, but also to well established but threatened institutions like marriage?

In sum, no matter your age and inclination, this book is worth more than a quick glance, especially since it is well written, witty and provocative

Dear all, have fun with the first guest contribution on lenismediareview.wordpress.com on:

Doomsday and Love in Manil Suri’s “The City of Devi”:

Are you ready for a frenzy story of wild mobs in India’s big business blobber city of Mumbai (formerly Bombay), getting totally out of hand, as rumours from a leaked communiqué forecast an immediate nuclear Pakistani attack on India?

You better be, because this coincides with the already frenzy frictions between Hindu and Muslims, driven by a crazy adventure film, called “Superdevi” which celebrates the heroic deeds of a poor slum-girl  assuming the superpowers of the avatars and Goddess Devi to fight crime. Hindu politicians exploit the theme and preaching the invincibility of the Hindu gods, they incite their followers to engage in bloody battle with Muslims, who had been their neighbors just a little while ago.

Just when you think enough of that gorish scenario, Suri is leading the reader into a very detailed and intimate “love” story, which describes the search of a young and bright female statistician Sarita for her husband Karun, who disappeared after attending a conference two weeks earlier. As chaos is breaking out around her, she reminiscence about her relationship, wondering why they hugged more than they kissed, with their “lovemaking remaining restricted above the waist.” So she has invented not only a heavenly star system mixed with pomegranates providing aphrodisiac power, she has also – as good statistician – been following the slow progress towards eventual success with precise entries into her diary.

What do you do with a character like Karun, whom we only meet through Sarita’s eyes and thoughts but who remains nothing more than a sweet nerd, a rather passive individual consumed by his own thoughts and problems? You invent a counterpart: In this case a gay Muslim called Jaz. He has wit and sophistication, charm and lust. He is well travelled, successful, ironic and seductive. Wow…but unfortunately he finds himself at the wrong side of the battle of Mumbai, as the Hindu masses are slaughtering the Muslim infidels.

Of course, he meets Sarita, who is still searching for her husband. The place is an abandoned aquarium where all fish have been destroyed except one lonely shark. As they make their way through the increasingly mad cityscape, the story takes on a black fairy tale character of surrounding of chaos and destruction takes place, and while those horrendous pictures of burned prisoners during “religious” ceremonies and the narrow escapes of our two heroes may become too much Bollywood for Western readers, the author leads them back to an ending which is at the same time tender and bittersweet.

So, who wonders, how professor of mathematics, teaching at University at America’s East Coast can write such an exciting story? For those who want to know, read the book (and then may be take a class online). But even for those who have read his earlier publications “The Death of Vishnu” (2001) and the “Age of Shiva” (2008) this is a great third strike they don’t want to miss.