Ching Chong Ching Chong

I am depressed, but I can't seem to express it in tears.
So here I am, in bed, in the dark, pretending to be sad.
Then, I thought, maybe if I try writing it down, that'll help.
So, here goes, a freewriting on an idle Saturday night:

I know I am not supposed to cry, like a girl, because I am a young man now, and a young man does not cry, at least not like that. Like a girl I mean. And not for reasons as girlish as being depressed or fat or unhappy. The last time I cried was when I fell off of a bicycle while taking a sharp bend, cutting my knee.

It was a very manly cry, even if I was a little boy then.
Because as soon as I fell, I got up, and I cursed God.
(Me, God and the bicycle are not on speaking terms.)

I am supposed to just pucker up, blow my nose and tuck my shirt back into my pants.
That's how.

I want to touch one, a girl I mean, and know what it is like to do so, but I can't: I am not allowed to.
I wish I can touch one and get away with it, just like that, like they do it in French films, but I can't.
I wish I can touch one and get away with it, and then do it again on the very same girl, but I can't.
I am nowhere near a girl, not right now, not anytime. I am afraid of girls, because I used to hate them.

Nowadays, I really don't know if I like them or not.

When I was seventeen and in high school, I remember how easy and how often it was for me to get an erection. Sometimes in a middle of a biology lab, sometimes while having breakfast at the canteen. If a girl passes me by after she had visited the girls' toilet, I would whisper silently to myself: "Uwek, busuk." Twenty seconds after she has passed me by, I would get sexually aroused, because in my head, I would imagine her naked. It was either that or the smell of her perfume catching up to me after twenty seconds.

The perfume, oh the perfume.

Sometimes it would be as stupid as a female teacher saying a word phonetically very similar to another word that is related to sex or the genitalia. Sometimes it would be as subliminal as she trying miserably to draw a picture of a rocket or a socket wrench on the blackboard. Sometimes it would be nothing at all.

It can't be helped; I was seventeen, remember?

The girls in my class still think that I am a hardworking student, always drowning myself in textbooks.
They think I am the type of person who sacrifices his primordial desires to achieve the height of glory.
They think that I am a very selfish person, arrogant and emotionless because I refused to be friendly.
They definitely have no idea whatsoever how an erect penis would stick out in a green seluar sekolah.

I hated girls because of that.
Because they are beautiful.
And they smell very nice.
And they make me horny.

Because of this, today:
I am torn between the fear of sin, the call of lust and the shame of liking girls.

Whenever I get very depressed, I would masturbate. But then, in the middle of getting myself off, I would realize that the girl that I have in my imagination as I masturbated has recently gotten herself married. So, out of guilt that she is now married and out of disgust that she is no longer a virgin, I would stop. A few seconds later, however, I would start masturbating again: this time imagining that same girl getting socked by her husband senseless and into a beaten pulp. But then, in the middle of the second round, I would realize that the girl is an idiot for marrying the guy, because I know the guy from back when and he used to buy pornographic VCDs from the pasar malam to watch with his roommates after solat tarawikh. So, out of anger that she is so stupid and out of regret that I did not inform her of her man's VCD days, I would stop. By now, I would be depressed plus angry plus tired, so I would go and do the dishes instead.

I like young, petite girls between the ages of 13 and 17, not because I am a paedophile or a pervert, but because I have fond memories of such girls at that age when I was also between the ages of 13 and 17.

My sex fantasy is doing her doggie-style as soon as we're done with Subuh, with the telekung on and all.
Why?
Because it's legal, that's why.

Most useful advice that anyone has given me: "Diamlah! Tak nampak ke Ayah tengah telefon!"

Last month, as an effort to cheer myself up after a bad midterm exam, I went to the CD store to buy a music CD, without thoroughly researching the album and planning the budget, like I always do whenever I buy a music CD. I went up to the New Releases rack and browsed through all of the twenty plus CDs on it and after judging solely on the cover art of the albums for about three minutes, I picked up one that was the least colorful of all and brought it to the cash register. The hippie guy at the counter came and said:

"Dude, this album is classic, man. It's a brilliant double-disc concept album about a rockstar who spits at the face of a fan who was cheering loudly in the middle of an acoustic encore. Oh, rock and fucking roll!"

After listening to the CD for half an hour, I sold my soul to Pink Floyd and their proxy, Satan.

I am not going to take you seriously if you are a fan of wrestling, and/or a fan of Bollywood.

I can't drive a car. Whenever I drive one and it gets boring (it always does), I would put on a rock and roll CD on the car stereo and start playing the drummer by mimicking the drum beat: using both my feet.

I am going to let my wife drive the car while I sit at the back seat and fall asleep after every few miles. Then, I am going to wake up after every half an hour or so and ask her, "Are we there yet?". Repeat.

I have never understood why people take drugs; I get the same kicks from playing air guitar.

I had a homosexual experience once, and it involved a comic book hero in a cape and icecream.
There, I've said it!

A chemical engineer is a glorified plumber/cook.
A mechanical engineer is an overpaid mechanic.
An electrical engineer is an educated electrician.
A chemist is a chemist (i.e. a big loser in itself).

Each time my professors give a lecture about chemistry or engineering, I see monkeys juggling bananas.
Each time I see monkeys juggling bananas during a lecture, I get really hungry, because I like bananas.

I have learned more from using Google than I have from coming to class to a lecture.

Average-looking girls who wish to feel beautiful should major in Chemical Engineering.

The best way to piss off a computer science major is to ask him to get off his computer to fix yours.

The best way to piss off a girl who wears a tudung is to ask how her hair looks like and then stare at her. (And silently you wish you can pull her tudung from the back, like a small kid would).

I am too ashamed to admit that I like M Nasir.

My ambition is to be crowded by reporters from magazines all over, in a book store that also sells coffee, and they take turns to ask me questions, just like in a press conference, about the new book I authored:

"Mister M Sharin, what is your greatest ambition in life?"
"I want to become immortal, and then die, by suicide."

And she would write that down in her spiral notebook, to be made her magazine's headline.
And in the end, I would die a poor man still, despite being known worldwide for saying that.

Thank you for listening. You've been a great crowd. I feel much better now.