Enthusiasm is what keeps the world spinning. The will to do something and do it great.
Passion is not a prerequisite, it can be turned on and off like switch. Connecting you to your dreams like a neural link, illuminating your perception of reality.
Enthusiasm is what gets you to stand-up, to fight, to believe, to dare, to live life.
Enthusiasm is a state of creation, the Lego blocks of destiny.
Enthusiasm is to strive, to be hopeful about the future.
Enthusiasm is to give everything you have got. No excuses, I am accountable for my life, I am accountable for my decisions.
Enthusiasm is being a dreamer.
Enthusiasm is being crazy, at least for a while. Advancements of humanity are credited to madmen.
Enthusiasm is to take many shots, keep shooting, that’s how you get goals.
I want a femme fatale like Sharon Stone, Hi Ginger! Hi there, Cleopatra. Hi there Robot Lady from Ex-Machina, I can’t believe that boy fell for your tricks, what a moron! Hi there Albertine, thank you for the lessons Proust. I want a dangerous woman who will lead me to my eventual death. One who is a master manipulator who will attune to my moods like a satellite. A woman who will string my ego like Beethoven. Play me against my friends and family like a piano and reside in my subconscious mind like a repressed memory. I want a femme fatale who is narcissistic and gains from other people’s misfortunes. A girl who is promicuous and dirty like linen on the washing line. One who uses her sexuality to make me yield. I want a liar who will make me suffer. I want a flirt who will fill my gastank with jealously and thoughts of suicide. I want a femme fatale to seduce me and play to my repressed desires. I want her to study and reflect my frailties like a mirror. I want her to stalk and devour me like a predictor. I want her undivided attention. I want her craftsmanship. I want her talents, her expectise. I want her body and the way her clothes always accentuate her features; I am talking legs, thighs, ass and boobs. I want her sweet talk and low pitched voice. I want her suggestive eyes that imply nothing. I want her short skirts and red lip stick. I want her poisoned red apple covered in cyanide. I want her detached demeanor. I want deceit. Oh, please tell me another lie. I want a bruised ego and a tumorous existence. I want to be one of her victims. I want a femme fatale who will tease me and string me along like Pinocchio, one who will make me feel like a real boy. I want a femme fatale to play with my emotions like a toy. A woman who is cold and distant. I want a femme fatale to lure me into traps like a spider with its webs. Like a snake in the grass. A woman who will destroy my life and all the progress I have made. A woman who is materialistic and doesn’t care about me. I need a femme fatale to use me and dispose of me like garbage in a dumping site. I need a femme fatale to use me for sex and all her deep-rooted insecurities and issues. I want Satan in her red bottom heels and Louis Vuitton handbag. I want Satan with all her glory and greatness. I want her to torment me, haunt me, possess me, punish and decapitate my prospects. I want a femme fatale with her make-up and kayfabe. I want her drama and co-ordinated chaos. A woman who is an egotistical narcissistic, a woman whose ambition is to destroy me.
All she wants is coitus every day. I can’t do it no more. I am not a machine. I have a job, she’s irrational. I can’t be representing all fronts like I am national. The house looks like the aftermath of a tornado, dishes stacked up like a skyscraper. While I am out getting paper, she’s passive like a hater. Lazy as fuck, no pun intended. She’s the type of woman who makes a sloth offended. The sparkle in my eyes gone and my enthusiasm suspended. Just yesterday, she made me a victim of the headboard. Bang, Bang! Dominating me like Serena on the court. Do this, do that, like I am a kid of some sort. She doesn’t even cook and she’s attached to my dick like a hook. She don’t even wear panties anymore. Always exposed like invaluable ore. If her pussy were a stock, it would have plummeted. News just in; Miss Dow Jones loses 90% of her value sending the market into shambles. A gamble, if I am in the house and fully-able.
All she wants is coitus every day. I can’t do it no more. I am not a machine.
Stacy Kiebler, those legs. God bless the Attitude Era and the Ruthless Aggression Eras. That version of WWE was entertaining. I am in mourning, the product WWE has today sucks. It’s too soft, politically correct and packaged. This “PG family stuff” doesn’t make for good entertainment. It’s a waste of my time. I wish I could rewind to the 90’s and early 2000’s, nothing can beat that WWE. Awesome storylines, controversial takes, groundbreaking revelations, the drama, the story, great wrestling, great gimmicks, great commentary, exciting, believable, entertaining, imaginative, innovative, full of enthusiasm, funny, sexy, a roster flooding with actual charismatic stars and just overall great content. Today’s product makes me sad. Sure they have Brock Lesnar, Roman Reigns, Charlotte Flair and Ronda Rousey but that’s ALL they have, that’s not enough. Ronda and Brock while great inside the ring have no microphone skills. Roman Reigns is aided by Paul Heyman. The company has no real stars. Back then they had The Rock, Stone Cold, HHH, Mick Foley, Goldberg, Shaun Michaels, The Undertaker, Kane and they were succeeded by Brock Lesnar, Kurt Angle, Eddie Guerrero, John Cena, Batista, JBL, Edge, Randy Orton, I could go on and on and on. The roster had an influx of talent and plenty of stars in the making. It was vibey and unpredictable. Today they have zero stars, literally just Roman Reigns. If your favorite wrestler got an injury and was out for months back then he’d have to start at the bottom when he returned, there was competition. Everyone was hungry. Ideas flowed and there was experiments. Remember the uproar Eugene caused? Some thought WWE took it way too far, certainly a character like Eugene would never see the light of day in 2022. But that’s what made the product great because of storylines and gimmicks like that. The product also lacks sex-appeal, it’s too dull, lazy, repetitive and has lost its showmanship. It’s safe and insipid with no source of inspiration. I don’t like today’s Divas, they are musculine and angry, no feminine essence whatsoever. What’s the use of having Divas in the show if they are bad imitations of the men? I remember a time when we had Trish, Lita, Micki James, Beth Phoenix, Michelle McCool, Sable, Maria, Dawn Marie, Stacy Kiebler and Torrie Wilson. Divas back then were superior, the entertainment value was better, storylines relatable and the matches were more iconic. Today’s segments and promos are uninspiring. The wrestling is awful and the commentary mediocre at best. It’s just not the same without Jim Ross and Jerry Lawler. The enthusiasm is not the same. The crowd interactions are not the same. The credibility and believability isn’t there anymore. It’s like the magic dissipated away. Maybe the Trademarks and Merchandise are selling like hotcakes but what about the product? What about the content? What about the entertainment value? Creatives need to reign again in the company for it to have a great product. The writing has to improve. Stars need to be made and integrated to the show. Showmanship and sex has to return. The “PG family” rating is dragging the show to its grave. It’s hard to get excited about a WWE match. The product is a huge disappointment, it’s been that way for a while.
She called me jerk once and that has always been her lens. At least she doesn’t regard me as a friend and why would she when my intentions were clear from the get go “I want to fuck you”. Secretly, my direct speech turns her on, she don’t have to guess and I don’t need to pretend. What we have is pure animal attraction. The more she retreats from the passion, the more it spreads like a veldfire, scotching and blazing the globe alight. The more she resists, the stronger the bond, the chemistry. She is destined to be just another statistic. She is yearning for that, to let loose, to surrender under my hypnotic rhythm that keeps you in a trance like the Devils music, “I am gonna get ya, get ya, get ya!”. She knows I am not good for her and yet I am that repressed voice in her psyche telling her to do it, “Go for it honey, you only live once!”. I am down for YOLO just as long as she doesn’t get too attached to me. I am not your teddy bear or worse your dad. Would you want to be my mum? All this paternal talk makes my dick soft. I don’t need this.
A lot in nature is matriarchal. You look at Egyptian mythology, particularly the battle of Horus and Seth. The story is a lot like “The Lion King” in a lot of ways. Osiris is the king of all Gods, he represents the father and order. Like Mufasa on the Lion King, he has an evil brother named Seth who wishes to dethrone him. Finally they engage in battle and Seth kills his brother and cuts him into pieces and throws these pieces in the river to end it all. Isis, the wife of Osiris goes underground in hiding after the death of his husband. One day, while in hiding she goes to the river to get water and miraculously sees these pieces of her husband floating about the river. She collects them and pieces them together (mummify). She then proceeds to take the phallus of her husband and impregnates herself. The end-result is Horus. He represents the hero like Simba. After Osiris’ death there is a dark cloud and destruction looms over everything. Like Simba on the Lion King, Horus must challenge his uncle Seth to restore order in the kingdom. On the Lion King it is Nala who reminds Simba of who he is. Nala is feminine energy and Simbas love interest. Without Nala, Simba is passive and fooling around with Timon and Pumba. There is no Simba without Nala, just like there is no Horus without Isis. This says a lot about feminine energy, the fact that it can cause so much chaos and restore it at the same time. I mean objectively, what more must Seth do? He killed Orisis and cut him into pieces and yet he still lost in the end! The same thing with Scar, he killed Mufasa and Simba ran away. We see this again on the Bible with the story of Adam and Eve. Eve gives Adam the apple from the tree of life to make him conscious. Without Eve, Adam is ignorant, the man doesn’t even know his naked. You could make a case about the world being matriarchal in nature because it’s so chaotic and it is through that chaos that there is order.
antakalipa 