That's how a japanese people pronounce hot blood. Hottabloodo. I'm already 21, my body does not pump excessive blood into my penis anymore. What it does is it leaves a gap, a sense of emptiness that was once preoccupied by infinite sexual curiosity. There are different ways of filling this gap, the most common methods being: intoxication, sex, complicated relationships, clubbing, mind-numbing socializing and the ultimate self-galvanizing abstinence from everything I mentioned.
Surrounded by friends who practices Islam fully, they taught me the rationale of Everything Evil and how commiting Worldly Evil will make me lose my conscience. Their reminders and my understanding of my religion made making mistakes a wishful burdon, an unnecessary passage of learning
I'm thankful. Forever .
But my heart turns its green head towards opportunities to indulge in experiences thrown about this mud slide you call Kuala Lumpur: its Night Life.
So what I do is I compensate. Once in a blue moon I will shut all the windows, crank up my stereos, switch off the lights, switch on my rotating mobile disco ball (the type that emits colourful beams), play a trance tune and lose control. Losing control by getting high on Life is far more satisfying than getting intoxicated because the intricacy of control manipulates itself and becomes an all-knowing selfless infactuation. I call this experience Hottabloodo. Its scientific term is Endorphin supplication. Losing control of one's body will cause the brain to be supplied with natural Xanax we call Endorphin. Endorphin makes people happy for no definite reason.
Take me for a Ride
Indefinite happiness is unexplainable. So why bother.