Tag Archives: men

Thai Terminal


friends

Written previously, recently revised.

We welcomed each other first with high spirited voices talking into our cell phones and waving from across the street like lost little kindergarten classmates.  Then we greeted like sisters with tight long bear-hugs in the same way we always have because there are a few things in life that never change.  I could hear her wailing happiness beating from her gut than her chest and out into the public and onto my ear.  I smile in her hair with immediate joy but reserved the sound of my joyfulness.

Xyza is an undercover mentor, a maternal-like figure, full of flashes of hippie love, extraordinary kindness and massive angelic light that illuminates from her aura.  I’m also an undercover mentor, half in age, full of loyal compassion, extraordinary hospitality and thoughtfulness that leave the innocent light on in the darkness of which I grow.

In the center of this embrace I reflect over our countless meet-ups and how it never fails, my constant awkwardness in the hub of sharing love and how despite iself, I’m genuinely able to digest her white magic, even if it leaves me depleted afterward.  Xyza looks tenderly beautiful with her strawberry blonde shoulder-length bob.  I compliment her on the new length when she declared, “I had a vision of myself twenty years from now, me with long gray hair and a flower in it off to the side.”

I love the visions she shares with me.

We settle in a Thai restaurant not far from her parked car.  Upon sitting, the server asks, “Are you tourists?”  “No”, we replied.  Xyza turns my way inching up her nose until it crinkles with a question, “How come everyone thinks I’m a tourist?  I was born in New York, but live just outside the city.  I guess.. because I travel a great deal.”  I nod in agreement and chimed, “Your aura never has that grounded feel from being in one place too long.”

But, with me it’s totally different; I’m a New Yorker who’s considerably considerate whereas I allow people to hit me with their bags as I stand overt with an introverted atmosphere on the train or bus.  Unlike Xyza, my roots are established in New York and it’s on display when I talk about my suspicions concerning the worldview.  I may come across as myopic, but I consider myself to be purely grounded.

Thirty minutes of conversation and I’ve been following Xyza’s lead because she’s paying so I never lay a finger on the menu.  The server comes over to nudge us politely – then Thai Chive Pancakes, Vegetable Spring Rolls and a glorious Mango Salad along with unsweetened ice tea lands sweetly before our eyes.  I continued following Xyza’s lead and didn’t touch a single carrot slinky.  I sat glued in passivity to the tales of my friend.

*

I listen to her speak about her ex-husband and how she’s pretty sure a demon owns him.  I listen when she said she knows of two men who have transcended beyond the physical and how they both married wonderful women, but not perfect women.  (It made me wonder, what constitutes a perfect woman according to a sixty-year old woman.)  I listen on in when she said she doesn’t want to play the romantic game from a male’s physical perspective, nor does she have any desire to play the woman’s perspective which is to trap a man in a relationship.  Of course, I agree.  I believe life is too short to live conventionally.

When Xyza decides to come up for air, I volunteer my own discourse.

I speak about isolation from the world and if canceling my gym membership is the wrong thing to do because at least this is a place where I can maintain some social skills.  I speak about having elevated to a place where physical sex is no longer an obligation of mine, nor is it ever a want.   I speak about the tiny things that make me happy like being by the water, the vision of living in a beach house single with two pets:  A husky dog and a petite cat.  I speak about not understanding the point of being in a relationship with men when being the opposite gender I’ve yet to connect and remain on the same wavelength.  I always feel superior.

*

We understood each other the way women and friends frequently do and we continued to eat, sip, laugh and talk the summery night away.

-Pennington

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Rummaging Gym Eyes


marvel rummagng eyes
Before I begin, I rummage with my eyes a cold grill with the intent to feed on anyone who steps in my personal space.  Anyone who glares at me from a distance gets the fuck you look as well because I share this gym with the rest of everybody.  I forge my right to be here by the numbers, by the purpose of colossal concentration, by the visualization of the day and the body action at night.  I grip the steel of the dumbbell and I surge with immeasurable power before a single rep has been executed or an exercise exercised.  It all starts in the mind.

It may be the luck of being a woman, or a dependent on the man, who stands in front of me, but, there are times where I display my puppy dog eyes big and wide and remain uncomplaining, waiting by a bench like a sit dog sit until their hearts soften and they pass the bench along to me entirely without a moments hesitation.  I thank the stranger and smile with a queen’s happiness and during his training session I’ll boost his ego (and he’ll train harder) for being nice to me by staring him up and down attentively while he strengthens his temple.

Now I’m seated with an angry face and underneath my baggy shirt from the mirror I can see my muscles working, how glorious they look, tenacious, pumped and embellished.  To the left of me, I gaze at my arm in motion, performing an incline bicep curl nonchalant as taking a selfie in public.  To the right of me, an array of men peers onward with a combination of riddled emotions and contemplated expressions.

And in the background, there’s a woman highly amused by the numbers on the weight I’m lifting.  She can’t for the life of her stop looking at my face and the unleashing of effort that cannot be contained.  She can’t stop watching the way I grate my lips with violent teeth noticing how my mouth turns sweltering red when I come close to failure.

Who knows if it’s out of delight
she observes or
if the very thought
of my passion
gives her nausea
through her eyes?

-Pennington

Like An Animated Bull


girl carrying bull

I don’t have to look around to realize what’s going on, men peering in wonderment at my personal space.  Sometimes I feel the love of first impressionists observing a woman lifting, curves hugging onto fabrics for dear living with sweat and sheen from hard work.  We fuel each other, every so often smile and nod in harmony and unspoken claims.  Other times there’s a rage inside some men’s stares when I pass their field of vision.  I shoot them in the face with fulsome courage because they’ll never run me into the position of fear.  I’ll steal the glory from these devilish green-eyed monsters on the stage of their own gym and vacation with their missing muscle gains.

I don’t have to pick my head high as the Queen of England to know that glares put bullet-holes down my back.  The headphones scream in my eardrums and I bounce up and down, huffed and puffed in a hoodie, pushing forward and back on the pad in the center of an imaginary mosh pit of a Hammer Strength machine.  Weight stacked, I’m lining in my front view the enemies behind me who wish my collapse. I grab the handles with the heavy valor of Thor and row for heroism, row for the battle blood in my veins and row for the smoke exiting out my eager winning nostrils like an animated bull.

-Pennington Hall

Truth Foreplay


I get tired of having the same conversation and knowing I’m not going to get anywhere by showing, demonstrating, pinpointing, stating, referring, linking and whatever have you to this word called:  Foreplay.  It’s pretty basic stuff.  All one has to do is keep keen and consider all notions and stylize them into brilliant state of the art masterpieces.  Sounds difficult already, doesn’t it?

The only thing making it difficult are the men who choose to live and listen to what other men have to say about foreplay.  HELL, most women are still trying to figure out what foreplay is because they never received it in the first place.  *Questions:  Where’s my imaginary gun?*  *shoots brains*  To give it to you straighter than a Grey Goose Label:  Foreplay isn’t something you do to get sex.  Foreplay isn’t a manual or God‘s blueprint to get vagina.  Foreplay isn’t a guarantee or a free pass to getting any creampies.  Foreplay has nothing to do with sex!  PERIOD!  I don’t care what you agreed to when you were younger.

Foreplay is something only real men partake in, to make sure they’re ahead of the enterprise at all times.  Foreplay’s about being a magician and knowing when and how to wield the magic wand so that everyone is satisfied with the game called Life.  Foreplay’s marketing.  Foreplay’s status.  Foreplay shall always be funky fresh and innovative.  Why?  Because this allows the wages to be place high due to your hard work, million gifted and honed abilities!  Those skills first being:  Time, Effort, Dedication, Discipline, Art, Seduction, Wisdom, Experience and by far.. Intuition.. all rolled into one has brought nothing but your best foot forward, your finer character and confidence forward.  That’s foreplay.

Many men lack foreplay because:  1.  They aren’t confident (and if I were a man it would be hard to be confident. ;))  2. They believe foreplay involves getting sex.  3.  The lack of dedication to studying women as a whole is lacking.

And there are no excuses except that most men would rather watch hours of television (that by the way gives you billions upon billions of wrong way and impressions to go about foreplay just so the system can benefit from humans and their emotional turmoils), play hours of video games and prefer studying the plays on the next Football game.  (Oh, this sounds a lot like men just want to play and not put in any effort?  😉 )  So rather then men take the time to study the know how’s and efficient approaches to getting what they ultimately desire:  A woman.

So many men around the world would rather be comfortable and not shed any ridicule, rejection, embarrassment or humiliate themselves in front of THEMSELVES!  Instead they rather be comfortable in their comfort, under their parents comfort abode, watch comfort porn and have comfort sex with their comfort hand. Hey, listen, don’t bitch, complain and whine to me about why you’re so lonely and will be alone for the rest of your life.  I mean, you gave all that shit up for Comfort.  What else could be wrong? 😉

Pennington

This Is Life, I Guess


Where to start out?  I know this guy for years over xanga.  He’s old school, highly intelligent and just like the rest of us on xanga, sexually frustrated (for whatever reason since everyone has a reason, whether good or bad, justifiable or garbage).

Our communication was continuous and always on email. Beautiful lengthy letters with secrets, undiscovered feelings were mention with an openness of toddlers.  Opinions were sent, misunderstandings (I thought to be) were sorted out during the middle of us climbing to the point of meeting.  And the next thing I know, judgments were placed on me through my blog writings, through my words and through my Fitness Lifestyle.  I took this with good stride at first.  I, simply, don’t care what folks think about me.  I wasn’t placed in this world for people to like me and everyone is entitled to their own opinions.  Doesn’t mean I have to agree with them.

All good things come to an end.
This is life, I guess.

But, my thing will be, why does a good thing have to end because of somebody else’s selfishness, being dishonest to my honesty, because of who I am, because of who you are?  Why do people rather bullshit where they stand as oppose to where they truly are?  Why can’t people respect you as you do them?

In the end, I perceived the emails to be a good climb on his part to most likely mush me up in a way where I’ll ease and do whatever he desired.  Great on an older man’s part, I mean what else do they have to go off on?  It’s wonderful for me how I’m very smart when it comes to men, relationships and human behavior.  But was it good for him to go through all this trouble, all the time invested only to later be looked at as a jerk, bullshitter or other?

We were supposed to meet.  Completely platonic.  Have some dinner.  Go out on the town.  Enjoy the city under agreements we have made.  But I’m aware that if I were another woman, more like the stupid kind, more like you can take advantage of her when you wanted to kind, more of the open arms and open sex kind of a woman that will keep my mouth shut and live up to his/your expectations kind..well, we would have met, I bet.

I’ve come to the conclusion that most men, who are insecure or who are looking to find their own sturdy ground in their own world when it comes to sex, do not like intelligent, secured or opinionated women.  It’s truly a shame they prefer to miss out on a real woman, as oppose to deal with young women who aren’t only easy to crack, but aren’t reliable.  Young women aren’t nearly as fun as how I can be and on many different types of levels, not just in the bedroom.  (And I know I talk like I’m so much older. I’m only 29.  But my mind has surpass me.)

In my last email to him, just recently, like last month, I had to let out feelings about what he’s been doing to one particular woman in his life.  This woman is young and is being taken advantage of.  She’s only aware of this to an extent, sadly.  I do not like this.  Probably because I have too much respect for women, (though many of them are dumb).  It became my business when he spoke to me about his business.  He told me about how he’s a close friend to their family, how he takes care and visits the family often, but also how he takes this young lady out to dinners, takes her on shopping sprees and etc.  Clearly she wants no sex with this man.  He has told me she only allows him to caress her arms.  But this doesn’t stop him from what he calls being a father-figure to her and being her sugar daddy.

I had to speak on it because he doesn’t see what he’s doing to this young ignorant lady.  What will happen when she gets a distorted image on what younger/older men can both provide for her mentally, physically, emotionally or sexually?  She will distrust men from the emotional to the physiological tidbits and she will have him, a huge part of her life to thank for.

Whether or not he wanted to hear this, it had to be brought to his attention because there’s something called perspective and if we can help someone even if it’s indirectly, I say help them, even if they didn’t ask.  This is how I live.  Evidently he believes he’s helping the young girl.  But don’t we tell ourselves anything to justify our right?  Then, wonder why we keep repeating the same cycles.

And in the end, who gets punished for being  humble and good person?

Pennington