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About LJCC

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    I'm interested to know why I'm single. And I'm interested in men who...Oh shit. I thought this is a dating site.

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  1. LJCC

    The Brokenhearted's Tale

    It was clear that day when he took it upon himself to close the door and never return. It wasn't the isolation that left his breathing staggered with all the burdens he'd chosen to carry unto his shoulders; but he'd never thought that life would strike him in the severest manner of his own discontent—to this life he'd lead that was thrusted upon him by the decisions he's made in the past. In the delicate fabric of dealing with choices: Do you succumb to the easier route or take the arduous task of self-fulfilment? He chose the former; hence, this was his punishment. The heart he'd broken that day was not his. But his feebleness in acknowledging how it had lead to this path, was still a mystery to him. To the broken-hearted person who made him choose, which is which and what is what; it was a matter of decency over self-profligacy. For he'd wasted all he'd had on his decisions. The choices that were critical to the brokenhearted person, who only said 'Go', despite the perturbations of the brokenhearted's consternations for him to either stay or to leave, didn't beckon him to choose to un-break the heart he broke that day. It was because he felt he didn't have any other choice, but to choose his pride of the only option he thought he was given, which was to go. But was it really the only option? Was it cruel for him to narrow it to one single direction that made him choose the single minded path of recklessness? And that was the flaw in his conscience. His conscience that only spoke of 'I' instead of 'We' or 'Us'. Selfishness doesn't get bearing if one doesn't capitalise on its function. For the function of selfishness only acts upon one's self-preservation. And preserving himself was his only choice he'd always chosen in the past, the present, or probably, in the future. To the brokenhearted person; it was not preserving the 'Us' or the 'We' in this debacle. It was the self-admission that mistakes had been made, and the error needed to be corrected. But he refused to see whatever errors were there in the making. A spade is a spade, as he always said. But behind a spade was a king of hearts in a full deck. Promises are meant to be broken, he thought. And a promise he made twelve years ago was nothing compared to the unhappiness that he'd caused to the brokenhearted person. He never assumed they would last this long, but he did, for the sake of communal bliss he thought he'd be pressured to partake in. His family, his friends, and his colleagues were all too sure to give their inputs on his life, especially to the effect he'd marry on that joyous afternoon at St. Paul's Cathedral. In the enslavement of priorities, he chose to be a father. He gave the effect the chance to be a familial unit. In the enslavement of priorities, he chose to be a husband. He gave the effect a husband whom he can honestly say was a good provider. In the enslavement of priorities, he beseeched his yearnings to thwart all longings for a different life; for he thought it was evil and cruel. In the enslavement of priorities, he was a slave to his commitments in the comity of faith. In the enslavement of priorities, he was shackled to his own commiserations to the yoke of his discontent. In the enslavement of priorities, he sought comfort on his adulteries—to bathe in the solace he knew would be shared to other intimates of his yearnings. And the brokenhearted person was an intimate he fondly treasured; another life bouldered by the indefiniteness to how he'd enslaved himself to his priorities. The effect never knew that she'd be a consequence. But the effect was determined to keep herself in the affectations of communal bliss, patriarchal oligarchy, strategical devises of a suburban life; for an effect was the direct result of an action. And an action he thought was too costly to amend. So he languished himself that the brokenhearted person was to be locked in the fortress—only to be seen when he rolled the banner and heeded the call. But not all pawns are pawns, and rooks are to knights. Even a pawn can rise to be a king, especially when a king absconded his throne at exactly 5:30 PM whenever the king returned to his eloquent kingdom. To the brokenhearted person...I say, be free. To him, I say, be free. To the effect, I say, be free. For the ripples of freedom would soon connect their choices. However, he never did free himself. And the effect chose to be an effect. Because for them, misery and discontent had been a staple to their lifelong reveries. A ritual they shared with others whose lives were privy to their commiserations. A cycle notably famous to those who sought perfection in the imperfect world of dissatisfaction—to those men who sought in reaching the heights of the gods, only to fall miserably to the ground like the fabled Icarus. And to the brokenhearted person...He writes this fable to warn those who are kept in fortresses by misers, gregarious enchanters, and kings whose kingdom stretch far across all nations. Be wary my friends, for a tale is not a tale without its application in this ground we tread upon. Alas, I'm no longer brokenhearted. I am, but free.
  2. LJCC

    Short Histoires

    This is a collection of short stories I've written throughout the years.
  3. LJCC


    OMG. This is precious.
  4. LJCC


    I feel like I'm more of a traditionalist or one from the silent generation, born 1945 and before.
  5. LJCC


    I'm not a hipster, promise. I was trying to show my cousin in Spain the jacket and the beanie he wanted from H&M. I honestly don't know why I'm defending myself. I have issues.
  6. LJCC

    Show yourself?

    I now regret posting this.
  7. LJCC

    Readers, What Do You Skip?

    I noticed that I've recently steered away from extreme architectural landscaping that novelists tend to do when they're really engrossed with the world they've created. It's like reading an article of better homes and garden. Especially if you're in peak of an action paced part of the novel, then suddenly the story turns in a vivid description of where it suddenly becomes a Charlottee Bronte novel, it's sometimes hilarious. But I've read stories where extreme landscape description works, like The English Patient.
  8. LJCC

    Attention cat

    OMG! Mingmingfurliciouskittykitty! Your cat looks like Simba. Damn it...my cat addiction is spiralling at the moment.
  9. LJCC


    Hahaha...a friend tagged me when I was sneezing halfway. Such good friends I have when they always tag me in Facebook while looking constipated most of the time. This is the most sane looking one I have.
  10. LJCC

    Chapter 1

    I'm heaps loving this story so far. We need good oz stories here. I'm very intrigued.
  11. LJCC


    When you shaved your beard yet forgot to shave some hairs on your chin and the flash manages to capture all the cooking oil marinating on your face...Priceless. #EpicFail
  12. LJCC

    What does love mean to a child???

    This is what I'd imagine what most people would say when asked: What is love? Love is when you see someone pick their nose and say 'Aww...How cute.'--Amy, 28 Love is when you hear your boyfriend fart and fart along with them. --Jacob, 24 My husband loves me because when I text him to buy milk, he says, 'I forgot the milk. But I'll give you my milk instead' and then he winks. --Gary, 32 Love is when my parner pays the bill on time before I freak out. She knows I tend to get overcompulsive. --Noemi, 29 Love is when my husband comes home from work, and he picks up chick flick movies because he knows he's not getting any. --Melissa, 42 Love is when my husband talks and his breath smells like a wet fart, but it's the kind of fart I'd gladly smell all day. --Andy, 36 Love is when he leaves you one cookie, despite telling him not to eat any of the cookies you bought. --Sam, 35 Love is when my husband pretends to have sleepovers to our friend's house whenever I'm on a business trip, because he can't sleep alone in our bed without me. --Mark, 45 Love is when my husband bakes me a cake that says 'I tolerate you.' --Andrew, 27 Love is when I hold his hand, and he pulls it back cause he's shy from the callouses in his hand from working two jobs just to keep us afloat...but I hold it anyway because his hands make me warm. --Tom, 38 Love is when you lie to yourself that he doesn't matter. And yet everything you've done in your life is for you to matter to him. And when you finally become a part of his life, it's like everything that doesn't make sense, starts to have a new meaning. --Ryan, 25 Love is when you start hating people doing PDA. But deep inside you wish them all the love in the world, that you don't have in the meantime. Doesn't mean you're hatin...you just see yourself havin' it someday.--Markeesha, 22 Love is when we argue and he gets me so mad that we're not on the same page. Cause when we say sorry to each other, we really do mean it.--Markus, 31 Love is when everyone says you're not compatible with each other...but you're the only two people in the world who knows they're wrong. --Gary, 26 Love is when you can tell him that you're lonely without him. Without him getting it over his head. Because he feels the same when you're not around. --Adrian, 21 Love is when you see your partner in his deathbed, and you tell him he forgot to put the cups in the sink. Because you know that it's the last thing he wants to hear, for him to be reminded that he's not dying. --Michael, 65 The last one was from my gay uncle. Kinda teared up a bit seeing how they were when his partner died.
  13. LJCC

    Good News Thread

    The only news I have now is australia's so hot right now. Skin cancer is starting to become a fad. Everybody's going to the beach while I'm just swimming on SPF120 and staying indoors at my tub of ice, and beer on a wine flute. Cos I'm fanceh.
  14. LJCC

    Male Standards of Beauty Around the World

    That's hot though. Sorta reminds me of Ernest Hemingway dilfie types. I tend to keep the scruff otherwise I'd look like I'm hitting puberty.
  15. LJCC

    Gay Shifters - Why?

    I'm literally necromancing some old posts here. I think the whole werewolf genre appeals to the younger market, much like the vampire trend. But if ever I were to write about werewolves, it would be set in the early 1900's for a bit of history, timejump to present day, with adults (the saturated teenage angst is too droll for me) who has real life dramas. It would probably be like a romantic comedy: "Steve! How many times do I have to tell you, your fur is clogging the sink!" "Babe, I'm sorry...I tried cleaning myself last night, but you forgot to unlock the dog kennel so I got out," explained Jason, mystified by the smell of Alpo on his breath as he exhaled. "Feck! I think I ate Mrs. Tootsie's chihuahua." Steve turned around with a blowdry and a pair of shears, and said, "You should've added Mr. Landon's annoying Labrador who keeps on sh*tting on the porch. So how was dinner? With the number of dogs you ate last night...Do you know now how to roll over? Sit Jason. Bad boy Jason! Bad boy. Now fetch! Now spread your legs and open wide...Daddy's gonna do some grooming baby, cause that carpet has to go."

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