Ajax glanced at the digi-clock in his office and found that it was already half past ten--another day had gone by in his beloved gym. He left for the workout area to fetch a mop when something caught his attention at the open floor section. Or someone.
True enough, a red-haired young man was lying on his back while holding one of his legs straight up in the air. It was Dante, one of his young regulars. Unsurprised by the presence of his last guest, Ajax approached and towered over him with an air of mock superiority, hands on waist and all.
Dante lifted his eyes to the giant shadow that suddenly loomed on him and realized it was the gym owner. From his position, he greeted with an awkward chuckle, “Oh, Mr. Ajax. H-Hey.”
“The last one again, are ya, kid?” Ajax said as he grinned down at him.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
It's Been a While.
Heh. It really has been, hasn't it? I've been enjoying a lot of other stuff lately that I haven't had time to finish my arts and stories, let alone update this blog. What occupies my free time, asketh the void? Four syllables. Gym, TV, books.
Let's start with gym. I've already posted about how good my new gym is, but I never expected for it to be this great. Met several new friends--ehem, hot straight dude friends--and so my workout is always a blast. My body is constantly improving (I measure myself, I mean my muscles. ...What?) that I'm already tossing out some of my skinny jeans that won't get past my hamstrings--they grew too big too soon that I decided to minimize my leg routines.
The latest development (just today, actually) is that I have been commanded some control over the gym music. (As I mentioned before, it's a local gym so the social dynamics are warm and accommodating--the wholesome kind.) I feel giddy just thinking people will be doing bench presses while listening to Keane's Crystal Ball or Phoenix's 1901, or doing calf raises over The Shins! (Get it? Calf, shins, calf muscle, shinbone...whatever.) But eh, I added some Eminem and Pit Bull and Lil Wayne in there, too. After all it's still a gym, not a lounge.
I was thisclose to adding Glee songs, hee! Thankfully my rational mind took over and stopped me. Not to mention, I'll probably spend my entire workout laughing my ass off at people's reactions over hearing show tunes in a gym. Huh. I think that phrase qualifies as an oxymoron.
As for TV, well I'm a total sucker for TV shows, particularly American TV series. I'm glad for the return of Chuck, Glee, Dexter, House, Caprica, Supernatural, Parenthood, The Vampire Diaries, Gossip Girl and Modern Family--told you I watch a lot--but the new shows are plainly unappealing. I tried The Event...eh. No Ordinary Family...eh. It's sad that nothing stands out this year. Maybe The Cape once it's on. As of yet, I may be forced to download other stuff I've been hearing about, like Being Human and The Gates. Or perhaps I'll just re-download and re-watch the early seasons of Charmed. Heh.
Lastly, books. Just finished Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and (for the second time) Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami. He is officially my favorite author nowadays. His words speak to me, and speak about me in the real and metaphysical sense. I had a lot of weird happenings in my childhood--scary, fantasy, and/or supernatural stuff--and Murakami's works somehow affirm that what happened to me were absolutely real while still bordering on the imaginative, and that excites and comforts me at the same time. It's weird and I hope I can explain it beyond that, but I'll have to dig deeper to clear things up even for myself.
Anyway, I'm gonna be posting some finished stuff soon. Ciao. Stay off drugs.
Let's start with gym. I've already posted about how good my new gym is, but I never expected for it to be this great. Met several new friends--ehem, hot straight dude friends--and so my workout is always a blast. My body is constantly improving (I measure myself, I mean my muscles. ...What?) that I'm already tossing out some of my skinny jeans that won't get past my hamstrings--they grew too big too soon that I decided to minimize my leg routines.
The latest development (just today, actually) is that I have been commanded some control over the gym music. (As I mentioned before, it's a local gym so the social dynamics are warm and accommodating--the wholesome kind.) I feel giddy just thinking people will be doing bench presses while listening to Keane's Crystal Ball or Phoenix's 1901, or doing calf raises over The Shins! (Get it? Calf, shins, calf muscle, shinbone...whatever.) But eh, I added some Eminem and Pit Bull and Lil Wayne in there, too. After all it's still a gym, not a lounge.
I was thisclose to adding Glee songs, hee! Thankfully my rational mind took over and stopped me. Not to mention, I'll probably spend my entire workout laughing my ass off at people's reactions over hearing show tunes in a gym. Huh. I think that phrase qualifies as an oxymoron.
As for TV, well I'm a total sucker for TV shows, particularly American TV series. I'm glad for the return of Chuck, Glee, Dexter, House, Caprica, Supernatural, Parenthood, The Vampire Diaries, Gossip Girl and Modern Family--told you I watch a lot--but the new shows are plainly unappealing. I tried The Event...eh. No Ordinary Family...eh. It's sad that nothing stands out this year. Maybe The Cape once it's on. As of yet, I may be forced to download other stuff I've been hearing about, like Being Human and The Gates. Or perhaps I'll just re-download and re-watch the early seasons of Charmed. Heh.
Lastly, books. Just finished Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and (for the second time) Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami. He is officially my favorite author nowadays. His words speak to me, and speak about me in the real and metaphysical sense. I had a lot of weird happenings in my childhood--scary, fantasy, and/or supernatural stuff--and Murakami's works somehow affirm that what happened to me were absolutely real while still bordering on the imaginative, and that excites and comforts me at the same time. It's weird and I hope I can explain it beyond that, but I'll have to dig deeper to clear things up even for myself.
Anyway, I'm gonna be posting some finished stuff soon. Ciao. Stay off drugs.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Never Again. Never, Ever Again.
This next update is way, WAY overdue. Just a gentle reminder to you kids:
beer + protein shakes = YOU KNOW THE ANSWER (I DIDN'T)
Here's the story.
I joined a new gym yesterday. It's just a block away from home and the trainers are very accommodating (no, not like that), a far cry from the snots of Fitness First in distant malls with their monthly fees that cost five times more. A nice surprise is that in spite this gym being just a quaint local scene, the people are friendly...and hot! Which is very weird coz they're probably my neighbors and I never knew, so mental note: get out more.
However at the same day my father spontaneously asked me to go fishing. If you're gay, it should prolly not be a surprise when I say a lack of common interests with our dads is, well, common. My dad and I are particularly in different universes: he loves driving cars and I love daydreaming in cars (I don't even drive--long story); in sports I love table tennis, badminton, volleyball and cheerdancing, and he loves, well, most everything else; he could watch Discovery and NatGeo repeats for hours, while I've watched Gilmore Girls a thousand times; he loves cocktails, and I love co...nah, that joke's too easy.
But the love of baiting a hook (dirty?), casting a supple fishing rod (dirty!), and tugging it (DIRTY!) along a wide expanse of water under the blazing heat just for the sake of a nifty nibble (DIR...alright enough) is one of those things we are in complete sync--well, minus the sexual innuendos (I hope). So of course I said yes. It was slightly weird though, coz the trip's primary purpose was to curry favors with my dad's special guests, a lawyer and a courtroom judge. You see the judge wanted to <insert most boringest details here> and the lawyer was like <more details> so my father agreed. Long story short, it was a successful outing altogether, as I caught two humongous fishes (each is 2 kilos and the size of a bodybuilder's calf), beating my dad (as always), and the judge even crowned me champion and new Fishing Idol. The celebration ended naturally with a party of beer and cooked fish.
I knew I had my first session at the new gym that evening (I workout nights) but refusing drinks from the generation ahead of you is disrespectful--might as well spit on ancestor's graves, yeah? All in all by the time the trip was over I downed four bottles of beer (and I hate beer). I wasn't at all tipsy, just a little light-headed, and I was so excited about the new gym prospect that I did not cancel my workout. So the minute I got home I changed into my gym attire, ran to the gym, and met them new people as I downed my protein shake, fully aware that the beer was still sloshing around in my stomach.
Predictably, as my workout went on my tummy acted out, and eventually I felt like puking my guts and I was sweating like crazy. I had to stop in the middle of my inclined chest press, one of my faves, arrgh. Suffice it to say, that was the end of my workout and the beginning of my rendezvous with Col. Sink, Gen. Bowl and the TP Army.
Moral of the story: Never again. Never, ever again.
I conclude this post by commemorating this event with this piece...alright that's a lie; I finished this a week ago but just forgot. Anyway this is a trade for bokep from y-gal and our Mr. Subject right here is his buffolicious OC Shichiro, about to do a military press in Socks Gym, hence his outfit and the background. Spot Me, That's an Order. (Seriously, though, is an order even necessary?) Final personal anecdote: I hate military presses, it's one of those exercises I find really painful to progress in, which overall is great coz as cliché as this may sound, pain IS gain.
Later guys. Remember to stay off beer and protein shakes within a two-hour period. And drugs.
beer + protein shakes = YOU KNOW THE ANSWER (I DIDN'T)
Here's the story.
I joined a new gym yesterday. It's just a block away from home and the trainers are very accommodating (no, not like that), a far cry from the snots of Fitness First in distant malls with their monthly fees that cost five times more. A nice surprise is that in spite this gym being just a quaint local scene, the people are friendly...and hot! Which is very weird coz they're probably my neighbors and I never knew, so mental note: get out more.
However at the same day my father spontaneously asked me to go fishing. If you're gay, it should prolly not be a surprise when I say a lack of common interests with our dads is, well, common. My dad and I are particularly in different universes: he loves driving cars and I love daydreaming in cars (I don't even drive--long story); in sports I love table tennis, badminton, volleyball and cheerdancing, and he loves, well, most everything else; he could watch Discovery and NatGeo repeats for hours, while I've watched Gilmore Girls a thousand times; he loves cocktails, and I love co...nah, that joke's too easy.
But the love of baiting a hook (dirty?), casting a supple fishing rod (dirty!), and tugging it (DIRTY!) along a wide expanse of water under the blazing heat just for the sake of a nifty nibble (DIR...alright enough) is one of those things we are in complete sync--well, minus the sexual innuendos (I hope). So of course I said yes. It was slightly weird though, coz the trip's primary purpose was to curry favors with my dad's special guests, a lawyer and a courtroom judge. You see the judge wanted to <insert most boringest details here> and the lawyer was like <more details> so my father agreed. Long story short, it was a successful outing altogether, as I caught two humongous fishes (each is 2 kilos and the size of a bodybuilder's calf), beating my dad (as always), and the judge even crowned me champion and new Fishing Idol. The celebration ended naturally with a party of beer and cooked fish.
I knew I had my first session at the new gym that evening (I workout nights) but refusing drinks from the generation ahead of you is disrespectful--might as well spit on ancestor's graves, yeah? All in all by the time the trip was over I downed four bottles of beer (and I hate beer). I wasn't at all tipsy, just a little light-headed, and I was so excited about the new gym prospect that I did not cancel my workout. So the minute I got home I changed into my gym attire, ran to the gym, and met them new people as I downed my protein shake, fully aware that the beer was still sloshing around in my stomach.
Predictably, as my workout went on my tummy acted out, and eventually I felt like puking my guts and I was sweating like crazy. I had to stop in the middle of my inclined chest press, one of my faves, arrgh. Suffice it to say, that was the end of my workout and the beginning of my rendezvous with Col. Sink, Gen. Bowl and the TP Army.
Moral of the story: Never again. Never, ever again.
I conclude this post by commemorating this event with this piece...alright that's a lie; I finished this a week ago but just forgot. Anyway this is a trade for bokep from y-gal and our Mr. Subject right here is his buffolicious OC Shichiro, about to do a military press in Socks Gym, hence his outfit and the background. Spot Me, That's an Order. (Seriously, though, is an order even necessary?) Final personal anecdote: I hate military presses, it's one of those exercises I find really painful to progress in, which overall is great coz as cliché as this may sound, pain IS gain.
Later guys. Remember to stay off beer and protein shakes within a two-hour period. And drugs.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Deo Hum...? Fuck Yer.
The crack title is not meant to be taken literally, seriously or whateverly. It's crack. Heya.
Typically as a first showing, I would post an art for myself, by myself. But aside from the fact that my latest self-stuffs are not yet done (procrastination, hello), I think it's fitting to showcase fanarts for a couple of great and creative people instead. (Plus, this me-me-me thing really has to go. Or at least, shrink.)
The first fanart is kind of my tribute for a living icon, a young artist whose unique talent and lovable characters have helped launch the popularity of youth-oriented web-based homoerotica: Humbuged. By now, any gay-art-lover and his gay brother must have fantasized over his OC Keric (or Cyl or Xerude), played his legendary jerk-off games (and jerked off themselves--multiple times), and/or swallowed a Monthly Manful or two.
Personal anecdote: I stumbled across Humbuged's amazing site by chance, and at admiring his art and getting off on his games I was always reminded of my childhood fascination for drawing fantasy and writing stories--desires I had to naively put on the backburner for more than a decade in favor of the so-called 'real world'. In any case, his constant creativity is one of the main reasons why, three years later, I'm in this business, so to speak.
So as a thank you, here's Keric in his very own deodorant ad. Deo Hum...?
There's a couple of jokes here (although Keric in a deodorant ad is kind of a joke in itself, no?). One is the obvious: Deo Hum...? (Yes, I hum.) The other: Keric is about to spray himself with air freshener by mistake. A joke inspired by a scene in my fave TV show of all time, Gilmore Girls. Enjoy. And don't forget to save the elves!
This second fanart is for a well-known pillar of support in the gay arts community: Dinosaurprince. His imagination in creating uniquely tantalizing OC's and making bizarrely delicious pairings in his commissions is boundless. Eh, I'm sure you have already checked his great blog and found that out before me.
Anyway when I first saw his OC Carlos, I instantly thought, I have to do him. (Uh no, not like that. ...But alright it applies, too.) There's something alluring and edgy about his character, and the mecha-theme is good practice for me as well. So, several (shameful!) months later, I finally found the time (read: results-oriented mindset) to come up with this.
Carlos here is about to enter an establishment where the rules say No Shirt, No Pants, No Service -- the management. What does Carlos say? Fuck Yer Goddamn Rules...and with a stout middle mecha-finger and rockhard mecha-boner to reinforce his mecha-message, to mecha-boot. (By the way, something's written on his dick. I labeled him, mwhahaha.)
If I were the maitre'd, in an instant I'll be on my knees in full apology, then go ahead and provide him some world-class service. (Get it?! Get it?!) Oh, check out DPrince's blog for his post on my work. Apparently this gift never came at a better time. Aww...
That's all for now. Ciao!
PS. If you really feel the need to feedback me, email your niceties to pochpoch69@live.com. Otherwise, scram. And take care!
Typically as a first showing, I would post an art for myself, by myself. But aside from the fact that my latest self-stuffs are not yet done (procrastination, hello), I think it's fitting to showcase fanarts for a couple of great and creative people instead. (Plus, this me-me-me thing really has to go. Or at least, shrink.)
The first fanart is kind of my tribute for a living icon, a young artist whose unique talent and lovable characters have helped launch the popularity of youth-oriented web-based homoerotica: Humbuged. By now, any gay-art-lover and his gay brother must have fantasized over his OC Keric (or Cyl or Xerude), played his legendary jerk-off games (and jerked off themselves--multiple times), and/or swallowed a Monthly Manful or two.
Personal anecdote: I stumbled across Humbuged's amazing site by chance, and at admiring his art and getting off on his games I was always reminded of my childhood fascination for drawing fantasy and writing stories--desires I had to naively put on the backburner for more than a decade in favor of the so-called 'real world'. In any case, his constant creativity is one of the main reasons why, three years later, I'm in this business, so to speak.
So as a thank you, here's Keric in his very own deodorant ad. Deo Hum...?
There's a couple of jokes here (although Keric in a deodorant ad is kind of a joke in itself, no?). One is the obvious: Deo Hum...? (Yes, I hum.) The other: Keric is about to spray himself with air freshener by mistake. A joke inspired by a scene in my fave TV show of all time, Gilmore Girls. Enjoy. And don't forget to save the elves!
This second fanart is for a well-known pillar of support in the gay arts community: Dinosaurprince. His imagination in creating uniquely tantalizing OC's and making bizarrely delicious pairings in his commissions is boundless. Eh, I'm sure you have already checked his great blog and found that out before me.
Anyway when I first saw his OC Carlos, I instantly thought, I have to do him. (Uh no, not like that. ...But alright it applies, too.) There's something alluring and edgy about his character, and the mecha-theme is good practice for me as well. So, several (shameful!) months later, I finally found the time (read: results-oriented mindset) to come up with this.
Carlos here is about to enter an establishment where the rules say No Shirt, No Pants, No Service -- the management. What does Carlos say? Fuck Yer Goddamn Rules...and with a stout middle mecha-finger and rockhard mecha-boner to reinforce his mecha-message, to mecha-boot. (By the way, something's written on his dick. I labeled him, mwhahaha.)
If I were the maitre'd, in an instant I'll be on my knees in full apology, then go ahead and provide him some world-class service. (Get it?! Get it?!) Oh, check out DPrince's blog for his post on my work. Apparently this gift never came at a better time. Aww...
That's all for now. Ciao!
PS. If you really feel the need to feedback me, email your niceties to pochpoch69@live.com. Otherwise, scram. And take care!
First and Pochmost
Hey there, I'm Poch and welcome to my blog. Here in Poch Nation you'll find a collection of art and fiction made by yours truly, natch. My works' themes range extensively, i.e. wtf-ever-anything-goes, but mostly the subjects are, well, gay. Or solo guys. (Same difference?) Or straight guys doing gay stuff. (Yep, same difference.) Anyway I do hope you enjoy them even though by the time of this writing, I have only been 'trying to be creative' for less than a year, and 'trying to be seriously creative' for about a couple of months. There's a life story there, but it's boringly much fitting for a diary than a blog. Not that I keep a diary.
Now that these pesky greetings are out of the way, let me end this at once so you can go and browse somewhere else. (Or, if still by your fancy, around...)
PS. If you really feel like commenting or saying 'howdy', you can shoot me an e at pochpoch69@live.com. Oh, and 69 is not my YOB. 69 is, well, my age. Except, hell no! 69 is...69. Got it? Good. Take care!
Now that these pesky greetings are out of the way, let me end this at once so you can go and browse somewhere else. (Or, if still by your fancy, around...)
PS. If you really feel like commenting or saying 'howdy', you can shoot me an e at pochpoch69@live.com. Oh, and 69 is not my YOB. 69 is, well, my age. Except, hell no! 69 is...69. Got it? Good. Take care!
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