Showing posts with label bloodgloriousblood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bloodgloriousblood. Show all posts

Don't Eat That

23 August 2010

(This is the first draft of an essay I wrote for my Food Writing Class, my interest in non-genre writing has produced this, a Food Memoir on my experiences with non-food.)


Don’t Eat That

The essential feature of Pica is the eating of one or more nonnutritive substances on a persistent basis for a period. of at least 1 month. The typical substances ingested tend to vary with age. Infants and younger children typically eat paint, pIaster, string, hair, or cloth. Older children may eat animal droppings, sand, insects, leaves, or pebbles. Adolescents and adults may consume clay or soil. There is no aversion to food. (American Psychiatric Association 103)

 My name is Ernie, I have an eating disorder.

You’d be surprised at the things they have support groups of, even this thing I do, others like me all over the world are sharing their experiences on eating the non-nutritive. I’d join these support groups, but that would mean I WANT to get rid of my Pica, or that I see it as a problem. I don’t believe eating paper, wood, tiny rocks, plastic, dirt (not soil, that’s disgusting), hair, pus, that sticky stuff that gets left behind when you peel off sticky tape, rubber, and I’m getting a bit carried away, is all that bad. I do recognize that it’s not exactly health food, but if you ignore the fact that these things aren’t really food, these are actually Vegan!

It started as a kid, as it usually does, when I would press my finger between those cracks in the walls and floor of our old home and nibble on the tiny concrete crumbs that stick to my fingertips, crunchy. I’d gnaw on the feet and hands of my sister’s Barbies, leaving them looking like victims of a zombie attack. I actually believed it was cool to be eating paper, little did I know that my so ‘friends’ back in grade school we’re charging people to see me eat an entire sheet of paper. It took me sometime to realize that it was socially unacceptable to eat these things, not that I cared.

I have been queried lots of times about what paper (the most common of my non-nutritive snacks) tastes like, and my answer has always been ‘it depends’. See, paper is like any other food, it varies. Table napkins have no taste, but some types do have that powdery feel on your tongue and as if you can smell baby powder from inside your mouth. Typical white paper has no taste too, but they stick to the top of your mouth and roll into balls real quick, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing because they get chewy. This happens to most paper but much more often to white paper for some reason. Mimeograph paper is tougher to chew but has a peculiar bitter taste, newsprint is bittersweet, and if I consciously avoid eating yellow paper because it tastes like ink. The best paper, and I’m not just saying this to gross you out, is a bus ticket, those punched bus tickets, that you have kept in you jeans pocket for at least a day, a nice mix of salt and bitterness. The worst is ATM receipts, has some sort of plastic film that makes it gummy and too bitter it actually feels like poison.

I’ve never been properly diagnosed, the closest thing to an actual diagnosis was when I confessed to my Professor in Abnormal Psychology that I think I have Pica, and that I consciously partake in non-nutritive snacking (she didn’t act shocked then but I found out that she started telling my story to her other classes). But in my totally biased views of the DSM-IV-TR criterion (105) I fit four of the four conditions for Pica. Pica is commonly diagnosed to children, there are very few adult, or even adolescent, cases of it. I’m one of them. It’s hard to say how you get Pica, it is mostly related to Mental retardation but I wouldn’t believe myself retarded. I mean, how would’ve I gotten to this premiere university? There are no specific biological patterns among us who have it, but in some instances zinc deficiency is observed, not that I know what that would mean.

I don’t know about other people with my condition but aside from paper, I’m not meticulous how these things taste. The closest thing to paying attention when I eat them is the particular sensations in the mouth I get. The brittle crunch of tiny rocks, the satisfaction of flattening bits of plastic pen caps with my teeth, the feel of balling up thread with your tongue, and sometimes it even goes less that the sensations, just the wanting, like I’ve been eyeing this line of ants on the wall by my desk, crushing them against the wall then eating those that get stuck on my finger.

Other things normal people wouldn’t think of eating; plastic bags, when you chew on a plastic grocery bag (or even those types you get from the market) long enough you get a white string like jumble of plastic, it doesn’t matter what color it was in the first place, it turns white. Nails, I also bite my nails, even my nail clippings I pick off and eat, snapping satisfyingly as I clench on them with my molars, the nails clippings from the smallest toe is always softer than any other nail, for some reason they don’t snap too, they fold. Those price label stickers commonly found on notebooks and other stuff you buy at stationary stores, double the satisfaction of peeling the damn things of in one piece and folding them so the sticky part stays in and doesn’t touch the inside of my mouth.

I’ve gotten all sorts or reactions too, from the expected disgust to amazement to mockery (the ‘yeah right, of course you do’), admittedly I sometimes do it to see the reactions I cause. Like a Filipino would describe balut to a foreigner to see him grossed out and then insist “No, no, it’s good food! Helps with the arthritis!” half laughing.

I do get concerned about how this affects my health, I’ve done research (watched TV shows and searched the internet) about bezoars, and how they form inside your stomach because of stuff you couldn’t digest. I read about lead poisoning, and wood splinters getting stuck in my throat, but the threat is as big as the threat of fish bones getting stuck in my throat so nothing to worry about, I’m fine. Come to think of it, how different am I from people who eat copious amounts of cholesterol laden food or rare meat or carcinogenic barbecue? How different is wood, rubber and plastic from the hamburgers you get from McDonald’s, the processed foods they sell on the streets and the junk they sell at Pre-school cafeterias?

Sure, I worship bacon like any other guy, I enjoy a good burger and French fries combo, I don’t know what the deal is with blue cheese, it just so happens I have other stuff on my palette too. Who gets to declare what is food anyway?

 

Works Cited:

American Psychiatric Association. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Fourth ed. Text Revision. Washington DC: American Psychiatric Association, 2000. Print

The Complexity of Memory Annoys Me

28 January 2010

I wish people would stop telling people what things remind them of, I know I must've done it a few times as well but I'm gonna stop it right now. People should stop telling people what things remind them of. People get reminded of  a lot of things during conversations, people get reminded a lot of things when we look at things, people get reminded by a lot of things all the time! It's annoying when they start going "oh that reminds me..." "it reminds me of..." nobody cares what it reminds you of, did you get your conversation skills from a shoe?


It especially annoys me when it involves some sort of artwork done. A webcomic I read once had a lot of comments saying "This feels so Calvin and Hobbes" the artist commented back sounding offended, she had no intention of it looking Calvin and Hobbes-ish, she is barely influenced by Calvin and Hobbes and the readers thought it was very Calvin and Hobbes because it had a FRIGGIN' SNOWMAN! What the fuck was that about? What good did your comment do? Who the hell needed that information? Saying something like that is saying something because you don't have nothing to say, if you have nothing to say then DON'T say anything. Especially about what shit reminds you of.

To those who follow me on plurk, you would be familiar with how I was annoyed by a comment saying that my poster design reminded somebody of the Loverage poster for the UP fair sometime back. Now that was damn annoying, even if you meant it as a compliment, how the fuck did that comparison help anyone? And the designs don't even look anything alike. If it reminds you of something it offends our attempt at being original. It offends me because I go to great lengths to make it look good and the best thing people would say is "hey, that reminds me of ________" fuck that.

Okay, there goes Ernie again complaining about shit that don't go his way. Just think about it okay? That shit ain't cool.

Have You Ever Wondered What Could be Beyond Our Senses?

27 January 2010

UP PsycA 
presents
Beyond Senses : Understanding Parapsychology

An Alternative Learning Classroom Experience (ACLE)

With a demonstration with Fr. Jaime Bulatao, Ph.D. (an Expert in Parapsychology)

Reactors:
Prof. Aurora Mendoza, Ph.D.
Prof. Edwin Decenteceo, Ph.D.

See you at PHAn Lobby
1-4 PM January 28, 2010

Notepad Drama: Entry Number 3

02 November 2009

(Introduction to notepad Drama, aNG MgA eNTRy Dito Ay Mga ISinulaT ko NoOng NagTatRaBAho PA akO sA KolSeNtER sa LiBIs, NakAsAvE Ang Mga ITO sa aKing NotePad nOOn At Manu-Mano koNG KInopYA nunG NagReSayN Ako.)


Sa Paggapang ng mga ulap,
Sa Pag-iingat ng kulog na hindi magising ang kaluluwa sa purgatoryo ng pag-iisa
Sa Pagbabagong anyo ng apoy bilang kidlat.
Ako ay isang palakang naiwan sa latian.
Nagsasaya sa pawis ng langit,
Naghihintay ng kamatayang dala ng apoy na nagpapanggap na liwanag at susunog sa bawat patak ng dugo at laway sa aking katawan.

Gising tungo sa Bangungot

06 October 2009

Gising na yata ang mga mata ko sa dib-dib, isa isang tatanggalan ng muta, manu-manong bubuksan ang mga talukap. Oras na ng pagdungaw sa bangin, habang may hawak na payong at malakas ang hangin. Kailangan makita ng lahat ko ang bangin, at ang unti unting pagkahulog ng lupa patungo roon.


Sa paglalakad patungo sa bangin sinusugatan ako ng yelong lamig ng mga pinaslang, dulot ng pag aagawan sa iisang lupang pareho namang kanila, dulot ng pag aagawan sa mga bagay na kapwa hindi nila kailangan. Tumpok tumpok ng nabubulok na tao, namatay para sa rasong hindi katanggap tanggap sa mga mata sa aking dib-dib.

Sa paglalakad patungo sa bangin sinusunog ako ng apoy ng gutom at sakit, ng paghihirap at pagdurusa, ng mga alipin, mga biktima, mga sugatan, luhaan, at kapwa ko sinisilaban. Tumpok-tumpok ng nabubulok na buhay, tumataghoy sa mga bagay na pupwede namang hindi mangyari, sa mga sakit na sanay di na lang nadanas.

At Pagdating ko sa bangin idinungaw ko ang aking sugatang sunog na dib-dib, at pinamasid sa mga mata ko rito ang banging kumakain sa lupa, at habang ako'y nakadungaw, malakas ang hangin at may hawak na payong, paatras akong naglalakad na rin pagkat kinakain ang lupa kong kinatatayuan, isang banging parang bunganga ng impyerno, na lumalamon sa mundo. Habang sa paligid ko ang mga tao'y tinatapon ang isa't isa huwag lang mahulog. At tuwing lumalapit nang mapuno ang bangin ay lumalalim ito't lumalaki, tila nais gawing bangin ang buong mundo.

Tumpok-tumpok ng nabubulok na puso ang sumisingaw sa mundo, parang lason. Nagising ako sa bangungot ng tumpok tumpok na nabubulok na kung ano-ano, at pagising ko ang nakita ko'y ganung ganun pa rin. Bangungot ang mundo kong isinilangan.

The Drifting Away/Brotherhood/Half the Pun

26 August 2009

The drifting away of a friend is a sad thing.

I don't know what happened, it seemed we jsut led two live too different. Sad as the truth is it shall be this truth that is the truth for this point of view, this point of view is to the passt, and nothing can change the past, it is what it is. A very peculiar history we had, a past for the history books.
It is also true that we had become friends, he became a guy I shared cigarettes and stories with, we had our laughs and out truths and he was a friend in a category no friend of mine has ever fallen into, but he was real, he was there, like a brother I was supposed to have in the first place.
He had his girl, I had my confused little ramblings about every girl that exists, we shared those stories. Perhaps much more to my expense than his, but I didn't care, we are friends, friends don't care about that shit. I even appreciated that his girl considers me some sort of expert in her boyfriend's personality, truth is I know him just as much as a man can tell why another man is acting like he is, we both had a chromosome that women didn't, that's it. We knew only what we wanted the other to know, perhaps he knew more about than I did about him simply because of how much he is aware of what he reveals of himself, but I was fine with that, that was more than enough to be a friend.
(Who drifted? Was it I? Because a drifting did happen, perhaps I was drowned by the sudden surge of new people that I learned to share similar things we shared, perhaps overwhelmed by the fact that it wasn't just our little gang of fools, but a bigger gang of fools. Perhaps I have become part of the whirpool while he had clung to a piece of driftwood, maybe I just didn't notice, and he just didn't want to make me notice.)
Now I know, now I know what I don't know, who I don't know, I don't know him, my friend and brother, I never did. He had always led alife different from mine and now we had took paths too skewed from the others. maybe our friendship was just a crossroad, a joining path, only to split again. We may not always be friends, but since the day brotherhood has begun, he will always be the brother that I do not share blood with.

Even Spiderman worries about his Web.

15 August 2009

I'm at another computer shop, I hate computer shops, I hate it when other people are there when I'm trying to write. My mind gets easily distracted by other people typing away on their keyborads, people talking to the clerks at the counter, people chatting on-line, people coming and going, the annoying sounds of door chimes, keys, coins, plastic bags, seats being pulled and pushed and dropped and shit. It's a stupid, stupid place to be.

I hate work days, since mobile broadband in the Philippines suck like ant-eaters I can't use my laptop for internet, there's absolutely no point, it's friggin expensive and the coverage doesn't even cover half of UP Diliman, not even a quarter, or an eighth.

Look at me, I spend a great chunk of my self set allowance on internet connection, I live for the net, considering my schedule which gives me only one day of the week where I can go over to my buddies in UP so I don't have to go to the internet shops just to talk to them and have something to for the four hours (more or less) of free time I have

I want a Monday-Tuesday day-off schedule, I hate mondays in the office and I hate having to go to computer shops instead of actually talking to my buddies and annoying them in person, and the internet just isn't the same as when I stay on-line for 12 hours or so a day when its my day-off, I wanna use my own PC, not a stupid, generic, ad laden PC from netopia or Orange.

So there, got to log out now, my bill is running high.

Frisco 1

08 August 2009

strum-strum-strum

Sa kwarto ni Frisco, wala kang makitang pader, puro mga larawan ng mga nagtatawanang tao, mga poster ng mga concert ilang taon, buwan, linggo na ang nakakaraan ginanap, mga poster ng mga banda, mga album cover na pina-enlarge, mga drowing sa cartolina, mga leaflet, kung anu-ano. Hindi ka makakapag sindi ng posporo na wala kang nasisindihang papel, ganun ka puno, patong-patong pa, parang sumikip na nga yung kwarto dahil sa kapal nang mga tse-tseburetse sa pader.

Strum

Tumitipa si Frisco, sa bawat strum ay titigil at hihinga ng malalim, parang hinihigop mula sa hangin ang tunog na nalikha n'ya. Paulit-ulit, strum, tigil, strum, tigil, strum, tigil. Matapos maka ilang ulit ay nagtuloy-tuloy, nagkabit kabit ang mga pirapirasong musika n'ya, naging kanta. Naging parang kanta, basta, musika, ang galing, ultimo mga daga sa ding-ding ay napatigil sa pagngatngat ng kahoy, pumapalakpak ang tenga ng mga daga, ganun s'ya kagaling.

Tumigil si Frisco.

Umulit sa simula, ngayon naman ay kumakanta na s'ya, isang kantang parang isang libong karayom, napuno ang kwarto n'ya ng malamig na boses, malungkot na boses, malungkot na awit, kung titignan mong mabuti, mapapansin mong maluha-luha na sa poster n'ya si Kurt Cobain, nagheheadbang na ng konti si Rico Blanco, at parang nabubura ang mga ngiti sa mga larawan, parang gusto nang mamatay ng daga sa loob nung dingding. Parang sinusulat na ng boses ni Frisco sa hangin ang mismong mga salita, mababasa mo ang isang kwento ng pag-ibig, kay sayang pag-ibig, pag-ibig na hindi naman pala totoo, ilusyon, nagpapanggap.

Tumigil si Frisco, ngumiti, at nagsindi ng posporo.

Tunay

29 April 2009

Naramdaman mo na ba yung parang gusto mo na ilabas sa buong mundo kung sino ang buong ikaw, lahat ng mali mo, lahat ng sugat mo, ultimo pimples sa pwit mo, kahit tae na pinapahid mo sa tuhod mo gusto mo na sabihin sa mundo. Wala na lang silang masabi na nagpapanggap ka, na may tinatago ka. Para maintindihan nila kung bakit ka ganyan, kung bakit ka kinikilig sa pelikula ni John Llyod at Bea, kung bakit ka natatakot umuwi sa sariling bahay, kung bakit ka pumupunta sa top floor ng carpark ng mga mall para lang umiyak.

Tapos maiisip mo na hindi mo pala kaya ilabas, hindi dahil may gusto ko pa itago kundi dahil talagang hindi naman posible ilabas, hindi pwede isalin sa salita ang lahat ng bakit, ano, paano at gaano ng buhay mo. Hindi mo din kaya ipaliwanag kung bakit ka nahihiya kumain kasama ang pamilya ng iba at nalulungkot kumain mag-isa. Kung bakit ayaw mo na pumasok sa iskwelahan at kung bakit nagmamadali ka tumanda. Wala kang maibigay na eksplenasyon sa mga maliliit at malalaki mong kaartehan, kalibugan, kagaguhan at kapraningan. Wala ka pa lang alam tungkol sa sarili mo, o kung meron man e wala kang kakayahan sabihin ito sa iba.

At nung malaman mo yun ay mababadtrip ka dahil babagsak na sa'yo na ikaw lang talaga ang pwede magdala ng sarili mo, hindi mo pwede ipaintindi sa iba dahil iniintindi din nila ang mga sarili nila. Maiintindihan mo, pero ikababanas mo pa rin na walang totoong makaka alam kung bakit ka ganyan, hindi ka matatanggap ng kahit sino dahil sa alam nila kung bakit, tinatanggap ka na lang nila kahit di nila alam. At maiiyak ka sa ideya na ang mga hindi makatanggap sa iyo ay hindi ka man lang maiintindihan. Hindi man lang nila masasabi sa sarili nila na "Kaya s'ya ganyan kasi ganito, pero ayoko pa rin sa kanya.". Bubuo na lang sila ng mga maling dahilan sa kung bakit ka ganyan, hindi mo man alam kung ano ang tamang dahilan maiinis ka dahil alam mong hindi iyon yun.

Tapos mapapaiyak ka ulit hanggang sa hindi mo na alam kung ano gagawin mo, gusto mo malaman nila kung sino ka, gusto mo malaman kung sino ka. Gusto mo ilagay yuon sa isang flash drive at ilagay na lang sa mga PC ng mga tao para ma-gets na nila kung sino ka, para gawing paliwanag yuon sa mga pagkakamali mo, para hindi ka na titingin sa kamatayan bilang isang perpektong paraan para matapos ang paghahanap sa pagintindi. Tapos marerealize mo na ang emo mo dahil tingin mo walang nakakaintindi sa'yo, pero babalik ka ulit sa ideya na wala naman talagang kaya umintindi kahit kanino, nagkataon lang na gusto mong maintindihan ka.

Hanggang sa ang mga tawanan ay hindi na sapat para mapasaya ka, hanggang sa ang iyakan ay hindi na sapat na labasan ng lungkot, hanggang sa kahit madurog mo na ang mga pader ay hindi pa sapat iyon na paglalabas ng muhi, ng suklam, ng galit sa sarili at sa mundo. Hanggang sa umulit ka na lang, paulit-ulit ka lang, sa pagiyak, pag muhi, pag tawa, pag iyak at pag muhi. Paulit-ulit na pangangailangan sa pagintindi na paulit-ulit mong nalilimutan na hindi naman darating.

 

Naramdaman mo na ba yun?

Cardiac Arson by the Hedonistic Hubris of a Serendipitous Pornographer

25 February 2009

All I want to say is that I'm back, Yes, I'm back from a few weeks' (maybe a month's) worth of absence from blogging. Not that I was busy or anything, lazy is better word for it.

You might be wondering about the long blog title,

I was reading the dictionary (yes, some people actually read it) just because I was too bored to play cards early in the morning (yes, some people do it for fun) and I was also searching for a cool title to fit my cool writing project of writing a cool story based on conversations I had with Dwight and Paolo and other musician friends. I was looking for words that sound nice and flow in a long phrase that made no sense but kinda pretends to make sense, so I encountered the words tumult, and hubris and Hedonist, although hedonist is a word I already know.

So I intergated those words with a few of my favorite words and made a nice title,

I just love the wordplay, even if I do wordplay differently.

Keep That Shit Away From Me

08 February 2009

So that's what karma is, shit causes shit causing more shit.

Right now, everything is just so fucked up, nothing is going right and I'm grasping at straws grasping at thinner straws.

I guess there's not much else to write,

Welcome to my Life.

You have a Cruel way of saying Shut-Up

01 February 2009

(I am sorry, this might offend you, embarass you, or piss you off, as much as the others have, so don't read it if you just wish you haven't)

You could have told me to shut-up, I mean really tell me, actually tell me, say it in words, but you just had to do that, that, you know what that is. Now I can't shut-up, now I just have to keep writing until somebody cuts my fingers of.

Does it offend you that somebody likes you? Does it offend you that I am not courageous enough to tell you that I like you, I like you so much I might actually love you but refuse to say so just because I don't know what it means to love? Then you could've PMed me or something, IMed me or something, slapped me in the face or something like that! You just took the words out of the air, please just slap me instead.

I know I don't exactly have to right to say anything about not directly saying what's meant to say, I haven't told you anything, never mentioned nothing, and when I finally tried to say something a little bit closer to it than what I've done, now I don't know if I pissed you off or if you don't want others to know about it then I start thinking what's the point of me doing all this? I'm not confident enough to say it to you in person and I admit that and I'm too stupid not to put it in my blog because this damn thing is the only thing that I can pretend actually listens to me when I rant like this.

Now I can't even go on ranting like this, I like you too much to rant any more than I already have, I am sorry, but next time I see you, I will have to quit shutting up my blood, I can't live like this anymore.

Isa nanamang Liham na Hindi na naman mababasa ng Pinatutunguan

02 December 2008

Ayoko na,

Masyado na akong nabuburyong sa pagbabakasakali na ikaw ay dadaan o sisilip man lang kahit dalawang segundo lang. Ang unang segundo para makapagkunwari akong hindi pa kita napansin nuong papalapit ka pa lang, ang ikalawa para dumikit man lang sa isip ko na ikaw nga ang nadiyan at hindi isang mahabang guni-guni lamang, tulad ng madami kong ibang guni-guni. Ayoko na, ayoko nang hintayin ka pa, hindi na ako mauupo sa parehong pwesto para lang umasa na darating ka. Hindi na rin ako magdadalawang-isip umalis sa kinauupuan ko sa takot na baka sa pag-alis ko'y dumating ka at hindi ko masulit ang ginintuang pagkakataon. Ayoko na, kailangan ko nang umusad, inipit mo ako sa gitna ng gising at panaginip, pero hindi isang gising na panaginip kundi isang tulog na katotohanan.

Ayoko na, ayoko nang nanaginip sa gabi ng mga korning panaginip. Panaginip na nakakainis iwanan para sa tunay na mundo. Ayoko nang nakikita kang nakangiti sa aking tabi, nagkukwento ng masasaya at malulungkot sa ilalim ng itim na kurtinang sinabuyan ng mga mumunting ikaw, aking bituin, para lamang magising at bumungad sa akin ang malungkot na kisame, o tahimik na pader, o matigas na unan.

Gusto ko nang gumawa ng paraan, gawing tunay ang panaginip, o di kaya'y gisingin ang sarili sa katotohanan. O kaya sabay, gisingin ang sarili sa katotohanan na hindi magiging tunay ang panaginip kung manatili akong tulog, o gising pero di kumikilos. Kikilos ako, hindi para sa kung ano mang dahilan kundi para sa iyo, dahil ayokong hindi ako nagiging matapat sa'yo. Napakadungis ko sa mga sikretong tinatato naman sa balat, sikretong bukas para basahin, ayaw ko nang bihisan ang sarili huwag mo lang mabasa, ipababasa ko na, bahala ka na sa lahat ng pagkatapos.

Ayoko na, dahil gusto ko, oo madami akong gusto, pero may mas gusto ako, pinaka gusto kumbaga, at tingin ko, kandidato ka para duon.

Mahiwaga

12 November 2008

Ano ang gagawin mo sa huling araw ng buhay mo?

Gagawa ako ng Mahiwaga.

ha?

Mahiwaga.

Maghihiwa ka ng baga?

Hinde, tanga. Mahiwaga.

Anong ibig mo sabihin?

Ano ba sa'yo ang mahiwaga?

Bakit ako na ang tinatanong mo?

Wala naman pinagkaiba iyon, kung ikaw man o ako ang magtanong.

 

Ano ang gagawin mo sa huling araw ng buhay mo?

Magiging mahiwaga.

Ayan ka nanaman e.

Hinde, ayan ka nanaman.

Ikaw ang nagsimula.

Ako nga ba? O Ikaw? May pinagkaiba pa ba?

 

Hoy.

Bakit?

Alam ko na ang ibig mong sabihin.

Hiwaga?

Mahiwaga.

O.

Pagtataka, pagtataka sa lahat, pagtatanong. Pagdanas ng pagkahiwaga sa lahat ng bagay. Sa lahat ng oras, o natitirang oras, ay makita ang mundo at hindi maintindihang kagandahan nito, o kapangitan nito. Pero...

Pero walang pagnanais o pangangailangan ng pag intindi.

Oo.

Iyan ba ang ibig ko sabihin?

Hindi mo alam?

Bakit ako ang tinatanong mo?

 

Ano ba?

Anong ano ba?

Gusto ko gumawa ng Hiwaga.

Mahiwaga.

Oo, kung ano man iyon.

Bakit?

Huling araw na ng buhay ko.

Idiniklera mo o idiniklera sa iyo?

May pinagkaiba ba iyon?

Oo.

Kung ganoon edi idiniklera ko.

Ah, kung ganoon edi gagawa na din ako.

Bakit? Ginagaya mo ako?

Ikaw, ginagaya mo ako?

Sino ka ba?

Hindi ba malaking kahangalan ang tanong mong 'yan?

Ha?

Dapat ka na ngang mamatay.

Ano?

Hindi mo na makilala ang sarili mong mukha.

Kung Bakit Ayoko ng Plurk

17 October 2008

Ayoko ng Plurk,

Ayoko ng Plurk dahil ang genius ng ideyang ito, hayaan lang silang maglagay ng one liners at kalayaang magkumentuhan sa mga one liners na ito. Bigyan mo sila ng reinforcer at punishment (karma system) kapag nag plurk sila, taasan ang karma, bigyan ng bagong features, pag hindi, babaan ang karma, pagkaitan ng features.

Ayoko dahil hindi ako makapagpaliwanag ng ganito, may comment na kaagad bago ka makapagpaliwanag, mahirap, parang YM lang na grabe ang lag. Ayoko dahil nakaka-adik, masyado madaming pwedeng gawin, masyado nakakaengganyo na mag lagay ng madaming plurk dahil maiikli lang ang nilalagay mo

Ayoko ng Plurk kasi mawala ka lang ng isang araw ay isang milyon na ang hindi mo nabasang plurk mula sa mga katropa mo, kung ano-ano, lahat masarap komentan, para ka tuloy nakakain ng isang buong happy pizza mag-isa.

basta ayoko ng plurk, kaya hindi ako magpapataas ng karma, masaya na akong pwede ko na pangalanan ang page ko. 

ISILANG: Isang Inspiradong gawa sa pormang tula mula sa akdang 'Piemdi-2' ni Christine Olivar

10 September 2008

Hubad at nakayuko mula sa entabladong bato

Hubad at nakayukong tao.

Hubad at nakayuko, pinagmamasdan ang mundo

Hubad at nakayuko sa malayo.

 

Nakasilip, dumudungaw mula sa butas sa langit

Pinagmamasdan mga pilat at lait.

Nagmamasid, naghihintay ng malapit na pagsapit

Ng sariling pagdanas ng sakit.

 

Bago isilang, bago bumuka

Ang mga sanggol na mata

At makita

Ang tagapagsilang na ina

At paluin ang mortal na katawang lupa

May nauna na na luha.

 

Di kaya ang ulan luha lamang

Ng mga kaluluwang di pa isinisilang,

Luha ng takot sa papasuking daigdig

Luha, di iyak, luhang walang tinig.

Bed-Wake-Bed

I lie awake in my bed again, this happens too often,

I sit up in the middle of the night with the stars in my head,

With your words in my ears, in my mind, in my heart.

 

And only silence breaks this silence,

Ang only darkness shines through the night,

Let it not be sadness to replace my sadness,

Let you be my light.

 

I try my best to return to sleep, but my bed seems like ice,

The face I see when I close my eyes bring me back to wake,

I need sleep, I want sleep, I can't sleep, you own me at black sky.

 

And only sadness breaks this silence,

And only darkness shines through the night,

In this endless cycle bed-wake-bed,

I am losing the will to fight.

 

Goodnight.

 

-Cilva                                                                                

Soundtrack ng Paper ko

02 September 2008

Lahat naman tayo may kanya-kanyang soundtrack, kanya-kanyang playlist ng mga kantang may kanya-kanyang binabagayang timing sa buhay natin. Halimbawa kapag trip mo mag-emo magpapatugtog ka ng mga malulungkot na kanta (Silent Sanct, o kung korni ka My Chem, kung sobrang lakas ng tama ng kalungkutan sa'yo baka patulan mo pa si Sharon Cuneta), kapag sobrang happy joy joy ka naman magpapatugtog ka ng masasayang kanta (hahalungkatin mo ang e-heads mo o kaya sasayawan mo si Jason Mraz, kung OA naman ang kaligayahan mo baka magpatugtog ka pa ng VST) ganun, ako kasi meron din. Yung sa akin nga lang, siguro meron ding ganito senyo, may kanya-kanyang specific purpose, yung akin ngayon ay yung panggawa ng paper, sound-blocking, happy joy joy, playlist ko, eto yung default playlist ko sa Winamp, pang typing jobs talaga.

 

  1. Artic Monkeys - Fake Tales of San Francisco (wala lang kasi masayang opening song, sayawan kaagad)
  2. Artic Monkeys - I Bet You Look Good On The Dance Floor (para tuloy-tuloy ang pagsayaw sa harap ng PC at magsimula na lumayo sa akin ang mga tao sa immediate vicinity dahil iisipin na nila na nakakahawa ang toyo ko)
  3. Foo Fighters - Everlong (para masimulan na ang pagigitara sa ere sa harap ng PC, sobrang nawiwirduhan na ang mga kasambahay ko track 3 pa lang)
  4. Foo Fighters - Learn to Fly (medyo mas magaan sa Everlong para makapagsimula na ng seryosong pagsusulat at madugtungan na sa wakas yung name-date-student number-subject-title na naisulat ko na)
  5. Foo Fighters - Long Road to Ruin (para hindi masyado maburyong kaagad, tuloy ang pakikinig sa drummer na malaki ang galit sa drum set nya at sa gitaristang madaming pambili ng string)
  6. Foo Fighters - Monkey Wrench (double purpose, pang procrastinate ng konte dahil magsisimula nanaman ako magpanggap na rockstar sa kantang to, tsaka para siguraduhing hindi ako makakatulog kaagad)
  7. Foo Fighters - My Hero (sa puntong ito ay nag heheadbang na ako habang nagtatayp, mabuti na yun kesa simulan ko pang mag multiply sa gitna ng paper)
  8. Foo Fighters - The Best of You (para mag-air guitar na habang nagtatayp, paa na ang pinang tatayp, hindeeeeee, gusto ko lang ng ingay para sound blocking at hindi ko madinig ang ingay ng TV o kwentuhan ng mga kasambahay ko habang nagtatayp ako kaya maraming Foo Fighters dito)
  9. Foo Fighters - Times Like This (oo, FF parin, ayoko naman kasi mag Metallica o Avenged Sevenfold habang nag-pepaper dahil baka hambalusin ko pa ng Sledgehammer yung Monitor ko bigla)
  10. Foo Fighters - The Pretender (sige na nga, kasi trip ko din ang ingay ng Foo Fighters kaya sila ang pang paper ko, nakakbuhay, nagheheadbang ultimo ang brain cells ko, pati yung cells ko, pati yung viruses at antibodies sa katawan ko)
  11. The Police - Roxanne (ayan, hindi na FF, si Sting naman, simula na ng medyo malumanay na kanta para flowing na yung paper at hindi na blow-by-blow account ng data)
  12. Luther Vandross - Dance with My Father (wow, ang korni ng playlist bigla! hindeeee, maganda naman tong kantang to e, tsaka eto yung cue ko na i-edit ko na yung tinayp ko from this point upward)
  13. Kingbastard - Fuck-up (medyo balik na sa paper mode, pero binabasa na ng mabuti ang tinatayp dito na ako bumabagal at nagpapahinga kahit nagtatayp parin)
  14. Dong Abay - Gusto (wala, gusto ko lang)
  15. Noel Cabangon - Kanlungan (linis ng paper mode)
  16. Noel Cabangon - Hari ng Kalye (para ihanda ang sarili sa pag-reset ng playlist at para makapagtuloy-tuloy na ulit ng typing, tapos ulit na ulit ng playlist, bugso-bugso mode)

 

Ayan, ewan ko kung interesting yan, basta gusto ko i-blog, blog nyo rin yung senyo, ayos ba? AYOS!

estongdakila's Sleeping Disorder

25 August 2008

Ok, its not really a disorder, its just that I'm not used to sleeping in the same room with other people anymore.

Somebody is gonna suddenly turn on the lights to turn in at 2 am...

Somebody is gonna lift your arm to grab a pillow or someting...

Somebody is start flipping the pages of your magazines and intentionally wake you up with the sound.

Somebody is gonna share your TV, your PS2, your bed, your pillows, your blanket, with you.

Somebody will keep the lights on because he's more afraid of the dark than you are.

Somebody is back.

I don't know how long he'll be back but he's back.

I hope he doesn't stay long.

I haven't gotten over the unpleasant homicidal tendencies.

Lampara

17 August 2008

alternate title: Brotherly Love

 

Straight to the point; Sobrang husay ko bang kaibigan na hindi na ako maka-hirit ng mas mataas pa dun? Hindi ko sinasabing mahusay akong kaibiga, ang sinasabi ko e mahusay ako maging kaibigan, magpaka-kaibigan, ganun, at least ganun ang tingin ko. Parang, uh, ideal ba talaga ako sa pagiging kaibigan kaya hindi ako ma-promote? Kumbaga e perfect ako sa pagiging karpintero kaya hindi ako maging, uh, electrician, tek.

(eto nanaman yung mga tek)

Tek, baka naman sa kaibigan lang talaga ako qualified. Per, tek, madalas na masyado na masyado nangyayari ang tulad nito; nauunsyaming application for promotion dahil sa 'brotherly love'. You know what I'm talking about, mayroon ang akong iisang rule at lagi na lang lumalabas ang pangangailangan sumunod sa rule na 'yon. Bakit, bakit ba Lord, bakit nila ako tinatawag na kuya?

Okey, na-realize ko na ang flaws ng rule, hindi naman nila ako tinatawag na 'kuya' for the same reasons. Pero kahit ganun, among the highly plausible reasons na tinatawag nila akong 'kuya' least among them are reasons that are actually good for my. uh. promotion. Another flaw is that people's words do not always reflect how they feel, unfortunately most of these instances I had indicated that the using of 'kuya' is a very concious effort in the past of the speaker and does not imply a Freudian defense mechanism (baka defense mechanism laban sa akin, hwehehehe).

Sa mga nagkaka-ideya na ng dahilan kung bakit ko naisulat ito, sasbihin ko na sa inyong hindi lamang isang pangyayari (na napakalapit sa katotohanan) ang dahilan ng blog na ito. Isa itong pagsasanib-sanib ng lahat ng mga pangyayaring similar na umuugat pa sa munting pangyayari nuong unang panahon na naging dahilan ng pag buo ko sa 'the rule' in the first place.

 

Shit, napaka pathetic ko ngayon.

 
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