Inhale. Close your eyes. Don't breathe out while you listen. Don't worry. This too, shall pass.
Now listen.
My clammy hands were, for the first time, not clammy. I kept inhaling sweat, and sweat kept falling into my eyes, making all those eye muscles contract because of the sting. The orbicularis oculi and levator palpabrae. The, there was a rumble deep down in my guts, a rumbling and a bubbling, and I knew, this wasn't because of the heat anymore.
Now, I was in a formation, and it would have hurt my dignity, asking to be pulled out. It would have hurt even more if I didn't ask, so I made a salute, and asked to be pulled out, only, they didn't allow me, on account of the formation about to end soon.
Long story short, more sweat dropped into my eyes.
After the formation, I ran as fast as a man on the verge of shitting could run, and dammit. Someone else beat me to it. I knocked on the door of the men's restroom, but it was locked. The lights inside were on, and the door was locked. Someone beat me to it.
If you'd care to know, CMSHS has only one fucken toilet bowl. The other one was closed, oh, a million years ago, when they found brown soup in there and the brown soup almost flooded the floors, because they couldn't flush it.
I went to my classroom to leave my bag, because I haven't heard of anyone shitting with a backpack. So I went to my room, and I kept dripping sweat on the floor, and I returned to the restroom. I wished I'd seen the last guy who went in. I mean, REALLY!
The toilet bowl, there's no brown soup in the water. The water's clean, but the rest of the bowl isn't. It's coated with shit, and I mean, coated, like, the shit a baby would shit: fibrous, brownish, yellowish, stinking real bad I swallowed spit and my spit tasted like vomit.
On the walls, there were swirls. The kind of art a kid would make with his fingers. You can tell the swirls were made by fingers, because each swirl is a distorted fingerprint. Each distorted fingerprint, it rubbed the butt of mister whoever and wiped some swirly brown painting on the walls.
On the floor, a pair of underwear. Socks. Both of them soggy and coated yellowish, coated brown, coated with shit.
The water container has water that looks like mud, only the smell diffuses and it doesn't smell anything like mud.
The shit's piling up in my guts. If you'd care to know, the utility people, they left the mop in the restroom. No brooms.
When this sorta thing happens to you, close your eyes. Inhale. Do not breathe out. Reach out for the mop and lock the door. With the mop, sweep off the shit, and sit on the cold porcelain crawling with shit and germs.
Tell yourself, this too shall pass.
Because that's what I did.
It hasn't passed yet. The moment's frozen in time. To be sure, this too, shall pass.
19 July 2009
28 June 2009
the marriage of eddie sparkles and belladonna swan
Eddie marries me, and he makes a big deal out of the marriage, calling it the marriage of vampires or something as mundane as that. Only, I’m not a vampire. Not yet. And we get married in this Catholic Church, holy water and crucifixes and all, and Eddie doesn’t die, and you can tell he isn’t a real vampire. Still, all those teenagers, all those fans he’s got, they all believe Eddie’s a gaddamned vampire, because he sparkles under sunlight. They believe vampires sparkle under the sun. Eddie says that’s because vampires have skins made of diamonds. To be sure, though, that’s just a layer of sweat on his pale, pale skin. And, like, don’t vampires die under the sun?
Shades are enough, Eddie says. He won’t die under the sun if he has shades. Everyone believes him. His fans would believe him if he told them he’s part werewolf, and he transforms every time Pluto crosses over Neptune’s orbit. His fans would believe him, and if you’d ask them why, they’d tell you, Because Eddie Sparkles is a superstar!
That’s his name. Eddie Sparkles. He calls himself that. It’s stupid, sure, but that’s how he gets known, and besides, that’s still a better name than, like, Cullen, or something like that.
I enter the church, only I have a hard time entering because of all these press reporters taking pictures. Not mine. They aren’t allowed to enter the church, the press, so they’re taking pictures of Eddie from the door, and I have to squeeze in to enter. I squeeze in, and everyone looks at me. The cameras stop flashing, mouths hang open, and silence cripples the air with deadly precision. Suddenly I feel everyone looking at me. The ones in front of me turn their torsos to get good looks at me. It’s a hassle, being married to a celebrity.
How Eddie becomes famous, he writes this book about himself. Telling he’s a vampire and all, that sort of thing. It’s his ticket to Hollywood, that book, so now, he sings, and he acts, and he dances, and it’s real ridiculous, because he can’t act to save his life. But that stare… His voice is so edited, he can’t do concerts. But that deep voice… And those dance moves? Body doubles. But those delicious muscles… He’s way gorgeous, so no one notices that he isn’t talented. It doesn’t matter, anyway. That’s why the moment he gets down on his knees with this ring, and he asks me if I will marry him, I don’t think anymore when I answer yes. A lot of people say I don’t think anyway, but that ain’t the point. I enter the church, and there he is, Eddie, waiting for me, standing by the altar. He’s wearing a black suit that makes him look like a mortician, and it contrasts so well with his blond hair fluttering in the wind, whipping him in the face. The hair is whipping him, I mean, not the suit. Such beauty. His black eyes are rolling down my body, making my heart burn with desire. Or maybe this is just indigestion. Anyway, those black eyes, that soft, feathery blond crown, that mouth painted crimson to make him look like he’s just drank blood… Perfect, he’s just perfect. Like a Greek god. Like Apollo.
I approach him, wearing this real thick gown. I can only make out Eddie’s silhouette, but I know it’s him by the altar, because I can feel his radiance. The gown is a white number decorated with lovely laces. It’s a real lovely dress. Eddie says he made it himself. it’s his dream, he says. To be a designer. I take a step forward. My heart beats faster than usual, and my breathing becomes harder. Another step forward. I can feel everyone still looking at me. Behind, there’s the sound of cameras clicking again. Another step forward. I am holding a bouquet in my hands. Red and white roses entwined with small buds of flowers I don’t know. Another step forward. The carpet I am walking on is fuzzy, and as I drag my feet on the carpet it makes my hairs stand on ends. Another step forward. I take a swallow. The spit lingers in my throat, and I have to grunt to force air out, and the spit isn’t there anymore. After a few more steps, I finally reach the altar. I raise the veil and look around. The church is decorated with balloons and drapes and everything, but there are gothic overtones everywhere. The balloons are black. The drapes are decorated with shreds, like moss on a brick wall. In the cage by the ceiling, instead of pigeons, there are bats. Eddie is taking this vampire thing too seriously. At least he’s hot.
I look behind me, and I whisper to Eddie, “Cuckoo?”
Eddie says, “No, I don’t know those people, hon. Maybe they’re fans.”
That much I can tell, the way they’re all looking at me as if I’m a murderer or a rapist or something. They’re all just sitting there, looking at me real silent, their mouths closed tight, eyebrows almost meeting in the centers of their foreheads. More than half his fans are teenage girls. There are some teenage guys too. Some girls are crying, their faces covered by their hands, the tops of their arms moving up and down.
The priest looks at us. He is a fat man wearing glasses, and his head shines under the reflection of the church’s ceiling lights. A few hairs rest on his sparkling scalp. Maybe he’s a vampire too. I don’t know. The priest makes a fist with his right hand and puts it against his mouth. He coughs. Then, he looks at the bible, and he looks at us, and what he says next are not from the bible. “We are here to witness the holy matrimony of two loving souls, Mister Edward Sparkles and Miss Belladonna Birdbrain. If any of you has an objection, please tell it now, for once these two are united by God, they can never be separated by man.” He looks around, and I look around too, turning my neck to look behind me. All the girls look ready to rise and object to the marriage, but before one of them even gets the chance to open her mouth, the priest follows up, “Since no one is objecting to the marriage, let us proceed.”
He looks at Eddie. I think he sighs, the priest, when he looks at my boyfriend. He sighs with a slight smile forming on his thin lips. He says, “Do you, Edward Sparkles, accept Belladonna Birdbrain as your wife?”
Eddie nods, and he smiles. I look at him. He doesn’t have fangs. For all I know, vampires are supposed to have fangs, but Eddie says he files them, since he doesn’t need them anymore, now that he doesn’t drink human blood. He says he only drinks animal blood, says it tastes like tofu. I can’t imagine myself always eating tofu. That would give me a real horrible flatulence.
The priest leans closer to Eddie, and his nostrils flare up. He closes his eyes, taking in Eddie’s intoxicating scent of flowers and beauty. Then he whispers, “You have to say ‘I do.’”
“Oh,” Eddie says. “Of course. Pardon me.”
The priest stands straight again, looks at Eddie and repeats, “I repeat. Do you, Edward Sparkles, accept Belladonna Birdbrain as your wife?”
Eddie nods, and he says, “I do.”
The priest then looks at me. I swear I could see his eyebrows twitching as he says, “Do you, Belladonna Birdbrain, accept Edward Sparkles as your husband?”
I feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach. My heart beats even faster, and I could feel my bosom rising without rhythm. Rising, then falling. Behind me, I could feel a million eyes burning holes in my gaddamned back. I take a deep breath, then I say, “I do.”
Someone I don’t know hands Eddie a ring. Then someone also don’t know hands me a ring. To tell the truth, this whole wedding, Eddie has it planned all by himself. I don’t get involved until now. Eddie slips his ring in my finger, and I slip my ring in his delicate candle-like fingers with manicured nails. Clear nail polish painted so perfect and smooth against that layer of keratin on the top of his finger. I look at the ring in my hand, and it sparkles like Eddie’s sweat. From this far, I can smell him. Even though he smells fragrant, there’s a hint of sweat in it that only makes it even sweeter. I look at Eddie. His skin has no trace of a wrinkle. All smooth and pale and…perfect. Shining blond hair made of perfect straight strands sticks to his forehead because of the sweat, giving him that rugged handsome look.
Eddie looks like he’s about to kiss me, and he opens his mouth, closes his eyes. I do the same as our faces approach each other. Then he whispers to me, “Are you sure you’re a virgin?” I giggle, because in our house, we can’t even say the word… Hee! Hee! The word sex. He smiles, and how I can tell with my eyes closed, I am not sure. Next thing I know, his nose is kissing my neck, and I giggle. It tickles, him breathing against my neck. I could hear all the girls in the audience bawl. Eddie kisses me on the neck, then…
Next thing I feel is pain. He lets go a few throbbing heartbeats after my crippling scream, and I feel my neck with my right hand. I could trace his teeth marks on my skin, and when I look at my fingers, there’s the sight of glistening crimson. I look at Eddie, and he’s smiling. His teeth are all bloody. “Welcome to the family,” he says. After that, I don’t quite remember what happens. I think everything goes dark at this point, then, I wake up in the bedroom shivering from cold, and I learn that I am naked save for my pink underwear. I cover myself up, but then I realize, I am already married.
I tell Eddie, just for the record, I don’t feel quite like a member of his family. Also, just for the record, I’ve never seen his family.
Eddie sits beside me on the bed. He kisses my wound, and he licks it as he unbuttons his mortician suit. Eddie says it takes time, but really, I can’t tell the difference since that time he bites me in the neck. I don’t think I’ve turned into a vampire. I mean, I still feel like a human. The only thing that’s changed with me is I got scars.
I don’t really feel like I am afflicted with vampirism, but I’m worrying about rabies. I hope I’m dead before Pluto crosses over with Neptune.
If not, I might turn into a gaddamned werewolf.
Shades are enough, Eddie says. He won’t die under the sun if he has shades. Everyone believes him. His fans would believe him if he told them he’s part werewolf, and he transforms every time Pluto crosses over Neptune’s orbit. His fans would believe him, and if you’d ask them why, they’d tell you, Because Eddie Sparkles is a superstar!
That’s his name. Eddie Sparkles. He calls himself that. It’s stupid, sure, but that’s how he gets known, and besides, that’s still a better name than, like, Cullen, or something like that.
I enter the church, only I have a hard time entering because of all these press reporters taking pictures. Not mine. They aren’t allowed to enter the church, the press, so they’re taking pictures of Eddie from the door, and I have to squeeze in to enter. I squeeze in, and everyone looks at me. The cameras stop flashing, mouths hang open, and silence cripples the air with deadly precision. Suddenly I feel everyone looking at me. The ones in front of me turn their torsos to get good looks at me. It’s a hassle, being married to a celebrity.
How Eddie becomes famous, he writes this book about himself. Telling he’s a vampire and all, that sort of thing. It’s his ticket to Hollywood, that book, so now, he sings, and he acts, and he dances, and it’s real ridiculous, because he can’t act to save his life. But that stare… His voice is so edited, he can’t do concerts. But that deep voice… And those dance moves? Body doubles. But those delicious muscles… He’s way gorgeous, so no one notices that he isn’t talented. It doesn’t matter, anyway. That’s why the moment he gets down on his knees with this ring, and he asks me if I will marry him, I don’t think anymore when I answer yes. A lot of people say I don’t think anyway, but that ain’t the point. I enter the church, and there he is, Eddie, waiting for me, standing by the altar. He’s wearing a black suit that makes him look like a mortician, and it contrasts so well with his blond hair fluttering in the wind, whipping him in the face. The hair is whipping him, I mean, not the suit. Such beauty. His black eyes are rolling down my body, making my heart burn with desire. Or maybe this is just indigestion. Anyway, those black eyes, that soft, feathery blond crown, that mouth painted crimson to make him look like he’s just drank blood… Perfect, he’s just perfect. Like a Greek god. Like Apollo.
I approach him, wearing this real thick gown. I can only make out Eddie’s silhouette, but I know it’s him by the altar, because I can feel his radiance. The gown is a white number decorated with lovely laces. It’s a real lovely dress. Eddie says he made it himself. it’s his dream, he says. To be a designer. I take a step forward. My heart beats faster than usual, and my breathing becomes harder. Another step forward. I can feel everyone still looking at me. Behind, there’s the sound of cameras clicking again. Another step forward. I am holding a bouquet in my hands. Red and white roses entwined with small buds of flowers I don’t know. Another step forward. The carpet I am walking on is fuzzy, and as I drag my feet on the carpet it makes my hairs stand on ends. Another step forward. I take a swallow. The spit lingers in my throat, and I have to grunt to force air out, and the spit isn’t there anymore. After a few more steps, I finally reach the altar. I raise the veil and look around. The church is decorated with balloons and drapes and everything, but there are gothic overtones everywhere. The balloons are black. The drapes are decorated with shreds, like moss on a brick wall. In the cage by the ceiling, instead of pigeons, there are bats. Eddie is taking this vampire thing too seriously. At least he’s hot.
I look behind me, and I whisper to Eddie, “Cuckoo?”
Eddie says, “No, I don’t know those people, hon. Maybe they’re fans.”
That much I can tell, the way they’re all looking at me as if I’m a murderer or a rapist or something. They’re all just sitting there, looking at me real silent, their mouths closed tight, eyebrows almost meeting in the centers of their foreheads. More than half his fans are teenage girls. There are some teenage guys too. Some girls are crying, their faces covered by their hands, the tops of their arms moving up and down.
The priest looks at us. He is a fat man wearing glasses, and his head shines under the reflection of the church’s ceiling lights. A few hairs rest on his sparkling scalp. Maybe he’s a vampire too. I don’t know. The priest makes a fist with his right hand and puts it against his mouth. He coughs. Then, he looks at the bible, and he looks at us, and what he says next are not from the bible. “We are here to witness the holy matrimony of two loving souls, Mister Edward Sparkles and Miss Belladonna Birdbrain. If any of you has an objection, please tell it now, for once these two are united by God, they can never be separated by man.” He looks around, and I look around too, turning my neck to look behind me. All the girls look ready to rise and object to the marriage, but before one of them even gets the chance to open her mouth, the priest follows up, “Since no one is objecting to the marriage, let us proceed.”
He looks at Eddie. I think he sighs, the priest, when he looks at my boyfriend. He sighs with a slight smile forming on his thin lips. He says, “Do you, Edward Sparkles, accept Belladonna Birdbrain as your wife?”
Eddie nods, and he smiles. I look at him. He doesn’t have fangs. For all I know, vampires are supposed to have fangs, but Eddie says he files them, since he doesn’t need them anymore, now that he doesn’t drink human blood. He says he only drinks animal blood, says it tastes like tofu. I can’t imagine myself always eating tofu. That would give me a real horrible flatulence.
The priest leans closer to Eddie, and his nostrils flare up. He closes his eyes, taking in Eddie’s intoxicating scent of flowers and beauty. Then he whispers, “You have to say ‘I do.’”
“Oh,” Eddie says. “Of course. Pardon me.”
The priest stands straight again, looks at Eddie and repeats, “I repeat. Do you, Edward Sparkles, accept Belladonna Birdbrain as your wife?”
Eddie nods, and he says, “I do.”
The priest then looks at me. I swear I could see his eyebrows twitching as he says, “Do you, Belladonna Birdbrain, accept Edward Sparkles as your husband?”
I feel butterflies fluttering in my stomach. My heart beats even faster, and I could feel my bosom rising without rhythm. Rising, then falling. Behind me, I could feel a million eyes burning holes in my gaddamned back. I take a deep breath, then I say, “I do.”
Someone I don’t know hands Eddie a ring. Then someone also don’t know hands me a ring. To tell the truth, this whole wedding, Eddie has it planned all by himself. I don’t get involved until now. Eddie slips his ring in my finger, and I slip my ring in his delicate candle-like fingers with manicured nails. Clear nail polish painted so perfect and smooth against that layer of keratin on the top of his finger. I look at the ring in my hand, and it sparkles like Eddie’s sweat. From this far, I can smell him. Even though he smells fragrant, there’s a hint of sweat in it that only makes it even sweeter. I look at Eddie. His skin has no trace of a wrinkle. All smooth and pale and…perfect. Shining blond hair made of perfect straight strands sticks to his forehead because of the sweat, giving him that rugged handsome look.
Eddie looks like he’s about to kiss me, and he opens his mouth, closes his eyes. I do the same as our faces approach each other. Then he whispers to me, “Are you sure you’re a virgin?” I giggle, because in our house, we can’t even say the word… Hee! Hee! The word sex. He smiles, and how I can tell with my eyes closed, I am not sure. Next thing I know, his nose is kissing my neck, and I giggle. It tickles, him breathing against my neck. I could hear all the girls in the audience bawl. Eddie kisses me on the neck, then…
Next thing I feel is pain. He lets go a few throbbing heartbeats after my crippling scream, and I feel my neck with my right hand. I could trace his teeth marks on my skin, and when I look at my fingers, there’s the sight of glistening crimson. I look at Eddie, and he’s smiling. His teeth are all bloody. “Welcome to the family,” he says. After that, I don’t quite remember what happens. I think everything goes dark at this point, then, I wake up in the bedroom shivering from cold, and I learn that I am naked save for my pink underwear. I cover myself up, but then I realize, I am already married.
I tell Eddie, just for the record, I don’t feel quite like a member of his family. Also, just for the record, I’ve never seen his family.
Eddie sits beside me on the bed. He kisses my wound, and he licks it as he unbuttons his mortician suit. Eddie says it takes time, but really, I can’t tell the difference since that time he bites me in the neck. I don’t think I’ve turned into a vampire. I mean, I still feel like a human. The only thing that’s changed with me is I got scars.
I don’t really feel like I am afflicted with vampirism, but I’m worrying about rabies. I hope I’m dead before Pluto crosses over with Neptune.
If not, I might turn into a gaddamned werewolf.
17 June 2009
swansong
he would walk on the toes of his pincushion feet, making himself lighter, bunching up his body to make him smaller. His tail is pointed upwards, his whole body is straight. In the darkness he would hide, concealing himself through his black stripes that blend wll in shadows. He is one with the shadow, and all that are visible are twin orbs of light green. Pupils are dilated.
He prepares for the attack.
At the last moment, he would jump with a growl, his claws out, fur standing on ends. He would cling to my nearest foot, scratching me, biting me,mewing with that same mew that he first gave me. A mew of pity. Asking for food, perhaps. Maybe attention. I didn't really know.
All I knew was, I could get used to that. My skin all sore and scarred, bloodied and wounded and possibly infected with rabies, I'd just laugh that off.
Really, I could get used to that.
I just couldn't get used to my cat being dead.
***
I was supposed to make a swansong for him, only now he's real dead. It was supposed to end with We miss your moonwalk. We miss your career.
The king of pop is dead.
He's dead, and I can't believe it.
This ain't one of those I'm-kissing-your-ass-and-blowing-your-dick-because-you're-dead thing. I already did that. When he was still alive.
Such energy.
Amazing voice. Great collaborations. Incredible music videos. Michael Jackson gave everyone their money's worth.
Sad that he had to die as a monster who allegedly raped a kid. Now, all those rumors can be finally put to rest.
Rest in peace, michael. You earned it. You did a great job.
He prepares for the attack.
At the last moment, he would jump with a growl, his claws out, fur standing on ends. He would cling to my nearest foot, scratching me, biting me,mewing with that same mew that he first gave me. A mew of pity. Asking for food, perhaps. Maybe attention. I didn't really know.
All I knew was, I could get used to that. My skin all sore and scarred, bloodied and wounded and possibly infected with rabies, I'd just laugh that off.
Really, I could get used to that.
I just couldn't get used to my cat being dead.
***
I was supposed to make a swansong for him, only now he's real dead. It was supposed to end with We miss your moonwalk. We miss your career.
The king of pop is dead.
He's dead, and I can't believe it.
This ain't one of those I'm-kissing-your-ass-and-blowing-your-dick-because-you're-dead thing. I already did that. When he was still alive.
Such energy.
Amazing voice. Great collaborations. Incredible music videos. Michael Jackson gave everyone their money's worth.
Sad that he had to die as a monster who allegedly raped a kid. Now, all those rumors can be finally put to rest.
Rest in peace, michael. You earned it. You did a great job.
06 June 2009
sunshine and children and sexuality,oh my!
rosie calls me sunshine.says i got a very sunshiny disposition.how that happens, i got no idea,because i fall asleep while we're texting, and i forget what we're talking about.
another sunshine moment comes, though, when she says, i don't know what i say that makes her say it, but she tells me, "I'm a feminist. Can't be too strong."
And i say, "You can lactate. The vagina has a thousand (or more?) nerve endings. men are supposed to be weak around you."
I ask her, how does that make you vulnerable?
well,what she says, what she says is she likes my way of thinking. and i tell her, of course, it's just the power hierarchy reversed, so maybe a couple of years or decades from now, men will be back in power. gays will be shunned, women enslaved.
and she calls me sunshine.
i got this crush on a kid.not a major crush,but the kid's real pretty.you ever see people so beautiful you know they're gonna grow beautiful, that's how beautiful she is. that small frame, that young skin, her hair, her eyes, her smile full of milk teeth...
she's gonna grow into a beautiful woman.
it's good to play sweet child o' mine by guns n roses.
oh by the way, i hope that aint to creepy.
and i hope this aint too creepy,but...no, never mind.it's too creepy.
cherry calls me gay.
what's wrong with the word bongga?or ever?or chenes?
hell, i picked that up from paulo!
and no i aint gay. im bisexual.
i dont find anything wrong in being gay though.my idols are gay.freddie mercury is gay.chuck palahniuk is gay.
surprise though,is what i've read in the dictionary.gay man, that used to mean womanizer.
so i definitely aint gay.
another sunshine moment comes, though, when she says, i don't know what i say that makes her say it, but she tells me, "I'm a feminist. Can't be too strong."
And i say, "You can lactate. The vagina has a thousand (or more?) nerve endings. men are supposed to be weak around you."
I ask her, how does that make you vulnerable?
well,what she says, what she says is she likes my way of thinking. and i tell her, of course, it's just the power hierarchy reversed, so maybe a couple of years or decades from now, men will be back in power. gays will be shunned, women enslaved.
and she calls me sunshine.
i got this crush on a kid.not a major crush,but the kid's real pretty.you ever see people so beautiful you know they're gonna grow beautiful, that's how beautiful she is. that small frame, that young skin, her hair, her eyes, her smile full of milk teeth...
she's gonna grow into a beautiful woman.
it's good to play sweet child o' mine by guns n roses.
oh by the way, i hope that aint to creepy.
and i hope this aint too creepy,but...no, never mind.it's too creepy.
cherry calls me gay.
what's wrong with the word bongga?or ever?or chenes?
hell, i picked that up from paulo!
and no i aint gay. im bisexual.
i dont find anything wrong in being gay though.my idols are gay.freddie mercury is gay.chuck palahniuk is gay.
surprise though,is what i've read in the dictionary.gay man, that used to mean womanizer.
so i definitely aint gay.
01 June 2009
WORD SALAD (a poem)
horse stomp stomp whip neigh
cat claw meow meow
dog run fetch jump stay
chicken fly peck crow
clouds high white fluffy sway
people happy greet hello
children laugh run jump play
people work school go
village small dirt road dust
sky cornflower large blue
bunny hop eat jump fast
beautiful sigh smile true
life simple nonsense slow happy
people old young smile
don't you want this kind of simplicity?
why don't you stay for a while?
TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK, PEOPLE. THIS IS VERY EXPERIMENTAL, I MUST SAY, BUT IT WORKED FOR ME. I THINK.
cat claw meow meow
dog run fetch jump stay
chicken fly peck crow
clouds high white fluffy sway
people happy greet hello
children laugh run jump play
people work school go
village small dirt road dust
sky cornflower large blue
bunny hop eat jump fast
beautiful sigh smile true
life simple nonsense slow happy
people old young smile
don't you want this kind of simplicity?
why don't you stay for a while?
TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK, PEOPLE. THIS IS VERY EXPERIMENTAL, I MUST SAY, BUT IT WORKED FOR ME. I THINK.
31 May 2009
on immortality
like, what do you think of immortality?
what, to you, is immortality?
if you are alive, and you are alive forever, but no one knows who you are, are you immortal?
if you do not age, but you could be wounded, justlike the greek gods (ares comes to mind--the coward who runs away from battles once wounded)are you immortal?
what if you are immortal, and all your friends die, and the world explodes?
let's say you're floating in outer space, lungs withered from lack of air, you feeling all sorta pain, like chest pains or burns, you flying in space, trapped between the scorching heat of the sun and the blistering outer space cold.
you shout, help, but since you're in space, no one can hear you.
what if, right?
to make matters worse, what if you got donald trump's hair?
now that sucks, doesn't it?
in the zoo, to escape boredom, animals masturbate.
what if you're just left with your upper torso?
how can you fight your own boredom?
do you still think immortality is inviting?
*this message has been brought to you by random-thought-of-the-day.com, the site that doesn't exist.*
what, to you, is immortality?
if you are alive, and you are alive forever, but no one knows who you are, are you immortal?
if you do not age, but you could be wounded, justlike the greek gods (ares comes to mind--the coward who runs away from battles once wounded)are you immortal?
what if you are immortal, and all your friends die, and the world explodes?
let's say you're floating in outer space, lungs withered from lack of air, you feeling all sorta pain, like chest pains or burns, you flying in space, trapped between the scorching heat of the sun and the blistering outer space cold.
you shout, help, but since you're in space, no one can hear you.
what if, right?
to make matters worse, what if you got donald trump's hair?
now that sucks, doesn't it?
in the zoo, to escape boredom, animals masturbate.
what if you're just left with your upper torso?
how can you fight your own boredom?
do you still think immortality is inviting?
*this message has been brought to you by random-thought-of-the-day.com, the site that doesn't exist.*
28 May 2009
superhero
You see the logo of Mozilla Firefox.
Hello and welcome to our humble town with a population of seven hundred thirty-nine. Formerly, this was a village, but, well, things happen. Shit happens. Three quarters of our population are made of the tourists who stay here. The rest, we’re the survivors of a calamity, we’re the only ones left. Not a lot of people leave after staying here, you see. We’re the true citizens of this town, this town which used to be a village, and we are your slaves.
You see the logo of Cartoon Network.
What’s that? No. No, you aren’t seeing a small jet plane, or a kite, or a blimp. That noise isn’t an engine noise. It’s either a laugh or a cry. We can’t tell, really. It’s a superhero, but it’s not even the shooting of the latest superhero film, since he killed, murdered, some say, he killed the whole superhero genre. You’re seeing our local superhero. Not that local though, because sometimes he also goes to the city to meet his sponsors.
You see the logo of Esprit.
What are you saying that we’re lucky to have a hero?
You see the Coca-Cola lettering.
He used to have a logo that looked like a pawn outlined in black. It was a white chess piece with a circle for a head, and below that, there was the body looked like a Florence flask, long and narrow at the neck, wide at the body, flat at the butt. He used to have a logo, and then he gave that logo up.
You see the logo of Adidas.
It took quite a time for the people to get used to that. Before, when he was still starting out, trouble would strike and the police would flash a signal in the sky that looked like a silhouette of his logo. When he gave his logo up, it took quite a while for him to respond.
You see the logo of Nike.
The people used to shout different names. They used to shout “PAWN!” or “SAVIOR!” and he’d be there. The name never mattered for him before. Now, people don’t know what to call him anymore.
You see the logo of Lacoste.
He used to look so clean. He had a grey leather hood on his head, a grey domino mask on his face, and a white leather suit, grey leather gloves and grey leather boots. No capes, because he used to have one and it tripped him up. At least that’s what he said. On his chest, the logo. A white pawn outlined in black. He used to look so clean, he still wears that outfit, sure, but now, he looks like he’s made of worn-out leather seats full of stickers.
You see the logo of Gatorade.
You see the logo of McDonald’s.
You see the logo of Johnny Walker.
You see the logo of almost everything. You see different logos except his own. Banks and restaurants and clothing lines and electronics companies. On his body, there’s Sony and Ferrari and Puma and Tommy Hilfiger. On his back, Apple and Nintendo and Calvin Klein. There’s Tag Heuer on one glove, Motorola on the other. One of his leather boots looks like a street artist played with it, courtesy of Marc Ecko’s Unlimited Footwear, while under the other boot, you see the logo of Diesel. On his mask, there’s Lee and Pik-Nik. On his hood, there’s Valve and Nickelodeon and MTV. There’s now more of his costume and less of him as a hero. We can’t even call him a hero anymore. He’s just a flying, punching, super billboard.
If ever you’re in trouble, let’s say there’s a mugger who’s pointing a knife at your neck, try calling for help. Try shouting “PAWN!” and he might come. That’s the name people gave him, after his logo, so when he gave the logo up, we were confused. we didn’t know what to call him, but in the end, we agreed on Pawn. Try shouting that when you’re in trouble. He might come. He just might come before the mugger sticks the knife in your neck and cuts off your jugular. He’ll come, to be sure, unless he’s in the city, signing contracts for his sponsors, promoting products, appearing in commercials. He’s got supersonic hearing. To be sure, he’ll hear you. What’s not sure is if he will come.
You see the logo for Kraft.
So what are you saying that we’re lucky to have a hero?
Well, sure, we used to be lucky. He appeared out of nowhere to save us when we needed it. It was a monster. You ever heard of that? The Ghost, they called him. That skinny man half Pawn’s height wearing black tights and a white mask with a Rorschach blot resembling a face. Heard of him? Pawn saved us from him. Maybe he killed him. Maybe Pawn killed The Ghost, I mean. Who knows? We were all out of the village, because that time this was still a village, we were all out of the village when that happened. We had to evacuate, because, well, they fought and it was such a big fight and it destroyed the place.
Doesn’t look much destroyed now, huh? Well, the first wave of tourist money helped us renovate, so sure, we welcomed tourists. Then we expanded the place into a town. Trouble is, they don’t stop coming anymore. You don’t stop coming and now we’re overrun and we’re now dependent on tourist money. The tourist money, that is to say, your money, and the Pawn. If we get rid of Pawn, if we stop the tourists from coming, our economy will fall.
You see the smiley.
Well, we asked Pawn to stay. That turned out to be our biggest mistake. Since he stayed here, this place has been overrun by tourists. Now our town’s getting poorer and poorer. Not really, but, well. Plus, we’ve been depending on his help to get us out of situations we could have gotten ourselves out of. Ever since he appeared, the Pawn, we’ve been crippled, especially when he began having those sponsors.
You see the logo for Atari.
You see the logo for IBM.
Well, I tell you, when he gave his logo up, people didn’t know who to trust anymore. People would shout his name and that’s all they can do. They can’t fight anymore. we can’t fight anymore. People would shout his name and he won’t come anymore. The Pawn, he’s killing us from inside.
Sure, we were lucky, we used to be lucky, but…well, what you’re saying, that we’re lucky to have a hero…
All we got is a prostitute.
You see the Playboy bunny.
Hello and welcome to our humble town with a population of seven hundred thirty-nine. Formerly, this was a village, but, well, things happen. Shit happens. Three quarters of our population are made of the tourists who stay here. The rest, we’re the survivors of a calamity, we’re the only ones left. Not a lot of people leave after staying here, you see. We’re the true citizens of this town, this town which used to be a village, and we are your slaves.
You see the logo of Cartoon Network.
What’s that? No. No, you aren’t seeing a small jet plane, or a kite, or a blimp. That noise isn’t an engine noise. It’s either a laugh or a cry. We can’t tell, really. It’s a superhero, but it’s not even the shooting of the latest superhero film, since he killed, murdered, some say, he killed the whole superhero genre. You’re seeing our local superhero. Not that local though, because sometimes he also goes to the city to meet his sponsors.
You see the logo of Esprit.
What are you saying that we’re lucky to have a hero?
You see the Coca-Cola lettering.
He used to have a logo that looked like a pawn outlined in black. It was a white chess piece with a circle for a head, and below that, there was the body looked like a Florence flask, long and narrow at the neck, wide at the body, flat at the butt. He used to have a logo, and then he gave that logo up.
You see the logo of Adidas.
It took quite a time for the people to get used to that. Before, when he was still starting out, trouble would strike and the police would flash a signal in the sky that looked like a silhouette of his logo. When he gave his logo up, it took quite a while for him to respond.
You see the logo of Nike.
The people used to shout different names. They used to shout “PAWN!” or “SAVIOR!” and he’d be there. The name never mattered for him before. Now, people don’t know what to call him anymore.
You see the logo of Lacoste.
He used to look so clean. He had a grey leather hood on his head, a grey domino mask on his face, and a white leather suit, grey leather gloves and grey leather boots. No capes, because he used to have one and it tripped him up. At least that’s what he said. On his chest, the logo. A white pawn outlined in black. He used to look so clean, he still wears that outfit, sure, but now, he looks like he’s made of worn-out leather seats full of stickers.
You see the logo of Gatorade.
You see the logo of McDonald’s.
You see the logo of Johnny Walker.
You see the logo of almost everything. You see different logos except his own. Banks and restaurants and clothing lines and electronics companies. On his body, there’s Sony and Ferrari and Puma and Tommy Hilfiger. On his back, Apple and Nintendo and Calvin Klein. There’s Tag Heuer on one glove, Motorola on the other. One of his leather boots looks like a street artist played with it, courtesy of Marc Ecko’s Unlimited Footwear, while under the other boot, you see the logo of Diesel. On his mask, there’s Lee and Pik-Nik. On his hood, there’s Valve and Nickelodeon and MTV. There’s now more of his costume and less of him as a hero. We can’t even call him a hero anymore. He’s just a flying, punching, super billboard.
If ever you’re in trouble, let’s say there’s a mugger who’s pointing a knife at your neck, try calling for help. Try shouting “PAWN!” and he might come. That’s the name people gave him, after his logo, so when he gave the logo up, we were confused. we didn’t know what to call him, but in the end, we agreed on Pawn. Try shouting that when you’re in trouble. He might come. He just might come before the mugger sticks the knife in your neck and cuts off your jugular. He’ll come, to be sure, unless he’s in the city, signing contracts for his sponsors, promoting products, appearing in commercials. He’s got supersonic hearing. To be sure, he’ll hear you. What’s not sure is if he will come.
You see the logo for Kraft.
So what are you saying that we’re lucky to have a hero?
Well, sure, we used to be lucky. He appeared out of nowhere to save us when we needed it. It was a monster. You ever heard of that? The Ghost, they called him. That skinny man half Pawn’s height wearing black tights and a white mask with a Rorschach blot resembling a face. Heard of him? Pawn saved us from him. Maybe he killed him. Maybe Pawn killed The Ghost, I mean. Who knows? We were all out of the village, because that time this was still a village, we were all out of the village when that happened. We had to evacuate, because, well, they fought and it was such a big fight and it destroyed the place.
Doesn’t look much destroyed now, huh? Well, the first wave of tourist money helped us renovate, so sure, we welcomed tourists. Then we expanded the place into a town. Trouble is, they don’t stop coming anymore. You don’t stop coming and now we’re overrun and we’re now dependent on tourist money. The tourist money, that is to say, your money, and the Pawn. If we get rid of Pawn, if we stop the tourists from coming, our economy will fall.
You see the smiley.
Well, we asked Pawn to stay. That turned out to be our biggest mistake. Since he stayed here, this place has been overrun by tourists. Now our town’s getting poorer and poorer. Not really, but, well. Plus, we’ve been depending on his help to get us out of situations we could have gotten ourselves out of. Ever since he appeared, the Pawn, we’ve been crippled, especially when he began having those sponsors.
You see the logo for Atari.
You see the logo for IBM.
Well, I tell you, when he gave his logo up, people didn’t know who to trust anymore. People would shout his name and that’s all they can do. They can’t fight anymore. we can’t fight anymore. People would shout his name and he won’t come anymore. The Pawn, he’s killing us from inside.
Sure, we were lucky, we used to be lucky, but…well, what you’re saying, that we’re lucky to have a hero…
All we got is a prostitute.
You see the Playboy bunny.
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