December 2nd, 2007
I haven't posted POSTED AT 09:09 PM Reading: Elfriede Jelinek's Wonderful Wonderful Times Listening to: Number One Blind ng Veruca Salt Kill Rock Stars!
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September 26th, 2007
King of Nothing to Do POSTED AT 01:54 AM Just got back from Cebu, and I must say, it was enjoyable! Although, at first, I thought bird watching was for boring people. Well, I was glad that the members of the Wild Bird Club of the Philippines proved me wrong. So, I have a nice tan to show even though I know squat about swimming (sadly, I don't even know how to float unless you tie me with flotation devices). I was pretty bored today at work, because I only finished two immediate "orders." The good thing about this job is: they decided to let a lot of us in as permanent employees as opposed to coterminous or contractual ones (I don't like the sound of "contractual," it makes me think I'm an SM lady). I just needed to submit some things to make it official. Reading: Iain Banks's The Business Listening to: Babes in Toyland's Laugh My Head Off Watching: Gamera 3: Revenge of Iris Feeling: working |
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July 21st, 2007
July 18th, 2007
Mga Pinapakinggan... POSTED AT 02:07 AM
Reading: Yun parin Listening to: Mono's High Life Feeling: sore |
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July 18th, 2007
Mga babasahin kuning kuning POSTED AT 01:09 AM
Reading: Dorothy Sayers' Lord Peter Listening to: Crustation's Flame Feeling: working |
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July 12th, 2007
Syet! POSTED AT 09:55 PM But no, after the almost tear-stained face, I still have time for a photo: 
Reading: Lord Peter ni Dorothy L. Sayers Listening to: Rosemary Call The Goddess by Angelica |
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July 5th, 2007
I am a lezzzbian... POSTED AT 07:53 PM I watched my friend's play last night (after I got drenched by the rains... darn... and as God has a vendetta against me for the past few years, I had to find an outlet so I can plug my cellphone charger. You see, my old phone's charger died on me so I had to use an old Nokia unit. But, this stupid Nokia unit always dies on me. I had to use the cellphone charger to "defibrillate" it.), at his insistence, he told me that a character was patterned after me. Ok… So, how did it go? Well, the words “I am a lezzbian,” aren’t merely words. I think. In a nutshell, I don’t like the company of men. Alpha males, at that, very much. To an extreme, I guess I’m a feminazi at heart, and I’d like to put Valerie Solañas’s “teachings” close to my heart. That is why I am averse to such “rough” sports, I eschew “testosterone-laden” activities. It’s just not worth it. Well, that’s my opinion.
Honestly, I really do admire my friend who wrote it. Even though he’s wallowing and working with the corpo-rats in a BPO, he still manages to write well thought-out and very well written plays. Which I can’t say the same for me. It’s all the same excuses for me, I have two or three stories but I can’t seem to finish them because I’m always tired from work, or I’m neck deep with work (as Allan would have said, “if you don’t have time for the Arts, the Arts won’t have time for you either.” True, true. I won’t make any promises until I have finished everything. I’ve written this 2 pager, do read and tell me what you think. Ok? I dreamed that I can extend it to 10 or a 15 pager, but yes, it’s still a 2 pager). Ay oo nga pala, the two pager (silly me): A Tangle of Snakes I am going to commit murder. I am going to kill. Now that I have given voice to my intention, I feel comfortably relaxed. Perhaps the deed itself will be an anticlimax. But I think not. THE DOOR OPENED and the smiles of Mr. and Mrs. Lopez greeted me. They brought with them a bowl of stew, and a chafing dish of shrimp and fish tempura. Mrs. Roldan, from out of nowhere, butted in. “What did you bring dears? I hope it's not meat. Pork, beef, and chicken. They're all the same. They all give me the itch." Mr. Lopez frowned and grumbled and he had not even stepped in. Mrs. Lopez, with a smirk, answered. "Of course not, darling. We always think of you whenever we have gatherings such as this." Cheek to cheek, Mrs. Roldan then waved them in. I brought the bowl and Mr. Lopez followed me with the chafing dish. "Is everybody here?" He asked. Everyone chatted with everybody. They make up for lost time. Everyone wore their best gowns. I sensed that more than half of them came from the same couturiers. I almost laughed when I welcomed Mrs. Abad, Mrs. Perez, and Ms. Katrina (Mr. Santos's live-in partner). Their gowns were of almost the same design except for their skirt lengths. My husband came up from behind and kissed me on the left cheek. Everyone looked at us. I kissed him back and laughed a little. This was a party, anyway. I hired a band to play the jazz oldies. Everyone should have danced the night away, but the dancing didn't come. Of course! They were seated and they talked to each other. After two hours of continuous playing, I had the help play the CDs instead. Ella Fitzgerald's Cry Me a River started to play and this night felt like that it would be the night. "Now you say you're lonely… You cry the whole night through... " It was early 8pm when everybody was either seated on the sofa while the others were outside smoking. The plates of foie de gras and Hors d'Oeuvres were emptied. When I saw that, I decided that tonight's gathering should start. Of course, the guest of honor should be here before we do anything. I called up Mrs. Tan twenty minutes ago, and unluckily she and her husband were caught in traffic. The guest of honor, Mr. Cruz rode with them. MRS. ROLDAN SAT by the dining table, with her arms set apart. Her fingers, wet with a white like viscous substance. It seemed so disgusting that she would be applying deodorant. I rushed over to her, and when I was a few paces away, she stood. With a wan smile, she held both of my arms. I almost slapped her. "It's just lotion, dear. We didn't want to be late, so we rushed. Not unlike those chinks. Which brings to mind, where are they?" I turned my head, and the chimes started to play. The guests started to part in the middle to give way to the patron, Mr. Cruz. He looked so emaciated. His head rested on his left shoulder while Mrs. Tan wiped the drool. The guests were applauding the guest of honor's arrival. The women were wiping their tears, while the men shook Mr. Cruz's hands. As he passed, we, all of us followed him to the dining table as a birthday cake's candles were being lighted. No recognition can be traced on his face. Pushing his wheelchair past the podium, an applause ensued. (The maids came out. Four of them had their heads on fire. While another three had knives sticking out of their necks. The guests cleared a path for them. And when they fell, they sipped their martinis.) (Men in black garments who waited outside rushed in. They placed the dead helps in the body bags and tagged as SHS 7. One of them approached me to get more instructions.) “Burn them outside.” I said. “But, people will see.” A faceless man interrupted. “Isn’t this a celebration?” I sipped my champagne. I looked them in the eye. “Nothing like a few fireworks.” Mr. Gonzales came in late. He looked dapper, as usual. A boy of 6 or 7 in tow. Mr. Cruz was left in the middle of the stage as confetti fell. Music piped in. Married couples started to form a circle just a few feet from the stage. The women rested their head on their husbands’ shoulders, while the husbands had their hands just above their wives’ waistlines. IT all looked romantic until the boy came crashing down the middle of the circle. The rope on his neck broke his fall, and I rushed towards him. A cup in hand, I gulped the martini, or the champagne, down. “Give me the knife” I told Mrs. Roldan. “The What?” She retorted. “Oh. A knife. I’ll get it for you dear, no need to be greedy.” She disappeared in the blackness, and then I could see the boy twitching his last gasps. Reading: Piercing by Ryu Murakami Listening to: Vein by Diamanda Galas Watching: Desperate Living ni John Waters Feeling: hungry |
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Anyway, onto the play. I really found the play very funny, offensive, and a tad subversive. If you find and understand the joke. If you don’t, well the jokes are on you. (So, if you have time this afternoon, do watch Kasaysayan 3PM at the Huseng Batute in CCP. 3 plays for only 200p, with this play, it’s all worth it. As an added bonus, you get to see me “immortalized.” I was just mortified that me as a lezzbian engaged in a 3-way all male action. Yeah, that was the “WHAT THE?!” moment for me.)June 26th, 2007
Lemmings Cont'd POSTED AT 10:49 PM I don't have any beef with people who write about their sexual encounters (believe me, I'm not getting any, but I'm not envious... well, a bit), but isn't there a bigger picture? A more disturbing one? The japanese erotica I read, or the european ones have that cosmic sense that it's not just about the release of bodily fluids. So, what gives? Reading: Ryu Murakami's Piercing Listening to: Arsonist by Persephone's Bees Feeling: weird |
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June 26th, 2007
Lemmings POSTED AT 09:27 PM I was bloghopping (not again?!?!) yesterday, and I discovered that everybody's still into ... sex? And no lezzies, but more gayness. I'm not against that per se, but hey, let's be equal here. Where are the dykes? It's the information age (or so they say), but I have yet to read a blog by a dyke detailing her sordid sexual day to day escapades/sexcapades. The first time I did something outrageous was 5 years ago. I wrote my "Last Will," and that scared some of my friends. They were thinking that I will kill myself. But, why? I mean, why kill myself? Well, honestly, I was at a low ebb back then, and killing myself was an option that I did consider. I was really stubborn, so I didn't. I will have to drag everyone down with me (roll ominous music). That time has passed, the dragging everyone down with you part since I pretty much matured, but the violence part is instilled in me too greatly to just ignore it. Reading: Virginie Despente's Baise Moi Listening to: Lydia Lunch's Lucy's Lost Her Head Again Feeling: morose |
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