Polymorphously Perverse |
| April 2nd, 2008 posted by white garapata under Literary. [ Comments: 3 ]
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(Warning: Mature contents with complex “Science” below.)
ALVY
Unbelievably sexy. Yes, you are.
Because … you know what you are?
You’re-you’re polymorphously perverse.
ANNIE
Well, what does-what does that mean?
I don’t know what that is.
ALVY
Uh … uh, you’re-you’re exceptional
in bed because you got -you get pleasure
in every part of your body when I touch you.
-From Annie Hall, Woody Allen
Tonight, before sunrise, I write my dream about Memory Lane.
In my dream I transcend space and time, aboard on a train. Traveling in Freudian railway and speeding fast towards the train station called The Collective Unconscious Station. Aboard with me is you. The girl from outer space, the stellar. The mistress of Orpheus with coquettish smile churned with transcendental beauty.
As the train hurtles in the Freudian railway, I depart myself from reality. I make my sexual fantasy real. I ask you to make love with me. No, let me change that. I want to violate you. And you answer me as an answer to my philosophical problem.
And so, dearly beloved, I kiss you. I perverse you. I fancy the moment and somehow feel the place as mystical . The moment comes before me as revelation: you are Eric Clapton’s epic song masterpiece.
I’m staring at you now. I look deep into your eyes and into your nose and into your lips and then I let myself mesmerize with your coquettish smile. I close my eyes and smell your hair that breathes like a perfume rain. Suspended in weightlessness, I kiss you. As your lips is touching mine, I wander within my dream. I remember Julie Delpy and her movie with Ethan Hawke. I remember their dialogues, how they smile, and how they shared their little dreams with each other. With your slutty-oh-God-lyrical shape lips, I remember their romanticism.
I feel like, within dream, the simulacrum is real. I walk like horny somnambulist. I whisper an ode to your ear, slowly my lips travels from your ear to your neck. Do I make you shiver? I touch your breast underneath your shirt and inside of it feel your firm nipple. The gravitational pull between the moon and the earth is yet to intensify. As I gasp, I carefully unbutton all the buttons of your shirt. You moan as I unhook and pull your bra with my teeth down from your breast. How vivacious is the two moons of a distant planet laying before my eyes. My eyes gleams with mischief.
The devil is staring at your silky breast. I imagine them like the two moons of Jupiter. And your nipples, God, they look like diamonds that runs wildly in the river of Nile. Do I inflame you with my stare? I touch, then kiss, then touch, then kiss again your nipples in endless loop. My left hand slowly taking off your pants, next your underwear down to your knee. I do not want to take off all your clothes. You know why. The body being partially naked is sexier than a body that is completely naked.
You’re a good lay. I run my hands all over your body and feel the heat of your eyes. I feel the softness of your breast with my finger violating your delicate maudlin nipples. I close my eyes. With agitation, my hands runs through your tummy. I imagine it as a flat universe. I feel life so wonderful. In a manner like Libertine, I touch your thigh and feel the shape of your pussy. You are wet and creamy now so warm it breathes poetic memories. Your body sway like a verse of a poem as I flip my middle finger inside your wonderful cosmos. Do you enjoy how I violate you? Can you feel the left hand of God touching your cosmos?
And so I perverse you, kiss you, touch you, violate you, and devour you as I enter uninvited to your cosmos. I hold your feet and turn them upward. Faster and faster and faster. I feel the force of gravity breaking up my body. As I feel the wet mystery inside your cosmos, I enslave my elongated self inside the wet vulva of the universe. The singularity ends in brutal climax. And God sigh from a brief supernova explosion that fills the void.
You smile after a long exclamation point!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Tags: erotic,, mature, content
white garapata has blogged 12
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Para sa mga agrabiyadong dukha |
| March 11th, 2008 posted by robie_14 under Literary. [ Comments: none ]
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Naipost ko na nung nakaraan ang isa kong lathalain na pinamagatang “Mga Luha sa Ilalim ng LRT”. Ngayon naman, narito po ang isa lathalain ko na nailathala na sa diyaryong PilipinoStarNgayon at ito ang…
HUSTISYA
Hustisya. Kaygandang sabihin ang salitang ito. Hustisya o hustisya poetika? Hustisyang talaga o hustisyang Diyos-ko-bahala-ka-na? Ano pa nga ba’ng magagawa ko? Batid naman ng lahat, tatlo lamang ang ngayon ang nagkakaroon ng hustisya sa bansang ito. Iyung malalakas, makapangyarihan at iyun g mayayaman! Kung simple kang tao, mahina ka. Kung wala kang lakas, lolokohin ka, tatakutin ka pa. Kung mahirap ka, pasesiya ka, magtiis ka. Pero kailan ko makakamtan ang hustisyang ito? kapag nagkaubus-ubos na ang kabuhayan ng aking pamilya? Hanggang kailan ako mananahimik? Kailan?
Labingwalong taon akong pinalaki ng aking ina. Ipinakatagu-tago at pakaingat-ingatan at pagkatapos…pagkatapos… naglalakad lamang ako sa madilim na eskinita pauwi galing sa paaralan ay bigla na lamang may humarang sa aking mga lalaki. Hindi ako nakasigaw dahil tinakpan ang aking bibig. Para akong sisiw na dinagit ng mga gutom na lawin. Dinala ako sa isang bakanteng lote. Pinunit ang aking puti at asul na uniporme. Nang malantad aking makinis at sariwang katawan ay lalong naging ulol ang dalawang lalaki. Hinatak pababa ng isa ang aking panty at pinatungan ako. Nang matapos ay ang isa naman. Iniwan ako ng mga walang hiya.
Nakauwi ako ng bahay na hindi makagulapay. Sinabi ko sa aking mga magulang ang lahat. Nagpunta kami sa himpilan ng pulisya. Agad nagsagawa ng imbestigasyon. Ilang araw pa at nahuli ang dalawang gumahasa sa akin. Mga anak pala ng mayayaman sa aming lugar ang dalawa. Ang isa ay anak ng congressman at ang isa ay anak ng isang taga-Malacanang. Parehong drug addict.
Natutuwa ako sapagkat nahuli na ang dalawa. Mayroon naman palang hustisya sa bansang ito. nakakalma na ang loob ko. Sino ang maysabing walang hustisya sa bansang ito?
Subalit makaraan lamang ang ilang araw nalaman namin na nakalaya na ang dalawa. Hanggang sa tuluyan nang mawala. Nasa ibang bansa na! (putang ina!!!) ang tanging nausal ng aking ina.
Tama nga na walang hustisya rito. Ang hustisya ay para lamang sa mayayaman at hindi sa katulad kong mahirap.
Hanggang ngayon patuloy pa rin akong sumisigaw ng hustisya at siguro nga hindi ko na makakamtan pa…
robie_14 has blogged 2
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The dude |
| March 6th, 2008 posted by JB under Literary. [ Comments: 2 ]
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My sister owned a single morbidly obese female guinea pig (which I mentioned some years ago). It remained that way until one of the neighbors (who also happened to own a bunch of guinea pigs and had a guinea pig population boom problem) saw our single morbidly obese female guinea pig and kindly offered to donate one more. And because we’ve always been kind to neighbors with a guinea pig population boom problem we said, Sure, okay, that’s fine, what’s another useless mouth to feed, eh?
Now we have two small mammals, both fat females, who prowl the small yard in front of our house like two fur balls gnawing at whatever wooden thing there was. They live in this neat little cage whose door was always kept open so they can go in and out of it as they please. The cage also has a little handle, which might come in handy just in case a nuclear war breaks out and there arises a sudden need to quickly transport the guinea pigs to a safe, bomb-proof place.
All was well. The two matrons of our yard lived a nice, well-fed, protected straight-out-of-Disney existence. They sometimes threw sarcastic remarks our way whenever we tried to feed them my smelly fingernail clippings. But overall, life was good. At least, until the puppy came.
Well, the puppy, let’s call him Dude for convenience, was a little mischievous fellow whose sole purpose in life was to be an ultra-efficient poop-and-piss processor – place anything in its mouth and the puppy, a marvel of nature, quickly turned it into either (a) poop that stank; (b) pee that stained. Based on this alone, we suspected the puppy was probably a Filipino politician in his past life.
Suffice it to say that Dude, we had decided, needed a little strategic housebreaking. And this being the modern day of the internet, we used, in the wise words of George Bush himself, “The Google.”
However, as it turned out, trying to find accurate information on what we really wanted to accomplish was no easy feat. The following were the exact search words we used – all in the order of increasing desperation.
“How to housebreak a dog.”
“How to patiently train a dog to shit in designated places.”
“How to FORCE the dog to shit in designated places.”
“How to strike fear in the heart of dog, so he shits ONLY in designated places.”
“How to COMPLETELY STOP dog from shitting.”
“How to turn goddamn dog into fine paste using only household utensils.”
“How to instantly vaporize goddamn dog using laser built from readily available computer components.”
I don’t have to tell you that for some reason, nothing worked. So at this point, to protect our house from further poop-trefaction, it had become a cardinal rule to closely watch the puppy for the tell-tale signs of it answering the call of nature. If and when one of us humans witnesses any of the said tell-tale signs, it was our responsibility to swiftly rise to the occasion, leap into action, and whisk the Dude to a more poop-receptive place — hopefully right in the nick of time.
One morning, as I worked furiously on my PC chasing a deadline, Dude came out of nowhere walking with that strange gait — and the thought flashed in my head: the puppy…oh, shit! My knee-jerk reaction was to dash for it. However, somehow I tripped on something, and I fell down in dramatic slo-mo like some doomed redwood tree, my left knee hitting the concrete floor hard. I swear I heard a bone crack.
The dog came galloping up to my face and nervously stuck out his tongue, panting like crazy.
Dude: Now, I’m gonna tell all my friends what an idiot you are!
Me: Dude, you have no friends.
Dude: Well, let’s see about that when I grow up and finally become a hot bitch!
Me: Dude, you’re a male dog.
Dude: Nevertheless!!!
Of course, this meaningful exchange didn’t actually take place. What really happened was that the dog yawped and barked and heartlessly tried to eat my hair as I lay there writhing in mind-numbing pain.
My left knee would swell and bruise and blacken and I would spend the next few days glaring at the dog. Meanwhile, there was work and more work and there was less and less time to leap into poop-related action.
Later on, Dude found a new way to amuse himself: by sexually harassing the two female, morbidly obese guinea pigs in our front yard.
Somehow, it was a tragedy waiting to happen. The universe actually aligned itself for this unspeakable development to find fruition.
First, there was my sister’s stuffed toy, which looked like a little monkey with the same body size as Dude, but for some reason Dude thought it was another dog he could actually have sex with.
Second was that the “poop-receptive place” I mentioned several paragraphs ago was actually the front yard, and the front yard, as everyone at this point realizes, was where the two fat furry garden matrons ruled and rooted.
And so Dude meets the two guinea pigs, resembling the stuffed toy he had been humping, and all hell breaks loose. Sometimes, deep in the night, you could hear the guinea pigs screaming the hopeless, painful screams of the royally fucked. We humans tried to prevent it whenever we could, but whenever we let the Dude out to answer the call of nature, he would chase the screaming guinea pigs as soon as the last piece of turd squeezed out of his asshole. And to add insult to injury, the puppy began to really, really fancy the guinea pigs’ own droppings. Look what we have here: Dude trying to rape the guinea pigs and literally eat their shit, too. Ain’t he a sweetheart!
I haven’t written a single piece of fiction in the past several months, and I feel guilty about breaking the dry spell by writing about the Dude. My left knee is still swollen. And as I write this, the Dude has just begun trying to eat my brother’s shoe. The house smells of shit. I turn on the TV, and the news also stinks of crap.
Maybe later, I’d go out and visit the two “rape victims” in the front yard, see if they still have the same old, fiery sarcasm in them. Meanwhile, the Dude walks with that strange “I’m gonna poop” gait again, but I’m wiser this time. I’m not going to fall for that, you bastard. I now know when to recognize genuine, true-to-the-core poop. But…
Oh, shit. You win.
JB has blogged 101
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Para toh sa mga nangangarap maging isang manunulat! Go Adamsonian! |
| February 16th, 2008 posted by robie_14 under Literary. [ Comments: 3 ]
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Isa ako sa mga nangangarap na maging isang manunulat balang araw - na kahit hindi akma ang aking kursong kinukuha sa gusto kong marating, hindi pa rin ako umaayaw bagkus pinagbubuti ko ang aking nasimulan. Ipinagmamalaki kong naging news editor na ako ng aming school paper noong hayskul pa lamang ako at nakapagsulat na rin ako dito. Masayang maging isang journalist!(di ba mass comm students??) ipinagmamalaki ko ring ngayong nakatuntong na ako sa isang napakakumplikadong buhay ng isang mag-aaral na nakapagsulat na rin ako sa isang diyaryo na tinatangkilik din ng masang PILIPINO. Walang takot kong sinulat ang aking obra na pinamagatang HUSTISYA at narito pa ang isang obra na tiyak magpapagising sa tulog na damdamin ng mga Pilipinong ubod ng suwapang, sakim at ubod ng yabang!! Narito po at sana magustuhan niyo.
MGA LUHA SA ILALIM NG LRT
“Kung ta…yo’y mag…ka…ka…layo…”, isang awiting nagpapaantig sa aking pagkatao sa saliw ng isang antigong gitara na ang tanging tinig lamang ng isang tila mawawalan na ng ulirat ang siyang nauulinig sa tuwing ang araw ay sisikat hanggang sa lamunin na ito ng isang gabing mapanglaw.
Sa bawat araw na paghakbang ng aking mga paa sa kanyang harapan, sa bawat pagbagsak ng mga barya sa isang maliit na kahon na may mga katagang “DONATION FOR THE BLIND” ay siya ring pagpatak ng mga butil na kristal mula sa kanyang nadidimlang paningin na lalong kumukurot sa aking bagbag na puso. Isa si Manong sa mga matatag ang loob, masipag at tunay na nananalig sa kapangyarihan ng Diyos. Araw-araw na nakabilad sa sikatan ng araw bagama’t nasa ilalim lamang ng LRT ang matanda ay nakakaranas siya ng pagpapagal ng katawang laman. Maituturing na isang tunay na bayani si Manong dahil siya lamang ang bumubuhay sa apat na anak na wala ring kamalay-malay sa mundong ibabaw. Minsan sa aking pagdaan, hindi ko napigilan ang pagluha ng aking mga mata. Nakikinita ko sa kanya ang ibang Pilipinong patuloy na dumaranas ng kahirapan. Sa kabila ng mga magulong kaganapan sa bansang ito’y heto siya’t patuloy na humahanap ng ikabubuhay ng kanyang pamilya.
Malungkot ang mukha nang humarap sa akin ang matandang batbat ng pagtitiis sa buhay habang isa-isang kinakalabit ang bawat kuwerdas ng kanyang gitara. Halos manghina ang katawan habang kausap ko siya - na para bagang hindi mabatid ng kanyang puso’t mga labi ang sasambitlain sa pagkakataong iyun. Lalo akong nahabag - nasaan na ang mga taong dapat san’y umaaruga at nagmamahal kay Manong? Nasaan ang mga tunay na Pilipino? Nasaan?
Akin namang narinig muli ang bawat pagbagsak ng barya sa kahon na may mga katagang “DONATION FOR THE BLIND”, kasabay niyon ay ang pagpatak ng mga butil na kristal mula sa kanyang nadidimlang paningin. kailan? Kailan pa kaya makakamtan ang pag-asang makakita ng liwanag?
…Umalis akong hindi man lang nilingon ang kawawang matanda, bagkus, tumatangis ang aking bagbag na puso…
Paalam, Manong! Paalam!
Maaari po ninyong bigyan ng komento ang lathaling ito. You may visit my friendster account. Just add me up: khim_justine14@yahoo.com at makikilala niyo ang tunay na ako!!!
Tags: Adamson Chronicle, Adamsonian, Adamson University
robie_14 has blogged 2
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Godot |
| December 19th, 2007 posted by white garapata under Random Thoughts, Literary. [ Comments: none ]
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Imagine Estragon is talking to you. “Don’t be tired,” he said. “Let’s wait for him. There is joy in waiting.” “Why wait here?” you asked. “Why not look for him and kill him.” Estragon laughed. “No one knows where he is. Let’s just wait here. If you try to look for him, you kill the suspense. You kill the anticipation.” “What if he will not come?” “Still, we wait. There is joy in waiting.”
What I am thinking?
A dead weeping willow.
A donkey.
A letter belt.
Figure it out.
Tags: godot
white garapata has blogged 12
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Ang pakikipagtalik sa kalungkutan |
| December 6th, 2007 posted by paniking_gutom under Literary. [ Comments: none ]
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“Sinong nagliligtas sa mga superhero kapag nangangailangan sila ng tulong?”
Tumingin ako sa kaniyang mga mata at sinabing.
“Si Godot.”
Tiningnan niya rin akong pabalik.
“Hindi ba si God?”
“Hindi naman nageexist si God e. Kaya si Godot ang safe na answer.”
“Saan ko siya matatagpuan?”
Tumayo siya na para bang nagmamadali at excited na makita si Godot.
“Si Godot ay matatagpuan sa puno ng Bu.”
“Nasaan ba iyon? Tumayo ka na diyan, samahan mo ako!!!”
“Ang puno ng Bu ay nakatanim sa puso ko.”
Sabay tawa ko ng malakas. Subalit hindi niya ininda to, sa halip ay hinawakan niya ang kamay ko at pinilit akong tumayo.
“Puwede bang sa akin na lang ang puso mo? Wala naman nagmamay-ari niyan eh.”
“Meron no. Ang puno ng Bu ay nakatanim sa puso ninuman.”
Inalis ko ang pagkakahawak niya sa aking kamay at tinulak siya ng bahagya sabay tumalikod.
“Wala akong puso. Pahiramin mo na lang ako kung ayaw mong ibigay sa akin.”
Muli akong humarap sa kaniya.
“Pumunta ka ng Heart Center o kaya manghiram ka sa pusa.”
“Ayoko ng literal na puso. O sige, ihanap mo na lang ako.”
“Hindi hinahanap yun. Kusang dumarating.”
“Sawa na akong maghintay. Maghintay sa wala.”
“Bakit hindi ka bumalik sa pinanggalingan mo? There’s no place like home.”
Siya naman ang tumawa ng malakas.
“Lahat kayo ay ganiyan ang payo sa akin. Sa palagay mo ba ay may mukha pa akong
ihaharap sa kaniya matapos ang lahat ng nangyari sa amin? Matagal ko nang gustong
bumalik kaso natatakot ako na baka muli akong umalis at muli ko lang siyang masaktan.”
“Ganun talaga. Ikaw ang kusang umalis kaya wala kang karapatang bumalik. The rules of love is often childish.”
Muli akong tumalikod at tuluyang umalis. Paglingon ko ay muli ko siyang nakitang nakaupo. Hindi na ako bumalik.
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Ang istoryang ito ay nagsimulang mabuo dahil sa konbersasyon ko kay tikgirl sa pamamagitan ng text. Halos 90% ng laman ng kuwento ay palitan namin ng mensahe sa isa’t-isa. Muli, maraming salamat sa panahon. Wala rin akong maisip na title kaya yung pabotritong linya ni tata buto ginamit ko.
Tags: Adamson University, Adamsonian
paniking_gutom has blogged 4
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What’s inside Sophie’s mind |
| December 5th, 2007 posted by paniking_gutom under Literary. [ Comments: 1 ]
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“Can somebody turn on the light?”
Then the light turned on. She saw herself sitting in a corner facing a six foot tall mirror.
“Hello. Is anyone here?”
She looked around. The room is painted in black with red graffiti on its four walls. No doors, no windows. The only thing that she can see is the mirror in front of her.
“Where am I?”
She said to her image in the mirror as if she is talking to somebody.
“You’re in an empty room, my darling.”
A voice suddenly came out of nowhere.
“Who are you? Where are you?”
She asked.
“Who do you think am I?”
“God?”
“God? Haha!”
“Why?”
“Why did you think that I am God? You don’t believe in God. Do you?”
“I don’t. But in times like this, when you cannot see anything but yourself in an empty room, the only being that you can think talking to you is God. Unless we’re in a reality TV show.”
“Says who?”
“The Bible. I used to read it when I was young.”
“You said that the Bible is only a fiction. So you believe in fiction?”
“Can you just stop interrogating me? I don’t have time to answer all your questions. Can you just tell me who are you?”
“What if I tell you that I am a lizard?”
“Nonsense. Lizards can’t talk.”
“That’s what you believed.”
“That’s a fact.”
“What is fact?”
“Can we just stop this nonsense?”
“That’s the problem with you my darling. You always ask questions but when you are being asked it is nonsense. If you’re question has been answered it’s still nonsense.”
“You’re not taking me seriously.”
“I am serious. I am a Lizard.”
“Ok. First, let me just reiterate that there is no talking lizard in the history. Second, the room is empty. All I can see is a mirror. And lastly, I will not talk anymore because I believe that this is only a dream or a nightmare so it’s either I will wake up or won’t wake up anymore.”
“Ok. First, what history books have you read? As far as I know, the death of Fidel Castro is not in Philippine history. Second, Have you tried to check the back of the mirror before you conclude that the room is empty? Since we started this conversation, you haven’t move there. And last, let me also inform you that it is not a dream. I assure you.”
She tried to stand up. Her whole body suddenly is shaking. She’s afraid of Lizard. What more of a talking one?
She move closer to the mirror and looked at the back of it and there it is. It is really a Lizard.
“You’re really a Lizard. Just don’t get out there unless I say so. I’ll go back at the corner and sit there.”
Then she went back at the corner.
“Now, can you tell me why we are here?”
“Wait my darling. Men are the most intelligent animal in the planet? Why ask a lizard?”
“As far as I know, there is no talking lizard.”
“Hahaha. Now you’re getting it. See, life is easy. Don’t make it complicated. There are only two options. It’s either you go with the flow or againts it.”
“What’s your point?”
“The point is, we both chose to go against the flow. That’s why we’re here.”
“So you’re telling me that the reason why we are here is because we are different from our species?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Try to look at the mirror again. What can you see?”
“I can see myself in a white blouse and a skinny jeans.
“Now you figure it out. Except that you’re not really a human being. You’re a cockroach.”
____________
This is my very first time to write an English article in my whole life. So any grammar lapses, I apologize. (Just kindly inform me). The story might be weird but it only tells us one thing. Just figure it out. I don’t want to spoil it!
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Tags: Adamson University, Adamsonian
paniking_gutom has blogged 4
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“Susan and the Infinite Sadness” |
| October 27th, 2007 posted by JB under Literary. [ Comments: 1 ]
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I had been cleaning up my hard drive when I found an old story I had written several months ago. It’s called “Susan and the Infinite Sadness” and I sort of wrote it along the usual plot lines of the Maalaala Mo Kaya classic Tagalog drama. Except it’s written in English, a language I constantly use to subtly hide some vomit-friendly plot twists I tend to make.
Be forewarned, though: the story’s so sappy no print publication agreed to publish it. As the old-timers used to say, it’s not only corny, it’s cornichon! Today, however, I’m posting it online in celebration of the World Sappy Short Stories Day, an awesome global event I invented two minutes ago.
So for avid readers of incredible tearjerking pseudo-romance stories (cleverly sprinkled with gratuitous and entirely unnecessary sex scenes), you may read the full text of “Susan and the Infinite Sadness” here.
JB has blogged 101
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Sepia Photo |
| October 2nd, 2007 posted by stiban_graffiti under Literary. [ Comments: 6 ]
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It was one of those ordinary days while I was reading a love-hate pocketbook when my Aunt Lucille called. She was asking for help because her youngest daughter was missing for days. She started to cry. I told her to calm down and I promised her that I would do my best to help her.
The following day, I personally visited all my police friends for help. They all promised me that they would check their records and they would contact me as soon as they could get some answers. It was good that I kept good relationship with my former buddies. I was a criminology student before until a series of cerebral quakes shook my path and drifted me to journalism. I ended up as a crime reporter in the nation’s lewdest tabloid. Last week, we featured the nude photo of JAV star Maria Ozawa in our front cover. She was so hot. With such cover girl, our tabloid was indeed the best when it comes to obscene photos.
But some didn’t like what we were publishing. I recalled the suicide note of my former editor after he had sliced the throats of our section editors. “We are already showing pornography and writing sensationalized news. We always demand that freedom of the press should always be upheld. But look at us now. All I have been seeing in our covers are nothing but big tits, big boobs, and big butts of lewd girls, and those worthless and shameful scandals of our politicians. I don’t care if Kristine Hermosa is pregnant or if Oyo Boy has a new girlfriend. I am sick and tired of kicking the butts of our senators in my column. It is useless. Better to ask me to literally blow their asses into pieces. Are you joking? Is this really my next assignment? Sorry but I will not write an article about Kokey. Who is that freak? Why are we confident in publishing such crap? Is it just because our society likes reading it and that all of our issues sell like hot pancakes? Damn it! Our paper is a big trash. We are abusing press freedom. Press freedom is not absolute for there is no such thing as absolute freedom. If we start to think that we are free to do or write anything, freedom itself will soon imprison us. I despise people who want freedom so badly. I despise those people who read showbiz articles only. I despise this world. It is hopeless. My readers are not in this world. Follow me in hell!”
Within a week, one of my friends in WPD responded. He informed me over the phone that he had some leads on my cousin’s case. He told me that I had to visit him in his office in Kalaw to personally check the files. His voice was shivering. He stopped for a while as if he was waiting for something. I did not hear any sound. I was clueless. He spoke again and he asked me to leave immediately. He told me that he would be waiting for me in Osario instead. He changed his mind. I asked him what was happening but the phone went dead. I didn’t know what to think. Everyone seemed to have some life-threatening problems.
On that same day I rushed to Manila from Bacoor to see my friend. There was traffic all the way and it took me three painstaking hours to finally get to Paco Park. We used to take photographs in that park in our high school years. Nostalgia was seducing me again. “Will you come or no?!” the woman in the booth said. She looked like mad. She was really mad actually. I immediately gave her a five peso coin and the wicked witch of that park gave me an entrance ticket.
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Tags: Literary
stiban_graffiti has blogged 7
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Dude, Alak Pa! |
| September 5th, 2007 posted by white garapata under Uncategorized, Literary. [ Comments: 14 ]
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May kilala ako na pag nalalasing ay kayang tiklupin ang kalsada. Kapag wala ka na sa wisyo, masarap magmura. Masarap mag-isip. Masarap magmahal. Ang kabigan ng kaibigan ko, kapag lasing nanunutok ng baril, hinahamon ang buhay, hinahamon si Paquito Diaz. Kapag lasing ka, masarap maging pulutan ang nakaraan. Lahat ng anggulo kaya mong tignan, ikaw ang bida sa sarili mong umiikot at unti-unti nang nahihilong mundo. Kuwento ng kaibigan ko sa isang kaibigan namin, tumae sa kalsada nang lasing na pero hindi sumuka. Kung San Mig Light ang trip mo, walang problema. Itagay mo, dude. Huwag ka lang magtatanong tungkol sa pag-ibig. May kaibigan ako na umihi sa plato matapos ang mahaba-habang usapan sa harap ng bote. Si Janis Joplin ba kamo? Sige, patugtugin mo. Huwag ka lang iiyak sa kanta niya. May kaibigan akong Joni at Mitch-ell pero hindi sila singer. Masarap silang kasama, masarap silang kakwentuhan. Isa sa kanila kapag lasing na, kinakausap ang dalawang speaker ng PC namin. May ibat-ibang lasa ng alak depende sa mood ng mga umiinom. Kung pakiramdam mo, nag-iisa ka sa mundo punta tayo sa Antho sa Malate, mag-request tayo ng Pixies o Jimi Hendrix habang nag-iisip tayo kung ano ang dapat gawin natin sa mga buhay natin. Kung wala ka namang pera at hindi ka pa gradweyt, i-text mo lang ako, susunod ako sa Vanz, tapos lipat tayo sa harap ng WPD, doon natin ituloy ang naudlot na pangangarap, mag-videoke habang kaya pang kontrolin ang boses, wala sanang sisigaw, walang makikipag-away, patak-patak na lang sa bayad, wala na akong pera, hindi pa ako kumakain. Kung bitter ka talaga sa buhay mo, inom tayo ng hard na walang yelo. Kung intellectual masturbation ang hanap mo, masarap ang strong ice, dude, tamang-tama lang ang amats. Soft-porn, ika nga. Dried Martini para kay Kristine Hermosa, Strong Ice para kay Katrina Halili, San Mig Light para kay Anne Curtis at Gin para kay Piolo Pascual. Trip kong mag-lasing, i-text natin si nomzky baka walang work yun, si Pule may lakad. Ibat-ibang panlasa sa hamon ng buhay. Sa amin sa Ilocos masarap ang tuba. Nakaka-tatlong shot ka pa lang nag-iinit na ang tenga mo, feeling ikaw na ang nawawalang Messiah o si Panchito. Sabi ni Mitch, sa paglalasing lumalabas ang tunay mong pagkatao. Tinatanggal ng bote ng alak ang iyong maskara. May kakilala ako na kapag nalalasing, nagiging horny. Ang isa, nagiging madaldal, kwento nang kuwento, kayang sabihin ang mga litanya ni Tyler Durden. May kaibigan ako na kapag nalalasing, gustong maligo sa ulan nang nakahubad. Ang bote ng alak hindi hinahalikan kundi iniinom. Ayaw na ni Pule, sa iyo na ang shot niya. Si Nomzky malayo na naman ang iniisip. Si Tikgirl, nagsusulat na naman sa kanyang notebook. Tang enang babaeng ‘to, nag iisip na naman kung paano ang pinakamahusay na pagpapakamatay. Si Joni, kumusta na kaya yun? Puro German beer siguro ang iniinom. Tang ‘ena mo Bibe kalimutan mo na ang malaking titing yun. Huwag kang éklat. Hoy Ken kailan ka magpapagupit? Dude, jutes naman tayo minsan, miss ko nang tumawa nang tumawa eh. Wala nang alak, gusto niyo pa? Si Erno ngumingiti lang, miss niya siguro ang syota niya. Sinong siyota? Si Jaeson tahimik pa rin kahit may syota na. Si Zierra nagpapacute sa harap ng bote, kumanta ka na lang kaya. Sigh. Gusto ko nang umuwi. Dude, wala nang yelo. Naku, bitter ang alak kapag walang yelo. Baka may problema. Dati akala ko masarap ang inom kung ang problema mo ay babae. Dati dalawa lang ang dahilan kaya ako umiinom: Babae at kung ano ang gagawin ko sa buhay ko. Dude, dati yun. Ngayon wala nang pakialam sa babae, basta umiinom na lang. Kung magyaya si Pule at may pera, shoot ako. Ang pag inom ng alak ay nangangahulugan ng pagbabalik-tanaw sa buhay estudyante, doon sa Kalaw ang tambayan. Isang nostalgia ang pag-inom. Paksyet, medyo lasing na ako, masusuka na ata ako. Manong, pwedeng humingi ng sabawww!!!!!!!!
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