daydreams in the dark

where am i?

2007-04-12T14:07:00.000+08:00

i seem to have stumbled into this dark icky place...

oh, wait. its my 'blog'.

almost forgot i had one.

unfortunately, i may have to keep forgetting i have one. i just posted so it doesnt get shut down.

i am so fucking busy.

my new favorite rock band

2006-09-18T11:34:00.000+08:00

OK GO!

Nice song and even better video...check out youtube for their VMA performance and their other videos, you'll love them.

Will post again soon. Uber busy.

Captain's Blog 06-003

2006-08-08T13:48:00.000+08:00

Ray, Echo
Fugitive
1700 H

My apologies for this long delayed relaying of the recent dreadful events that have happened. In my last log, I spoke of a meeting with our Senior Captain, Marie Sen-Sen and its seemingly sinister intent, which is to consolidate me and Alpha Ray's captainship into the command of Fox, the captain of our Flagship, The Conflux One. Our fears where realized. It was a move of pure malice and evil, it was to put into motion a power struggle between the two subfleets that I did not want to be part of. You see, that move will tip the balance of power towards the Maktecia Subfleet. I want one Conflux, but not one borne from the ashes of a civil war where one faction rules and the other-slaves.

But that, dear reader, is exactly what happened. War raged and the Maktecia fleet is currently laying waste to Outmaktecia's ships. I...abandoned the battle midway, for i could not bear pointing my cannons at those I consider my friends. My crew and I feigned massive damage and broke away from the onslaught. I jumped ship and resigned as its captain, to save my crew. It was hard for me to do so, but it was the right path for me. My crew understood. Gad knows how I loved them, and out of that very love i had to leave them behind. They will not suffer any consequences as I took all responsibility for the ship's abandonment of the battle. Alpha Ray has since then assumed, reluctantly, the captainship of the Interprize. His is a struggle far from over. As is mine.

I vow to return and save my crew, save Alpha Ray, and save my friends in Outmaktecia. I am now aboard a pirate ship. Nameless, for it has to be a unmentionable. Invisible, for it has to slip by the Conflux One unnoticed. Dead but undead, for it has to be a ghost. Shrewd and cunning, for it has to strike at the opportune moment.

Gad help me, I must be victorious. Lives depend on me.

End of log.

my long delayed in-depth review of superman returns

2006-08-08T13:12:00.000+08:00

Bryan Singer should have stopped directing after The Usual Suspects.

shit.

very important announcement regarding xmen: the last stand...

2006-05-24T11:54:00.000+08:00

Do not, i repeat, do not leave the movie until after the credits. There is a final scene which may redeem the movie (at least for those, like me, that hated one of the key deaths in the movie)

ho boy. deaths. theres lots of them here in the supposedly 'final' installment of the series. but sadly, the one I wanted to die was spared. spared!

i guess i got what i wanted then eh? i wanted non-stop slam bang action in an X-men film. Bryan Singer did not give us that in the previous two, hence my luke warm feelings towards them. but boy did i miss his subtlety and character development approach here. the very characters he built in the first two where totally disrespected. no redeeming factor whatsoever. i didnt want an exact replica of the comicbooks, mind you, but jeez they didnt even honor the first two films' foundations. i have no problem with characters dying, but at least write them off honorably.

that said, its still a watchable summer block buster movie, if only for the fantastic effects (but gad, storm flies funny, and the 'fastball special' was more like the 'floating ball held on a wire flung ever so slowly towards its target')

finally, i'd like to qoute two cliched dialogue in the movie: "god help us all" and "what have i done?"

what indeed. what, pray tell, indeed.

psyched

2006-05-11T14:43:00.000+08:00

i just saw the full trailer of Superman Returns and am now hopelessly psyched about the movie. I must admit that although The Usual Suspects is one of my favorite movies of all time, i had mixed feelings on Byan Singer's handling of the two first x-men films. i felt it did not have the action and excessiveness of the comicbooks, but at the same time was satisfied with the realism they portrayed. but the bottomline is: i wanted more slam bang action.

Superman Returns for me, then, should have that since they've established that this is a sequel, and not a rehashing like batman begins was. it should not dwell on how or why superman came to be. i want the next level, and i dont mean just advancement in special effects. i want new villains, world ending threats, mass mayhem and destruction (ergo, i loved kevin smith's proposed script a few years ago). having said all that, though, im still eagerly awaiting this movie, even if early indications is that:

SPOILER WARNING

the villain is still luthor (and his incompetent minions), the world ending threats are still petty crimes and a crashing plane, and the grand finale involves an earthquake.

anyway, here are some favorite scenes from the trailer

"okay lois, after this its my turn" *crunch*

i love the fact that superman now 'hovers in a standing position' a lot ala-kingdom come.

is it me or is that plane crashing...upwards?

nice shot. rehash of a scene in superman 1 and 2...but still, nice shot.

aaawwwwww....

scary.

still think the 's' on the belt is a tad overkill.

*yawn* normal bullets? feh! see how they bounce back at ya!

looks like this is going to be a great action sequence in the movie. but...seriously, give me superpowered villains instead. no, not nuclear man thank you.

still, cant wait to see this movie.

the list gets longer and longer

2006-05-09T13:44:00.000+08:00

Got some new books again recently, making my reading list longer and longer by the week.

The Sea by John Banville. Winner of the 2005 Booker Prize, narrowly beating Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go. Not too excited reading this but am extremely curious about the author's fantastic prose.

Light by M. John Harrison. Neil Gaiman declared this book as his 'favorite sci fi book in the last decade, maybe more'. Neil Gaiman previously declared Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrel as 'the finest english novel of the fantastic in the last seventy years'. While i agree that Jonathan Strange is a great novel, i'm not too convinced that it eclipses lord of the rings and other british fantasy novels. i'm staring to wonder how much gaiman's friends are paying him to make such comments. Anyway, i've scanned through the first few chapters of light, and its nowhere near how gaiman praised it. So far, at least. Suffice it to say, I just finished Harrison's Viriconium and liked it. hope to be able to say the same about Light.

Black Swan Green by David Mitchell. After reading (and loving) the immensely engrossing and captivating Cloud Atlas, i've become a fan of this author. His latest novel is reportedly stripped down compared to the very complex cloud atlas. looking forward to hearing a different voice from this author.

Shalimar the Clown by Salman Rushdie. Had a hard time reading The Satanic Verses but was extremely satisfied when i finished it. hope i dont take too much time reading through this one. plus, im very curious to find out how he writes janjalani and the abu sayaff.

Also downloaded quite a few e-books and transferred them to my pda. sleep and work are starting to suffer. minor sacrifices in the name of good reading, i always say. heh.

ayla learns something new

2006-05-08T13:01:00.000+08:00

last night, ayla (8 years old) approached me and said: 'Now i know why shiva's (her dog) acting wierd and naughty and rude to our other dogs all the time'. Why is that, i ask. She points at a kiddie encyclopedia entry wherein she discovers that a female dog is called a ...

bitch.

nyahaha.

they're back!

2006-04-25T12:49:00.000+08:00

http://www.smashingpumpkins.com/

good gad! im so happy!!

Captains Blog 06-002

2006-04-24T15:10:00.000+08:00

Ray, Echo
Captain, The Inter Prize
Entry 002
1500H

I mentioned in my previous log that there are two subfleets in the Conflux Main Fleet. Maktecia, and Outmaktecia.

The Outmaktecia Ships: The Ale's Bang, The Robin's Son, The Kumon, and The Chebu. I will write about those ships when there is something noteworthy to write about them in my next logs. In the meantime, let me discuss a very important event regarding MY ship, The Inter Prize.

Marie Sen-Sen, the senior Captain of the Maktecia Sub-fleet (she is domiciled in the Conflux One, our flagship) called for a very important meeting this vespers. Alpha Ray, captain of the Inzular and The Tower, and myself, have doubts. We feel this is the announcement that we have been dreading. What is it? The Gad owful directive that we (that is, Alpha and myself) will now be reporting directly under Fox, the commander of the Conflux One.

You see, though our ships are but support to the Conflux One, we have never operated in full accordance with their rule of law. Alpha and I have are own ways, you see, and it can be said that we have always been effective. This new development, if it is what we think it is, in not a welcome one. If i had started this log a few months before, when all the fleet's turmoil began, im sure a good number of my entries would be dedicated to Fox Ferguson's questionable ethical behavior and his gad domned arrogance. We loathe it. I, especially.

I know this move is aimed at consolidating the maktecia subfleet into a cohesive battle unit. But I shiv at the tought of who we are preparing to go to battle with. Fox has always had it in for the senior captain of the outmktecia sub-fleet. Is this perhaps in preparation for the civil war we have been dreading? Or has civil war already began, and Fox is now rallying my wing ship to his arsenal?

This is a great dilemma. I must speak with Alpha Ray at once. Hopefully i have something pleasant for tomorrow's log, and not the dark foreboding of unnecessary bloodshed.

One Conflux! Gad domned it! One!

Echo Ray.

end of log.

Captains Blog 06-001

2006-04-19T13:19:00.000+08:00

Ray, Echo
Captain, The Inter Prize
1322 H

Hello. My name is Echo Ray. I am the skipper of the starship Inter Prize, wing ship in the Intergalactic Conflux fleet. This is my first entry.

Allow me to describe our fleet and its mission. The Conflux is an Intergalactic conglomerate driven by its greedy nature (gad i hope the commodore reads this blog waaay after the interprize is decommisioned, and i am retired) to monopolize the intergalactic trade and financial data exchange of the universe. Yes. The universe. It is not alone in this endeavor and the fleet has a myriad of rivals.

My part of the fleet is assigned at the maktecia region, whilst the rest of the fleet is assigned, well, outside maktecia and is named as so('outmaktecia', much to the complaints of THAT portion of the fleet as they are of the opinion that since the commodore heavily favors one of the captains here, hence stated without doubt that the Maktecia sub-fleet is the 'main' strength of our forces. but, THAT is another story which i will enter in my future logs)

The maktecia subfleet is composed of the following starships: The Conflux One, our flagship, commanded by the aforemention heavily favored captian, Fox Ferguson. Then there is the Wing Ship, The Inter Prize, commanded by yours truly. Bringing up the rear are two frigates, The Inzular and The Tower, being helmed by the loose cannon, Alpha Ray. (not related to me, despite being referred to by the general public as my brother)

The Fleet has been sailing the cosmos for close to three years now. You may be wondering why I only started this log now. Let's just say I did not feel the need until this very moment. There is this nagging sense of doom looming ahead. The Conflux seems to be heading nowhere. And if we are all headed to destruction then I pray that whoever sifts through the remains may find my entries useful in the process of piecing together what really happened.

I pray to Gad i am just paranoid.

Echo Ray.

end of log.

welcome back my friends, to the show that never ends (but stops for a prolonged period of time)

2006-04-05T14:34:00.000+08:00

I just haven't the time to post anything the past months. I was too busy at work and I've been reading a lot of stuff (most of them at the same time). Im trying to get a feel of different writing styles. Hell, I said to myself: "if i cant write write write i'll read read read) Here's a list of what I've been devouring as of late:

The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov. a satirical novel suppossedly aimed at the Russian Government in the 30's. Of course, most the satirical elements passed me by because I have no idea what went on in Russia during that time. Still, i'm finding it overly satisfying mostly because of its magical realism.

Viriconium, by M. John Harrison. A series of novels, novellas, and short stories by the author about a fictional city/world that is different everytime you visit it. Its a delightful concept wherein characters and places within the city are somewhat different every telling of the story. Then again, I haven't seen it yet since i'm only on the first chapter. I got the info from Neil Gaiman's introduction. Cant wait to get to the other parts...

Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell. A man booker prize finalist a couple of years ago. I have been looking for a copy and finally found an edition i wanted. I've yet to start this one, but from what i read about it, i might jump into it soon.

Survivor and Lullaby by Chuck Palahniuk. Wow. I read both books in a span of about two weeks ( a week apiece!), which is a record of sorts for me. They're both suprisingly easy to read but only because of the author's style. The content is heavy as heavy can be (Again, by my standards). Imagine: in Survivor we are introduced to the seemingly lone survivor of a death cult which committed mass suicide. He then becomes a famous celebrity because of that. Its chuck's commentary about the media and its effects to society. In Lullaby, the protagonist is on a quest to rid the world of a culling song which was inadvertedly included in a book of nursery rhymes thus causing the deaths of numerous babies read the rhyme by their mothers. Accompanying him are a real estate agent who sells and re-sells haunted houses and a practicing witch/warlock couple. Wierd cannot even begin to describe these two books. But hey, I loved them.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon. The pulitzer Prize winning nover about two jewish cousins who create a comic book character, and achieved astronomical success in the comic book scene, based on their experiences. I tad too melodramatic for my taste, but nevertheless satisfying.

Others on my list, if only i can find copies:

Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon, Dhalgren by Samuel Delaney,

Books im also considering:

Life of Pi, A curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time, Neil Stephenson's Baroque Trilogy, The Historian, and Salamanca by Dean Francis Alfar

squinting at the sun

2006-02-07T14:47:00.000+08:00

stories to do. so little time.

2006-02-01T16:32:00.000+08:00

stories i'm currently working on. or should i say, upcoming crap from me:

1.)embalmist who meets a dead girl who has a crush on him.

excerpt:

blah blah blah blah hmmm why is this dead girl staring at me?

2.)drug addict confined in a hospital basement.

excerpt:

blah blah blah today i teach the new girl the wonders of fellatio. yeaaah...

3.)guy meets a man he just saw on a wanted for murder poster

excerpt:

blah blah blah as greg shakes the hand of tom he wonders where he has seen him before, 'is he perhaps a celebrity?' thinks greg....

hope i have time to do them. wish me luck.

nyahahaha.

no. i'm serious.

i want to write write write but cant cant cant

2006-01-30T15:25:00.000+08:00

ive been reading all the stuff ive managed to do in the last few months and came up with this conclusion: I AM STILL, AND FOREVER WILL BE...a CRAPPY WRITER. i rush things, my words are shallow (see? any adjective shallower than shallow when describing shallowness?) Yeah, i said it before in one of my first entries in this blog, and i've proven it in the months ive been blogging. What's worse is, I intended this blog to be something purely personal, for my eyes only, and now, quite a few has discovered it and probably agree that it is crap. Now...i'm a crappy writer in the eyes of everybodyyyyy...

this isnt self pity.

this isnt boo-hoo i write crap, pay me a compliment to make me feel better

it just is. just another crappy entry.

Don't worry, i'll keep writing crappy things... and hopefully surprise myself and you, once in a while.

I cant help being crappy anyway. i just wasnt born to do this. but still...im trying because i love to read and i love to write, even if writing doesnt love me back.

crap over. til the next post anyway.

visions of the mind's eye 2

2006-01-27T19:57:00.000+08:00

visions of the mind's eye

2006-01-10T15:46:00.000+08:00

Quantum's Leap

2005-12-20T17:23:00.000+08:00

First Draft
November 2005

I.

Quantum Tejada is tired. He just came from his latest adventure wherein he combined business, when he edited El Filibusterismo into a soft porn erotica/romance novel just before it was published, and pleasure, when he went skinny dipping with Josephine Bracken (since Rizal wasn’t exiled there, or at all, anymore and she just happened to still go for a vacation) in the beaches of dapitan.

Despite his exhaustion however, he quickly stepped out of TEDDY (his time displacement gravity machine) to see the effects of what he has just done. He rushed to the poster, the very same that prompted him to go on his trip, in his kitchen and was saddened that it was still the exact same one before he left.

Tolits for President
2028
“Ako, ako, palagi na lang ako. Pero para sa bayan, ok lang!”

“Dammit! It didn’t work!” He told himself. He was expecting something more like:

Miguel de Roxas Presidente
2028
“Orar non que pais tu puede hacer, pero que les puede hacer pues pais”

Such is the nature of causality, or lack thereof. In the nature of Quantum’s ‘business’, that is what he has realized. Maybe somebody else besides Jose Rizal wrote the damn thing eventually and the course of history still proceeded similarly. Just as well, he tought to himself, he was quite frankly a tad concerned that he might have changed things a little too much anyway, including his own eventual future. He wonders what led him to decide to go back to that particular period in the first place, its not as if it was the single most defining moment of our country’s history. There are lots of others, but he was too tired to even consider making another Philippine-history changing trip. Perhaps he just wanted, for some reason, to see Josephine Bracken naked. And he did, and that is that.

Besides, he’s had a lot of previous successes. Mostly for himself, though. He didn’t care too much about anything else, he just wanted to play around and enjoy his (to him) god-like powers. The first thing he did after inventing TEDDY was to ammass great riches by being able to find some of the Yamashita Treasure before anybody else (he found crucial clues while watching “LIHIM NG GOLDEN BUDDHA” starring Jestoni Alarcon, but then Marcos still found most of the treasure). Everything else was easy for him after that.

He was able to get all the girls he ever wanted, he knew where and where to look after all. He was always there for the ladies at their moment of great need, he would simply hop unto TEDDY and travel back to those moments. The ladies in question are mostly movie stars that Quantum read about in his archive of tabloids. So, he was the shoulder-to-cry-on of Cindy Kurleto when she boke up with Jericho Rosales, and of Kristine Hermosa when she broke up with Jericho Rosales, and of Heart Evangelista when she was confused whether to turn it on with Jericho Rosales. It can be said that Quantum is the reason Jericho committed suicide (using a prop in one of his TV shows - no not the panday sword) eventually. Fortunately, his demise had no adverse effect to the future. Not a one.

Quantum retires to his antique bed and tries very hard to sleep, despite his exhaustion. He is like this every night. He cannot fathom why he cries himself to sleep. He has everything and yet feels….empty (as is the case with all people who have ‘god-like powers’). If you were in the same room with Quantum when he cries before he sleeps, you would hear a name in between his sobs.

Starla.

Quantum remembers Starla David, his last and only great love. He remembers - no, he cant forget, how he treated her. How he eventually, and finally, lost her. He cannot accept that this is affecting him so much to this day. At 53 years of age, 33 years after, he has not gotten over her. She is the reason he was able to invent the world’s first time machine, locked away in his house/secret laboratory for years trying to get over her and managing simultaneously to discover the secret of time travel- which only he, and TEDDY, knows. When he did, however, Starla was temporarily eclipsed by the ceaseless wonders his new toy gave him. But the emptiness grew. And he is now but a hollow shell.

Quantum rose from the bed, beads of cold sweat trickling down his forehead. He proceeded to the kitchen, to his omni-ref (which he obtained from neo-tokyo circa 2095) and said: “a burger please”, and waited 2 seconds as his burger materialized from the chamber.

“TEDDY. I need advice.” He announced as he approached his machine in the garage just beside the kitchen.

“Yes, master. How may I be of assistance?” Answered TEDDY, in a voice very similar to KITT’s from KNIGHT RIDER. Yes, Quantum loved 80’s TV shows. TEDDY is preparing to use his gravity displacement device to bend laser light into different shapes similar to balloons being twisted into poodles, parrots, and monkeys. He has always done that when his master is sad and distraught, to cheer him up.

“Starla.”

“Oh my. Not again.”

“Shut up, TEDDY. I’m a mess. I can’t forget her. I can’t forgive myself for letting her go. For dumping her.”

“Don’t you mean you can’t forgive her for dumping YOU?” TEDDY answered. Quantum told himself to remove TEDDY’s sarcasm program tomorrow.

“Whatever. I need to get her back. I’ve been delaying too much, with my shenanigans, always thinking that time is in my hands. But I don’t. I’m not getting younger.” Quantum remarks with great conviction, and adds: “I’ve decided. I’m going back in time for her, I’m going to woo her back. I’m going back to 1995, the very day I lost her. And make things right in my life.”

“Why that specific day, master?” Asked TEDDY, as if he didn’t know.

“Well, after that day, our last day together, she fell in love with Hesus Divina remember?” Quantum thought to himself: remove the ‘always humor my master’ program from TEDDY tomorrow. ”She was basically unreachable at that point. I wonder what love potion that bastard Divina used on her.”

“True love isnt a potion you can make.” Said TEDDY.

“…” Quantum thought to himself: remove TEDDY’s romantic/whimsical program tomorrow. “Fine. I’ll steal her away from him before she even meets him then.”

“Umm, master?” TEDDY asked hesitantly.”You plan to do that, Looking like that? You’re ancient and dilapidated. She’s pristine and fresh. Youre 53. She’s 19 in 1995. That’s just sick.”

“Shit. You’re right.” Quantum thought to himself: remove TEDDY’s adjective selection program tomorrow and looks at himself in the nearby mirror. “What should I do?”

TEDDY then gave Quantum the advise he was seeking.

II.

Quantum Tejada is tired. He just came from a basketball championship game where he played 20 minutes, scored no points, committed 18 turnovers, and fouled out. He’s simply not cut out for athletics, and was just forced to play by their class president because all the star players were down with Hepatitis after eating in one of the carinderias near their school. But Quantum did not care if he sucked at sports, he would’ve spent his day in the library had he not been called. Or, he couldve spent the day sleeping. He loved sleeping and bumming around, too. Quantum is lazyyy. And he was very nearly staring to doze off when -

“Tom-Tom!!!” Shouts Quantum’s mother from downstairs.

“Geez ma! Don’t call me that! How many times have i---“

“Get your lazy butt down here! Your worthless friend Teddy’s out by the door!”

Quantum lazily goes down the stairs and covers his ears as he darts across their living room as he is sure his mother would nag him about the appliances which he still has not fixed despite being an engineering student, to which he would always reply that there is a distinction between an engineer and a repair man, and to which his mother would snap back and say that he will never amount to anything and thus will never be able to contribute anything of value to this world because he is a lazy son of a bitch,to which he will say ‘you just called yourself a bitch you know’, to which she will retort by chasing him with a kitchen knife.

“Hey there Tom-Tom” Teddy says with a smug smile as Quantum steps out the door.

“Shut up, Teddy.”

Teddy Osorio is quantum's best friend. But they never call each other that, as they both think it is gay to do so. In fact, they spend most of their time together outdoing each others manliness.

"So. I can't help but notice that huge bulge in your shorty pants" Teddy says out of the blue, and Quantum tought to himself that he didnt need to say anything to prove that he is more manly after a statement like that. So he just casually replied: '' This long, thick, and hard baby just happens to be my Nokia 2110. My cell phone."

“You were always ahead in terms of technology, Q.” Teddy says while admiring his best friend’s long, think and hard Cell phone. “Waiting for a call?”

“Yeah. Starla’s” Quantum says, with a sigh.

“Oh my. Not again.” Teddy says, obviously referring to Quantum’s sighing.

“Shut up, Teddy.” Quantum snaps back. He loves saying it. “I really don’t know what to do or feel. It’s like…like she’s just there and…I don’t care. I’m just going through the motions with her, and frankly, I wont even mind if she calls or not” That was the best Quantum could manage to articulate what he really felt for Starla.

“But you just said you were waiting for—“

“That’s precisely the point, Teddy. I just don’t know.” And Quantum sighs again.

Then, Quantum’s phone rings.

“Quantum? Hi!” Said the voice on the other end of the line. Starla’s. “Are you set for tonight? I’m so excited! This is the first party we’re attending together” She is obviously giddy.

“Gee Starla, I just remembered that I have a lot of things to do tonight.” Replies Quantum, scratching his nape and winks at Teddy.

“Like what?!?” The giddiness is gone.

Quantum wants to say “sleep”, but doesn’t. He simply remains silent and winks to teddy again, who raises both his hands and turns away from Quantum.

“Fine!” Says Starla, not bothering anymore to wait for what Quantum will say. “I’m still going. I’ve had it with this relationship. I’ve had it yith you. You never do anything with me anymore.” She ends the call.

Quantum puts the phone back into his pocket nonchalantly. He knows that Starla will eventually cool down and things will go back as it was. It always does, he thought. He yawns and begins to head back into the house, not hearing what his best friend tells him.

“You’ll regret treating her like that. Somehow, some time, you will.”

And quantum goes on to sleep.

III.

“Geez, TEDDY, I’ve almost forgotten how ugly I was” Quantum remarked, into a remote transceiver.

“You still are, master.”

“Shut up TEDDY.”

Quantum is half asleep. He hears the voices. He is seemingly dreaming.

“So, how do I go about this again?” Quantum, into the transceiver.

“We almost missed our mark master, but we managed to make it to the morning of the big day. I do not have the energy to make another jump in the next 48 hours. You will simply have to instruct yourself what to do today.” Said TEDDY, its voice coming out of Quantum’s device. “You have to convince him…err…yourself errr…whatever….”

Quantum opens his eyes slowly.

“Gaaaahhh!!!” He pulls his blankets over his body up to his eyes to see who the intruder in his room is. “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?!” He exclaimed, still holding his sheet, still covering half of his face.

“Calm down, geez, you’ll wake mom up” Whispered Quantum, the older Quantum that is, and found it awkward saying the M word after so many years. “What I’m about to tell you is very important. Listen. Listen well.”

Quantum, the younger Quantum that is, nodded. He didn’t know why he did so easily, he just felt something very familiar with the person in front of him. It was like he was talking with his dad, and he hasn’t done so for so many years. He missed it.

“Dad. Were have you been all these years?” He said, teary eyed. Pent-up emotions about to explode.

“I’m NOT your Dad!!” Older Quantum shouted,and almost immediately covered his mouth. “I’m you. You Idiot.”

The older Quantum then proceeded to explain the very complex situation to his younger self. He had a hard time doing so and had to resort to enumerating things that only he, and of course his younger self, would know. Things like: his first memories, his first infatuation, his most embarrasing moments, his very private thoughts, and finally the secret story of Quantum, his dog porthos, and the mysterious injury he had which caused him to miss school for a few weeks (The older Quantum even dropped his pants and showed him the scar). That last one convinced the younger Quantum, and all he could say after was:

“I can’t believe I’ll be so ugly when I get older.”

“Shut up” Quantum replied, and felt it awkward telling himself to shut up. “Anyway, I haven’t told you why I’m here.” He added, seriously. “It’s Starla. I’m--” He paused. “you’re about to lose her. She met Hesus Divina last night.”

“Who the hell’s Hesus Divina?”

“The man she’s going to marry and love for the rest of her life. Some guy named Sam or Samael introduced them to each other last night.”

“Oh.” The younger Quantum muttered, not quite surprised. “But… somehow, I’m not all that concerned. I..I don’t know…”

Quantum grabbed both his younger self’s shoulders and gripped them tightly. “If you don’t feel that you love her now, believe me you will. And it’ll be too late. I AM MISERABLE. All I ever wanted was her.” He releases and bows his head and turns his back.

“I never knew, and don’t know still.” The younger Quantum says about what he feels about Starla, breaking the sudden silence. “But I see that you ARE miserable. I saw it in your eyes when first I saw them… I don’t want to be you, as you are now, when I grow older.”

The Older Quantum lifts his head and smiles. “Let’s get to work, then.” he said, and proceeds to tell the younger Quantum the plan. Its quite simple, once the absurdity and complexity of the other aspects of the situation was out of the way. It’s all just about love, really.

And the fact that if they were successful, Quantum may not end up creating the time machine and thus alter his future irrepairably.

“Remember.” Quantum hands all of his notes and the data containing the secrets of time travel and TEDDY, to his past self. “Build it even if you’ve got nothing else to live for except Starla.”

“What’s in it for you? ” the younger Quantum had to ask. “I mean, how does this all—“

“The happiness you will feel in Starla’s arms before you sleep, when you wake, her laughter, her giggle, you looking into her eyes every day… will be my MOST treasured memories. THAT’s what’s in it for me.”

Quantum nodded. He needed to prepare and call Starla and ask to meet her. While he was taking a bath, he heard his mother screaming downstairs. Something about an intruder and calling the police and a crazy ugly person. He quickly dried himself and found that his future self has gone. He went downstairs and saw his mom looking out the door as if seeing somebody off, well, actually, more like chasing somebody out.

“What is it, ma?”

“A weird old guy was inside our house! And you didn’t even notice it! He was crazy. Said something I couldn’t understand.”

“Like?”

“He told me to look at him. He said he amounted to something. He said I should be proud.”

“Yes, Ma. You should.”

And Quantum went up to his room and called Starla.

IV.

Starla David has a face and disposition that is a combination of sweet innocence and ferocious passion. She is hoping to use the latter when she tells Quantum that it is over between them. But she is unsure. She tells herself that she has had enough and yet feels that she needs just to see something in Quantum, when she meets him in a while, to finally decide.

Quantum Tejada or Hesus Divina. Someone she loves but takes her for granted, or someone she just met but makes her feel the adoration and reverence meant for her namesake, a star – burning brightly in the midst of the void, as Hesus so eloquently put it.

She is in deep thought when Quantum arrives.

Upon his approach, Quantum can clearly see Starla’s facial expression. Brows slightly meeting at the middle, down trodden eyes, lips curled downwards, beautiful beyond compare despite her sadness. Stupid asshole, Quantum whispers to himself, how could he have done this to someone so precious to him, and even needed intervention from divine science to make him realize so. Stupid stupid prick.

“Um, hi.”

“Hey.” Starla looks up to Quantum and holds her gaze even as Quantum sits beside her, as if using what she sees as a basis of her decision.

“So. How was your, um, party?” Quantum asks, and is slightly afraid what he will hear as a response.

“Quantum. I’m glad you have time to see me today. I need to tell you something. We -”

“So do I.” Quantum cuts off Starla. This is it, he thought, she’s going to break up with me. It’s now or never. “I’m sorry. For blowing you off so many times. For always putting other things before you. For being an asshole most of the time”

“Yeah, you are. And it’s too late for an apology. Last night was the last straw” Starla declares formally, trying to hide her uncertainty. “It’s not as if I asked too much you know, I just wanted a little time from you. And now—“

“Oh god starla! Don’t break up with me!” Quantum drops to his knees and clutches both Starla’s legs.

“Stand up Quantum! Jeez!” Starla pulls Quantum up. Slightly embarassed and yet flattered at the same time. “You always do this. You apologize and then things are the same after.”

“No, this time its different.” Quantum grabs Starla. “I realized something very important this morning when I woke up.”

“What?” Starla says. She wishes this is what she’s waiting for. The sign. She’ll hinge her decision on what Quantum will say. She doesn’t know what it is she’s seeing in Quantum’s eyes at this very moment, but it must be the truth for she’s never seen it before with him.

“I realized that…that I am about to lose you. And that if I let you go, I will spend the rest of my life regretting it and isolate myself from people and cry myself to sleep every night and even probably build my own time machine, which I will name after my best friend and go back in time to win you back even at the risk of possibly rupturing the space time order and destroy the universe as we know it.”

“That’s…”

Quantum holds his breath and closes his eyes.

“That’s the sweetest thing anybody’s ever told me.”

“I meant every word.” Quantum declares with great conviction and thinks about his older self whom he knows is watching them from afar.

Starla hugs Quantum tightly. “Somehow, I know.” She lets go and looks at Quantum, now with a smile so broad, eyes twinkling. “I want you to do something with me now.”

“Oh God she wants to have sex with me.” Quantum thought to himself. And from afar, someone shouts for joy.

“Let’s go bungee jumping in Subic!”

And from afar, someone groans.

V.

Quantum parks TEDDY near the cliff over looking the sea and the bungee jumping rig at Subic Bay. He is content, even though he is wondering why he hasn’t yet felt the rush of emotions and memories he was expecting to feel after Starla still accepted the young Quantum.

“Give it time, Master. They will come. Don’t worry the discs and data are still with him. The fact that we’re still here proves that he will still build the machine.”

“Yeah. Let’s just sit back and relax. I want to watch the two lovebirds bungee jump before we go back home. I’ll wait for my memories there.”

On the rig, Quantum sees his young self and Starla hug tightly, as the former prepares to jump. They are both very nervous but Starla is beaming. The old Quantum can see her shine from where he is. What a sight, he thought. “The love of my life.”

Then, Quantum leaps.

And his cord breaks.

“Oh crap.” Quantum and TEDDY mutters at the same time as they watched the younger Quantum plunge head first into the sea, to his death.

Starla’s screaming is the last sound both Quantums hear.

“At least…” The Older Quantum thought to himself as he slowly disappears.

“At least I had time.”

My Lola Poem

2005-11-09T11:37:00.000+08:00

I stumbled upon the fiction collection of one of my local idols and was inspired by one of his poems. Here's his introduction to "tulang lola":

"in Philippine poetry there is a subgenre known as the “lola poem”. For some reason, 85% of poems about family are poems about lolas. There have been about 134 poems about lolas written in the last year alone."

Here's my attempt at one:

*ahem*

Ah, Lola, my Lola
What have you become?
It has been years since
Lolo died and
all the time you were
together, ive never
heard you laugh and giggle
as i hear you now

why o why?

its because of him i know.
"nicanor".
What a name.
Your kinky little nickname
for your favorite hobby

do you love it when
you pull his long slender shaft
while stroking it
for hours and hours?
or when you push
all his "right" buttons?

when you pay him cash
and he
deposits his load
into your bucket?

oh, your delight!
and your despair, when
sometimes he has no load
to give you.

Please, lola.
Stop your evil ways.
Leave him alone.
Cease your addiction to him
now.

Please.
Deny yourself this sinful pleasure
you call nicanor,
also known as
Slot machine # 9
center isle,
ground floor,
casino filipino.

*bow*

punish the punisher

2005-11-05T11:59:00.000+08:00

oh yes, catwoman, punish the punisher...

nyahahaha

comicbook quote of the year!!!

2005-10-24T14:50:00.000+08:00

FROM INFINITE CRISIS # 1

Batman: "Lets face it 'Superman', the last time you inspired anybody was when you were dead."

Superman: ...

Wow. I am really enjoying this series. Yes, its a marketing ploy...yes, the characters are written slightly off...and yes, lots of people died (yay!). Then again, what crossover in the history of crossovers did not have all of these qualities?

I'm a sucker for crossovers. The fanboy in me is giddy all over.

Although:

Grant Morrison's Seven Soldiers is much, much better. Waaayyyyy.

how sad...

2005-10-12T01:54:00.000+08:00

Dominant Personality: Regret

Good Traits: You don't forget what's
happened. You take the time to yourself to [try
to] get over it.

Bad Traits: You never do get over it.
You're living in the past. You can't change it.

People see you as: A shadow (you're always
left behind), honest, and wise. You may act
like you've been through horrible ordeals that
no one can relate to. The honesty is almost a
plus, but being too honest is your problem. You
don't like being lied to, so you choose not to
lie either.

You're Most Like: Protected. After what
you've experienced you closed up, trying to
figure out what's wrong with you. You're more
extroverted to cover up your feelings, unlike a
protected person.

You Need More: Disappointment. This may
sound off, but you do need it. You have to get
out of the past, and focus on the future.

What's your dominant trait? (10 unique results)
brought to you by Quizilla

evil eye commutes

2005-10-04T18:29:00.000+08:00

Hhh. I commuted. I've started doing so more and more these days. I dont mind. It affords me to commune with the outside world. It gives me a sense of what is going on around, outside the confines of my mundane private life inside the panopticon fortress.

I got off the walkway from my moon fortress and started working my way to the main shuttle station. Barely a few steps along it, two women asked me for directions I never thought anyone on the moon would not know, there were hardly no buildings after all. I mean, you just walk long enough and you might fall into the crater you were looking for. Anyway, paranoia kicked in which caused a litle hesitation on my part to give clear and concise directions. Well, I thought I was being conned! Can you blame me? I guess that's how I see the world these days. Nobody's asking for help without an ulterior motive and nobody dives it out without anything in return. So...I gave them the vaguest answer I could afford without being overly rude, and went my way. I finally reached the space shuttle station.

I found little difficulty in getting a good seat inside the shuttle as I was the first one to go in. Passengers started to trickle in soon afterwards. I was trying to get some sleep in the comfort of my own little corner in the shuttle when i started hearing the conversation of two chatty women behind me. Mother and Daughter. To them, it was as if they were home, talking loudly thinking that the next neighbor they have is a good few miles away.

"Did you call dad already?" Daughter says.

"Let HIM call me. Its expensive even to text from here to Saturn." Mother replies.

"Don't you miss him? I do." Daughter says while munching some chips they had. crunch. crunch. CRUNCH.

"Hmmm...oh, wait" Mother checks her phone as it receives a message.

"Its him" after she reads the message. "he's checking if were alright because he heard from the universal newsnet that there's a meteor shower heading our way."

"I wish he were here" Daughter says.

"Yeah, but he says his conference got extended and that he and his secretary might stay there for a few more weeks"

At that particular instant, i thought: "yeah, right. he's probably boning his secretary right now."

And then, silence. Mother and daughter sleep.

And all I can think about after that is: I wonder what the secretary looks like...hmmmmm...

da li'l garapata dat dint matta'

2005-10-04T16:19:00.000+08:00

The dog's name was Larry.

On him were fleas. Sixteen of them, to be exact. Sixteen young garapatas, some younger than the others. Everyday, Larry would go around places, mostly from here to there, and vice versa. All the garapatas would talk and chat about things that would interest them during their trips. All save one.

This little garapata had a world all his own. He wouldnt talk with the others at all. He would simply toil about his own way, doing things only he would enjoy. Try as the others might, they could not get him to speak up. And so, they started to ignore him. Some might have gone to the extent of actually hating him, even. The little garapata would simpy think to himself: "they just dont understand me", and went on playing with, errr..., BY himself.

Time passed by and some of the older garapatas got off Larry and moved on to other dogs. They were soon replaced by younger ones. None of the garapatas that left bothered to say goodbye to the little garapata, and none of the new ones dared to say hello. And the little garapatas simply thought to himself: "you can all come and go...but none of you will ever know"

Then came the time that the little garapata had to move on. He didnt bother to say goodbye to the other garapatas and frankly, the others didnt even notice that he had already left. Even Larry the dog failed to note that he wasnt itching in one particular spot on his body anymore.

The little garapata moved from one dog to another. But he gradually learned to fit in, for some reason. Then, when he settled on a Sarimanok, he broke out. He decided to live amongst others. He learned to appreciate colors, things, wonders that others also see, not only the rainbows and words and WORLDS in his head. He began to speak. Yes, the little garapata began to speak. Some might say he wouldnt stop. He went on make new garapata friends and finding old ones. He became happy, at last.

These days, though, he is at his happiest.

The little garapata just recently found a new home. He is now comfortably nested on the soft silky fur of a panda bear that used to be a hamster.

the end.

nyahahahaha

hell yeah

2005-09-21T16:30:00.000+08:00

Batman

It doesn't get much cooler than that.

Which Tim Burton character are you?

Sam and Aton, A Conversation

2005-09-19T18:54:00.000+08:00

Of all the paintings in room 61b of the Museo del Prado in Madrid, Sam loves this one the most. It is a piece by Vecellio di Gregorio Tiziano, a well-loved painter of Carlos I. Sam has sat on the bench facing the painting for over an hour now, and has checked his watch every few minutes. He sighs deeply, impatience growing with every second he waits for Aton - his 3 PM appointment.

At half past 4 in the afternoon, outside the museum, the clouds part letting past a thin shaft of light. Inside, a beautiful couple enters room 61b and a few instances later, Aton walks toward Sam, approaching him from behind. Aton’s clothes look like rags compared to Sam’s shimmering coat of pure dazzling white. He taps Sam slightly on the shoulders.

“Sorry I’m late. Errands.”

“Yeah. What the hell else is new?” Sam answers back. “Have a seat beside me, my dear friend.”

“So, what is this all about?” says Aton after comfortably settling beside Sam. “We aren’t supposed to meet in a while, what’s so urgent that I had to…”

“I’m sick of it all, Aton. Our roles. Our duties. Our struggles in this world.”

“What are you babbling about Sam? You’ve never been successful at what you do than now, of all times. Don’t you see around you? You’ve destroyed a lot of lives.” Aton exclaimed, passionate. “ Why would you be sick about it? You are winning. Yes, winning in the game that only you play, though.” He continued.

Aton looks at Sam, and then at the picture. He would know what more to say, and frankly isn’t sure if he is to say anything at all. Its not as if he will be affected by whatever Sam is implying. They are enemies after all. Opposites. The ultimate adversaries.

The handsome couple, unmindful of the conversation happening just a few feet from them, looks at the painting of an unknown german master painter. They admire the trees and the landscapes and the imagery before them as if seeing these things for the first time in their lives. They imagine walking around the landscape, feeling the fresh dew of the grass on their bare feet, the soft caress of the wind on their bare bodies, and the soft moans of the animals around them.

Aton stares at the painting Sam has been fixed upon this whole time.

“You always look at this piece when you are depressed.” Aton breaks the silence. “What is it that you see?

“My greatest triumph, Aton. My greatest triumph over you and your master.” Sam looks at Aton, glaring. Boastful.

“Hah. But that triumph has always been credited to YOUR master. Not you.” Aton replies.

‘And more to the point, it is just as planned. That isn’t a triumph.” Aton continues, refusing to even look at Sam. “That was merely the beginning of everything. It was meant to happen. If not for that single event, there wouldn’t be a purpose to anything that has followed since then. Surely you know that”

Sam laughs loudly. The couple looks around them, as if hearing something else entirely. A wolf’s cry. Thunder.

“Yes I do. And THAT is why I am sick of it all. All I’ve done afterwards has no meaning. Hell, people destroy their own lives without my help. My coaxing. They do it for the fun of it.” Sam said in a mocking tone.

“Don’t you see? I long for this again.” Sam points at the painting. “A temptation most vile. A feat that resonates throughout time.”

Aton sighs. “Always the impatient one.” He places a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll have your chance. He’s working on the details as we speak. When all is destroyed and remade, when all becomes dark and the light is rekindled, he will have need of you again.”

“You’re always late.” Sam shrugs off Aton’s hand.

“Very well. Be that way. I have to go.” Aton stands up. “Things to do.”

“Farewell, Samael.”

Sam doesn’t even turn to watch Aton walk away. “See you around, Metatron.”

The couple finally reaches the painting by Tiziano. Even before they get a chance to talk about the fascinating detail, the Man feels the urge to go to the bathroom, leaving his beautiful wife alone.

“Excuse me.” Sam approaches the woman from behind. You can almost call it slithering.

“Would you like an apple?”

ang aking panaginip

2005-07-27T15:26:00.000+08:00

Maliwanag dahil sa napakataas na araw, mainit, pero mahangin. Puro damo ang aking natatanaw, at langit na walang ulap. Tila may inaantay ako. May mga kasama ako pero di ko sila kilala. Parang sabik din sila sa kanilang inaantay. Ako nama'y may nararamdaman sa aking dibdib na higit pa sa simpleng sabik...para akong kinakabahan...bakit? Sino kaya ang aming inaantay? Medyo naninikip ang aking dibdib kaya ako'y nagsigarilyo muna sa likod ng isang maliit na gusali sa gitna nung burol na pinagaantayan namin.

hithit...lulon...buga...sindi ulit ng pangalawa...

Maya maya, nakarinig na ko ng ingay. Mga tawa at tili nung mga nagaantay. Andito na ang aming inaantay, kung sino man sya. Lumabas ako ng nakayuko...kinakabahan nang sobra. Lumapit ako sa mga tao, di makatingin. Biglang may sumigaw ng pangalan ko. Ako'y tumingin dahan dahan...at nakita kita, pero di ko alam kung sino ka, dahil di pa kita nakikita bago nito. Nakita kita, nakatayo, mga kamay ay magkahawak, nakangiti. Kay gandang ngiti. Kay gandang mukha. Maliit, mahaba ang buhok.

Kay gandang mukha.

Marahil itatanggi mo ang aking nakita... pero naniniwala akong higit pa sa pisikal na anyo ang aking nakikita...nakikita ko pati ang iyong taglay na panloobang kabutihan...parang kang anghel. Ano to? bakit ganito ang tibok ng puso ko? Sino ka ba? Bakit ganito ang nararamdaman ko? Parang sasabog ang kalamnan ko. Di ko alam kung ano ang gagawin ko...bakit ganito ang aking nadarama? Ang ganda ng ngiti mo.

Ang ganda mo.

Natigil ako sa aking kinatatayuan. Lumalapit ka pero parang gusto ko umatras at tumakbo! Pero di ako makagalaw. Andyan ka na pala sa harap ko. Palapit pa ng palapit...hanggang dumampi ang napakalambot mong labi sa aking pisngi. Para akong mamamatay! Bakit ganito? Sino ka?! Di ko maintindihan ang panaginip ko. Di dapat ganito nararamdaman ko. Bakit ganito? Parang napakatagal ng halik mo...pero sa katunayan sandali lang pala dahil may tumawag sa pangalan mo. Lumingon ka sa likod mo, at sa akin muli...pero nawala na ang ngiti mo. Lumapit ang lalaking tumawag sa yo. Matangkad. Maputi. Gwapo. At pinakilala mo ko. May binigkas kang pangalang di ko na maalala. “Ang aking asawa". Nagunaw ang mundo ko! Pero bakit? Sino ka ba? Sino ba ko sayo? Bakit ako galit sa kanya? Sino ba ko para damdamin ang sitwasyong ito?

Sino ka ba?.

Bigla na lang, tulad ng mga panaginip, nag iba ang lugar. Nasa tabi tayo ng isang lawa . Tayong dalawa lang. Di tayo nagsasalita, walang ingay. Tahimik ang mundo. Pinipilit mong ngumiti pero alam ko malungkot ka. Ako din. Pero di ko alam kung bakit. Bakit? Sino ka ba? Bakit ganito? Tahimik ang paligid. Walang nagsasalita. Pero magkayakap tayo. Mahigpit.

Nagbago ulit ang paligid. At kami naman ng asawa mo ang magkausap. Di ako makatingin. Di ako makasagot ng maayos sa kanyang mga tanong. Samantalang ang tanong nya ang tungkol lamang sa kung ano anong bagay. Bakit? Sino ka ba? Sino ba ko sayo? Bakit di ako makatingin ng maayos sa mata ng iyong asawa??

Sino ka ba?

Nagbago ulit, sa huling pagkakataon. Nasa simbahan tayong lahat. Sa gitna pa rin ng burol. Pero parang nagpapaalam na kayo. Malungkot ka. Malungkot ako. Parang gusto kong mamatay. Ngumiti ka sakin. May ningning ang mga mata. Ngunit nakita ko na dahil pala ito sa munting luhang namumuo, at tinamaan ng sikat ng araw. Sa malayo, maitim ang ulap. At duon kayo papunta. Nagpaalam ka. Pero di mo na ko nakuhang halikan, hinila ka na ng iyong asawa. Umalis na kayo. Naiwan ako dun. Magisa. Umiiyak. Pero bakit? Naguguluhan ako. Bakit ganun ang aking nararamdaman? Sino ka ba?. Bakit ganun...parang labis kitang mahal? Parang gusto kitang makasama habang buhay. Pero bakit? Bakit ganon?

Bakit ganon...

Tumayo ako at naglakad. May nakita akong salamin. Tumingin ako at nagulat. Di ko muka ang aking nakita. Di ako ang nasa harap ko.

Ang nasa harap ko ay SINGKIT. GWAPO. HINDI AKO.

Sino ba ako?

Pag gising ko, napangiti ako. Di na ko nagtanong kung bakit ganun ang aking nararamdaman. Naintindihan ko na ang lahat.

Panaginip lamang talaga. Walang ibig sabihin.

erick and the god of bad luck, a fairy tale

2005-07-12T22:10:00.000+08:00

first draft

Imagine if you can a world like our own, but not quite. Here, there are many things walking the world that we rarely, and almost never, see in ours. There are demons and devils, and spirits of every kind, there are animal gods, gods of every little thing, lesser gods and great gods; there are all kinds of beings, wraiths, ghosts, and creatures, both benevolent and malevolent. All these co-exist with this world’s humanity – a term in itself, subject to much debate and argument. The gods of this world are seen effortlessly and are not confined to the houses they are worshipped in, nor in the hearts and souls and whispered prayers of the devouts who serve them. This is a world where heaven and hell are simply a stairway and a pitfall away. Literally.

Erick Lackluster (whose life is not as dreary and dull as his name suggests) lives in his mother’s house located at the outskirts of this world’s largest city, Stairway. Standing on a hillside, not surprisingly solitary, the house is surrounded by a lush and beautiful garden filled with colorful flowers and vegetation of all sorts. It is quite odd that all the plants in this garden grew and blossomed well despite the fact that the house always had, literally and figuratively, a dark cloud over it.Erick, as far as he can remember and as far as all the people he has encountered won’t make him forget, is considered to be the unluckiest young man in the world. He was born on the day the most vicious storm in recorded history wreaked havoc on the city. And despite the magnitude of the rain and wind bought by this storm, 13 buildings managed to catch fire and burn down, including portions of the very hospital he was born in. It can be said that he was accorded by the fates pure dumb luck by having as a father an inept, totally useless, unfaithful drunkard who abandoned him and his mother when he was but a year old.Althroughout his childhood, Erick was a tormented soul. As far as all his endeavors went, he always ended up with the shortest straw in the lot, so to speak. He would always figure in all sorts of incidents and accidents that often leave, in its wake, mayhem and destruction. He would always be, year in year out, a slave to all the school’s toughest bullies. He would never escape being blamed for each and every prank done by the other kids simply because he is always at the wrong place, at the wrong time. This was the story of his life. He is sick of this story. He is sick of his life. And he is planning to do something about it.

“What?!?” Erick’s mother exclaimed.

“You heard me. I’m going to kill the god of bad luck.”

And so, Erick prepared all his things and kissed his mother goodbye. She was crying, as she could not help it, but felt that Erick had to do what he wants to do, and only out of love is she allowing him.
Erick had a fairly good idea where he can find the god of bad luck. Stairway City is called as such because it is where the stairway to heaven is located. The stairway is a twisting ladder-like structure whose topmost end touches the clouds and is covered by them. They say at the end lies heaven. You only get to the end when it is your time to do so, and nobody can say when that is. Erick figured, and he is probably correct, that the god (and no less) of bad luck must reside underneath the greatest ladder in the world.

Just as he was about to leave, Erick passed by their garden to say goodbye to his best friend, Ivy. Ivy is a flower yet to bloom, a bud with a thin vine as her body. She talks. A lot. And she says:

“Where are you going? I feel like I am to bloom soon and I don’t want you to miss it for the world!”

“oh, Ivy! My best friend…my only friend, I cannot even begin to ask you to come with me on this very perilous journey! I must do this, even though I would not want to miss your blooming” replied Erick.

“You need not ask.” And with that, Ivy jumped out of her pot and unto Erick’s pocket.

And so, Erick and Ivy began their journey. Just a few miles away from where they live, there is a main road where jeepneys pass through on their way to Stairway City. Byaheng Langit, it says on the label on their windshields. Erick flagged down a jeepney that was only half full. As they were looking for somewhere to sit, and they tought they would not find difficulty doing so, Erick’s horrible luck struck again. It turns out the the Jeepney was full after all. And half of the passengers were spirits on their way to the Stairway. Spirits tend to be invisible to people who are not gifted to see them. So, after shouts of “hey! Im frickin’ sitting here!” and “watch it asshole! Get off my lap!”, Erick decided to just hang on to the railing at the far end of the jeepney. Sabit.

“You fuckers wont go to heaven with mouths like that.” Erick thought to himself.

Suddenly, just as the jeepney was managing a ravine overlooking the forest, it hit a very big bump in the road, hurtling Erick violently towards the thick foliage below. Bumpity bump bump. Erick woke up and felt that his left arm was cut off.

“oh, for the love of--!!! My arm! Damn you god of bad luck! Damn youuuuu!” Erick shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Does it hurt? Erick? Are you ok? I think we should turn back now.” Ivy says, worriedly.

“Suprisingly, no. And like hell will I turn back now. I’m killing that son of a bitch!”
“But I think we are lost.”

They were. Since the ravine was much too deep, it was impossible for Rick to climb the cliff wall back to the road. He decided to just walk through the forest straigth to Stairway. He shuddered as he remembers the stories of his mother about the monsters that lurk the forest, but it is soon replaced by his anger towards the god of bad luck. So, they push on.

“Good thing I brought this with me. To repel any further bad luck we may encounter yet!” Erick exclaimed, holding a salt dispenser in his remaining hand.

“I will spill salt over my shoulder, for good luck!”

And he did. He threw just about the entire contents of the dispenser over his shoulder. Then suddenly, he heard a loud cry behind him.

“You hurt my eye! My eye!!!” Growled the…well, the eye behind him. A huge eye, with arms and legs and a mouth, of course. The eye was full of tears as the salt obviously stung.

“Oh for the love of---! I didn’t see you were there! Why do you sneak up on people like—“ Erick was cut short by the ripping off of his right arm from his body.

“There. Were even. An arm for an eye. “ And with that the eye monster went off about his way.

Ivy could not talk to Erick after that. He was now, more than ever, determined to carry out his plan and rid the world, his world at least, of the god of bad luck. She shed a tear, and was surprised that a bud can actually do so. Erick was walking briskly now, unmindful of the tree branches and vines hitting his face. He couldn’t see very well where he was going but he pushed on. Then suddenly, he stepped on--

“shit!”

“I stepped on shit!!! Of all the---!??!!” shouted Erick.

“Excuse me?” Exclaimed the thing underneath Erick’s foot.

“Did you just call me shit?” The thing added it he detached itself from Erick.

“I’ll have you know that I am Mr. Effle. I am the owner of the most reknowned restaurant in Stairway City and I was resting upon the grass before I went on to deliver my ingredients to my chef” It, He, went on.

“I am a tolerant man”

Erick and Ivy still could not see how it can go on calling itself a man.

“But I draw the line when people say I look like shit.”

Erick and Ivy were snickering. And trying not to be obvious about it. Just then, Mr. Effle cut off Erick’s left leg.

“Good day to the two of you” Mr. Effle bowed and went on his way.

Hippity hoppity hop. Erick was hopping with his one leg. If a while ago he was determined more than ever to kill the god of bad luck, well this time he was determined most than ever. And there was nothing Ivy could do about it, so she just shed a few more tears.

It was in front of a bridge that Erick suddenly stopped hopping. He took out Ivy from his pocket, with his teeth, and looked at her with teary eyes.

“I’ve dragged you in my foolishness long enough.”

“I cannot bear something happening to you. With my luck, something will soon enough, and my heart will not be able to take it.” He whispered, not being able to look Ivy in the eye. Yes, Only Erick knew where Ivy’s eyes were.

“This is goodbye. This MUST be goodbye. Im sure you will find your way back, and you’ll be much safer than you are with me.” He spat Ivy out towards the river.

“Erick! No!” Shouted Ivy “Its bad luck for friends to say goodbye on a bridge! They say friends who do never see each other again!” She was able to shout before she hit the water.

But Erick never heard her. And he went on. Hippity hoppity hop. He felt empty inside.

Erick was finally reaching the edge of the forest, for the undergrowth and shrubs and foliage were getting thinner. He decided that he needed another lucky charm to prepare him for the battle ahead. He thought twice, given the salt incident, but decided to go ahead with it. He laughed hard, thinking that his luck finally changed, as he saw a rabbit’s foot (he could not see the entire body) sticking out from a hole, presumably stuck.

“A rabbit’s foot. Surely a potent good luck charm” he thought as he ripped the foot off the rabbit.

Erick smile was quickly wiped off from his faced as a large gigantic figure rose in front of him, towering over him.

“My pinky!!!!” Growled the hairy beast. “You bit off my pinky!!!!!”

“Here I am sleeping under my blanket of cool damp earth, dreaming of little butterflies, when you bit off my pinky! I should cut off your remaining leg for what you’ve done!” And he did.

Erick went on and arrived under the stairway to heaven by bouncing in all his stumply glory (or gloom). Stumpplity stump stump. He was fuming, he was angry, he was hell-bent on inflicting the god of bad luck pain, so much more than what he has gone through. Never mind that he didn’t feel too much at all. After all, the pain he was reeling from was that of a broken heart. He cannot for the life of him comprehend what he could have done in his lifetime to deserve all this punishment. He lost his legs, his arms, and he lost his best friend.

Beside the door he saw a flower. How odd, he thought, that something so beautiful should grow beside so much evil. He could not help stare at it. It was so beautiful. Then suddenly, it spoke.

“Erick.”

“It’s me, Ivy.” She was smiling, and only Erick knew where her mouth was.

“My best friend.” Replied Erick. And he kissed the mouth only he could see.

“You are so beautiful, I am sorry I wasn’t there to see you bloom. However did you get here?”

“A bird brought me here, it was in his beak that I bloomed. We looked from the sky but could not find you, so I asked to be brought here.” Said Ivy.

“I am glad you are here. To witness my revenge.”

“Oh, Erick. Must you still?” Ivy dissapointingly asked, but she knew she would support whatever Erick does. She loves him so.

“You know I must.”

So Ivy went and wrapped her stem to his body. At the door to the lair of the god of bad luck stood guard a black cat. Erick did not hesitate at all when he lunged using the stumps that used to be his legs forward and bit off the guard-cat’s head. Never mind that Ivy was there.

“Ha! You call that a guard?!” He mockingly shouted.

He was, for better or worse, at the end of his journey. And all that stood in his way towards revenge was a black door. He entered, unafraid. What the hell else could happen to him now after all?

Inside, sitting on his throne, was the god of bad luck. A thin reed of a man with a cat-like head, and golden cat-like eyes. He looked gentle and kind, and not at all like what a god of bad luck should look like (if anybody had any idea what one looked like, anyway)

“I need to know why! Before I kill you, tell me why!” Said Erick.

“Erick. Finally.” replied the cat-like god. But his lips did not move at all. “My most favored subject has come before me”

“What are you talking about?? Do you always destroy the lives of your favored subjects?” Erick shouted. He was angry, and he he was crying.

“I say this to you: the fastest way one can arrive to perfection is through suffering. And now…you are. Perfect.” Said the god, smiling.

For some reason, Erick understood everything at that very instant. He thought that he has experienced everything anyone could ever experience in a lifetime. And he always knew what to do. How to endure. How to survive and bounce back.

“Oh, wait.” The cat-like god interrupted Erick’s epiphany. “You cut off my son’s head. Its only proper that I cut off yours too.” And he did.

--------------------

Erick’s mother was working in her garden when she received a black box, with tiny holes on it, wrapped in a ribbon. She opened it and was shocked to see a head inside. Erick’s. And on his mouth, bit without teeth, was Ivy, a most beautiful flower.

“Mother” Erick said with a smile on face.

“I’m back.”

And so it was that given Erick’s vast knowledge and strong will against adversity, he became literally, and figuratively, the head of the state.

He ruled their world until he died, happy and content, three hundred years later. He married Ivy. Don’t ask whether they had children or not. Because their life is another story, filled with good fortune and joy. That type of story isnt told. It is lived.

Thus

2005-07-07T16:56:00.000+08:00

I opened my eyes to see her smiling at me. Such an innocent smile, pure, unassuming. It is after the earth shattering break up that I met her, and all I could think about and felt deep in my heart at that very instant is...I am saved.

Thus did I know the true meaning of love.

I witnessed the spectacular birth of a star in my lifetime. I heard its first cry as it entered this world. A shriek that will shatter undeserving ears. It has been years since the star was born. And I hear the sweet sound to this day.

Thus did I learn the meaning of joy.

I look into a puddle of water. I see my reflection, muddled, incoherent. Yet the water was calm. I look next into a mirror, and I see the same ghastly thing.

Thus did I learn the meaning of imperfection.

I waited for days for some sort of signal. It did not come. My heart ached as my mind raced from one scene to another. I could not for the life of me understand what I could have done to merit such a punishment. I was left to fend for myself, alone, helpless. I still feel a pang in my chest every time I close my eyes.

Thus did I learn the meaning of betrayal.

I saw black. And nothing else. Even when something exploded in me, I could not see nor hear anything. My arms were swinging. Flailing. Hitting. Until I felt something warm upon them. Dripping. Then a loud thud. And the shouting began.

Thus did I learn the meaning of anger.

I am in a hole. Inescapable. It is cold and I cannot move. I cried and gnashed all about. But nobody came. Nobody could hear me, let alone save me. And it was getting colder still. I felt…hopeless.

Thus did I learn the meaning of despair.

I cannot see what is ahead for me. Even if I reach out, I cannot touch anything. Even if I move forward there is still a few more steps to go. I never seem to reach where I am supposed to go. And when I close my eyes to try and see what is beyond… all I see is a great cloud looming. And then lightning crashes and destroys what isnt there in the first place.

Thus did I learn the meaning of fear.

Just when I am about to lose my mind, I see a light. And the clouds part, though nothing comes out of it. But there is a tap on my shoulder. And words whispered. “ It’ll be alright. You’ll see. Embrace your fate, shape it. Everyone goes through the same things, but what you become from hereon will be your own doing. What will you do? What else is there to do?” Then, I see that I am in front of a mirror again, all alone, with my own hand on my shoulder. And I am…smiling.

Thus did I learn the meaning of hope.

Love, joy, imperfection, betrayal, anger, despair, fear, hope.

Thus did I learn the meaning of life.

memoirs of a serial killer victim

2005-06-16T20:35:00.000+08:00

Wednesday

The entire monastery was roused by the screaming of Brother Ileo. I rushed to dress in the rags I call my clothes to see what might cause Ileo, the most timid and reserved of us all to let out such a bawl that would wake even the dead long gone. When I got to the commissary, where everyone was by now gathered, I saw why.

Brother Simone lay in a pool of blood, throat slashed, tongue sticking out. I struggle to keep in a scream as loud as Ileo’s in my throat. Who could do such a ghastly thing? And why?

After Simone was buried, Brother Francesco (the most senior of us) met us all. Even though nobody will admit it at the time, we all knew the killer was one of us. After all we are 18 monks (17, as I write this and shed another tear for dear Simone) isolated in the mountains with no visitors except for the regular monthly delivery of supplies by the local merchant.

Oh, the situation we are in! We are like trapped animals in a pit with a predator biding his time in devouring us all!

Everybody has said his prayers, but I doubt if anyone feels deep in his heart that we are in God’s good graces from this day forward…

Friday

The violent thunderstorm that has ravaged us since yesterday is the least of our concerns.

Brother Ileo was found in his room this morning. Throat wide agape. Oh, the blood! I never thought there could be so much in a body such as Ileo’s!

Francesco gathered us all again to discuss the horrendous situation we are in. It became a common consensus among all of us to vacate the monastery and make for the outside world. Of course everybody knew how pointless this would be since it is very evident that the killer was one of us. Secondly, the storm has all but destroyed the mountain path we use to descend into the nearest town.

We desperately tried to convince Francesco to forego the congregation’s daily routine of solitary prayers and meditation. We were all, except him and some of the elders, of the thinking that if we bunch together from hereon, then the killer will not have any opportunity to strike again. The argument was for naught, however, for Francesco decreed that it will be a greater sin for all of us if we were to abandon God’s most holy decree upon us. Our duty was far more greater than our singular lives. God will take care of us in the next life, says Francesco and the elders.

Damn him! Damn God! I do not wish to die! And I shall do whatever it takes!

Tuesday

I decided to take matters into my own hands. I refuse to be the prey to this evil predator. For three days I prowled the hallways of the monastery in the evenings when everyone was deep in the midst of their meditation and prayers. I believed that I would stumble upon the monster there. And I did, last night. Or so I thought.

The struggle was brutal and violent, but being a different man than I was before this evil began, I managed to wrestle Brother Romero to the ground. I pressed my knife to his throat, waiting for any sort of mad explanation from his lips, waiting for a reason for his actions…his EVIL. But there was none. There was pure inimitable fear in his eyes. I doubted at that very instant whether he was the killer. The knife eased slightly from his throat as my hand trembled. But something in me erupted, which I now attribute to the need to survive and my love for my life. Or perhaps its something else? My newfound rage caused my hand to plunge the knife deep into Romero’s throat.

Better him than me.

Oh God what have I done?

NO! At least, I have stopped the killing. God should be proud.

Saturday

Damn my soul to hell! It isn’t over! After Romero, which I am responsible for, there was another victim, Josef. Who is doing this? I mean, the other thing…I mean, the murders…the first two murders…I mean…

I will go and hunt again.

The roads outside has not yet solidified under the sun simply because the sun, until now has not come up, and hasn’t done so since the storm passed. We are all still trapped here, and the others are starting to lose their sanity. Most have decided to pray together, while some have lost their faith. Some think this the ultimate sacrifice, an act of martyrdom, and thus just wait for their fate to slit their throats. I am beginning to hate everybody. But I hate the killer the most.

It must end tonight.

Friday

I killed Brother Alexis last Saturday, after I found him lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce on somebody. There was no hesitation on my part this time. While it was fear in the eyes of Romero, it was calm and serenity in Alexis’. I actually thought he welcomed my knife. So I plunged it deeply and violently until I almost cut off his head. It felt…satisfying. When it was over, it seemed we had the same smile on our faces.

It has now been six days and there were no more murders. I have put an end to all this madness and death!

It will now be just a matter of days before the paths clear and the soil solidifies for us to make our way out of this accursed place. But somehow, I don’t want to go. Somehow, I don’t want anyone to leave.

I only have a few days.

And 13 more to kill.

Brother Alexis and I have the same smile.

not sure them filters are working

2005-05-29T22:29:00.000+08:00

blowing out smoke rings as i type this.

my throat hurts every time. and god, the gagging. the gagging. bugger this. i better kill the stick, now my eye's starting to hurt. squinting real hard. and the tears are starting to fall down my cheek. from the smoke, my dears, not anything else...

i SHOULD stop smoking, methinks. but not now. it keeps me from going crazy. yes, the ultimate justification for a life threatening vice: "i'm doing this for my health you know, being crazy can kill you". nyahaha. shit, im way beyond help.

anyway, whats been going on lately? SS (same shit),

and tomorrow? SSDD (same shit, different day)

but enough of my complaining. im sure people who read this blog (yes, the three of you), are sick and tired of my fucking whining. are you? sorry, cant help it. you know what this blog is for anyway, dont you? yep. you do. and so, you should understand.

im thinking of an inspiring thing to say to end this post.

i think that was it.

heh.

sigh

2005-05-27T14:45:00.000+08:00

today, i'm this.
tomorrow, im not.
i just dont know anymore.
confusion.
perplexity.
incongruity.
maybe i will be like this until the day i die...
or maybe:
i will...be stranger still.
sigh
bugger.

view from inside my time and space spanning device

2005-05-25T10:11:00.000+08:00

2005-05-25T09:57:00.001+08:00

2005-05-25T09:57:00.000+08:00

txt

2005-05-19T15:26:00.000+08:00

dex: M slowly realizing dat M not strong at all. M weak. Just surviving even tho M crushd n destroyd. I hope 4 ur sake u r diffrent coz I AM MISERABLE
Jison: Bkit n naman?
Nemesis: you r strong. d fact dat u r survivin sez it ol.
Arcangel Jophiem: anu na naman problema mo?
dex(to jison): bkit ganyan ka makatanung, la b ko karapatan? M just exprssin meself kesa itago ko lahat s loob k to.
Jison: ok ok. we are not weak! we are strong! drop ur errands, inum tau!
Nemesis: does this have anything to do with THAT THING agen? :-)
dex (to nemesis): dat doesnt concern me nomore. dats d least of my concerns.
dex (to all): i just realized that i am my worst enemy. i dont want to go anywhere. suntukan muna kami ng sarili ko.
jison: wag mo kalabanin sarili mo. alam mo kung bkit? baka magulat ka kung ganu k kalakas, matalo ka pa.
dex (to jison): mejo nalito ko, pero gets ko. salamat.
jison: ako din nalito sa txt ko, buti ka pa gets mo.

after a few hours

jison: d nga, anu na gets mo? explain m naman...

a note...for lack of a more apt title

2005-05-17T20:53:00.000+08:00

scribbled at the back of a book cover...

dear____,

Indulge my attempt to strike a parallel between you and this book which i haven't read in its entirety.

You see, this is a book i've always wanted to buy, but always end up reading mere snippets of. every word i read builds into a wonderful experience, each chapter into brilliance. The story slowly unfolds beautifully before my eyes. And now, when I finally decide to buy it, i do so to give it to somebody else...

this book, for me, is you. i know it is great, as i know you are. i am content knowing that someone, if not me for now, gets to the last page.

e.

an old entry from an old journal

2005-04-30T15:53:00.000+08:00

i'm randomly selecting pages from my old journals and scanning them. how? i close my eyes and flip the pages, then stop, then scan. i fear i dont have the time to scan everything and transfer them here as i originally intended.

on my writing: boy, i sucked then. and i suck now. somethings never change.

look at the lights fantastic

2005-04-17T18:46:00.000+08:00

2005-04-17T18:37:00.000+08:00

ok, so every once in a while i go down from my fortress on the dark side of the moon to admire the lights on earth. but not TOO often...

from daydreams in the dark volume one

2005-04-04T23:54:00.000+08:00

a page from my original journal.

fare ye well, blue beetle

2005-04-03T21:08:00.000+08:00

I am a fan of yours, ever since. Back when you were written as a second rate spiderman, i cheered.... back when you were written as a worthless joke with a beer belly, i laughed (but not AT you)... and now, when you were finally written as one of the greatest detectives and heroes in the DC universe, only to die in the end (and killed by no less than one of my favorite characters as well)--- i cried.

i dont hate the writers-who-wrote-for-you-to- die. stories do need twists, and turn arounds...they need humor and absurdity...and they do need death. where does everyone go, after all? at least in comics and in stories you have the chance to get resurrected.

i hope you dont, ted kord. because your last adventure was perfect. befitting a hero, indeed.

good bye. send my regards to sue and tora.

and now...a short (children's) story -- because this is the only thing i'm capable of writing

2005-03-28T22:45:00.000+08:00

*no title yet*

Imagine if you can a world like our own, but not quite. Here, there are many things walking the world that we rarely, and almost never, see in ours. There are demons and devils, and spirits of every kind, there are animal gods, gods of every little thing, lesser gods and great gods; there are all kinds of beings, wraiths, ghosts, and creatures, both benevolent and malevolent. All these co-exist with this world’s humanity – a term in itself, subject to much debate and argument. The gods of this world are seen effortlessly and are not confined to the houses they are worshipped in, nor in the hearts and souls and whispered prayers of the devouts who serve them. This is a world where heaven and hell are simply a stairway and a pitfall away. Literally.

Erick Lackluster (whose life is not as dreary and dull as his name suggests) lives in his mother’s house located at the outskirts of this world’s largest city, Stairway. Standing on a hillside, not surprisingly solitary, the house is surrounded by a lush and beautiful garden filled with colorful flowers and vegetation of all sorts. It is quite odd that all the plants in this garden grew and blossomed well despite the fact that the house always had, literally and figuratively, a dark cloud over it.

Erick, as far as he can remember and as far as all the people he has encountered won’t make him forget, is considered to be the unluckiest young man in the world. He was born on the day the most vicious storm in recorded history wreaked havoc on the city. And despite the magnitude of the rain and wind bought by this storm, 13 buildings managed to catch fire and burn down, including portions of the very hospital he was born in. It can be said that he was accorded by the fates pure dumb luck by having as a father an inept, totally useless, unfaithful drunkard who abandoned him and his mother when he was but a year old.

Althroughout his childhood, Eric was a tormented soul. As far as all his endeavors went, he always ended up with the shortest straw in the lot, so to speak. He would always figure in all sorts of incidents and accidents that often leave, in its wake, mayhem and destruction. He would always be, year in year out, a slave to all the school’s toughest bullies. He would never escape being blamed for each and every prank done by the other kids simply because he is always at the wrong place, at the wrong time. This was the story of his life. He is sick of this story. He is sick of his life. And he is planning to do something about it.

“What?!?” Erick’s mother exclaimed.

“You heard me. I’m going to kill the god of bad luck.”

To be continued.

2005-03-22T10:07:00.000+08:00

angels walk among us.

driving home

2005-03-16T12:47:00.000+08:00

yes. there ARE streets and trees on the dark side of the moon. If you squint a little you will see the entrance to the panopticon fortress.

2005-03-12T11:26:00.000+08:00

"anatomy"

contradicting contradictions

2005-03-09T11:57:00.000+08:00

8. I am a straight up twisted person.

7. My mediocrity is the best.

6. I am simply complex.

5. I firmly believe without a single doubt in my mind that I am a skeptic.

4. In a roundabout, dilly dallying, beat-around-the-bush kind of way, I am frank and blunt.

3. I don't, and never, question anything?

2. I am not schizophrenic. Yes I am. No I'm not. Yes I am.

1. I consider myself witty because I...errr...ummmm... because...urmm... I am.

proof that i'm a terrible writer

2005-03-08T22:26:00.000+08:00

"what is it?"

"what's wrong?" said oyle. but deep down the recesses of his black sticky heart, he knows.

"you know."

"deep down the recesses of your black sticky heart, you know" replied eych2oh sadly.

"i guess..." oyle said, acknowledging finally their predicament.

they've been trying to start something between them ever since they met. something. after all these years, they finally suceeded. they've done what is naturally impossible...they're starting to bond. they're starting to form a union. swirling around together, floating, weightless... oblivious of what is, and what isnt supposed to be.

but they know. deep down they both know.

"if only i could believe that you are capable of being with me, perhaps i could let go of my inhibitions. " eych2oh said, even though she didnt want to.

"but my capability is in question as well, for i do not think i can push through with it" she added.

"i can love you all i want, and you can love me..."

"but we will never have each other."

"we just dont mix."

2005-03-07T23:06:00.000+08:00

fascinating specimen.

2005-03-07T23:01:00.000+08:00

the hitchhiker.
as seen through my evil eye

before the knight, comes the dawn

2005-03-07T22:42:00.001+08:00

batman begins.

this is going to kick spidey's butt, i cant wait til july...

the night angels cried

2005-01-17T22:01:00.000+08:00

Blood. I am covered in blood. Not mine. Somebody else's. It sticks to my skin, turning it to its color. Red. Red as blood. IT IS blood. Not mine. Another's. It smells. It wreaks. HIS EYES...staring at the dark. No choice, nothing else but the dark.

I wonder if he hears his children crying over him.
I wonder if he feels us as we carry him from the blood soaked floor he was laying.
I wonder if he feels his crying wife's arms as she embraced him tightly.
I wonder if he felt us drop him as his body became too heavy.
I hope he didn't. I hope he saw nothing. Felt nothing. I hope that even in the violent nature of his death, he left peacefully.

Why does this have to happen? His children look like angels. Angels cried that evening. Angels wailed and moaned. Angels lost. They lost their father.

Tell me anyone. Tell me what good does this bring. Tell me what good can be had from the tears of an Angel? Tell me the meaning of this. Tell me its ultimate reason.

Can you hear me? Do you care? Do you care what happens to your Angels? Do you realize how much you favor your demons, your devils, your evil? Do you?

Why do you kill those that need to be alive?

Tell me.

If you dare. If you are there. At all.

F

2004-09-30T11:57:00.000+08:00

You know me. Everybody knows me. Everybody wants me. I am the stars, the moon, the sun. I am the dirt, the scum, the grime. I eat all of you from the inside. I devour, I smother, I crush. I fill you up and drain you. I live to kill and maim. I make you want me and then leave and turn away. I am worthless shit. Worthless, expensive, over-the-top, shining glimmering spectacular shit. Dirty and ugly scum sucking shit. I want to cradle you in my arms and crush every bone in your body. Bite and chew and spit out. Tounge pick and suck. What is left drips from my mouth. I will pick you from my teeth and eat you again. I am always hungry. A am never satisfied. I am sweet sex. Rippling shivering never-ending-explosion of desire and want.

I am me. And you are mine.

to my blog

2004-09-30T11:48:00.000+08:00

Do not think yourself forgotten
my dark thing
for sometimes you are my only friend
in good and bad
you bear witness
you hide my lies
and make them the truth
you see through me
and yet close your eyes
In your darkness...
my stories shine.
In your abyss...
I am lost.
In your pages
my life unfolds.

the sun

2004-09-17T16:22:00.000+08:00

I want to slay the sun.
Simply because it shines so much
On the place I least like it to do so…
My face.

It blinds me and burns my eyes.
It gives me pain one cannot imagine.
I do not desire warmth.
For I have become a cold being.

Frozen, unfeeling, numb.

i must be, you see?

2004-09-14T11:18:00.000+08:00

i must be blind for i can't see
that god and the world loves me

i must be deaf for i can't hear
the songs sung to my ear

i must be numb for i can't feel
life's warm and sweet cuddle

i must be mute for i can't speak
the syllables, the words that matter

i must be dead
for there is none for me to hope for...
not life, nor love
not even hope.
...

THE TWILIGHT KNIGHTS CHAPTER 4

2004-09-14T11:04:00.000+08:00

Team Building

The Twilight Knight, Archon and Shimmer visit potential recruits.
Alternate "flashback scenes" of shimmer individually talking to retired heroes: Boomerang, Condor, Super Nova, etc. Note: for every interview scene/panel, show corresponding action scene/panel involving Archon, TK, and Johnny (The Alter Beast). Example: boomerang: "i've grown weary of running after thugs" and the next panel shows Archon huffing and puffing while running after johnny.
TK and Archon chases a boy who changes into a beast uncontrollably. When finally cornered, the boy transforms and gives the two a harsh beating. They eventually subdue it (TK uses brutal, questionable tactics, much to archon's objections) and the beast reverts to human form.
While TK and Archon load the boy into their vehicle, they receive a radio transmission from shimmer confirming the new recruits.
The new recruits: Phase, Condor, I/O (already with TK as his computer expert), Johnny (The Alterbeast) , Super Nova
Note: the boy's activities are relativley new. Hence, TK did not go after him until now. Unsure if he wants to actually recruit the boy, archon agrees if only to help johnny regarding his "problem". Of course, The Twilight Knight has other plans...

end of chapter 4...

lament

2004-09-03T13:21:00.000+08:00

despair my heart
nobody knows you're there
nobody cares for you
my feet glides over the floor
aimless, boundless, lost
my mind is empty
drained to its last neuron

dribble foam drip
bitter sweet sour
BEATING POUNDING NOISE.

a speech i wrote for a friend

2004-09-02T14:21:00.000+08:00

*i wrote this four years ago...funny how things are more or less still the same after all this time.

This is very rough…but all I could manage for now - feel free to edit at will.

I was reading the newspaper for the past few days looking for a worthy subject for my speech today. Well, days have passed and I havent a decent thing to talk about. I was reminded why I have stopped reading the headlines at all. I couldn’t help but skip through them and dive straight into the entertainment columns, which I may add is also a site of many a travesty,

And so… I have a dilemma as to what Ive got to talk about today.

I certainly do not want to talk about the on-going crisis in Mindanao, how the government totally mishandled the Abu sayyaf ever since the beginning. How they’ve now found an end to justify the means…how they’ve gone and disregarded harmless civilians caught in the crossfire… Ask me again another day, and I’ll be saying that the offensive was the right thing to do since the Abu Sayyaf have gotten away with everything, including murder and have gotten very rich in the process. That’s how confusing the situation got….and I do not want to waste any more time to talk about it.

No, I don’t even want to mention that the gasoline prices have skyrocketed, and what was once a harmless joyride and “pasyals” for me and my family now turned into a trip (expense-wise) comparable to the treks to Bagiuo and all places north of here. Nor do I want to even mention the fact that the number of grocery bag and baskets seems to dwindle down for the same amount you’ve tried to maintain for a months worth of food and commodities. Need I mention that all our budgets are shot to hell? I don’t think so.

I even had high hopes of getting in front of you and at least talk about a positive thing like a medal (any medal) that our country could have won in the Olympics. Alas, after a few and very frustrating events wherein we could have gotten something had it not been for costly mistakes and coaching errors…I am here to say nothing about this particular topic.

I am also frustrated about the fact that there seems to be an on-going epidemic of sorts of stomach viruses affecting numerous children, including my own. So frustrated that I am not going to even mention it.

And the crime? Do you know how many features there are in a daily newspaper detailing crimes of incest and murders and robberies and graft and corruption? I shudder at the thought of talking about that.

(lonng pause…smile, sigh, project…bahala ka na)

And so…my quest for something to make a speech about ended up in failure. I stand in front of you empty handed…so to speak. I’ve got nothing to say.

Perhaps, all I need tell you now is that when I was reading all that, and thinking that it was all worhtless reading it and even talking about it…my mind subconsiously started to read between the lines, at the background of the pictures , in the spaces between the pages. What I saw, what I wanted to see, what I wanted to feel, was hope. Hope that in the next few days or weeks, or months, those empty spaces will have better news to feature, greater stories to tell, inspiring images to portray. When that time comes, and the optimist in me somehow knows it will…then I know we’ve got greater speeches to give, bigger smiles on our faces, and better dispositions.

Oh, I forgot to mention, just between the real and the imaginary pages… there were ads regarding a big, big sale in three major malls in Alabang…I guess that made me feel a little better too.

(thank the audience, smile, and you're done.)

silence.

2004-09-02T13:53:00.000+08:00

Your silence says a lot.
And I understand clearly.

There’s no use dreaming.
A nightmare, this is.
And my bane, you are.

You drive me crazy.
And feel good about it.

You ignore me more.
And watch me die waiting.

You pretend to like me.
And cherish the fact that I LOVE you.

You will kill me.
And drink my blood.
And then bury me
In an unmarked grave
To be forgotten as if I never were.

THE TWILIGHT KNIGHTS CHAPTER III

2004-09-01T18:47:00.000+08:00

previously on the twilight knights: see previous chapters and introduction

Twilight Night

- Archon and Shimmer in The Twilight Knight's lair. He shows them around, but does not reveal his identity. He bullies Archon around and immediately treeats him as a subordinate, an underling.
- T.K. revelas a dossier of all metahuman who previously operated in ultracity, all inactive save for a very select, unrevealed few. List includes archon and shimmer.
- T.K. and archon train, the former outperforms archon and rubs it in his face incessantly
- The three (TK, archon, and shimmer) look for candidates for the team.
- T.K. insists they call the team: The Twilight Knights
- T.K. makes the two feel offhand that he is the team's "leader"
- Beginning to notice The Twilight Knight's huuuge ego, archon now has second thoughts about the entire super hero team thing...

end of issue 3.

a thousand things

2004-09-01T15:31:00.000+08:00

(2nd draft)

i walk and then run
over the glades, under the sun
arms flailing, lungs afire

unmindful of glaring eyes

I rush and then halt
a commotion stirred, sudden.
the grass all rustled
as a thousand things fluttered

the sky is darkened
by shapes of the thousand
things, seemingly endless
stretching to forever

a closer look accorded
a mindful eye, sees
the wondrous sight
of a thousand wings’ flight.

crime and punishment, 1

2004-09-01T12:05:00.000+08:00

i'm starting a series on things people do that annoy the heck out of me, and the subsequent punishment they deserve...

crime: tail-gaters - people who stop their cars within inches of yours especially when the traffic is stop and go.
punishment: have them drive in front of a monster truck with no brakes...

crime: 3rd laners-people who go out of their lanes trying to overtake everybody on a 4 lane, 2 way street. They usually end up creating more traffic when they try to get back in the lane when its bumper to bumper already.
punishment: head-on collision with an 18-wheeler

crime: self righteous people who think they're better than everybody
punishment: chain them to a chair in front of a mirror for one whole year...let them realize who's better...them, or their reflection .

crime: two-timing your partner every chance you get, just because you like to have sex with everybody thus leading to break up with said partner.
punishment: three letters---STD.

to be continued.

THE TWILIGHT KNIGHTS CHAPTER II

2004-09-01T10:35:00.000+08:00

previously : see chapter 1 and introduction, august 2004

Into the Fray

Archon and Shimmer decide to investigate the hostage situation (chapter 1). Having been rejected by the Twilight Knight, they decide to take matters into their own hands. They suspect Takezawa industries of dealing armaments and weapons to the various gangs in ultracity. The hostage situation was the result of a botched arms trade/buy-off. They suspect none other than the head of the company himself...

The couple is successful in exposing the company which results in a major battle atop the corporate tower culminating in the explosion of the topmost floors of the building.

This chapter ends with the couple hanging on to some loose beams, dangling over the side of the building. The Twilight Knight shows himself to them and tells them he's watched the battle all along. He thinks out loud if he should help them up. note: helping them now symbolizes his willingness to form a new group. We will note see at the end of the chapter what he will do.

additional notes:
-emphasize how archon and shimmer infitrate the building, detail archons and shimmer's not-so-prfect fighting skills brought about by their long hiatus.
- show prologues of what is to come...focus on a mysterious cult
- detail how TK observes the battle

end of issue 2.

alive

2004-09-01T09:50:00.000+08:00

and...we're back.

You have been the greatest pain
I’ve ever felt

You have been the biggest lie
I’ve ever been told

You have been the most sinister secret
I’ve ever kept

Yours is the dirtiest reputation
I’ve ever had to protect

Your offer of forever
I’ve never been able to reject

You have been my life
You will be my undoing

You have been my love
Now there is none

There is no pain
There is no lie
There is no secret
Forever is done
My life is destroyed

BUT I AM ALIVE!

Tho’ not for long…
Not for long.

your world

2004-09-01T09:11:00.000+08:00

a slight change in mood...

The Sun… my eyes
Staring at it will not burn you
But fill your senses with awe and wonder

The clouds…my touch
Feel it caress your skin, surround you
Envelop you

The vast landscapes…my body
Trample on it as much as you want
Exhaust all its resources

The cool valley wind…my breath
Feel it blow your tresses ever so gently
From side to side

The rivers and the ocean…my blood
Drink in It, bathe in it, cleanse yourself
Refine your being

The Stars…my love
My infinite love.

TWILIGHT KNIGHTS CHAPTER 1

2004-08-31T16:31:00.000+08:00

Note: this is a raw outline only...

The Life

Archon and Shimmer, former members of the paranormal team, Protectons, are now husband and wife. Five years earlier, the demon called Gargath killed half of the team and seriously injured the others. Shimmer lost her light manipulation powers...Geo, the team leader, sacrificed his life to destroy Gargath---or so it seemed...Negaton's energy field (he is an energy based being) dispersed into the atmosphere... Silvermane was brutally tortured and killed...etcetera.

Present day: Ultracity is in a state of decay brought about by crime, corruption, among other problems. Only one costumed vigilante, the mysterious Twilight Knight continues to operate. Although not able to completely change the situation, he is generally feared by the common thugs and the petty criminal heirarchy. His is a neverending struggle. One he endures alone...just the way he wants it.

Archon and Shimmer, retired, still reside in this city. Archon used to be the world's greatest archer, but he is now out of shape. Shimmer lost her power, and her will to make a difference. They are both disgusted with the state of the city, and the world.

They are powerless to change things. But Archon has a plan...

During a hostage situation, Archon decides to contact the hard to find Twilight Knight and convince him to form a team again. He has the resources and the technology to do so. Archon thinks that if he gets involved in the hostage situation, TK will find him. Archon does so, and he gets the crap beaten out of him...he is out of shape after all... The Twilight Knight arrives and saves the hostages...he then turns Archon's proposal down.

End of issue one.

the eye

2004-08-31T13:54:00.000+08:00

I am the eye.
the evil eye.
show yourself
for you cannot hide.
tell the truth
for you cannot lie.
close your eyes
for you cannot stare back.
kill yourself now
and be spared...
my gaze.

favorite movie moments, 1

2004-08-31T11:10:00.000+08:00

Just the scenes that i've thought of today, i'm sure there'll be a lot more in the days to come.

in no particular order:

BATMAN RETURNS: Batman frantically searches for catwoman's body unaware that the penguin is slowly approaching from behind (may i note that his emergence from the water was superb). Penguin, in a final act of desperation, gets his umbrella gun form his pile of umbrellas and tragically picks out the wrong one. Nice cut from Michael Keaton (THE one and only batman for me, well until christian bale kicks ass in the suit anyway) turning to face penguin and penguin opening the red and white/carousel/baby charm umbrella. Then the paenguin dies.

FIGHT CLUB: Jack and Marla watch from a building window as all the other buildings around them explode and collapse. Jack takes her hand and the film ends. Nice music to boot. Perfect ending to a perfect movie.

THE CROW: Shelley "fetches" Eric Draven by his gravestone. Heart rending scene. Ethereal. The shot of shelley with white tattered gown flowing behind her is eerie as it is beautiful. And then she smiles at Eric, as if saying..."oh well, it's over...come with me, my love, you've done me justice...and you are done."

EXCALIBUR: King Arthur rides accross a dead and withered land. All the flowers start to bloom and the trees come alive in a burst of color and beauty as he passes. Killer soundtrack. The king and the land are one.

LEON, THE PROFESSIONAL: "open the door...please" mathilda begs as she just passes by her apartment and sees her parents and her brother dead on the floor, and the killers by the doorway. She pretends not to live there and therefore stops by LEons door and begs to be let in. Powerful performance by natalie portman. And by Jean Reno as Leon. Classic. Brings a tear to my evil eye everytime i watch it.

ZOOLANDER: Magnum. Need i say more? heh.

THE TWILIGHT KNIGHTS (INTRO)

2004-08-31T08:58:00.000+08:00

I will be starting to post, by chapters, the ongoing saga of the twilight knights... This is a comic book series (or maybe a tv series, or a serial novel) i conceived way back but never really got around to do anything with. This is a sequel to an earlier series i did which i chronicled in a working notebook i had, and then lost (i am still looking for it, as though looking for a piece of my childhood i lost). I have had grand plans about stories i've made before but i only get around to outlining them. Who knows, someday i may finally get around doing a novel or a screenplay (i have about 2 or 3 ideas i'm slooowwlllyyyy developing)...

Please note that i am putting this here solely for the purpose of not losing it again as i did my previous work... it is not meant to entertain or anything. It's for me and me alone to hate or love...

evil eye.

crappy writer

2004-08-30T18:07:00.000+08:00

i am. a crappy writer. that's what i am. a crappy writer.

what the hell??

2004-08-30T15:36:00.000+08:00

Aaaarggghhh...

I can't access my own damn blogspot! Why?? Access denied? How? What? Sheeeshh...just my luck. It seems i can post but i won't be able to read them...I'd find it funny if it wasnt so damn tragic... siiiighhhh deep breath, and sighhhhh, deep breath, and siiiigggghhhhh...

What's so damn frustrating is, this journal was supposed to be for my eyes only since i wasnt going to give the address to anybody (even then... i dont know how this shit works... so this might be published across the whole internet for everyone to see). And now...I can't see MY OWN JOURNAL! bwahhahahaaaaa hah hah heh he heh...heh...hu..huhuhuhu. Damn.

grrrr! aargh!

welcome to my dark daydream

2004-08-30T14:33:00.000+08:00

greetings....

welcome to my daydreams...my daydreams in the dark. If you are a positive thinker, get out now. This space will be full of pessimism and skepticism, and bad spelling...

You will get a glimpse of what goes on in my mind, and it ain't always pretty i assure you.

This journal will be filled with my incoherent ramblings, my sick and jaded thoughts. It may ruin your day, then again, it may inspire you...if you are a sick bastard too.

so, into the fray my friends...descend the spiral with me...

evil eye.