for the love of god


for the love of god, i do not know what i am doing online. i made a pact with the high priestess of creative intelligence not to go online until i get my stories done. one of which is my fantasy story, for my fantasy writing class. the one thing fantastic (as in magical, ie highly improbable) about that class is me in it. and since i am, fantasy must be real.

for the love of god, im sick and tired of complaining about my life. i know it has got to be a good life. if i wasn't the one living it, id be envious of it. i'm sick and tired of thinking that i could be better.

i could be better.

*throw in the confetti please* now that i know that, i can move on. god, i admire myself already. i have the guts to love myself for what i am. as for today, i will stuff food down my throat and sleep the entire week. i will emerge the ugly ogre who loves himself to death. next week, i promise to be pretty. botox, lypo and rhynoplasty and all.

and oh. DAMN YOU BJ!!! DAMN YOU TO HELL. that did not sound right. DAMN YOU TO HEAVEN!!! (you would have enjoyed hell.)

now pass me those nefarious chocolates. i can still feel a rib.

posted by carl @ 4:49 AM 3 comments

posted by carl @ 2:21 AM 2 comments

i'm back.

now that another horrid cycle where the industrial firefly found himself sulking over matters of the heart has passed, it is once again time to reflect on worthy issues such as why does poverty exist and what should i wear for tomorrow's party. but really, was the sorry digression necessary? i almost thought that we magnanimous entities were exempted from such moments of utter indignation and self-inflicted debauchery; hearts are for weaklings. i was born with a pacemaker pumping concentrated cranberry juice into my arteries. anyway...

i just had the pleasure of sitting through that uber-sensible show they call debate--you know, that primal scream-reality show they pass off as, well, a debate. (actually, i was lying down on my stomach, with the stranger spread under my chin-this is a book, okay, not a person-its page remained unturned except during commercial breaks.) during my days as a high school student, i was made to believe that debates actually had rules and a certain discipline was maintained. i believe a. high used the british parliament? i forget. well, apparently, the vital mix of adulthood and controversial matters gives off the excuse to veer away from concepts such as order and logic.

i'm so relieved to be still sixteen. here's another instance which proves that my decision to be sixteen for the past five years is the right one.

the topic at hand: is sm management (which incidentally operated lion share of cinemas in the country) right in regulating itself from showing r-rated movies?

perhaps the weirdest argument was the unfounded allegation that this is again the elite trying to take control of what we should watch. oh, i'm really upset. they are depriving us of porn! ugh the audacity!

my reply would have been this simple (not that i imagined myself to be seated in the middle of that beautiful shitstorm generated by juliana palermo, rep. cayetano, soxy topacio, a priest, a moralist and THE manoling morato): sm is a private establishment. the management has the right to choose what to be shown there. their only mistake was that they made this new criterion public, but they could still have refused to show these bold movies at any rate. if you want to watch some girl spread her legs in an oversized projector screen, go to another moviehouse.

if we can't accept that, we may as well question drugstores who refuse to sell cocaine.

posted by carl @ 2:35 AM 1 comments