Few weeks ago, my half-sober friend, akira, candidly mused that the latest entry he read on my blog was crappy. He was referring to this not-only-crappy-but-sappy entry. Well it gave me a hint to write out my mind, and put a permanent halt to my attempt at capturing lyrical imageries, which, more often than not, turn into a travesty, even a parody in a literary form. He had a point. No wonder I lost the drive to write. I couldn't even write!


Last night I was observing the skyline over cold milk (0% fat, mind you), in the hope of forming some lines out of a "spectacular" view from my window. I scribbled a few characters on paper but what was supposed to be a poem or maybe a prose became a practice sheet for my signature, which can be a good thing since I am getting sick of my current signature anyway.


This morning I woke up taking random curses that came into my mind. Dammit I still feel the same up to now-- toxicated, that is. On my table stands Jose Cuervo, half-emptied (or half-full) pack of Marlboro Lights, four empty wrappers of chocolates, a tetra pack of sterilized milk and a bottle of mineral water. What's ominous about it is, I don't even remember consuming any of them. I remember reading Malayan Horror Stories though, and even brought Malayan witches and gnomes in my dream. Good thing I didn't develop my usual female fears of the unknown.


I called the Royal Porcupine this morning out of a whim. It needed a new haircut so didn't say much. Later I sent a message comparing its voice to the morning sunshine-- of course I am good at making it feel better. Well I haven't really given up on it being a cloaked and faintly menacing stranger. I'd like to keep it in its place. In the meantime.


Contrary to the claims of Goeeyman, I've never really been elusive these days. Confessional memories come in handy once I open my mouth. The more outre, damaging, and abusive the past is, the better. The urge to tell-all is pervasive, but I make sure that I wont walk in regret later. So much for being honest.


I got this line from a book I was reading. It's the protagonist's mom's motto.


"Nice men did things for you; bad men did things to you,"


I leave it for you to ponder on.


Later for more pieces of crap.


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