The Weekly LitWit Challenge 4.2: Something Sensational
“I never travel without my diary,” wrote Oscar Wilde. “One should always have something sensational to read on the train.” This piece of advice changed my attitude towards journal-writing completely. If you had a boring, uneventful day, why bore yourself all over again by recounting it in your diary?
Oh, right, posterity. You’re assuming that in the future people will be interested in your day-to-day existence. Maybe if you invent a teleportation device or figure out how to turn air into food. But if you’re hoping to be remembered for your diary of life in the early part of the 21st century, stop.
People, you have to be considerate. You can’t just think about yourselves—think about the people who might read your diary. Your nosy boyfriend or girlfriend, your mother (Aaaaaaaaaaaaa), the servants, colleagues who hate you. Do you want to confirm their suspicion that you are slowly but surely expiring from ennui? You have a blog/facebook account for that; your secret personal diary is another matter. Give them something to make their eyes pop out of the backs of their heads.
Your assignment this week: Write a diary of your week. Any seven-day stretch. Make it Sensational. Exaggerate. Embellish the facts, gild the truth, fabricate a life if you have to. Give the Yucch-meter something sensational to read on the last week of 2010.
Word limit for all seven entries: 1,000 words.
The prize: Two winners will each receive the Moleskine hardcover pocket daily diary 2011.
Deadline: 12 noon on Sunday, 2 January 2011.
The Weekly LitWit Challenge is brought to you by our friends at National Bookstore.
Answers to questions you might be asking, unless you wandered onto this site purely by accident >>>
December 26th, 2010 at 23:40
Gilding the truth. Embellishment. Hmmmmnnnnn…I have lots of free time…Let me think about it(now I’m making use of my free time). I could produce a lot of crap and be a laughing stock…But it’s something to do…
December 27th, 2010 at 18:29
At the last LitWit Challenge, I thought “I’m sure someone’s going to turn in an entry done in the ‘Captain’s Log’ style.” I was right. For this round, I’m waiting for people to pattern it after the first verses of Genesis.
I’ll try not to turn in a dick joke this time, if I come up with something.
December 27th, 2010 at 18:37
I’m also waiting for the entries that start with “Dear Diary…”
By the way, about “Word limit for all seven entries: 1,000 words.”: This would be 1,000 words for all seven diary entries in one participant’s entry, right? The loophole-seeking part of my brain thinks that could involve a 1,000-word entry for each daily entry and I am trying to squash this Yucch-meter-breaking interpretation.
December 27th, 2010 at 20:18
oberstein: All right, since you are so enthusiastic we’ll allow you, just you, to write 1,000 words per day, but the same deadline will apply to your 7,000-word entry.
December 27th, 2010 at 20:31
Wahaha, I love what I’m working on now. I’m having second thoughts on the publication, but I am horny with inspiration now. I will be submitting tomorrow.
It’s a good thing you mentioned “fabricate,” Madame.
Cheers you all darling nerds! Muahness from Pasig Citehh!
December 28th, 2010 at 00:37
Aw, man! On the one hand, I believe that even my secret life (or what’s possibly left of it, judging by the fiction writing that I already do) is, sadly, no longer a secret, and not as shocking as it would have been around this time last year.
On the other hand, however: Embellishment! Fabrication! And a chance to let out more steam between checking 58 Blue Books before the New Year! What great inspiration! I *must* think of something…
(Though I’m afraid that I might end up mocking another Travel and Living Channel host this go-round, after Andrew Zimmern’s cameo entry in the last contest – which also means that Bobby Chinn and Anthony Bourdain won’t be mentioned here, either, since they’ve already been targeted in past LitWit entries. Like I’ve said, I no longer lead a scandalous life. Heh.)
December 28th, 2010 at 02:55
My first time to post the first entry!
* * *
It was only 8 PM, and already, I took a plate. The dining table had plates of fresh veggies, buttered veggies, spaghetti with meatballs, roast beef, pata tim, chicken barbecue, pork siomai, dark chocolate cake, and buko pandan. I thought the menu was a little overdone, so I couldn’t decide. Besides, I wasn’t really hungry. I just ate something two hours ago, but I wanted to put something in my mouth. I went for the spaghetti.
My mom screamed at me when she saw me finishing my food. She accused me of destroying the food. I asked her what the point was; we would be eating it anyway. She said that I could have eaten the excess spaghetti in the kitchen. I shrugged my shoulders, went to my room, and lied on my bed. She followed me and announced that she’ll wake me 30 minutes before 12. She went back to the dining table to repair the damage I allegedly did. I slid my hand inside my shorts, felt the surgical steel barbell pierced horizontally under the shaft of my penis, and reassured myself that it should be all right as I scraped the flaky stuff surrounding the scabbing wound.
* * *
I went out with my friends. No gift for me, but that’s fair enough. I haven’t bought them gifts myself. We decided to chill out at our not-so favorite coffee shop/resto/bar.
The menu wasn’t helpful, but I was looking at the pasta platter. Filet mignon. Mixed seafood. Veggie pizza. I wasn’t bringing enough money. I did my math, mentally. I went for the filet mignon and veggie pizza. I repeated my math, and then the waiter asked me how I’d like my filet mignon. Well done, well done. And a slice of that sinful chocolate cake, please. The waiter recited our order as I nodded with each item, eyes focused on that bulge in his crotch.
* * *
My sister and I were malling. She wanted me to treat her to the movies. I gave in, but we went to the supermarket first for chips. V-Cut (Red), Roller Coaster (Blue), Tostillas (Yellow), Piattos (Violet), Potato Chips (Orange), Potato Ridges (Green). Bottled drinks. I stared at Doritos and Ruffles. I stayed with the first six.
We lined up for tickets and two large popcorns, cheese and barbecue flavors. I was thinking of hotdogs, but my sister and I only have two pairs of hands. We went inside the movie house, fortunately found seats at the last row, and started munching on whatever my sister opened. I accidentally nudged my seatmate’s arm. I mumbled my apologies and felt his hard stare. I searched for his eyes. He winked and gave me the look that told me to excuse myself from my sister. I felt a metallic cold from my pierced penis. I think I heard it jingle a tiny bit.
* * *
My high school friend came knocking at our door with half a kilo of strawberries. We were thinking of the same: strawberries and cream.
I looked around the kitchen for the ingredients. My high school friend started to rinse the strawberries. She took a bite. I opened the fridge while munching on unwashed strawberries. She started talking about her Christmas in Baguio City. Another strawberry bitten. I looked inside the china cabinet, my mouth full of strawberries. She took the knife and chopping board while spewing strawberry leaves on the sink. She couldn’t stop laughing about something, and she got me going. Then I told her about my penile piercing, out of nowhere. A third person somehow had to know. She squirmed a bit, tried to feel comfortable, and joked if she could take a peek. I pulled out my penis, fast. No hesitation. My slightly shriveled penis dangled in front of her. I waited for a reaction. She swallowed another strawberry. She barely looked at my thing and immediately asked me to put it back. My penis suddenly felt detached. It must be infected, I thought, but there was not the slightest of pain, only a sudden run of numbness. I swallowed hard, both spit and strawberry. The ingredients, we forgot. The strawberries were gone.
* * *
I missed my McDonald’s French fries, but nobody wanted to be bothered. Or maybe I didn’t want to be bothered. I was still deciding which one was it when I arrived at the nearest McDonald’s.
Large French fries with Coke. I shook out the French fries from the carton and tossed them on the tray. I took one long strand, shook off the salt, and nibbled on it for a minute. I have been working the single strand inside my mouth for so long that I found myself making a penis with the hill of French fries.
* * *
I grabbed a bottle of chocolate spread. I rummaged out the kitchen for a loaf of bread. There was none. I opened the chocolate spread and dipped my finger in it.
That was not chocolate spread. That was real chocolate! I dipped my finger again. And again. My mom walked in and gave me a quizzing look. I was licking my finger when she saw me. I think I blushed, because she saw me sucking ravenously, like I was giving my ex a blowjob. She sighed as she turned away, then I realized I had been in the kitchen for an hour. Oh chocolate!
* * *
I suddenly remembered my research on Thomas Aquinas for my theology class. There’s nothing to do and I was not helpful in the kitchen, so I did a little browsing.
Maybe I did a little more browsing than necessary. The year-end trivia: Thomas Aquinas’s view on gluttony. I was suddenly hungry. Famished. Starved. Amidst the intestinal phenomenon, my penis was suddenly raging hard, most probably thinking by itself. I laughed victoriously. I ran to the kitchen so as not to destroy the food displayed in the dining room.
December 28th, 2010 at 11:26
Was it Nymphomania or Satyriasis?
I was fucking these two boys last evening, at the same time, and they gave me the same feedback about my teeth getting in the way. Double fail. I should be less of an anal slut; my fellatio’s getting rusty.
-12/20/2010
===============================================
We braved that cold December evening in our skinny, skinny jeans and our ladies medium tank tops. We clearly had a mission, a predatory purpose, and our erect nipples, shaped like rabbit shit at that temperature, made sure that the message got through.
And so we picked up these four kids outside Dunkin Donuts. It was somewhere around 8 that evening. The night was young. Our bookings, younger.
We were taking our prey to my apartment when I noticed this cross dressing old faggot a few feet away from where we picked up these kids. He was giving us the finger with his good eye. Ahaha! That loser should give the blue eyeshadow a break already. At his age, he should just give everything a break and just die somewhere quiet.
-12/21/2010
===============================================
His young, virgin cock was stained with shit. My upper legs were sore; I was on my knees for about a year or so. My face was swimming in perspiration, but I felt amazing on the whole. Meanwhile, there was this faint smell of shit somewhere as I pulled up my boxer shorts and stood up to open the lights. I was half-panicking then.
It was such a shameful investigation of the sheets. I knew I had to make amends, so I told him, “Sorry I took a dump on your cock. Here’s fifty pesos more. Just don’t tell your friends.”
-12/22/2010
===============================================
That kid from yesterday was cute, but he wouldn’t know what to do with his doodie once I got it in me. He’s never done doggie before. At least I’m sure he doesn’t fuck around. Hell, the kid’s fifteen.
How do I know that? One of his friends dropped by earlier today. He says he wants me to take care of him. I said no because of his shortcomings.
-12/23/2010
===============================================
Come to think of it, I haven’t had sex with my boyfriend for six months now. He turned 18 last June, and I suppose he just got too old. But I’ll buy him a shirt for Christmas, one of those ornery medium shirts from Bench. I may even wrap the thing, but I don’t know.
So I went to Bench this afternoon. I wasn’t aware that those hideous third world closet queens are holding an assembly at that outlet. Fucking shit, never mind that I now smell like their cheap-ass Penshoppe colognes. I had to get him something because I will be breaking up with him before the year ends.
It’s all about shelf life, of course.
-12/24/2010
===============================================
He had half a mind to get away from here and do Chrismas or something. But I have a whole mind to unwrap his pants, kneel down in between his long legs, and have me some holiday cheer myself. That third world brandy, however, did the negotiation, and he was complicit, by and by. The second bottle had as much persuasion in it as the empty one, and my throat was having a Merry Christmas halfway through the second Gran reinforcement.
Merry Christmas, ‘Insan!
-12/25/2010
===============================================
I suppose my only problem, if there is any to begin with, is that I don’t spit. I’m an inveterate swallower, and that’s that’s not helping my gingivitis none. Meanwhile, there is providence in being an anal slut, a power bottom if you may, and I need to stock up on the rubber.
I’ll drop by 7-11 tomorrow on my way to Intellicare. I still have three condoms left, and I reckon I’ll be fresh out by morning.
-12/26/2010
===============================================
Number of words: 636
Keyword:Fabricate
December 28th, 2010 at 11:37
ang ganda ng prizes!
December 28th, 2010 at 19:59
my week with james franco.
lunes. kami’y nagkakilala.
martes. kami’y muling nagkita.
miyerkules. nagtapat siya ng kanyang pag-ibig. (smiley face, smiley face)
huwebes. inibig ko rin siya. (yun na.)
biyernes. puno ng pagmamahalan. mga puso namin ay sadyang nag-aawitan.
sabado. biglang nagkatampuhan.
linggo. ako’y iniwan.
December 29th, 2010 at 02:08
December 29, 2010
New Year’s Resolutions:
1) Stop peeing in Ma’am Angie’s pitcher of orange juice.
2) Stop taking Bo’s poop from the kennel and adding it to Mister Roger’s coffee.
3) Basically do as Fr. Al says and turn the other cheek.
December 30, 2010
Fr. Al said he loved me today! I know how difficult it was for him. Hah! Harriet was wrong. Fr. Al isn’t a lusty DOM. He’s really a conflicted servant of God. God will understand our love. Only God understands our love.
December 31, 2010
Skype with family. Quiet noche buena. They were able to eat lechon thanks to LBC Perang Padala. All those months of suffering the evil eye from Ma’am Angie, all those accusations of Thief!, all those beatings, all those threats to let Bo loose on me. All worth it. Hay. I love my family.
Note to self: try to bet on the lottery. Kuya Carding wants a new Nike.
January 1, 2011
First kiss of the new year. Under a mistletoe. A snowflake landed on Fr. Al’s nape. I kissed it away. Sometimes I wish I were the socks that Fr. Al uses to comfort his feet. Oh to warm his big toe! To caress that pinky while he raises the Holy Host. To lave the in-between valleys between his middle toe and his ring toe. To hold his ankle. Ohhhh. Still, I’m fortunate. It’s true that pregnant women are lucky. I’m the luckiet woman in the world! Fr. Al told me that he’d disavow his rites. We’ll elope to Scandinavia!
Dear Journal,
Is this how it should go? Well, you’re mine now. So I write whatever I want and you don’t give me shit for it!! Understand? Well, I suppose you do. I have a secret. I don’t want to do this sex-trafficking gig anymore. I want to bone Matthio day and night and squeeze the sweat out from his overworked loyalist dog act. I’d unravel all his secrets with my teeth and he’d beg me for it. Only not like a whore cause they’re fake. He’d beg me decently with his three-piece suit and his tie. God, his tie. Madre de dios, por favor… just one night with him. Just one night. Just — one.
Reminders:
1. buy lube, potatoes, toothbrush
2. find a suitable hiding place for diary.
3. tell Fr. Al to get a blonde this time.
December 29th, 2010 at 04:23
Monday, 27-12-2010
It’s a holiday. Monday holiday. What the heck am I doing at work? Pfft! Well, it’s an extra day off I can use later so I guess it’s a good trade off. At the elevators, Sam waved hello. I smiled back. Bastard! It gets me every time. Then he sent me a text message inviting me for a night cap. Yeah right, like that’s gonna happen. What am I saying? I always give in. Emotional tug of war on a Monday holiday. You got to be kidding me! Oh it’s gonna be a long day. I haven’t even had coffee yet.
Tuesday 28-12-2010
Woke up with sun on my right and Sam’s note on my left. “There’s food on the table. Have an early meeting. Catch up with you later. S”. How can you not love this guy? I bet Gina’s husband don’t fix her breakfast before going to work. I walked around the room and went through Sam’s clothes. Picked up a white t-shirt and went to the kitchen. I remembered Gina scolding me on the phone last night. I know what I’m doing, Gina! Get off my case. I lounge around the apartment and tinkered on the new pictures from Sam’s recent out of town trip with his family. They just love Tali Beach. I stared at his apartment for 5 minutes and went to the bathroom and showered. Stupid town hall meeting — work always gets in the way!
Wednesday 29-12-2010
Met up with Gina and Tori today. I decided to see them before they storm in the office and demand face time with me. Tori is giving me the lecture while Gina shakes her head in disbelief. Me? Their words enter my right ear and exits my left. Wonder where Sam is?
Thursday 30-12-2010
Please God, this is the last thing I’d ever ask of you. I’ll do anything. I’ll have babies, I’ll go to PTA meetings. I’ll be a freaking soccer mom, just please, give me this! Please. Begging is a drag ?
Friday 31-12-2010
New year’s eve will be spent sloshed and hammered at the rooftop of Tori’s fabulous condo. Sometimes I wonder why I’m friends with Gina and Tori for 15 years now. I honestly think we’ve drifted apart years ago. Well, I’m not one to complain. They’re the best friends a girl could ever have. But I think exes shouldn’t be best friends with one another, especially when your husbands didn’t know their wives hooked up eon and a half ago. Oops, did I say that out loud?! Backspace, backspace, backspace.
Saturday 01-01-2011
Sam is here! Spent the day with me, woohoo. Giddy as a bee! He fetched me at Tori’s place at about 3am-ish and took me back home. We stayed awake for like 2 hours, talking about nothing and did the nasty afterwards I’m aching all over, damn that frigging chair! Note to self: return the yellow Play and display chair! Sam started kissing my swollen hips and I mentioned I should bet on a lotto ticket today or jueteng, whatever works. He calls me crazy. Beautiful but crazy. I told him I won’t go down on him. He lets out a howl and went to the bathroom. I looked away and all of a sudden, I felt hot tears fall from my eyes. I wanted to bawl but decided against it. Got up and fixed myself a cup of coffee and waited for Sam in the kitchen.
Sunday 02-01-2011
A lot of people fussing and fawning. Fairly predictable, I say to myself. Gina and Albert looked really really good and were both waving at me like crazy baffoons. Tori and Greg came up to me and checked if I was okay. I nodded and gently whisked them away. Waiting for the coordinator’s signal. Deep breaths. I’m asked to get in the car. I thought I’m supposed to feel light headed but I don’t feel a thing. My folks are smiling like crazy. They keep on talking to me but I don’t understand what they’re saying. My mom told me to shut off my iPhone. Oh-kay. Hayyy, I need to get off this in a while. My cousin Lisa saw me and said Paolo is one lucky bastard. I laughed for the first time today. Alright, this is it. In a few minutes, I will be Mrs. Paolo Francisco Mercado. I imagine Sam seated on the 3rd row. That made me smile. The coordinator’s is asking me to keep my iPhone inside my pouch. Breathe. Okay, let’s do this.
Last log:
I hear the first few chords of Marry me by Train, Paolo’s fave. Game face on. Time of death, 10:05 a.m. Jan. 2, 2011— mine.
December 29th, 2010 at 17:37
11/15/10
7:53 pm
I was brilliant today. Yeah, Gwen was the one who was actually brilliant but I got away with it. What matters is that JJ and the other partners think that I’m the one who is brilliant. Not that short, fat, pony-tailed, poorly-dressed, zit-faced woman. Sure, she graduated magna cum laude from law school but nobody would be impressed by a woman who slurs through her braces and squints through her thick glasses.
She’s very organized to a fault. Actually classifies all her research in folders in her computer. All I had to do was click on Corporation Law, then go into Corporate Rehabilitation and voila! – jurisprudence on suspension of payments. She did not even have the sense to put a password on her computer. What a dolt. Lawyers are supposed to know how to guard secrets – and that includes research. But she does produce excellent research. No wonder The Firm still keeps her around despite her ineffectiveness in litigation and client relations.
11/16/10
10:00 pm
JJ and LV took me out for drinks earlier this evening. A drink with two senior partners! They were very happy with my research. Eduardo Cruz, CEO of Cruz Estates, a billion-peso real estate company, was very pleased that his company could still pursue its complaint for nullification of deed of sale against Earth Telecom, which is now under corporate rehabilitation. The ownership of that P100 million piece of land in Makati will surely revert to Cruz Estates. Thanks to my research.
Of course I had the sense to download Miss Warthog’s material into my computer. Added a few research of my own and some personal touch here and there, put on a password, and it’s mine. Nobody will know.
I’m brilliant.
11/17/10
10:30 pm
Nearly got caught by Warthog fiddling with her computer during lunch today. But I got what I wanted. I told her I was surfing the internet on her computer because mine bogged down.
JJ told me that Cruz Estates had a mortgage contract with Earth Telecom. Earth loaned from Cruz P50 million and secured it with a piece of land in Taguig. Cruz Estates could not collect the loan because of Earth Telecom’s petition for corporate rehabilitation and JJ wanted to look for jurisdictional grounds to dismiss the petition. There is a ground. Improper venue. Thanks to Warthog’s research, no, my research. Hahaha!
Found this jurisprudential nugget in Warthog’s computer: Hyatt Escalators v. Goldstar Elevators, G.R. No. 161026, October 24, 2005. With this, I was able to save Cruz Estates’ day.
I’m brilliant.
11/18/10
8:34 pm
JJ announced to everyone that I was part of Cruz Estates’ retainer team. I will have my share of the retainer’s fees and would be fully entitled to the fees for other work I would do for the company. Money, money, money. Kent looked particularly peeved. Sorry hot shot. It may be easy for you to sleep with the gorgeous women at the office but I’m The Man now. Up yours.
Warthog came up and actually congratulated me. She firmly grasped my hand. She seemed sincere. I told her that I was flattered and honored to be recognized by her. I had always admired her work, I said. She smiled broadly and blushed. Sucker.
Gwen, I hope you won’t get smart and put a password on your computer. Let’s keep it an open relationship.
I can’t believe it. Two years on the job and I’m part of a retainer team.
I’m brilliant.
11/19/10
9:56 pm
JJ took me to a buffet lunch at Sofitel today. Eduardo Cruz wanted to meet me. The man loves to eat and one just had to look at his size to know that. He was very happy with my work. He didn’t know that someone so young could be so brilliant. I said I love to study and do research. True lawyering is not done in the courtroom. The ability to make loud noises and suck up to clients is just secondary. True lawyering is done in the confines of the office, through constant study and research.
Cruz mopped it up. JJ simply beamed.
I’m brilliant.
11/20/10
11:15 pm
Maria from Family Law department asked me out for a drink. Maria, Maria, Maria. It was rumored that whenever she handled annulment cases for rich old men, she usually ended up as the first post-annulment girlfriend. Her flings didn’t last long. She always managed to move on. All the guys at the office wanted to have a piece of her. But she’s difficult to tame. A wild lioness that only spreads her legs for the big lions. Even Kent, the office stud, only got as far as her left nipple.
But Maria asked me out. She said she never thought I had brains inside my ordinary-looking head. She likes guys who can achieve so much in so little time. You’re a fast riser, she said. I told her, the way she said it made me rise somewhere beneath my pants. She laughed, stood up, took my hand and led me out of the bar and into her car. I got farther than Kent ever did.
I’m brilliant.
11/21/10
9”45 pm
I dropped by the office to pick up my things before going to the airport. Warthog was there. I asked her what she was doing there on a Sunday. She said she liked to read all the new Supreme Court decisions. It’s her weekly ritual. She wants to be up-to-date on all jurisprudential developments. She likes to compile cases and put them in her files. If she had ready information on hand, she would be able to serve her clients well. She hopes that one day she would get to handle cases for big clients. Like me.
On Eduardo Cruz’s private jet en route to Cebu, JJ handed me a very thick file. It was an expropriation case concerning Cruz Estates’ property on Mactan Island. It was prime property but the government wanted to use the land for expanding Cebu’s international port. This is going to be a difficult case and involves millions of pesos, I said. JJ told me that the company has full faith in The Firm’s expertise. Besides, I was part of the team. I would find a way. I’m brilliant.
December 30th, 2010 at 08:36
Dear Hobbes,
Today is January 11, 2010. I will go straight to the point. I have AIDS. Just got back from the diagnostic clinic where I got my lab results. Right next to you is a letter, obviously standard and deferential, affirming that I can get help by getting in touch with the company they represent by calling the telephone number, apparently a hotline, and address typed on it and the laboratory result which says, in discrete letters: Human Immune Virus: positive. It is funny how I see it. The test result seems to have its way of not getting through me. It looks as if that it was written a thousand times already; one too many rather that it does not appear to shock the bejezus out of the encoder and the word processor even.
Dear Hobbes,
Josie, my mother, went to my room, woke me up, took out the laundry for me and saw the lab results on my bedside table. Before she could even read what is on the paper, with feline reflexes, I easily scooped the letter out of her sight, kissed her good morning and sent her out of my room. I could still see her looking back at me with the puzzled look on her face before I closed the door at her. The last time I kissed her was when I was six years old.
Dear Hobbes,
Today, making matters more sentimental, is my birthday, January 13. My birthday party was planned ahead of time by my good friends, Jessie, Mark, Paul and Scott. I was on the verge of postponing the fete but I decided to go on with it anyway. If I did that, they will ask me a gazillion question about it and even if I lie to them, like a hound, they will easily sniff out the truth nonetheless. I am not sure whether I am a good actor or not, but the plan is, to avoid being the national party pooper, is that I will ask everyone, and I mean everyone, how they have been and all that shit. I will become so interested in their lives that it is going to be so uncomfortable. The more they speak about themselves, the more, hopefully, I will get distracted about my own, personal issue. After this part is over, I swear to everyone’s god, I will tell this to my best friend, Jessie. I suddenly wondered, while looking at them sharing a shot glass with me, if they’ll all excuse themselves after they hear me squeal about my illness.
Dear Hobbes,
The knowledge that I have the disease has dawned upon me. I examined my, nevertheless, healthy-looking self thoroughly in the mirror. I am not such a bad-looking chap I thought while distancing myself from the mirror. I checked my lips to see if any herpes or syphilis has erupted. Good thing, they have not—yet. I took my dentures out to check if my gums are bleeding; I lost my canine and one of my incisors during my fraternity days. My face, still flawless, exhibited the usual stubbles while I was running one of my hands on it. Lifting my bangs, I was reminded that my hairline is receding. Damn. Few days ago, this was the only thing that bothered me. Now, it has found a new comrade in making the living hell out of the remaining hours of my sorry life.
Dear Hobbes,
Tonight is January 15 and I have marked this day to officially turn my resignation letter in. I handed the letter to my boss, Glenda, who, at that moment, was speaking to another manager about something, although unimportant, private. Still speaking, she nonchalantly took the letter, read it and in an instant, she bid goodbye to the person she was speaking to; my guess: the IT manager, Robert (you did not hear this from me) and commanded me to sit down. I explained in the letter that I was going abroad but the banshee did not take the bullshit. The attrition rate of my department, ever since she became the head, surged; it gave her the liberty to elect that the resignation was about her administration—or just about her. I was in no mood to explain, so it was simple, really, to put a straight face and to own what I have written.
Dear Hobbes,
I took out my camera, a Canon point-and-shoot type of which model I am too lazy to check, and started taking photographs of my face. I can still afford to smile and make tens of funny faces. Later, I will load the images in my computer and label it DAY 1. I might probably post them on my social networking site disguised as one of my profile pictures.
Chris, my older brother, startled me as he walked pass me, giving me that “You vain, narcissistic bastard” eyes.
Dear Hobbes,
Today is January 17, 2010.
It is fortunate for me that you, my friend, were not blessed with eyes and ears. I do not intend, even the slightest bit, that you see me in my most devastating condition. Quite frankly, Hobbes, I am still not acquainted with this illness and I fear that I am going overwhelmingly insane. Why, among the millions of people, was I singled out to get this? I am sick and tired of seeing people– happy, worry-free people walking pass me every single minute. Heavens stop me from doing what I am thinking right now. Next to you, my friend, is a capped syringe filled with my blood.
December 30th, 2010 at 08:52
MONDAY.
To my supervisors in The Department: I already told you that I’m still working on that damn report. Hello, did you not realize that I’m working with ten years’ worth of national security documents here? Those flow charts don’t write themselves, you know, so STOP BUGGING ME. Thank you.
To my iPhone: What do you mean, the last three calls came from B?
TUESDAY.
Dear sister of The Big Kahuna: Ano ka ba? Alam naman ng bayan na palagi kang nakikialam sa Kuya mo. Pati ba naman yung mga confidential government documents ay pinakikialaman mo din? Magpaliwanag ka na kasi sa Department, noh. And by the way, ako nga yung nagpalit ng password mo. Masyadong madaling hulaan eh.
Which reminds me…
Darlings: Remember, the correct term is Honey TRAP, not Honey POT. And if anyone asks you again why I’m not in Stockholm for this mission, tell them that I don’t do threesomes. Or guys who like to do it bareback, for that matter.
WEDNESDAY.
To The Department: Attached is a copy of the report for our upcoming meeting with The Big Kahuna at The Palace. Would you like me to prepare a matching Powerpoint presentation to go along with that?
To the folks at TMZ: Here’s a name for you – Sarah Palin. Yes, Sarah Palin. Don’t quote me on that one.
To B: You tried to kill me under direct orders from your Company. You gave The Department a reason to take me off the field and leave me on “desk duty” for the last five years. And you still have the nerve to call me every six months, to ask me how I’m doing. But God help me, I’m still in love with you.
THURSDAY.
Dear Big Kahuna: I’m sorry you had to find out about your enemies this way. They’ve been hiding in plain sight all along; they knew you too well. And worse, your sister forgot to tell you all of this because they tricked her into thinking that she’d be the bigger hero if she got the “privilege” of “exposing” them first. Your call, sir – but the sooner the better, if I were you.
To B, again: I told you I’d think about it. I’m still thinking, in fact.
FRIDAY.
To my supervisors at The Department: I never thought I’d say this, after five years of not being on the field, but I actually enjoy being a hacker.
SATURDAY.
To my supervisors, again: Forget what I said yesterday. Screw you, I’m going to Hong Kong.
SUNDAY.
B: You’re right – we’re an old married couple. We’re always at each other’s throats, we only make love twice a year, and everyone’s waiting for us to break up. And yet, for some reason, we’ve got a pretty good thing going here, and it works for us. Comfortable, even. Maybe a little too comfortable. But still – with the way things are going, it won’t be long before we realize that we’re the only ones left for each other.
I still can’t wait to burn you when you get to Montreal, though. And I hope you understand.
December 30th, 2010 at 13:17
Diary of Quinnard P.
====================================================
Sunday, Dec. 26
Dear Jon,
Madam sent me a text message to spruce up for a gig she’s cooking up for the night.
“I need you to wear this new shiny rainbow-colored thong I got you from a thrift shop.”
“Mader, you can’t be serious. I don’t have to wear anything to impress my patrons.”
“I know right? But this is the client’s request. Now shush it and go clean yourself.”
There are matronic gays and then there is only one Madamdaming Rosa, the gayest whorehouse madame this side of Madrigal Building.
Haha, nope, our whorehouse is in the shadow of that haunted building rumored to have been constructed shortly after the Americans have declared war against the Spaniards.
Missed Christmas with my family, I am so looking forward to New Year with them.
– Quinnard
====================================================
Monday, Dec. 27
Dear Jon,
I woke to a new conundrum this morning: one of us, Madam Rosa’s boys, is certain he has a STD.
The twist is, despite the vituperation of the hustlers, he won’t name the showbiz personality who might have inflicted him with the disease.
Now this little mind game has cast a more serious shade upon the more daring of us, those who have learned to seize life by the throat and spit at its face the minute it blinks or looks away.
Madamdaming Rosa is distraught because the boy, Roy, is a next of kin, in fact the only living relative he has in Manila.
“Here’s yours for last night’s gig, but I had to deduct 50-pesos for Roy’s medication. No, don’t look now, I do the same to the rest of you, fair is fair.”
Damnit! Now I have to sacrifice my daily dose of guilty pleasure: Choco Sundae at Jollibee.
All this for the benefit of one reckless hustler.
Fuck life.
-Quinnard
====================================================
Tuesday, Dec. 28
Dear Jon,
D. L., a repeat politician customer, was still ecstatic when I left him in bed. Funny how he never fails to compliment me for being the best fuck.
Went to the bathroom for a mouthwash and for a second I saw my life wave at me from the bathroom mirror: What if Roy is inflicted with AIDS?!
Suddenly I have a burgeoning fear that hit me right in the gut.
You know, if Lysol were only a juice brand, I swear I would swig a million glasses right now so I would regurgitate all bodily fluid I have ingested all this time. Forfucksake!
What if Roy has AIDS?!!!
“Tito Sen, how long will it take you to make a bill banning the use of condoms among AIDS-inflicted sex workers?”
“What on earth?! You’re saying sex-workers with AIDS are free to fuck rubberless?! What are you on, boy? Hahaha!”
“No, I’m serious. It could help solve our problem with overpopulation…”
“Here… Come now, don’t spoil our night…Hmm, let’s see what the little guy down there has to say to your question…”
Stopped at Shopwise to make sure my dream ham is still there for New Year. I missed sharing it with my family at Christmas because I was with a client — an old British fag, who said he’s a writer, and famous or something. But must I believe him? I really wouldn’t give a hoot. Haha, while everybody is busy getting famous these days, I am busy making the best of what this wretched fuckface called life has to give. Deal with it, life!
Then I proceeded to check out the guys assigned at the new pick-up point along Roxas Boulevard. I think I spotted a new face. Hmm, new kid on the block. I smell competition. We all shall see how long he can stay in the game. Haha. Oops!
But that’s okay as long as I got loyal clients like Sen. M. Z. and M.T., a flash-in-the-pan heartthrob.
-Quinnard
====================================================
Wednesday, Dec. 29
Dear Jon,
I know Mader is not taking Roy’s situation rather well. He dropped by this morning to give each of our respective earnings for last night’s gigs.
“Mader, how’s Roy?”
“Poor thing, he is getting sicker each day. Will send him for consultation as soon as I collected enough money.”
Other boys joined in.
“Mader, kung tulo lang yan, madali lang po yan.” (Mother, if it’s gonorrhea, it’s a breeze.)
“Kow, kung makapagyabang ka akala mo hindi mo ininda ang sakit.” (Pfft, you are bragging as if you didn’t go prissy from the pain.)
“Hindi nga, may natira pa nga akong gamut e. Gusto nyo i-try nyo po kay Roy?” (Really, no kidding, I think I still got some medication left. Would you want to try it on Roy?)
Mader got more scared than she had ever been. Our worry had only compounded her fear.
The thing with fear is it can’t be cured by any external help. But it’s a good catalyst.
At least for me and Madam Rosa.
-Quinnard
====================================================
Thursday, Dec. 30
Dear Jon,
Oops, I did it again. Haha. Turns out the new competitor’s only strongest weapon might only be his cute face, if nothing more, really. Lester and I made out in the comfort room of a moviehouse.
Of course he doesn’t have to know I am the administrator of the official facebook of all good-looking hustler’s around and some of my (near) famous patrons.
Okay, so not exactly Facebook, more like a Dickbook, or something, because it’s all about dicks. And pubic specimen galore. Haha, my bad. And when ladyluck smiles, matching undies, too.
But that is that. I know I could use them when the tough gets going, if you know what I mean. Really.
Left Lester at the theater for a gig. Anyway, my opinion on the new kid is he can have a longer shelf life if he doesn’t do anything stupid to his face. I mean, more stupid than what Marlon had done with a concoction of facial washes. Arrgh!
-Quinnard
====================================================
Friday, Dec. 31
Dear Jon,
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I could say a million fuck’s and still that won’t be enough.
Shit shit shit shit shit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Roy has AIDS!
He was inside me an hour before he went to that gig with the actor.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-Quinnard
December 31st, 2010 at 14:48
12-22-2010
My melatonin’s through the roof I can literally drop dead anytime but by virtue of superiority (It’s not an actual rule), i can’t just lay on any vacant bunk. All I can savor is the space left for me but creativity and resourcefulness is encouraged especially at this point of diminishing consciousness.
I am idling at the hospital lounge weighing my options, Bed 3 where vomitus was practically the wall and floor of the meager space or the nurses quarters where condyloma acuminata is lurking underneath the faux sterility. But then there was a call for assistance outside. Crap! Unless you’re actually dying, this facility is temporarily unavailable. It’s 2 AM for crying out loud!
*****
12-23-2010
Alcohol makes you stupid and vulnerable. I don’t have first hand experience but working at the ER is enough to arrive at this.
I’ve seen MVA’s, chemical ingestion, mauling but tonight is different. The drunk patient was bathed in gasoline and was about to be set on fire. Veyrum Etch, true ba iting? Seriously!! Do you have to die before you realize that over consumption could kill you?
*****
12-24-2010
….nagbukas ang double doors ng ER. may 2 victims of a vehicular accident.
* Ako: Ano pong nangyari sa inyo?
* Patient: Hindi ko alam.
* Ako: Saan po nangyari?
* Pt: Hindi ko alam.
* Ako: Tulog po ba kayo nun?
* Pt: Hindi ko alam.
* Ako: May kasama po ba kayo nun
* Pt: Hindi ko alam. May kasama ba ako? Nasan?
* Ako: Nanjan po sa kabila, inaasikaso na ng isang kasama namen.
* Pt: Nasan yung kasama ko?
* Ako: Nanjan lang po sa kabila.
* Pt: Nasan yung kasama ko?
* Ako..ggrrr..
* Ako: Nakainum po ba kayo?
* Pt: Konti lang.
*****
12-25-2010
kung kelan pasko tska nyo naman naisipang magpa-check up ng mga karamdamang antagal nyong tiniis kasama ang inyong buong salinlahi. Napuno ang waiting room ng mga bantay ng isang pasyente lang.
* Nurse: Within this year lang po ba ang last check-up nyo?
* Patient: Hindi. Last week lang.
* Nurse: *roll ng mata.
*****
12-26-2010
..while half the world is drooling, a guy passed by the ER which has just cleared of out-patients.
* Guy: Naglo-load kayo?
..desperate times.
*****
12-27-2010
Maingay. Magulo.
Nabangga ng tricycle and bata.
Maingay. Magulo
Deny ang driver.
“Alangan naman anak ko ang bumungga sa tricycle mo?!”
Mahabang diskusyon.
Sinong may kasalanan?
Turuan. Maingay. Magulo.
“Cge, ipa-antibiotic na naten.”
Hospital staff in chorus: Huh? Baaaaaakkkkkeeeeeeeet?
Maingay. Magulo.
Sino Magbabayad?
Crickets…..
*****
12-28-2010
Liquor ban for 2011 and the years thereafter!!! the stupidity of the human race has to end, at least the ones that are acquired. Those genetic, we can’t really do anything about that.
*****
January 1st, 2011 at 12:58
Day 23, 12/20/2010
Dear Diary,
Greetings Earthlings! I’m sounding outlandish again. Hehehe. Nope, I’m just imagining things here.
Oh, remember the last time I told you about the Halloween where I wore the vampire costume and with those neat fangs I got. I must have gotten so into it that I actually bit someone else’s ear at the party and left my fangs dangling on her ear. Good, my face cake’s so thick (someone actually threw a coin at me mistaking me for some mime) that she didn’t know me as I scampered away. Turned out that she was my sister. Until now, she was still swearing that she’ll kick the ass out of the moron that did it. Well, so much for reminiscing.
Now just this morning, I think I did the most obnoxious thing that will ever be recorded in the history of human civilization (forget Mr. Hitler). You see my allowance’s quite reaching the alarming level that I could almost file for bankruptcy. Just kidding. Seriously, I’m broke and my Mom’s not giving me the money. So, I resolve to do the heinous thing. I borrowed a friend’s shirt and went to the market. There I grabbed a lady’s purse and ran away scaring the bejeezus out of the passers-by (where in it should be me). Thanks to my father’s genes for speed, I reached home unscathed except for the bruise on the side where that old hag (I called her for that moment) threw her umbrella.
I immediately scavenged the infamous purse and lo! I found my Mom’s ID. That “old hag” that just impaled me with her umbrella was my mother and worst she has only 200 pesos inside her loot bag. Shame on me! Shame on me! I can never look at her again. Shame on you Jared!
Day 24, 12/21/2010
Dear Diary,
My Mom haunted me last night. Nah! Please forgive me Lord. I planned to return this.
It rained a while ago. Showers of misfortune, sad to say. And if there’s someone who went outside and got a bucketful of it, that was me. I think I am the most unfortunate cretin creature on earth. Just a while ago when I woke up, I saw the most hideous thing dangling on my mouth. But before that, let me tell you something first, I dreamed last night. I usually don’t go to bed with an empty stomach. Hey, who would want that? Jeez. But last night, I did out of exhaustion. Anyway, I dreamed that I was eating shrimp. Weee. I love shrimp, whether it’s just a simple sinigang or something with whatever sauce which Mom loves to cook by the way. I dreamed I was munching it and oh, how it tasted yummy, and weird at the same time. I think dreams are like that. And I was not mistaken.
Just this morning when I woke up, I saw it there. Yeah, the most hideous thing that I just said. I saw a cockroach leg hanging loosely at the side of my mouth. I thought I was going to die. I slapped my face sending me reeling to the sink and throwing up the bejeezus out of my stomach. I did not check the sink anyhow. I flushed the goo out into oblivion.
I hate this day. That silly cockroach. And my wild imagination. Hey, what else could happen to that leg on my mouth? I think I’m going to throw up a….
Excuse me. Sorry. I think God is punishing me now. He is sending me the plague.
Day 25, 12/22/2010
Dear Diary,
They said love feels good. Well, what more can I say? It is. But no one told me that love can also make you stupid.
This morning, I had my dance practice in Judy’s house. She was my first love. That was since childhood when I first met her on the street near their house. I remembered that day when I was playing, she went near me and said to me, with her eyes closed, “Love me Jared. Love me.” I slapped her. Hey, I’m not being moron here. That was usually what my older brother did to me when we were kids. And he would just say that he loved me that’s why he slapped me. Or spanked me. Anyway, to make the story short, we became close friends since then.
Anyway, this morning we had our first kiss. There, I spilled the beans already. But I think that will be the last. You see, Judy is wearing retainers and the ignorant me inserted my tongue in the space between it. I have fetish for such thing (for tongue action). You can’t blame me. I ended up, or rather my tongue ended up stuck in her mouth for quite some time until her father saw us. He solved our problem. Don’t ask me how. Use your imagination. Jeez. I think I have to move to a new town. Jeez.
Day 26, 12/23/2010
Dear Diary,
I felt so dumb a while ago. I had my stupidity leaking out of my nose. Seriously, I had nosebleed after re-wrapping all the gifts today. My Mom bought uniform boxes for the gifts (Where did she get the money huh? Hmmm…). She had different gifts for each family member, cousins and I think all our relatives to sum up. I wrapped them carefully and beautifully mustering all the creativeness and patience out of me. I was at the last item when I realized that I did not label each of them! I wanted to cry! Huhuhu.
Am I cursed?
Day 27, 12/24/2010
Dear Diary (I want to name you but I don’t want to sound corny. Jeez!)
It’s Christmas Eve! I don’t want to leave the house lest unfortunate things descend upon me. I was wondering what will I receive later. Hmmm..Will it be the deluxe edition of the Mortal Instruments? Or perhaps a new pair of pants? Or one pack again of mistakenly given tampons like the one I had last Christmas? Jeez.
I am wondering about Judy. Is she okay already? Jeez, I’m totally messed up with her Dad. My tongue still sores. I hope her Dad won’t tell Mom. Or else this Christmas is doomed. Will she visit me this Christmas Eve after what I did?
Oh crap! That impetuous house lizard poop on me again. Grrr….
Day 28, 12/25/2010
Dear Diary Whatever!
Merry Christmas! The enthusiasm was high. Hehehe. Although I only got City of Bones. I only received one book. Hmp, stingy creatures. Anyway, I was so ecstatic because Judy visited me bringing her gifts of love and forgiveness. Yey! Getting sentimental eh. Hehehe. We had some chitchat and we ate in my room. It seemed my whole world is only her and me. I gave her a journal exactly like mine. That’s for her to start her own diary. Jeez. I’m getting proud. Prouder of myself.
Merry Christmas again!
Day 29, 12/27/2010
Dear Damn you Diary! (I hate you! I hate you!)
I think I’ll be crazy for the next succeeding days. Waaa! Judy mistakenly took my diary instead of the journal that I gave her. I’m going to impale myself with the Sword of Stupidity. I think this time I really have to transfer to a new city, or new province, country perhaps or planet. I hate this life. Arrgh! She knows already my darkest, deepest, most sinister acts. She knows my plans and my theories of internal and external conspiracies. She knows my benign idiocy and malign smartassness.
She just returned you this morning. I’ll burn you Diary. I’ll burn you after this last entry. Grrr..Shame! Shame!
January 1st, 2011 at 13:39
I was an instant Superheroine for 7 Orbital Rotations.
I was an instant-superheroine for a week-not so much like the stereotypical cape-and-cowl superhero that saves the underdogs from weird looking super villains. But for seven days, I felt I had SHAZAM superpowers until I turned invisible on the 7th day.
PAGE ONE: Wisdom of Solomon
It was as if a strong magnetic field led me to that particular almost-abandoned-shelf. Given that dust particles are utterly hostile to my immune system, the attraction to that book which was housed with dust felt like the stars aligned to make us meet. It was love at first sight.
I subscribe to the school of thought that always stashing a book within 5-meter radius is wise. It is a healthy distance to ensure that you have something to embattle emergencies-boredom encounters or stupidity crawling between your ears. It was that day that I found my one-week-sidekick to my waking and working commuting days. Jeepney rides are perfect moments for the much needed creative pause minus the wars with noise and air pollution. It sucks to be constantly reminded that indeed the Mayan prophesy for 2012 is coming. It’s handy to read a book to keep you distracted and oblivious about it.
That book served as the inspiration to this entry. It was Solomonic.
PAGE TWO: Strength of Hercules
The herculean tasks for the day are to stay awake and rational. After a long period of sleep deprivation, my energy starts to flag. The difficulty to stay awake and more so to be rational is beyond words.
I decided to jog at daybreak. Plugging my ears was the sound of Mr. Jones by Counting Crows that was in synch to my breathing pattern. He would start to lose his breath when I am near my fainting point. I am surprised to run 5x the perimeter of a football field. The strength was hard-wired in my brain. It was driven and fueled by my profound desire to torture my over-staying fats. I would like to believe that at the end of the day, they would voluntarily expel themselves from my system and forever promise themselves never to return.
I was awake the entire day-not quite certain about the rational part.
PAGE THREE: Stamina of Atlas
I don’t know why they rave about that Japanese buffet restaurant. So, I gave in to peer pressure. I was welcomed by shouting waiters.
The problem I have with buffets is that I tend to not fully appreciate the taste of the food. This is because I’m too busy making sure that my food intake is directly proportional to my bill. For the love of charging it to experience, I’d give it four spoons. Until now, I cannot reconcile with the reality that I had the endurance to devour food that kept me satiated for two days.
I felt that I was carrying the world in my stomach.
PAGE FOUR: Power of Zeus
Zeus was in my Credit Card. I had a shopping spree and a bought blackberry to send my ailing phone to its long-overdue retirement.
PAGE FIVE: Courage of Achilles
Casinos are happy pills. They excite you to spend your hard-earned bread and make you forget about time and inflation. Today, my gambling soul was in Disneyland. It is called courage to set foot in a casino after a day of testing the limits of power of your plastic card.
The Achilles’ Heel: The house always wins.
PAGE SIX: Speed of Mercury
Christmas season reveals the inconvenient truth of overpopulation. You would wonder how people are coming from different directions without pause. With so much supply of commuting public, the demand for public transportation skyrocketed. I knew I had to act quickly or else I would run the risk of camping out. Sleep deprivation + physical injuries.
PAGE SEVEN: Invisible Woman
I hibernated.
True Story.
January 1st, 2011 at 16:02
LITWIT 4.2
12/26/2010 Abducting her was easier than I thought. I was prepared for a fight. Surprisingly she wasn’t the bitch I always assumed her to be. She sustained a few bruises but no broken bones. No cuts. No blood. I hate blood. It stinks.
12/27/2010 She was sobbing the whole night. Good thing she was not the type who would be batshit crazy by this time. She maintained her composure, to some degree. I told her that everything would be fine. She kept begging me to free her. I placed my hand on her shoulder. She was trembling. I told her to not be afraid. That I won’t hurt her. That I was only hired by someone and meant her no harm. That if she stayed calm, I might remove her blindfold. That relaxed her a bit. Now I have to make breakfast. I’d like to serve her my Pancakes Royale. They are to die for.
12/28/2010 Removed her blindfold today. Never realized she had brown eyes. She was even more stunning up close. I didn’t speak to her much. Again, she asked if I could let her go. Told her I couldn’t. Told the story about my little sister being held as well. That it was not mine to decide when to let her go. She started to tear up. Told her I was sorry. We were in the same boat. She kept asking who were the men behind her and my little sister’s abduction. Told her I had no idea. But like most women, she kept nagging me. Like most men, I learned how to politely ignore her.
12/29/2010 I told her the negotiations for her release weren’t going well. That the men behind this whole thing had given me certain instructions that were best left unsaid. That freaked her out. Thankfully I managed to calm her down. I assured her as long as I’m around, no harm would come to her. I decided against serving her steak for dinner lest she think it was her last meal. Gave her chocolates instead.
12/30/2010 I made her smile for the first time. I told her it would’ve been way more convenient for me to abduct a guy. Guys are easier to take care of. If one has a pet dog, that’s pretty much it, I told her. She asked about my family. Apart from telling her I’m the only boy among six siblings, there was little for her to piece together. I didn’t want to give her any chance to get to me.
12/31/2010 I broke her the news that negotiations have fallen through and I was left with a terrible choice. She started to cry. I remained silent. As I prepared the hood that had to go over her head, I told her to not be afraid. I knew she believed me that no harm would come to her–even at that point. As I slipped the hood over her face, I felt she was mine for the taking. But I wasn’t so sure.
01/01/2011 She was all over the news today. People couldn’t believe she was still alive. Even harder to believe was that nothing unspeakable was done to her. As questions about her abductor peppered her, I moved close to the TV screen. Beneath all those lies that she never saw my face, there it was. However faint the smile was, it was impossible to miss. She was mine. And to everyone who ever said she was way out of my league, fuck you.
January 1st, 2011 at 22:56
You, whoever you are, I boldly present to you my diary. A couple of years ago, galumphing to Urban Outfitters, I once saw this brilliant “book” called Wreck This Journal. Each page took you back to childhood. Each page an activity. Wreck this page. Paste a dried leaf on this page. Leave this journal in a tree for a day and see if somebody takes it. That book idea stuck with me, even if it was so very long ago – three years ago. That may not sound like a lot, but in those three years God knows I felt my entire world snap out-of-place and into place. And so much happens within a year, really. But that’s another story.
–
Who the hell wants to do laundry on holiday break? It is not difficult at all. Gather a bunch of stinky clothing, separate the colors from whites, the delicates from the not-so-delicate, add a 1/3 cup of Arm & Hammer soap. But my talent for procrastination never ceases to amaze me that I must let out my stress at doing laundry in this journal. Instead, I feel my guilt repressed, a big ball of stress in my belly as I watch Gilmore Girls and read historian Alberto Angela’s account, A Day in the Life of Rome. All the time I watch and read, I marvel at how the characters are geniuses at keeping life together, how they can keep their houses or insulae clean. I am in awe of how they do their laundry on time, no matter if the Ancient Romans washed their laundry in urine.
–
One of the most beautiful things about holidays break is that facets of your nature are exposed. Maybe holiday breaks can be personality tests – what you end up doing instead of what you planned doing being the adjudicator of your identity.
I Skyped with Greg today. He told me how spontaneous he was. “What do you mean?” I asked. “It’s insane. I could be, for example, driving down to L.A. with friend tomorrow.” I found myself titillated at that idea – I’ve never been that drastic. I was struck by his streak of insanity; I know him as a traditional, family-type guy who wears plaid shirts like Tom Welling in Smallville. But then again look who Clark turned out to be. Greg told me once that his dream was to raise a loving family. I want to be his friend for life, so I can find out if his sons or daughters will be as insanely spontaneous as him. “I would be more spontaneous,” I told him, mildly defending myself, “if life allowed me to be.”
–
Went outlet shopping with an acquaintance-now-turned-friend, Julie, today. Julie was born in Macao, where they don’t celebrate Christmas. On our drive home, we saw fire-lined boulevards: streets that had trees draped in Christmas lights, magnificent against the night sky. “Somehow, after seven years of being in the United States, Christmas traditions don’t feel a part of me.” My eyebrows raise at an odd comment I can’t relate to. She continues, “I see the lights are pretty, but I can’t feel any attachment towards them.” The age-old dichotomy of intellect against heart. Neo cortex vs. amygdala. In this case, the heart lagging behind.
–
Damn it, how is it that my 70-year-old, sweet violin teacher Mrs. Bristow can be more spontaneous than I? There I was, glued to more Gilmore Girls episodes when my cellphone rang. “Let’s go downtown to Chicago,” she said, that impulsive hunger for clothes clearly heard in her voice. I choked “Sure,” which is the kind of ambivalent reaction you produce when you simultaneously want to bond with your violin teacher and with Rory and Lorelai on Gilmore Girls.
Mrs. Bristow and I took the train downtown. We spent twenty minutes sipping hot Illy mochas and chomping down Belgian chocolate truffles before she said she would shop for an hour and a half and proceeded resolutely to Neiman Marcus. She vanished for four hours, but I was prepared. I bought some earrings and shirts, stalked Borders’ bookshelves, and settled down with a book – more history – before Mrs. Bristow called to say she was ready to go home. “Shit,” said Mrs. Bristow, when we missed our scheduled train. We decided to have Starbucks eggnog lattes while waiting.
–
You, whoever you are, boldly reading my diary, should know that I was born in Manila, but moved to Chicago when I was a teenager. Even after several years of living here, like Julie, the whole Chicago holiday package yet has to be a part of my identity. Unlike Julie, I am moved by them, moved by memories of yesterday, the frenzy of hopping on a train with my spontaneous, fashion-conscious, 70-year-old sweet violin teacher who occasionally says “Shit.” I am moved when I look out the blur of the world outside, a concatenation of snow, architecture, frozen rivers. Sipping leftover eggnog latte and half-expecting the train to lift off.
–
Here it comes like an avalanche: the New Year. Here’s a piece of trivia about January that I picked up from Alberto Angela. It was named after the two-faced god, Janus. January’s like a two-faced god, with the year behind it and the year ahead. It’s a challenge to maintain a sense of continuity between yesterday and the future. To somehow still be yourself, but tweaking to the right degree that you can still be somebody new. What would the world be without these holidays, these clear-cut divisions of time? I imagine how the world right now is united in setting New Year’s Resolutions, a mass of people united in excitement, one big party.
I never did buy Wreck Your Journal, but I’m leaving this 7-day diary in a tree for you, stranger. Just random scraps. Somewhere out there, I will be chuckling at man’s voyeurism – voyeurism that saves.
January 2nd, 2011 at 00:39
1998.09.03
I got a strange phone call yesterday. The voice was raspy and could use some strepsils. What they said was even weirder. Seven gays or something, I’m not really paying attention. Also, I think my best friend should go buy herself a new video game. The one she had only shows static and weird random pictures.
1998.09.04
Strange things happened today. My pet cat refused to go near me and everything I enter an elevator, the light flickers. That’s not all. All of my pens mysteriously disappeared on my desk but I’ll blame that on the jealous intern. Hopefully, tomorrow will get better.
1998.09.05
I’m starting to think this is not my week. First all my printed files disappeared and then my computer had gone bonkers on me. If this is a prank, it’s not funny. Not to mention this little boy who kept tugging at my skirt. When I turned to ask where is his mom, he suddenly vanished. Yes, I’m not high on anything. Well…with stress maybe.
1998.09.06
My best friend contacted me. She asked me if I played the video game she left on my condo. When I said yes, she sobbed and told me that she was sorry for everything. That she wanted to save herself so she sacrificed me. I wanted to ask more about the curse but the line went dead. I called again but I can’t connect. Stupid phone services.
1998.09.07
I’m not a superstitious person but I’m starting to believe I’m cursed. I tried calling my ex-best friend again but her phone was dead. If I get through this, she will pay…for my whole wardrobe. Flood in an flat is one thing but it’s another story when I’m in the freaking 15th floor. Also, I’m counting if I have enough money to sue my landlady. I was almost electrocuted and the one thing she did was laugh at my face.
1998.09.08
If I have counted correctly, this would be my last day on Earth. It sucks. Especially when I’m one day away from my birthday or wasn’t able to live till the next millennium. I’m one year and about three months short. I wonder what will happen in 2000. I guess I should be happy though. At least everyone will join me when 2000 came and the world ends.
I also destroyed the video game. They said I have to make someone play it so the curse will be passed but I’m not like some people out there. They should put me on a pedestal for this. I wonder, if I die, can they put me on a glass coffin? Yes, I’m babbling.
It’s almost midnight. Whoever reads this. YOU ARE ONE LUCKY SONOFABITCH.
1998.09.09
I’m alive. THIS IS THE BEST BIRTHDAY PRESENT EVER!!!
And as a new person, I’ll go and kill some bitch.
January 2nd, 2011 at 05:48
**75%-true journal entries**
Dec 6, AM
“Inisyal” na monito monita (oo, may pinal na sesyon pa ng exchange gifting nekswik!), bukasan nang regalo. Ang nakuha ko ay isang tumataginting na keychain. Langya, worth 300 pesos na ba ito? Ang pinakawalang kwentang posibleng iregalo nang sinumang nag-abroad ay keychain (maigi pa ang ref. magnet). Malamang ang nagregalo nito sa akin ay natanggap lang din ang keychain sa isang kagagaling sa Beijing, nakita nyang wala syang pagagagamitan, kaya ipinasa na lang sa akin nang hudas. At siguro idinagdag sa konsiderasyon na sa Beijing lang ito nabibili, kaya maghahalagang 300 pesos na rin, ayon sa madugas na monito ko. Hindi lang ako malas sa rapol, pati sa exchange gift, wala ring bisa!
Dec 6, PM
Nag-announce nang theme sa corporate christmas party para sa biyernes. May costume-costume pa raw. Glam rock, glam rock daw. Tangina, anong glam-glam? David Bowie? Syet, mag-a-eyeliner ako? Tanginang yan. Mahalungkat na lang ang lumang Club Dredd t-shirt ko. Purong rakenrol na lang, wala nang glam-glam eklat na yan.
Dec 7, AM
Bumabanat na naman ang ka-cubicle ko na parating napakalakas makipag-usap telepano. Ang akala nya siguro nakakalakas nang signal kapag parang megaphone sa tindi magsalita patutok sa receiver ng landline. Nalalaman tuloy ang buong pinag-uusapan hanggang sa kabilang ibayo nang opis. “Merry Christmas, pamasko ko,” palahaw ng kumag. Pati dayalog ay nakakaasar sa sobrang luma. “Eto, busying-busy pa,” sabi nya mayamaya. Ulul, puros facebook lang ang inaatupag mo kanina. Gusto ko sanang sabihin: “pare, hindi ka ba napapagod magpanggap at magsinungaling? Hindi ka ba nakakapreno minsan, habang nasa gitna ka nang pagsisinungaling, at mag-isip…’teka, parang di naman ako makikinabang sa pagsisinungaling kong ito ah. Sabihin ko na lang kaya ang totoo?’”
Dec 7, PM
Merong may birthday at nag-ambag-ambag para makabili ng cake. Nang kainan na. napakatamis nang caramel sa ibabaw ng cake. Sobrang tamis! Parang sinuperconcentrate na asukal. Parang maski langgam ay maaooverdose. Pano na kaya ang QA tester neto na tumitikim sa huli nang pagawaan? Dilat na dilat na siguro maghapon magdamag dahil sa bloke-blokeng asukal na nalalaklak.
Dec8, AM
Sinusuri ang keychain, Naging pambukas man lang sana ito ng tansan, may pakinabang pa. Sinubukan kong ikabit ang susi nang oto, pero ang walang pakinabang na keychain ay bumubukol lang sa likod nang pantalon, at nasasaktan lang ang kanang pisngi nang pwet ko pag umuupo. Nilagay ko muna sa harap na bulsa.
Dec 8, PM
Habang umiihi, napagtanto ko na ang walang kwentang keychain ay nagpapaalala lang sa akin na malas ako sa rapol. Baka malasin pa rin ako sa biyernes. Tapos, parang nagmumukhang bukol nang kung ano lang ito sa harap na bulsa. Tinanggal ko ang susi na nakakabit, at itinapon ang keychain sa basurahan. Makita sana ito nang monito ko, swertehin sana ako sa rapol sa biyernes.
Dec 9. Lunch Break
Umidlip sa cubicle, mahimbing na sana ang re-charging, pero binangungot ako. Nagpepresent daw ako sa Execom pero pinahiya ako bigla nang isang regional head. Galit akong umalis nang meeting, lumabas nang conference room, pero parang bintana pala ang nalabasan ko. Bumabagsak ako mula sa 32nd floor nang magising. Pano kaya pag namatay ako sa cubicle? Anong oras kaya ako madidiskubreng dedbol na?
Dec 9, PM
Lumabas saglit para kumain ng halo-halo at nang lumamig naman ang ulo maski konti. Sinubukan ang halo-halo sa RSM Kainan. Tanginang yelo, sinlalaki nang graba. At napakatamis na naman! Nasa isip siguro nang tindera: babawiin nang kakulangan nang sarap nang kanyang halo-halo ang paglagay nang sangkatutak na asukal. Mali! Dapat sa macapuno o sa sabaw ng saging manggaling ang tamis! Isinabog ko ang ilang nanikit na mga grabang yelo sa table cloth at iniwan ang halos puno pang baso ng halo-halo.
Dec 10, AM
Habang umiihi, biglang pumasok sa isip ko na sa buong buhay, wala pa akong naiuuwi sa bahay na kahit anong bentilador, alak, o kahit anong maski consolation prize sa mga krismas party.
Dec 10, PM
Nagpaeyeliner ako at nagpa-make-up nang ala-KISS, desperadong makauwi nang premyo. Pero wala pa ring nakamit na best costume o ano. Wala ring napanalunan sa rapol. Maski plantsa, oven toaster, o payong, wala, wala, wala.
January 2nd, 2011 at 11:27
Monday. Great pride! I cleaned the whole stretch of the seawall! Very first time! I have deep respect to the seawall across our house because see the difference: it was built in the 60’s and so many stormy seas and seven-story high waves that have beat hard against it, the seawall is still alive! and compare: the modern seawall nearby after two years duration died like Kris and James’ relationship! Corruption and shanties in the coastal areas are very, very, very oh-so issues! We witnessed the crumbling breakwaters in the adjacent section of the barangay and there was an effect to it after the next typhoon came to try our faith and…cement building! While sweeping the eggshells, plastic bags, and jeepney liners-blown dust, I looked out the blue ocean and the Camiguin Islands-studded horizon: a half-lunatic (half-swine? he thrives on eating leftover food for the pigs in the neighbourhood!) “Boy Pasaw” bathed topless. In psychology, waters mean my unconsciousness. This means that literally, my Monday would become manic Monday and pork Monday!
Tuesday. Amazed! my student Jethro borrowed my Jessica Zafra books entitled Spawn of the Twisted and Womenagerie! Who would’ve thought! I didn’t think that a first year student, at that! in a public school could be interested to Jessica Zafra’s essays! Prequel to this event: I revealed to Jethro and his I-Faith classmates during our second quarter—we discussed Drama under UBD teaching—that “you are amused by my jokes every day and you jot down many vocabulary words and I’m gonna tell you that I owe these things—especially my funny words to Jessica Zafra! She is a Filipina writer and she wears queer eyeglasses! and she has one book that tells about vampires (They love anything about vampires.)! Jethro wanted to borrow my Twisted series as we corresponded through Facebook chatbox and wall (In my time, wall means that vast surface; “dingding” in Visayan!) and he also added that his elder sister’s geek friend had a burning aim to borrow those books. So I agreed and so I ended up opening a note in my phone screaming the words ZAFRA’S BORROWERS then I listed down the names of my student and that geek and the last time that I know, Jethro’s classmates (names withheld due to teacher’s memory lapse.) !!!
Wednesday. Happy. Happier than Ai-ai de las Alas winning the Best Actress. Happier than Olympics vendor! Wiser than Alanis Morissette. Bolder than “Kinatay” I have made the wisest and boldest and most revolutionary and most come-to-think-of-it move! ever! I didn’t eat my sister’s as-always-delicious chicken in pandan dish during dinner. I resisted. Come on down: prison cell, straitjacket, handcuffs, and bouncers! Yes, I have become a health buff that walks the talk! I have made it finally! I cooked some malunggay soup! Everyone was shocked even my 5- year- old nephew . Sometimes, drinking gin has benefits. Hangover? Pag-sabaw (make soup in visayan). Sometimes, a health center as a neighbour has benefits—there are a couple of malunggay plants! So I told my younger brother to get some stalks from the health center. Since I don’t know how to cook, I asked my chef sister to guide me: Boil the water, slice the ginger and the onions, PAK! chopping boards and then, salt. I objected: no salt! OK. But please warn the household that you have that idea!
Thursday. I played Ben 10 on Y8.com. That particular game wherein he journeys into this dark underground with moving elevator and some killing roachy robot. I have played it so many times before with such incredible heights of frustration and noticeable outburst of French words.Why? because after surpassing so many obstacles and stairs and floors, Ben 10 is still toasted when he jumps over this green glow of fire! My friends have helped me yet Game Over is the final testament of losing, cluelessness, and panic! Today is different! I have known the right key— and how to press in time! and Bingo!!!
Friday. New Year’s Eve. I went to the mall and looked for my shirt because the theme of the party was: Statement tee shirt. My friend had “I’m on fire!” and aunt Pipay had “I need Sexual healing” and Bong had “ Kiss my Airs” (A Nike pun) and I was like in panic because I was shirtless and so I searched long in Plaza Fair and in Robinsons (no apostrophe, please!) and shelf after shelf, the shirts were all plain and the same: checkered, plaid, company’s name, symbolism, faces of Ninoy, Beatles, and Charice! I was totally hopeless. Gotcha!!! I found the last “estante” of shirts (the brand is Fun Tee, I’m not kidding!) and there it is!!!! Statement after statement after statement: I chose this: Hindi Naman ako Manyakis tulad ng Iba Pinapangako ko sa “Yon a Igagalang ka!
Saturday. New Year! I cleaned my bedroom after 48 years. The room was curtainless because it was newly painted and I feared of suffocating from the painting chemical sniffing. Thus, a curtainless window in a house near the sea with unknown particles blending and floating along with the seabreeze and near the national road with ruthless jeepney drivers carrying the dust! so basically, my bedroom was just dust! The shelves of wall from top to bottom with arrangement-challenge books, folders, papers, and more books! and the brooms and feather duster are nowhere to be found and I wanted desperately to clean my bedroom starting from the built-in study table where ten rubber banded one-half length wise papers were placed (80 students per class!) still unchecked! and my old issues newspapers. OK, I needed some box organizers, some pouches, some purse, some wicker baskets and some containers to just place these things and to put glory into my bedroom! Nobody dares to enter my room!
Sunday. Morning. I got to the seawall. See some boats with strange-looking fishermen! My unconscious tells me that I will travel to far-away land. Probably to Iran! to Afghanistan? !
January 2nd, 2011 at 11:55
1st day
Nahimatay raw ako. Hindi ko maalala yun na nangyari.
Nagising na lang ako nasa hospital na ko. Chineck ko yung oras: 10 pm na pala. Sabi ng doktor puwede na raw ako makalabas dahil mukha naman akong ok. Dinala raw ako dun ng 5 pm. So 5 oras akong walang malay.
Ngayon wala na kong masulat na nangyari sa buong araw kasi wala na kong maalala.
* * *
2nd day
Tinext ako ng kapitbahay ko kaninang umaga. Patay na raw si Aling Lory. Nagkulong sa CR at humagulgol.
Pagkatapos sa trabaho dumeretso na ko sa bahay nila.
Kuwento ni Dory, tinawagan na lang sila ng doctor na patay na Nanay nila.
Dinala raw sa hospital kahapon yung katawan nya ng 5pm. DOA. Homicide daw: Choked.
* * *
3rd day
Di ako masyadong nakatulog kagabi, di kasi mawala sa isip ko.
Hindi kaya ako yung pumatay sa Nanay ni Dory?
Baka may Schizophrenia ako.
– – – – – – –
Umalis ako ng maaga sa trabaho para makadalaw ulit. Andun na ko ng 4 pm. Syempre si Dory nilapitan ko.
Naguusap kami ng mahimatay ulit ako. Ngayon naalala ko. Pagbagsak ko sa upuan naramadaman kong bumagsak katawan ko sa sahig, pero buti malambot yung sahig ,di ko naramdamang masakit. Actually comfortable so naisip kong humiga muna.
Pagdilat ko, pinapaypayan ako ni Dory. Nahimatay pala ko. Chineck ko yung oras 10 pm na. Niyaya na kong umuwi ni Dory sabi ko pray muna ko so lumapit ako sa kabaong.
Kawawang bata naman. Ang bata pa nya para mamatay. Parang kailan lang nung naglalaro pa sila ni Dory. Napakalikot na bata laging nakakabasag ng mga flower vase ko. Pero napakalambing naman. Kahit nung mag binata na lagi pa rin ako kinikiss sa cheeks. Nagagalit tuloy si Dory, flirt ko daw. Nakakakilig naman minsan.
* * *
4th day
Di ako masyadong nakatulog kagabi. Nagising ako ng 1 am. Bakit ba di ko kaagad napansin? Nung nagsusulat ako sa diary ko, di ko napansin iba yung handwriting nung mga naunang entry.
Tumayo balahibo ko. Sa mga huling entries sabi patay na raw ako.
Pero pinaka kinatakot ko, totoong nagyari lahat ng nakalagay pero nagkapalit kami ng position.
* * *
5th day
Umabsent ako sa work para dumalaw ulit ako kay Carlo. Nakiusap ako, hwag na kong multuhin.
Siguro mga 1 oras din akong nakatitig sa kanya. Habang tumatagal, nakikita kong lumalabas yung hand-markings sa leeg nya hanggang sa naging visible na talga. Tatawagin ko sana yung mga kamag-anak pero di ako makapagsalita. Di na rin ako makahinga.
* * *
6th day
Parang awa nyo na, tigilan nyo na ko!!!
Patawarin nyo na ko! Di ko sinasadya.
Mama, Carlo sorry
Nagdilim paningin ko, nung nakita ko kayo sa restaurant magkasama akala ko may relasyon kayo.
* * *
7th day
Ito na ata pinakamasayang araw ko.
Nagkita kami ni Carlo at Mama. Kumain kami sa isang restau. Nagtinginan kaming tatlo nung nakita naming yung restau habang naglalakad. Tinawanan na lang naming. Tapos na e.
At least napatawad na nila ko.
January 2nd, 2011 at 12:17
Friday, December 24, 10PM
– Woke up too late for simbang gabi, found the torrent I was downloading stopped half-way, while I was sleeping. Damn these fickle seeders and leeches!
– Almost got into a fight at the check-out counter. Geez! The holidays really drive people crazy. Bitch almost whacked me with that hunk of meat she brandished like a light-saber.
– Text messages galore from friends and family. Holiday greetings to warm the heart. Chain-texts to make you laugh or scare the shit outta you.
– Decided not to go to church for Christmas mass. My misa de gallo chain’s broken anyway. Any wish I’m harboring now is forfeit because I eff-ing overslept!
– I tire too quickly these days!
Saturday, December 25, 3PM
– That recipe for home-made ham worked on my meat! I had it for Noche Buena and it went well with the quezo de bola I got from Mother. Plus that vino from Jessica! Superb!
– I was a happy bunny last night. At least, until that mess in the dirty kitchen.
– Visited Mother at lunchtime. Glad to see her replacement hips are mending well. She should really steer clear from the high end of stairwells, though. At her age, it’s easy for her to feel dizzy on top of the stairs and tumble to her death. Good thing I was there to call an ambulance when it happened last time.
– However, as she was finishing her dessert, Mother became her grumpy, resentful self again. After leaving orders with the help, I went to the mall to catch a movie.
Sunday, December 26, 10PM
– Went to church early. Wanted to confess but found no priest available to hear me. I went to the parish office and I was informed that the priests were on retreat. Shit! They’re probably in the cinema I went to yesterday looking for men to pollute with their mouths. Shit!
– Fell asleep 30 minutes into Father Jejemon but woke up to someone giving me a blowjob. Right inside the eff-ing theater! Where only a few seats away, children sat laughing. I wanted to push his head away but I was close to coming so instead my arms—involuntarily pulled the head close to my root.
– After coming I pushed his head away strongly that I heard the tendons on his neck snap as his head hit the back of the seat with a metallic clank. Shit shit shit!
Monday, December 27, 3PM
– Was up all night because of that filthy faggot. Still didn’t find any priest to hear my confession. This is more troublesome.
– I couldn’t even pour the milk properly on my bowl for breakfast. My hands are a bloody mess: skin broken in places, the joints aching.
– Still, they had a certain kind of beauty, I realized as I held them up for my inspection.
– Took a hot shower, scrubbed myself clean and slept for 10 straight hours! Imagine that.
– This, I did, in spite of the almost incessant scratching noise in the walls.
– Damn these rats!
Tuesday, December 28, 10PM
– I had a dream about her. I dreamed that she was with me. I dreamed she never left me. I dreamed the rest did not happen.
– While having lunch (ham and cheese with honey mustard on baguette) I scoured the newspapers for some news about her. Nothing. Not even on that bitch Dolly Carvajal’s gossip column.
– REMINDER: Must watch news tonight.
– Finally finished downloading the first 6 episodes of ‘The Walking Dead’. Yes! I guess it’s movie marathon tonight after all.
– After watching the news. And taking care of business.
Wednesday, December 29, 3PM
– Finally saw a bit of news about her this morning. I guess she’s not as famous now as I think. Hell, it wasn’t even a complete article. It’s just a couple of paragraphs in this faggot movie reporter writing at the behest of another, more famous actress, presumable her close friend.
– Apparently, her fame is still not enough for her to crawl out of that starlet box.
– Don’t worry my dear. In my eyes you are not a starlet but a STAR… a SUPERSTAR, even… bigger than that bitch MEGASTAR…
– REMINDER: wash and sterilize tools…
Thursday, December 30, 10PM
– Finished the home-made ham this morning. Do I have enough time (and ingredients) to make myself a new batch? Checked freezer (nope) and cupboard (yep). Got to move my schedule up one day, I guess.
– It’s but proper, I think.
– Say goodbye to the old year… to all the bad that has happened… the bitches and the jerks… f@#k them all…
– Start the new year afresh.
Friday, December 31, 3PM
– As with most of my plans, I wasn’t able to do it yesterday. Shit!
– Playing with her got so enjoyable that I lost track of time. Before I knew it, she was unconscious (for the 4th time that night) and I was a dead tired mess—too sticky and too tired to do anything but shower and sleep, which I did—for 8 straight, eff-ing hours!
– REMINDER: Must do it tonight.
Saturday, January 1, 1AM
– I knew that bitch was up to something. The moment I walked in on her, knife in hand, I knew she was up to something.
– She said she was ready. She said she was okay to do that for me. She even hinted at learning to love me in my unique way. Dirty lying bitch! They’re all the same! Dirty! Lying! Stupid! Bitches!
– How could she think she can struggle successfully? She hasn’t eaten properly in the last 10 days! While I., am fit as a fiddle, as Mother used to always say.
– In any case, she got what was coming to her. Now I have many cuts for my home-made ham.
– However, that bitch still cut me good. I’m bleeding from a cut near my groin. I put some pressure on it, but it gets in the way of writing this.
– Shit! I feel so light-headed! Shit! Shit! Shit!
January 2nd, 2011 at 15:10
Brevity is the soul of wit, so I’m going to lose my chance at wit by going over the usual 1,000 word limit. (I am reminded of why I usually never asked questions in school; it usually got me in trouble, hahaha.)
1. Walter gave me a giant microbe plush of Herpes for Christmas. It’s adorable and looks like a sunny-side-up egg, if it were entirely yellow and equipped with a pair of beady eyes on top of the yolk. He even wrapped it up in a Valtrex box. You’ve got to love pharmacist humor. After I opened the gift, I texted him: “Thanks for giving me Herpes, you slut.” In keeping with our own dysfunctional traditions, I attached a photo of the plush in my pants. The message reached him just when Bran was borrowing his phone during a break at work to play yet another round of Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook, probably setting another ridiculously high score in the process. Being a saintly creature completely incapable of speaking ill of anyone, Bran told Anna that Walter had been slutting around gave me herpes. Thank goodness Anna is too pragmatic for Bran’s bullshit, but God knows who else Bran told. At the party later that day, Mel opened the door for me and immediately handed me a sprig of mistletoe. “Santa told me you’ve been a slut,” he said as he helped me out of my coat. The next person to greet me was Anna and with a shit-eating grin she hoisted my hand with the mistletoe over our heads and kissed me with a significant amount of tongue. Mel followed, and most of the other guests. Bran just hung back by the wilting Christmas tree with a look of horror on his face. You know what happens when you assume.
2. I stopped by the house of a handsome all-American man who just happened to love taking kidney shots at his wife for everything he found “wrong”. You have to hand it to the bastard for never hitting her in the face or anywhere visible where she’d be the stereotypical domestic violence victim who’d explain her victims with “I’m so clumsy” or “I fell.” It’s really not his fault that he made his wife fear for his life enough that she came to the library asking about how to file for a restraining order against her husband. He married a smart woman who learned enough from the O.J. Simpson debacle to keep dated photos of her bruised body in a safety deposit box. He simply got unlucky that his wife ended up with me at the library near the end of my shift. I was more than happy to help her assemble the evidence and file the necessary paperwork. It was simple to move some furniture in the dark to set my trap and then break a vase in the hallway to send him running out of the bedroom. Once he tripped over a chair and into their glass-topped table it was pretty simple to take a bat to his ribs. After all, he wouldn’t be able to pull off explanations like “I’m so clumsy” or “I fell” the way his wife did. He also couldn’t scream very well with the air being pounded out of his lungs. After knocking him out with some handy-dandy roofies, I ‘cleaned up’ by spilling his single-malt scotch over the broken table and hauling him back to bed. I even tucked him in, so he can sleep in before the court representative serves him the papers and wondering how the fuck he got so busted.
3. Whatever game my friends think we’re in is apparently not off-limits at church. I nearly set my hair on fire when Walter cornered me by the devotional candle nook to play a round of hide-and-cop-a-feel. Bran saw it all, of course. He went on to mass looking like an absolute mouth-breather. Anna and Sarah sat on either side of me, with Sarah draping her shawl over our laps and Anna making suggestive hand motions at Bran about things happening under the shawl during mass. Nothing happened, of course, but the scandalized look on Bran’s face would have been worth the price of admission to a Barbra Streisand concert. On a remotely related note, the donations the parishioners here obviously don’t go towards tech support, otherwise members of the clergy wouldn’t be going to the local library for tech support help stemming from malware their computers pick up from untrusted web sites. It’s one thing if those were from regular porn sites, but seriously, if I was capable of fixing their computer, what made them think I wouldn’t figure out that the malware came from visiting child porn sites? You don’t accidentally come across that sort of smut, especially if you also install a torrent client to seed those wretched videos. As any good parishioner would, I contacted the authorities and let them do the heavy lifting this time around. My donations to the church don’t seem to be exhibiting an excellent ROI, but at least police gave us a good show with all the flashing lights in the church parking lot after the service.
4. Back to work, still hung over after a string of days off spent partying and other things I wish I got paid for. Today I /once again/ had to explain to a dapper senior citizen why the library does not have kinbaku shibari manuals, photobooks, or any sort of related material, in spite of the large Japanese population in the community. Being a supporter of intellectual freedom can be difficult sometimes, but at least no hobos or children vomited in the library today. Tonight, I got a little sloppy and almost got spotted by Michael when he was being taken away by Child Protective Services. As pathetic as he looked, he’s in better hands now that I’ve made the calls and sent in photos. We get our fair share of rude children in the library, but when they sneak to the staff area to steal food or show up with no coat on during a winter rainstorm, you could tell there’s a far bigger problem than parents using the library as a day care center. The woman that appeared to be his mother, or at least a legal guardian, was screaming incoherently at the police. The gawkers at the scene were talking about how she only knew how to make a living by either whoring herself out or cooking meth.
5. Today I had to “process” aka discard several boxes of books donated by the local Scientologists. Scientologists are rich, so all the books were printed on high-quality paper, making them ridiculously heavy. Seriously, they have enough money to burn that pages featuring only text in black ink are printed on glossy pages. My arms haven’t been this sore since the team-building exercise I participated in back in college where they took us to some military boot camp and we capped things off with an impromptu daisy chain in the locker rooms. We drink away any possible influence Xenu may have cast on us, the closing shift went to the local watering hole. I would enjoy grabbing drinks at The Dirty Bird with my coworkers more if I didn’t notice so many people driving off after they’ve clearly had way too much to drink. Tonight, one of the drunks who have been cut off by the bartenders here one too many times tried to drive home. I’m sick of seeing this happen. He was so drunk that it would have been a simple matter to hold his jaws shut while he was trying to vomit by his car, leaving him to asphyxiate on his own vomit. Who cares; it will look like an unfortunate accident by the time they find him in the morning. It’s better than having him die while also taking out other perfectly sober motorists in a car crash.
6. Some people seem to think that the library book drop is a good place to drop off donations of things they think belong in a library. Today, the book drop surprises were a brand new (still sealed!) box set of Band of Brothers on Blu-ray (a format the library does not have in its collection…yet) and a massive amount of pornography on VHS. After making a reasonable donation to the library, I put Band of Brothers on Blu-ray in my bag to take home. Unfortunately for the donor of the VHS tapes, the library has phased out everything on VHS shortly after I started working here, so these “gems” will never be part of the collection, even if the library did shelve titles such as “Backdoor Sluts”. The donor even took care to make sure volumes 1-6 of “Backdoor Sluts” were grouped together with rubber bands. As with the previous VHS tapes we had to dispose of, I have to separate the tapes, the plastic cases, and the paper inserts for recycling, which is shipped to the main library in the system. This is worse than when I processed the Bollywood VHS tapes for recycling, a process that kicked up an unbelievable cloud of stale curry stench. Thankfully the first aid kit in the break room has gloves and masks. I think I spent 30 minutes washing my hands with antibacterial soap when I was done sorting this pile out. Without the gloves, I would probably have opted to just bleach my hands.
7. Tonight’s gig was pretty simple. The small-time drug dealer that established a monopoly at the local school was home and already high as a kite. The only way it could have been easier is if he left the door unlocked, which he almost did, only bothering with locking the doorknob and not the deadbolt on the door I used to get in. My four year-old nieces could pick that lock with their pastel-coloured hair slides. I guess he was trying out a new shipment, since there was a stack of vials next to him. Shooting him up with the entire shipment provided a lethal dose that also serves as a convenient cause of death. Really, what did he expect if he thought using the book drop nook at the library near the school was a good place for selling drugs to teenagers? Mother, if you happen to be reading this, the therapist you started sending me to when I was 8 said it was okay to imagine killing people.