note to self...

do not try to surf the web when druhcknk...

i am trying to go to google, but somehow, whenk i type the url, it comes out as httpsl:/www.gogolgle.comg.,ph.....

 

not good.

ahhh... the first really quiet, tranquil, silent period that i've had in ages. sitting alone with none of the rigorous clanging, bashing and banging by people, places and trumpets that we call real life.

earlier this morning i had a long and deep conversation with an acquaintance that ranged from the deepest pits of hell to the furthermost frontiers of the known galaxy and everything else in between; throw in a few carrots, mushrooms and papayas for good measure. here we were, like two englishmen sipping warm beer on a quiet monday morn.

it was a noisy moment, like an orchestraic crescendo that builds intensity, rolling from across the sea to smash against the rocks of your mind. bang, crash, boom, goes the surf, and the waters recede to reveal nothing but stark emptiness.

silence becomes most profound when it is preceded by a horrific bang; this one none the less so. it fills most people with dread, a feeling like being lost in a daze, and blindfolded at that, groping away in an empty space the size of the sahara. it fills me with peace.

in the endless hustle and bustle of our world, one seldom finds a quiet moment except in the deep recesses of her memory. one seldom has the wherewithal or the motivation to even seek that moment. it takes time to learn to appreciate a mind clear of all worries and self-gratification; time to know and love an empty room and inactivity; time to just be still. i have lived in that stillness most of my life, and have only now learned to know and embrace it.

when your brain works in overdrive most of the time, it'll only be a short journey before the afterburner uses up all your fuel, or burns your exhaust pipe to cinders. even the eye in the sky knocked off and sought silence on the seventh day. stay your thoughts, disconnect your senses, debunk your emotions, take a crap, light a pipe, and try to obtain the absolute meaning of the verb 'is.' it might be good for you.

 

if i were to make a prediction, i'd make it a realistic one. oh i wouldn't go as far as some old French hack did and signal the end of the world from a few fallen buildings, a few splashes of muddy water, and the wars brought about by a demented juju man in a suit who thought a clipped mustache and a little melanin deficiency made you an übermensch. no, i'd not go as far as that. but i would say that the image of supermen the world has come to accept is the wrong one. yes, i'd predict supermen walking the earth in a few thousand years, and hold myself still within the limits of realism. why? because their ancestors are right here, right now.

the little boy that sold you sampaguita along the highway in the deep-freeze of 1am, the manang who comes to the dormitories every week to carry a huge load of laundry on her back, the manong who pushes the kariton 50 kilometers everyday to shout, bakal - bote, and the little girl who smears your nice windshield with her face, palms outstretched, begging - these are the ancestors of the Supermen.

let Nietzsche turn around in his grave but the idea i'm using is a literal one. i might be guilty of propitiating Hitler's trap here but in any case it's such a cool term that i can't help misappropriating it.

Darwin told us of survival of the fittest, and what more fitting training grounds than the marshes of the homes along the riles, the communities that litter the metro area, the hovels below the flyovers that spawn rugged looking creatures splashing into the blackened waters of the Pasig river amdst drifting sewage and the remnants of yesterday's dinner? These havens of hardship, cruelty and disease, and not to mention a global society that seems to take its bloody time to alleviate the same, will eventually prove to be the founts from which will spring the next masters of the earth.

notice, the upper classes are all so secured in their zones of contentment and comfort, that they do naught but grow softer, and softer each day. they'll eventually die out. the middle classes are too busy paying taxes so we'll leave them out of the dicussion. but the impoverished? their population increases at an exponential rate everyday, and this gives them a lot of opportunities for suffering and pain. this lessens their chances of securing enough jobs that they have to hunt, struggle, and cry for their sustenance. this gives us the perfect genetic pool to mutate and make deadly those already deadly diseases that plague the inhabited world. their living areas grow more dilapidated and much more cruel to live in that they are being overcrowded. in short, a festering primordial soup in terms of complex organisms.

what does not kill you makes you stronger, and every day a human being does not eat enough either kills him or makes him inured to the pain. every disease and infection that does not result in death presents a stronger immunity. and those that cannot live in overcrowded conditions, die. the dead we don't worry about, but those that are left, are left much stronger than that generation that started them. eventually, they will be the only ones left standing while the upper classes have rotted away, and the middle classes are still paying their taxes.

so fear not for your impoverished state, brethren. one day you shall own the earth.

i am watching our beloved president on the telly. somehow, the way she presents herself to us, the unwashed masses - wide-eyed, smiley-faced, little angel that she is - is incongruous with the topic at hand - terrorists. and mind you, she does seem like she's having fun, laying out the many plans by which she means to stamp out that camo-painted, gun-toting, bomb-planting, Juan. and stamp him out she will.

i don't know why people never get bored with this stuff. i used to think it was just a question of when. apparently not.

aling Nena and mang Pedro seem to need their daily supply of things to at which to cluck their tongues. and where there's demand, well, somebody has to take advantage of it. and so we have the news, among other television programs that are directly syndicated from the antics of those that we consider useless enough to put into politics.

maybe they're just there that people may have somebody to blame for all their miseries. a veritable soap opera of bickering, feuding, betrayals, innuendo, and of course, the promise of an ending that always gets taken away by that neat line "to be continued next week..." it might just be a good thing, that hour when all people across the nation are tuned in to their tv sets; that hour to release the tensions of traffic, taxes, work, money, not having money, not having work, dropped upon you throughout the day. without it, the entire country might just explode. psychologists call it anger management. i call it current events...

and it might just keep Juan glued to the TV enough to stop making his bomb. at least for a while.

there is something decidedly wrong with this picture...

i went and lived in a cave of my own choosing. it's dark, it's damp... and it's bloody well isolated from the rest of the world.

alas, events mess around with people more than i wish they would, and i'm destined to be roused out of this apolitical shell with which i had hoped to exclude myself from society.

i didn't know that our president's due to be impeached until i came upon a bunch of hooligans shouting and ranting and farting down the length of ayala. first reaction >> boring... second reaction >> get out of the bloody way you imbeciles!... third reaction >> ... ... ...

i do not know which is more disturbing, the fact that the masses elect their own leaders, or the fact that they seriously believe in a better state of things to be brought about by these leaders. don't get me wrong. i've known enough political hullabaloo to last any sane persun's lifetime. i've been left, right, left of center, and all around the backstage of the bloody arena. i couldn't discount the fact that i've been stuck with all the noble ideals and all the wrong people but Hell, i could've at least seen one sane hew-mon amongst the freaks that populate this little side of Hades.

or is it that i'm the one that's insane... trying to look for Citizen Right in the area of inherent wrongness? in the land of the mad, the sane man is crazy. don't remember who said that.

and so i've retreated into my cave, a lovely place, with its heavy draperies over the windows and a cubicle for my pet cockroach by the cupboard. never mind that one cannot live the ideal apolitical life, as such a life is inherently impossible (i do not use the word lightly), but at least i tried.

i look at the situation, and dismiss it readily as an analogue to what Poland was with their Freedom in the time of the land magnates. "don't like the king? get rid of it," and the poor fool was sent packing as fast as you can say Szczebrzeszyn. so they've never lived without a central figure for long - with exceptions of course - and the people remained wallowing in their illusions of freedom. the country at least did reach a golden age, but it never really moved past that, until the Russians and the Austrians and the Prussians came and gobbled the country up like pie.

this is one of the times when i am most in need of Surak's philosophy - and a healthy bonk on the head with an IDIC medallion.

here i am, slaving my ass off, going in - going out - of work in the wee hours of the morning and afternoon, all for the ostensive purpose of bettering the life that we have had and a life that is expected in the future.

but you, oh my dear flower, have fallen from my grasp, leaving only a burned scar in your wake, blackened and hurting. empty. not a peep in all this time. my hand quivers with the desire to reach out and touch you via the furious microwave transmission of a phone call, but my heart shakes in tremors of fear that you shall reject me again.

we live less than 2 kilometers apart. but you might have been in Alpha Eridani 3 for all the contact that we've shared these weeks, months... close to a year...

they have said that sound cannot travel in a vacuum. i say that love can most effectively be mired as well. sometimes it doesn't even take the step.

serves me right for dealing with Hew-mons, but it takes many kinds to make a world, and i shall do naught but accept.

i have remained faithful my love. all this time.

forgive me folks... i've been out on a looney mission, and i've just succeded in pulling the pants off of a wanderer named Obligation - allowing me to scribble these few hurried thoughts...

first off - if you've been reading my previous posts, which i doubt you did - the bloody pretzel dog... same stuff, but it comes in a different packaging. it's like new wine in old wineskins, new chicken in an old egg, Donald Duck dressed up like Granny Goose; well, actually it's the other way around, i think. what i don' t like is the way they've treated the Fatdog like so much trash. not a farewell party, nor a 'thank-you-for-all-the-good-times-take-care-now-have-fun-where-you're-going' note; not even a cute little announcement posted on their menu that says 'Not Available.' No, they just took it away, without even the infamy of shackles to go 'clang-clang' as it marches down that dreary path to oblivion.

Farewell noble Fatdog. Know that you shall never be surpassed, nor even matched by your successor. the pretzel dog is but a faint-hearted, feeble reminder of your past glory.

Farewell.

and so it came to pass, that the earth once more tilted a wee bit to put us directly under the searing influence of our bloody star.

and bennet, living directly under its malevolent gaze, could do naught but toss and turn and sweat and turn and sweat and toss and sweat again, in bed this morning, trying to catch that elusive bit of sleep. he has been so far unsuccessful on account of the heat.

life drones on, unappreciated by me, nor the people around me.

it's the first time in weeks that i've been able to find that small niche Time reserved for me, and i don't have anything to write about.

maybe i've spent too much time being obnoxious to everybody around me that i can't be obnoxious on paper anymore.

or maybe i've just run out of gas.

...