Month: October 2008

Instruments of Torture

House of Pain

Seems like The Shoe Factory is taking pains to throw my iron maiden into the fire, and I’m not talking about the band. The heat I can stand, but I’m claustrophobic to some degree and I don’t like the tangy taste of rust in my mouth so I am making arrangements to ease me out of this self-imposed torture. One thing I’ve discovered is that, although I thought I was, I am actually not S&M material. My threshold for pain is so low that even a light breeze blowing makes my nerves scream in agony and makes me nauseous.

Why? Why? Why must those people who are the last ones I’d want to see if Armageddon Continue reading


Dumaguete’s Special Zoo

Close to a private school run by nuns is a zoo. In glass cages, animals of differing species scratch, dig, toss, make faces, feed, drink, defecate and urinate. Decibel meters would not work here, as howls, hisses, caws, screeches, and growls would ruin any piece of equipment because of the density of the noise… pretty much like how a tropical jungle had sounded like at certain evenings before lowlanders came and denuded the natural habitat of these animals.

The animals found here have long been semi-domesticated, living with humans who are kind enough to raise them as their own. The humans even gave a name for these displaced animals, so that these different members of the animal kingdom could be accepted in the mainstream human society. They are called, to be politically correct, adolescents. Now, in this zoo, they are in a square glass enclosure. A small overhead fan provides the only ventilation, amping up the heat; it’s no wonder that the pheromone levels are so high as most of the females of the species are near estrus.

Visit the place… the animals are on display for the public only at around twelve noon to one o’clock in the afternoon on weekdays. Some choice species will also be on display at 4:30 to 6:00 pm, especially the screaming jackadaw, i.e., Primus anno bosconii. Usually, the males gather in packs of fours or up to a dozen, hooting and Continue reading

For Julio Manuel Alibaba of Paraguay

… you used to know me better that I did of myself

front back side and center you used to know the terrain of my being

entirely familiar with undulations of me

entirely the sole explorer

of the whorls the swirls the whirls

from my fingertips to my littlest toe

… you used to know how I snore

and scream, perhaps, in my sleep

you used to lie there beside me

and watch me dream of you

… I used to know you better than you could of yourself

front back side and center I used to know where it would tickle

and when to grab and when to take

entirely familiar your skin

was like my own skin

I was the explorer

of tumultuous seas and angry volcanoes

I heard your dreams in your sighs

and the dishonesty and fear in your alibis

… I used to know your worries

of how you looked because your head is too big for your body

because your nose is long, measured horizontally

I wished them fears away as you slept

so sound and unaware

… but ships arrive at their ports of call

regurgitating cargo and passengers alike

to once again pass each other

in dark deep waters of forgetfulness and unknowing.

Donning the Black Shroud (or an OA Post)

October is a time for mourning an old friend who passed away with his nose dislocated and his eye open; paramedics had been unable to close it for the traditional sleep-in-peace pose of those who have died.


The last of his dying breed. Geroe-ni-moe, dear friend, rest in peace. I mourn the loss of a constant companion, able to capture the scenery, freeze a moment for eternity, to discern what lies behind the smiles. Constant sidekick in get-togethers and in moments of sanity-damaging boredom… you were always there to lend your time, to extend your service. You never failed. But good things do end. And now, it really did.


I will cherish your memory forever. I hold on to the tokens of our companionship. But for now, goodbye. I close the lid of your wooden box, burying you in darkness for eternity. Your memory, I will keep alive in my heart, never fear.


Goodbye, then, dear Geroe-ni-moe. Goodbye. I misplaced the warranty card. Forgive me.


(my Nikon Coolpix L3 died on me a week ago. Big, big sad)

I Lost My Birthday Suit

Hello, world! One week has passed and I am now eight and twenty years old. Another notch in my belt. I look forward to what life has to surprise me with around the bend (insert Squidward-esque laugh here).


Hello, world! One week has passed and here I am, battered, bruised, and scar-filled. I laugh and it hurts my side. I could cry but my tear ducts have dried. So, this is how it is to live life… Battered, hurt, broken. Yet getting up again at the sound of another bell, ready for another bout of survival.


Hello, world! One week has passed and here I go, yammering, directionless still. Unsatisfied, still searching for the perfect reason to keep doing what I do. I am not tired, I must say for the record. It’s just that, to coin a phrase, this is not me


Hello, world! One week has passed but what lurks in yonder corner? I haven’t had a good deal in a very long time. I hope it comes soon. I didn’t order a Lamborghini for just a walk in the park. And the Lamb is still in layaway.


Hello, world? One week has passed and here I am… still in front of a PC, clacking away for dear sanity.

  Continue reading