Just like you.
Well, well, well...
The season of ho ho ho 2005 is over.
Just like that.
My first entry for the year falls on the second week of January. And on Friday the 13th. Strange? Not quite. This is Weirdspaghetti after all.
Only goes to show how I manage time terribly. Time is something which is definitely not on my side. In fact, I didn't even have time to sleep for today's shift. Ya see, Han woke me up early yesterday so that the Dentist could rape my teeth with her hook like thingy. The result? I still feel her poking a steel rod in my mouth and I'm drained like a kitchen sink. Poof.
I have yet to publish some poems I've got stashed in my bag: "Ditching 7" and a new one called "Tonight, Suicide Is Written In The Sky". "Prizefighter", one of my poems originally published here in the pages of Weirdspaghetti is appearing in our account's monthly newsletter. Recently, poetry acted as my teleportation device which allows me to escape everything even if for just a few minutes.
Well, poetry... and badminton.
Yup. My brain is all Nanospeed, Armortec and Muscle Power right now. If you were to perform a brain surgery on me... I swear... my brain 'll spew high modulus graphite.
I would loooove to write some stuff that would go in tune with the new year... like, resolutions and things that make me happy and crap like that. But as I've mentioned in paragraph number two: time is not on my side. So I'm letting all you folks go and hope to see you again in the pages of the blog where thoughts are twisted with a fork and drenched in tomato sauce...
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Soundtrack of the moment: Alert The Armory - Urbandub
So I'm stuck here at the office on Christmas morning.
I guess I should be thankful that I was even fortunate enough to have spent Noche Buena with the family. Noticed how I'm getting less and less presents every year.
Are people becoming less and less generous?
Are we all becoming more and more broke?
Or am I just growing old?
And ovum hatching
The kind of bullet
That kills werewolves
And what is said to be found
At the end of the rainbow
A Radiohead song
Flocks every home
And sweetened sow carcass
Is tchotchke on every table
Kids form gangs
And will turn bottle caps
Wins the race
People don codenames
And will offer
Temporary strangers gifts
Parents will wear
Bull taunting suits,
Grow Dumbledore beards
And big black boots
Families are not
Call center agents
But all will be up at midnight
And minute versions
Of Edison's invention
Parading by the millions
The main mascot
Needs to take a crash diet
And in this country
Would have to pick locks
He is proof
That Gillette products
Are not available
At the North Pole
Written: December 20, 2005
This poem was originally titled "THIS IS A CHRISTMAS POEM". It may not look like it, but it is. Go figure. Supposed to be included in the December issue of Bubbler but since the issue was scratched I'm offering it as a present for all of you instead. Never in a million years would I have thought of coming up with poetry for Christmas... but I did. This only goes to show how unpredictable things can get. Like highschool kids waking up only to find they have lost their virginity. Had fun writing it. Hope you guys have fun reading it.
If this would be my final entry for 2005
...we'll never know.
Soundtrack of the moment: Banquet - Bloc Party
Dunno if y'all gonna get this but with 40 plus avail...
The cold forces my bones to quiver.
Brrr. I sure could use a warm embrace right now.
And warmth coming from... you know what.
Christmas is like... what... 6 days away? I'm not that excited. Maybe it's because there's nothing to get excited about. And probably because I know I'm gonna be rushin' to get to the office right after Noche Buena. Ho hum. Well, at least I know I'ma be spending new year's wit' my loved ones. Now, that's coolness even December can't beat.
Let's end this entry on rhetorics and a sweet note, shall we?
Soundtrack of the moment: Everyday I Love You Less And Less - Kaiser Chiefs
This should be my second and final entry for November.
I'm at work.
'Tis my first day on a new schedule. 2:30 in the friggin' morning. Thursday-Friday off. Had the option to be on the 8:30pm slot but... why the heck did I choose this? Why, for Christmas trees and fireworks of course! Then I complain.
(Insert rants here.)
A few firsts:
1. This is my first day on the 2:30am slot.
2. Yesterday was the first time I ever bought grocery for the family.
3. T'was also my first time to have paid for grocery wit' my own money.
4. Today is my first time to bring a lunchbox to work. Cute? Err. Not quite.
My right arm hurts like crap. And it shakes like a pair of maracas. Ya see, I played badminton yesterday and though t'was a good cardio workout... I'm poofed and my body aches.
I have a poem called "Ditching 7" waiting to be posted and another poem called "Fucking Girls" waiting to be written. Lately, poetry seems to be my only form of release. I would love to write and create songs again. Now, if I only had a darn idea how Reason would work through MIDI.
December is a guillotine.
But hey, 'tis rollin' in like a juggernaut...
and there ain't no stopping it.
So lemme hear each one o' y'all scream...
Soundtrack of the moment: Gorecki - Lamb
I'm here at the office. Got here two hours early.
Why you ask?
The Americans have adjusted their clocks.
So I've decided to create an entry. First entry o' the month. Dunno what the hell I'ma write about.
Ah. Just go wit' the flow.
'Tis been raining a lot lately. It coats the atmosphere with a chilly blanket. Turned cold breeze into something colder. And what do I have to say 'bout this? Great. Excellent. You can even provide your own positive adjective here. I am ecstatic about the rain. There is something quite soothing about it. The sound it makes when it hits the ground. The smell of everything after the rain stops. My parents have noticed how it rains a lot around the week that is All Souls' Day. It may rain the week before, the week after or on All Souls' Day itself. True. I have noticed this too. My parents say the heavens are blessing the dead. Oh my. I oughta get me wet wit' some o' that rain. I am dead inside and I need all the blessings I could get.
For November, I promised myself that I will try to hear mass every Sunday. In fact, I went to church last Sunday. I was impressed. The priest said humility comes from the word "humus" which means soil. Cool. Now I say, mix that with water and you get mud. Err. This line hasn't got anything to do with the rest of this paragraph. However, it gives you... dear reader... a reason to sling mud at me.
I failed to attend Cream but I'm fine. I've got other things to look forward to. November appears to be a very good month. Wishful thinking.
Thirty minutes to go 'til my shift starts.
Lotsa time but I hafta scram.
And you should too.
See ya later.
Soundtrack of the moment: Bloc Party - Pioneers
[ FEB ]14 - V-day
Got Pills? Got Pets?
|crushed red pepper|
|dribble like giggs|
|my silver chair|
|pin the damn donkey|
|tao rin po ako|
|the last muse|
|utak ni mela|