sunday blues

I was reading the Sunday paper this morning over some coffee and a tuna sandwich. I usually don't read the papers. Either I'm too lazy to read the way the news is written or maybe I'm just so sick and tired of all the shit marring our already forsaken earth.

But there I was, out of some mental clarity the morning has given me. Besides the coffee I made tasted so good I had to devour something for my mind too. The tuna sandwich wasn't bad, either.

So there was this affair up in the middle east, Lebanon, Israel, Bush, France, and the UN. Spinning around in the frenzy of their own element, war and charade-ish diplomacy. Oh, what's new? President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo, the election hubub, comelec bullshit. More Lebanon. More politicians bitching around. Some going boohoo, some saying so much vehemently they might as well say fuck several times to demonstrate their point.

So that's why I am repelled by the news, it amplifies my bitterness towards the world I live in. It dawned on me that the only I reason the news is that I looked like some classy mature male taking enough time to be updated on current events. And the smell and sound of the newspaper has something pleasing to it.

Oh, I am not an absolute cynic. It's just that there's too much shit that you won't even notice there's water and porcelain in the toilet. Everything is just so covered with filth.

But there are journalist who write things that pique my interest.

Like, tomorrow it's going to be Ninoy Aquino day. I usually don't pay attention to holidays. Besides, during the time the EDSA affair took place I was still sucking my thumb and wetting my bed.

But something Max Soliven did catch my attention. Ninoy, he says, is one of the last romantics. Nice way of putting it, isn't it? He won a battle by dying. Now that's romanticism at its height. Great man he is. Isn't it the case that if a romantic dies, romanticism is ignited? But the case isn't really so, our age is now the age of reason, we say. Technology, information, and money is the real deal this time. Something about this paragraph is utterly cliche, but hey, this is my fkn blog so what the hell, right? It's just that the dread felt by the last romanticist of the nineteenth century are now becoming a harsh reality.

Let us embrace the nihilism. If we seek so much to turn our life into a lyrical masterpiece, then we put ourselves in the line of fire.

Or embrace the little force left of the Dionysian left in our world.

I for my part, am going to put on my dancehall riddims and just slide. It's a sunday. Let the nihilism cease for this one day. Let me submerge...

opus, labora

I have to write before I dry up again. There has to be a break to my life-pattern. Wherein, when I start to experience some action, I stop writing. I tend to break off my other pursuits, and then suddenly find myself in a pool of lukewarmness. And that, as we all know, is sucky. Right?

SO here I am, a week into my work at Dell. Dell Philippines. Hell, you wouldn't imagine how over-eager I am to work there. I constantly have restrain myself lest I start looking like some overeager retarded first-grader. This is my liberation. I have gained freedom from this oppresive prison cell that I call my room.

How was it? Well, for one thing I discovered that my mind has been sufficiently warped after four months in captivity. I feel like my social skills have been crippled in a considerable extent. I think I lost the need to walk around being oh-so Mr. Friendly. Well, I won't be surprised if someone sees me as an egoistic and cocky asshole with an impressive sense of style. (shameless)

I have this feeling that I feed off other people's energies. That sounds wrong. But I guess I didn't mean it like I'm some parasitic mutant freak. I just feel surrounded by a strange energy when around humans, especially in a group. Or in an intense conversation. That explains my constant lethargy when at home, holed up in my room.

Work also serves as useful distraction from my self-destructive mind activities. It's unbelievable what a mind like mine can brew up in an idle state. It moves from profound to perverse to senseless to fantastic to useless to creative and finally to a drifting state that can be described by picturing a murky pool of stagnant water.

I have to say this. I feel powerful. I feel no shame in bragging about the size of my ego. It's just my ego, right? What's the big frkn deal. But anyway, I feel that this is another unique opportunity to be good, to perform and whatever else I am good at. I always consider it my personal mission to be the good in everything I do, which is of course no unique. I feel a terrible shame when I suck at what I do. I especially recognize the things that I am incapable of and I proceed with caution when getting into anything.

What now? Just an end to senselessness. Oh, I have discovered my weakness, again. It's just that I tend to forget. This particular weakness is a mark of people in our bloodline, so I'd best keep my distance. OR maybe I should play it cool, I dunno. For, now, distance is my best option. There's so much IO

post-bumming

Bummin is officialy over for me. Which is a good thing. wait. It's a great thing!

I'm one who always walks around carrying fire in his chest. It's such a burden to stay at home in a state of constant inactivity. It's as if that fire that should be razing the world is in here, dying down, warming silently like ambers waiting to be extinguished.

A week into the training and I feel so intoxicated, but exactly intoxicated by the things they constantly stuff into our heads. What's great about being at work is the simple fact that I'm working. Work. And, I'm finally earning some cash. Moolah. YEah.

My ego has suffered too much in my state of impotent bummishness. These thoughts came to me this weekend, as there is no work. I feel myself in a constant state of lethargy. I found myself sleeping all day. Sometimes I wonder if this is how it really is. But then, maybe it is.

I remember a line from a book I read lately - Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand, "The highest moral purpose of man is to exist."

To slink bank in a constant state of drifting in life would be such a shame to such a moral principle. I feel glad that I am, again, in a place where I can make choices and do something for myself.