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Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Christmas Day

It has long since been My Wish
That for just once this day
We could forget to hate
And remove the pain
From my self and thy self
From my neighbors and yours.
That the mothers and fathers
Be with the young that they cherish
And for us to hold dear what we do.

I wished every year
That for once
Today was what it was meant to be.

It never is.
And so this year I hold the same secret wish
Inside my heart.
One that grows quieter and quieter
Every time.


Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Trap


These imaginary walls
Trap us more than any real one can

Blame


You were always at the right place at the right time
I was just never there to meet you


Thursday, December 11, 2014

Transform

She was the space and all the dashes
Sometimes forgotten
But always there
Putting words together
With just a smile
For just a while.

Then he saw her
Because he was a linguist
And he knew
How much she was of value

But she never did
So no one did

So he became a punctuation
A comma
A period
All so she would never be
Alone Again.


Now the Stars are Too Dark


You could have left alone,
Why did you have to take all the stars with you?


At a Dinner Table

"Why?"
.
.
.
"Because in your eyes I see yesterday,
And she is too beautiful."




Thursday, December 4, 2014

Rip Off

Pinch,
Harder.
Pull,
Harder.
Fist,
Tighter.
Hold,
Tighter.

Tear it all off.
Rip me all off.

To shreds.
Again.

And when you are done,
And given me back me.

A touch
A kiss

Just once
Will do

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

On Motivation and Capitalism


The Secret to a Writer is that she's a Reader,
And she needs the money to buy all the fucking books.

Monday, November 24, 2014

Last

Faster than a blink
All gone.
When I said the dreaded word,
And so did you -
Love.
That we did.
But too little too much
Too unfortunate the circumstance.

So for the last time
You raised my hand
I touched your lips.
And when the adrenaline began,
I whispered,


"Undo me please."


Conjunction


In the world of either-or's
I'm a non-existent in-between.

Friday, November 21, 2014

List

Hold hands
Touch knees
First touch
First kiss
Theme song
Prom dance
Late calls
More plans

Sun set
Sun rise
Curl up
Bright eyes
Good nights
Bed sheets
Same shirt
Same smile

More love
More lies
Entangled feet
Sweet caress
Wishes on eyelash
Shouts to the void

More laughs
More none
Oh what were we
Always alone
In each others arms
We lay and passed



Oh all the things we could've done.
With one blink all gone.

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

State

Living in a world of hypotheticals
And wishing reality's not real.

Saturday, November 15, 2014

Canvas

He lifts his hands, delicately touching all the markings he made. All the dotted lines and all the reds - mere drafts to what was next. The young Adonis is smiling now, his divine hand reaching over to the left for his instrument. Then he touches her again - his canvas. Dear God, her skin feels exquisite. Her ivory skin is just begging to be colored. Don't worry. It won't be long now.

He removes the handkerchief from her mouth. He touches her jaw. Perfect. Beautiful pink marks were formed. This would be great to start the theme.

Her eyes shining with unshed tears, she asks, "Why are you doing this?"

The innocent mademoiselle, he chuckles. She possesses such naivete. He wipes her face with the handkerchief.

"Of course, it's because I love you."

And the scalpel touches the flesh.


Friday, November 14, 2014

Toxic

Shhh...
The voices in my head
Are talking, whispering, and shouting.
All at once.
All in months.

No time
No space
No anything else
Not until I let it all out.

Stop!
Quick!
Grab a pen!
Ah!

It hurts.
My hand.
It's red.
And burnt.

Everything I love is toxic.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Hush Now


"It's alright," I whisper to my heart.

"You won't be alone. We'll get ruined together."


Monday, November 10, 2014

Trade of Hearts

That day I said yes,
I did so completely.
I reveled in our trade of hearts.
When mine was given whole,
And I kept your broken one dearly.

It was the most magical time of my life.
We held hands and hugged and kissed,
We were tiny fools for believing in forever.
When forever at fourteen was only a year.

Still we spent three forevers together - 
Not without tears and not without loss.
Not without broken phones and not without moms.
We were rash and we were brash.
And we wore lives with no consequences.
But our worlds crushed so easily.

And now when we step into a whole new one,
I guess we we won't have each other anymore.
It's alright,
Don't cry.
I don't mind.

We're just trading hearts again,
Only this time,
I return yours whole,
And mine's in pieces.


Saturday, November 8, 2014

Why

It's so hard to remember
That between all the killing and dying,
I exist.


Thursday, November 6, 2014

Hand

A hand that touches.
A firm grip
On my shoulder -
Advising;
Imposing.
"Son, don't ruin your life."
Holding me back.

Monday, October 27, 2014

But Only If You Must

If you must love, 
Then love truly.
If you must hate,
Then hate firmly.

Never thoughtlessly,
But never too thoughtful.
For nothing genuine is manipulated,
And nothing beautiful is disregarded.



Yes,



I do believe that Love can be quantified,

But I also believe in that statement's unimportance.



Sunday, October 26, 2014

Art

Unmoving.
Chilling.
Judging.

In the silence of stares,
The gears in their heads are ever shifting.
Always thinking
Voicing out opinions
But only in hushed tones,
Never any way else.

In the isolation of whispers,
You can't help but get scared.
They're terrifying -
Paintings and Monuments
So bright in their own rights.

And you,
You are nothing to them.

The windows to their nonexistent souls
Are through the eyes.
So in their stoic appearances,
Only one movement is allowed -
For irises to move down
And condemn you for all you are.

And after that one second,
The jury move forward again.
Forgetting all their thoughts -
Forgetting you.

But us,
We never forget.



Still

So many stories
Of Great Loves
And Great Sobs.

Of worlds crumbling,
Of hearts breaking -
In perfects halves,
And in pieces.

Of people soaring high,
Of princesses and perfect lives.
In monochrome to rainbow,
In riddance of sorrow.

Ticktock.
Goes my heart -
Sometimes in seconds,
Sometimes in minutes.

I'm here -
Sitting.
Still.
Waiting.

I'll be patient.
I swear.


Monday, September 29, 2014

La Vita è Bella

She holds my hand. It's tighter than usual - tighter than that time when I accompanied her to ride a roller coaster for the first time; than when she accepted my proposal and cried and shook; than when she gave birth to our first baby girl and I was so thankful I wasn't the one pregnant, and even more thankful that everything went well; tighter than that time when the doctor told us I only had two years to live.

Friday, September 26, 2014

Drafts

One day, a lion caught a lost dolphin and

In recent news, a car was hija

An ode to the unheard

I was feeling scared

When you

How

She

Me

I

?



A Hand Wanders.



Thursday, September 25, 2014

Stare

A lost eyelash on her cheek.
The flutter of her eyelids.
The creases when she smiles.
The clear brown of her iris.
The deep black of her center.
The watery film when she cries.

Ah,

I Fell.
I am obsessed.


Last Night

Breathe:
A whiff
Of cold salty air.

Feel:
The caress
Of the midnight breeze.

Hear:
The howl
Of the distant moon.

Taste:
The distance
Of all your worries.

Open:
Your eyes.
Your arms.
Embrace it all.


Let the storm come.


Wednesday, September 24, 2014

On Writing

Words are spontaneous -
New souls born
With each utterance of a mouth.
Never the same
Magical;
Tragic.

They are conceived in the heat of passion -
Between the lust of the mind
And the thirst of the voice.
Our throats dry
Our souls parched.

Each word is an expression -
A groan or a moan
For the pleasure and pain
That we derive from every creation.

So let it out,
Don't hold it in.
Open your luscious lips
Mumble and scream
Of all the words you need to hear.


Monday, September 22, 2014

A Monologue




When you feel
Happy, sad, excited, hurt, or conflicted,
When you feel,
Just let it out.

I write.
Maybe you should try it.

Isn't music your muse?
Then go make lyrics;
Write a song.

It doesn't have to be pretty,
Or depressing,
Or healthy,
Or destructive.
Or it can be all at once!
It doesn't have to be consistent.
Don't listen to those fools.
The past is nothing but a random pattern.
The future is nothing but unpredictable -
Unless, of course, if you design it like so.

Consistency is a beautiful term they invented,
With an equally creative description in the dictionary.
Consistency is a word they made
To be interchangeable with mediocrity.
And that, I say,
Is the least of what you are.

But no matter what,
Tell the truth in your art.
Because for all the fickleness of life,
There is one truth that you live by.
Some romanticize this concept
And call it the self.

But I -
I just call it me.

We are a truth, you and I.

Never forget that,
And maybe you'll be able to trick people into thinking
It is this "consistency" they scream of.
But don't be like them,
Don't follow them, of course -
Never, in fact.
You don't have to be anything at all.
You don't even have to be you!

But then,

It'd sure be nice if you choose to be.






She smiles.


Sunday, September 21, 2014

Wisdom of the Past


Strange, isn't it?

When the one you reject the most,

Understands you best?



Question #2



What is the beauty of the outside world,



Compared to your perfection that I've been graced with?


Prayer


And how do you become alright with the fact



                         That Humans are finite and imperfect

That memories are forgotten,



And I remember you less                                                  
Day and day?


Saturday, September 20, 2014

Dog


I'd like to tie a rope around your waste,
Hang you up high,
And stir you like newly made coffee.
See how you feel about that.

Can you feel your guts twisting?
It's like an involuntary rollercoaster.
You can't get away.
Oh That?
That's the sound of your own puking.
That's the whisper of your mind screaming.
That's the incomprehension touching you.
Animals kill animals for survival and necessity.
And yet I was naive to their infinite capacity for evil.

Humans are so dumb.
They make these self-actualizing concepts,
And deem themselves worthy of justifying everything.
You wonder,
Where the fuck do they get their confidence?
How can they scream empathy and justice,
When they only know how to place themselves
In shoes and not in paws -
When webbed feet are impossible?
When flippers are for the incapable,
And wings are for the technology-deficit.

They study and study.
And their vocabulary wrongly defines appreciation.
What fools.
Arrogance.
It is the greatest fault of all legendary heroes.
It is the greatest fault of man's ideals.



*This isn't a poem. I don't even know if this is prose. This is a rant - unstructured and free. This is a plea. This is me understanding why we eat meat, and more than that knowing that this is different from outright cruelty. This is not playing with food. This is playing with life that we deem insignificant to ours. This is a reaction to an article I saw on Dog Spinning done in Bulgaria. No, I did not even open that link. I cannot. This is different from that article of an area in China eating dogs. I was sad and outraged, but that is my own bias. Animals are eaten for survival. I do not think the lion cruel for killing the deer. I only pity the deer and hope for it to die quickly. But, let me repeat -  cruelty is different. It's an entirely different thing to play with life. PLAY - how did such a joyful word become so twisted?

Friday, August 15, 2014

Clown

That big red afro,
Bright cherry lipstick,
Ghastly white powder.
I wore my costume.
My feet feel doomed.
But I try and try anyway,
To look as happy as can be.

'Cause everyone's colorful,
But I'm black and white.
I'm that one mime -
Emotional and mimicking,
Whose only happiness was talking.
But I try and try anyway,
To look as happy as can be.

So I talk and talk and talk,
And one by one I wore,
These heavy ornamental glamour.
The bright red lipstick was first,
And slowly of real blood I thirst.
But I try and try anyway,
To look as happy as can be.

It formed a big big smile,
On top of my lips.
So when I laugh or frown,
I could not distinguish.
What is this?
But I try, or tried anyway,
To look as happy as can be.

The costume was thick and heavy,
Weighing me down with each step.
I was in a maze,
One with no map.
In my own clothes I was trapped.
I wonder if I really tried anyway,
To look as happy as can be.

Clowns were beloved,
They made people smile.
To be a clown was what I wanted
But then they could not see,
That the clown was not me.
Maybe I should've tried anyway,
To look as happy as can be.

It was a struggle to be real,
To keep the mask on but be me.
Then I sank into the mask.
But the mask was she,
And I was me.
Do I still try anyway,
To look as happy as can be?

Tug at the left,
Tug at the right,
I wonder if this is how a smile looks like.
My heart is breaking.
This suit is stifling.
How do I try anyway,
To look as happy as can be?

Monday, August 11, 2014

Writing: Want or Need?



School has started a few days ago, right after enrollment.

If you have any idea how horrible UP enrollment is... You don't. Try it. I was actually one of the lucky ones because I finished before school even started. In UP culture, it's normal to start your school year without having finished your enrollment process.

Anyways, what's done is done, and all 18 units have been enrolled. Thank God.

(Also, a friend of mine who was unfamiliar with the UP system commented on the fact that 18 units was too few. I was thinking about it, and no, UP isn't chill. It's just different, I guess. The same way in which ADMU and DLSU will never have the same teaching style.)

I have a feeling that this'll be an interesting sem. This school year, I'm determined to pull my grades up because I was too lax during my first year. (I maximized and sometimes even exceeded all my allowable cuts. I'm not proud of it.)

For this semester, I got Psych 101 and PolSci 14. Both teachers look awesome, and to be honest, since I never really felt like I was studying during my first year (plus that four-month long break. ugh), I'm really looking forward to studying. Another heavy subject is Philo 12. I am not looking forward to that. This coming Tuesday will decide whether or not I'll push through with the subject.

Besides those, a subject I'm really excited about is CW 10 (Creative Writing for Beginners) because if it isn't obvious, I write. Haha.

My teacher is Ma'am Pasion-Flores and I have to admit the class's first meeting was great. She had this whole no-bullshit attitude but was strict and friendly at the same time. She had this smile on the entire time, but you didn't really know (and I still don't) if it was a happy smile or a threatening one. So complex. I love it.

Oh right. She's a lawyer and a writer at the same time. How awesome is that? It's my current (unreachable) dream career path and she's just there - showing me that it's possible. Gah. The class was kinda intimidating too because it felt like everyone was such a good writer.

More on that next time. What I wanted to write about today was about one of Ma'am's assigned readings: Letter to a Young Poet I by RM Rilke.

For some reason, I got curious and read it first. Now here I am - sitting; writing. You've got to admit the letter did its job well.


Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Step Up All In Falls Flat Compared to Its Predecessors


The Step Up franchise was never really about incredible plots as much as it was about incredible dances and more importantly, magnificent dancers. So keep in mind in this review that I wasn't expecting a great plot. I just wasn't expecting... this. Ugh.

I remember watching Step Up Revolution (the fourth movie in the Step Up series) and holding my tears back, because I would not cry over a dance movie. 

But what could I have done? It was a beautiful experience, and the day when I would be moved to tears by a dance movie finally came. 

More than the story that these dancers tried to tell with their words, I was more entranced with the way these dancers spoke with their bodies. Just watching them dance, I could see the hard work they put in their craft. They took the brave road, and now they were in a movie. Somehow, everything worked out. And everyone knows it couldn't have been easy. 

But every time you watch them dance, as in really dance, you see that they become other people. They tell other stories, and that story becomes important to you. Odd, isn't it? That you feel them become the best actors when they stop acting and start dancing. 

I love the Step Up series. And I'm really not sure if I'm exaggerating anymore when I say that Step Up All In ruined it.

By the way, did I mention that they dance?

Saturday, July 26, 2014

#iRecommend Seeking a Friend for The End of The World




A beautiful tale from a horrible what-if.

Simple and genuine.

An apocalyptic tale without zombies and survivalist violence.




Quotes

"Nobody's anybody's anything anymore."

"Look. Guilt isn't really a feeling that I'm comfortable with..." *sob*

"We were young. We were not fully formed beings yet."

"I am a recovering serial monogamist."

"I did ruin your life."
"No, you didn't. I had a really long head start."

"I can never settle for anything less amazing."

"You're a really nice person."
"You are an awful judge of character."





Rating: 8/10




Friday, July 25, 2014

Ribbon


Pull harder,
No further.
Straight and aligned,
In perfect symmetry.

A bow tie worn
Like a mask for my suit.
No crease,
No stain.

Flawless and Faultless.

When the party ends,
I am undone.


Thursday, July 24, 2014

#iRecommend Boss&Me




杉杉来了or Boss&Me (alternatively known as 杉杉来吃) is the first series I've ever watched that was produced by Mainland China and I have to say, it's adorable.

Most of the time, when I come across scenes from Mainland China shows (that I learned from research to be labeled as C-dramas1) on TV, I thought of them as too dramatic or too boring to try. I know, I know; I'm being too judgy. But if I had to watch a show, then at least I had to have a good impression of it right? I mean, I'm not into Bollywood, but I'm pretty sure they have their own good movies (i.e. 3 Idiots2).

I haven't been watching Taiwanese series anymore either, because when I watch anything Chinese, I want them light3, but the type of series that Taiwan was producing of the rom-com genre tended to be too exaggerated, and so I gave up on them.

How I (Never) Watched Begin Again



Being a fan of Keira Knightly, and being Adam Levine's fangirl, once I heard about their movie Begin Again, I wanted to watch.

Fate kept getting in the way though. Like seriously Fate, what the fuck.


Wednesday, July 23, 2014

A Letter to the Kids

How old are you right now - five, seven, ten years old? Are you scared of the world right now? Do you worry if your friends really like you or if they only like your pretty things? Well, let me tell you now. It's not going to stop yet.

It's hard - struggling as a kid. Adults often trivialize this part of our lives because they end up forgetting what it feels like. They think of these as "kids' problems". So before I become an adult, I want to write this down, so at least I don't throw these trivial feelings away.


Friday, July 18, 2014

Movie Reaction: She's Dating the Gangster



I never saw myself watching this in the big screen, as in ever

When I first saw the trailer, it seemed decent, but not enough to spend cash over. The "KathNiel" love team does affect me as much as the next girl (as long as that girl isn't a hardcore Daniel Padilla addict), but really, it's a matter of being selective with the ones you watch. I mean, with Philippine love teams being as predictable as they are, KathNiel is bound to stick together for a few more films or shows. (Philippine TV does not cope well with displeasing the public.)

Still, when power outage happened and boredom struck, I saw myself getting ready to go out and watch this movie. 

I also watched the recent KathNiel interview from The Buzz and they were talking about the movie with pride, and so at that moment I thought to myself, it might not be that bad.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Cuts



Your little signs of rejection,
Your no's instead of oh's.
Before you broke my heart in two,
You hurt me
With a thousand
Paper Cuts.


Beloved

***This post serves as a prologue chapter - to what? I don't know. All I know is that when inspiration hit me, I realized it would be best formatted as such. 




I heard about her. She was the new wife of my Master's son. Everyone hated her at first, of course.

The Young Lord was everyone's beloved. His parents loved him because they were the type of people to do so. In my life, I did not think I'd ever meet anyone as gentle or as kindhearted as they are. Maybe they loved him even more because he was an only child. Before the Lady conceived him, she suffered miscarriage more times than I would have wanted to count. Each time broke her heart - and each time we servants mourned with her. When the Young Lord was born, I was merely three years born into this world, but even my young eyes could so easily recognize the celebration in the eyes of everyone I met. He was an angel as a baby, and he was a savior as a man. He carried his parents' values even with the dignity of a noble. He was proud of what he had, and humble of what he hadn't. He had respect for everyone, even for the youngest of infants. For this, his family, friends, and most especially, his servants all loved him dearly.

It could not be helped that she was hated. I had expected the young lord to marry someone who was as humble and generous as he was, and yet when people heard the initial rumors, it put a sour look on everyone's face - except of course, on the Master's and the Lady's. They would love what the Young Lord loved.

These were what the rumors had said:

1) She was a fun-loving person. The servants would not have minded if not for the fact that she threw parties every full moon. She would find the simplest of reasons to launch a celebration. She had extravagance and luxury at her disposal, and she was definitely unreserved in her use of it.

2) She also loved books dearly. For his beloved, the Young Master built her a library, and replaced all her old books with new versions. He also ordered that these new books be replaced every five years with newer ones again. Until when was this order to be carried out? - indefinitely of course. If some of the books were to be unavailable at the time, they would be especially made just for the Young Lady.
The Young Master was a generous man, so we understood his actions, for he was him, and his love would not be restricted by money. However, the servants expected that the new Lady would reason with him and stop this ridiculous request. She did no such thing.

3) She refused to see her parents. The servants could only imagine what horrible type of person would refuse to see her parents once she got her hands on wealth.

4) While the Young Master himself, with his busy schedule, visited his parents in their quarters at least thrice a week, she did not see them until three months later. Neither did she see other servants but her own maids during that time span. How horrible, that she needed to be coerced into seeing the gentle Master and Lady.


There were more rumors, of course, but these were the biggest that kept the compound buzzing during her first few years.

It has been three years since she was married into my Master's family. The rumors died down as time passed. I guess people just ran out of things to talk about.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Today in Pictures - Tickets

07/12/2014


Today isn't really today. I had already started writing this post when I had to stop because I needed to attend to my part-time job (ugh). But then all the things already written here were true, and I had to admit it was a waste to put so much effort into something I wasn't even going to post, so here I am, in the middle of the night, continuing my thoughts from July 12, 2014, a.k.a. today.

For purposes of truthfulness, I'm not going to change the way I've written the words during the... first half of my writing journey (I couldn't think of a better word). I'll just be putting markers to show where I started writing... today. This whole "today" business is a whole lotta confusing. I almost want to change the title for your (dear reader) and my own convenience. Almost. 

But nah.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


I'm currently at the phase where I can't help but take pictures of just about anything I see, because it's been a long time since I've used a camera (in a phone). My last phone's camera was broken. I figured I might as well record it down since that seemed like what I was doing.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Rhymes



As I sing,
I remember your ring,
That which is missing
From my soul weeping.
I'm a guitar without strings,
A bow without a violin,
A poem with no rhymes - 
Disconnected
and
Unfin-           .



Friday, July 11, 2014

Child



They tell tales of magnificence,
And otherworldly adventures.
Most of all 
They have credited to my existence,
Everlasting Youth.

Sometimes, they forget -
Children can grow lonely too.

What sets me aside from all of you,
Is that in this never-changing body of mine,
I carry tears that surpass a thousand wise years.

The path of a child is happy and free.
The path of an immortal is eternally damned.



Forever Young,
Peter Pan

Thursday, July 10, 2014

A Jonathan Morgenstern Fan Fiction

A Letter to My Beloved Red


These are the few moments
When the heaviness of my veins do not drag me down.
Similar to that time when my Twin broke free of his chains,
These seconds,
These are mine.

Born a human,
And raised a demon.
I was never given a choice.
Choice is for the weak and pained.
Choice is for Heaven's creatures,
And the whole world knows 
I am an Angel of Hell.

I saw that letter that my father wrote.
A Letter to My Beloved,
It said.
In moments of my true awareness,
I shall do the same.

A Valentine Morgenstern Fan Fiction

A Letter to My Beloved



Maybe if I was more patient
And the world less cruel,
I could've survived without cutting my heart out
And damning my soul.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Just a Thought


Instead of saying,

"S/he wouldn't harm a fly."

It's better to say

"S/he wouldn't harm a roach."

Because that is a true testament to kindness. Also implied in that statement is the s/he didn't ask anyone to kill the roach.


Tuesday, July 8, 2014

TDA Update: Annabel Lee


Edgar Allan Poe's Annabel Lee is one of the inspirations for Cassandra Clare's The Dark Artifices. Gah.

I can't wait to see how this all comes into play.



When all of this is done... I will have no life left. 

Please don't let The Wicked Powers be the last of The Shadowhunter Chronicles. 

</3





For the encoded version of the poem: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174151

The City of Heavenly Fire - Book Reaction



Oh God, do I love this book series. No spoilers here by the way, just a fangirl fangirling her way into series ending grievances and new series excitements.

Monday, July 7, 2014

Responsible


How strange for feelings to be so much heavier than a mountain.
How strange for feelings to be so easily transferred to a pen's tip.

They are fleeting but permanent -
Carved deeply into the shadows of our memories that pass.

I resign to fate and its most unanswerable questions.
I resign to love and pain and insecurities that change me as I come and go.
I submit to the will of the cruel world,
But I cannot make peace with it.

Make no mistake.
Though I have accepted the reality of this world,
I am not here to un-live my life.

To live by the current or against it,
Each stroke to move forward or back,
Rests upon my choices.



Mouths



From whispering to speaking to shouting,
Just when you thought the voices in your head couldn't get any louder,
They eat you up.

More than cannibals they are carnivores.
More than equals they are hunters.

We are all prey.


Sunday, July 6, 2014

Undeserving



The worst of Happy Moments
Are those times when you stop and realize
How unfair it is
She's gone and you're fine.


Tuesday, July 1, 2014

#PennyDreadfulSeasonFinale - Short Review

*If the title didn't give it away yet, I'm telling you now - spoilers ahead.

Grand Giugnol




This is just an extremely short review for the season finale of Penny Dreadful. It's more of a reaction paper rather than a detailed summary. (edit: It's not short after all. Though it's still not in sequence.)

Before you go on reading this post, I must warn you, it's not full of positive things. Mostly because I am a fan of this show's genius everthing - actors, plot, lines, effects, setting, etc. - I turned out to be very disappointed with the ending.

Episode 2 remains to be my favorite episode.

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Tumblr Repost







With the best of my sharing non-abilities and screenshot-shots, I managed to share a tumblr post. Whew.



Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Unnoticed But Felt



And another one has gone

Like a snowflake in a blizzard storm.


*To the passing of Cappy. The young rabbit we didn't take care of enough. May you find peace.

Friday, June 20, 2014

Ambivert: Extremes


The loud cheers from a crowd,
The echo of overlapping voices,
The shadows of people passing,
The enchanting lights of the night.

The blanket of people and the feel of their presence.

Away from the voices in my head,
The fears of my heart,
The tears in my closed eyes,
And the non-sleep I get when I lie down.


I am an extrovert because I need to be.
And yet I cannot.



I Had the Answer


I had not thought about it.

It was not until I was given the condition of non-superficial answers.
It was not about icky roaches, unseen ghosts, or a phobia of falling when I was far from the edge, no.

It was not until then that I realized, 

I was answering a question all along.

A privilege for the hurting,



"What is your greatest real fear?"







It took not one second before I could answer.



Saturday, June 14, 2014

They say you...



..........and so far I've only scribbled.




Surprise


And it surprised me how easy it is to still remember you.
The shape of your eyes,
Your hands
And your smile,
I would close my eyes and see it all.

Vaguely but surely.

And it surprised me more that in just a year,
I could so easy forget
The shade of your skin,
The shape of your body,
And how long your fingernails were.

I would close my eyes,

And I can't see at all.



Thursday, June 12, 2014

Forgive + XForget

The expression "forgive but don't forget" always seemed strange to me. It was an expression I thoroughly did not understand. Don't "forgive" and "forget" always go hand in hand in cases like faults and grudges?

For me it has always been so. At a certain point in time I'd be so angry and upset with someone and with my friends as witnesses, I could recount every tiny detail that caused that antagonism. In fact, I could even remember the details that weren't the cause, but rather all the things they did that annoyed me - even those unrelated to me. I'd also possibly argue that they were part of the cause, because well, the person was the cause, and they did things that displeased me so... Yep. Petty anger - but anger nonetheless.

Because when you hate someone, everything they do becomes annoying. It's a universal fact. They even have memes for it:

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Silence+Sorrow


The smell of rain,
At four in the morning.
Dark clouds looming
Over the sleeping people.

But no,
Not me.

Sprawled across the sofa,
There I stay.
My tiny puppy,
Eagerly beside me.

I speak,
Talk out loud,
Pray.

Never have spoken words sounded so silent.

It's weird because it's just like a movie moment.
It's weird because it's all real.


Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Sunday, June 8, 2014

Finger#2


In this silly game of forgiving and fighting,
Of contracts and signing,
There exists five participants.

The one who makes promises,
That are bound to be broken.
The one that says forever,
Not knowing there is no such thing.
One that teaches,
And eventually betrays.
The one that praises,
And then puts you down.

And this,
This last one is for you:
The one that curses,
And nothing else.

I give you, my honest words.





*This is the link for the first version

Loss 2.0 - Now, I Know

This is the longer, and I mean longer version of a previous post about loss.






I used to be scared of the idea of loss.

Now? I still am. But surely the fear of the understandable is more reassuring than that which isn't. Although the fear of the knowable is scarier than the unknown.

Because now that you know, you know it exists.

Thursday, June 5, 2014

Tantalus

Crush.
The spices.
Chop.
The meat.
Stir.
The broth.
Put in some vegetables.

I sit on my table of six.
There my children are.
There my wife sits prettily.


Sigh.
I always do the cooking.



Sometimes, I swear there's nothing else to eat around here.





*So I was about to go into gross before going to gruesome. I wanted the meal to be roaches, but I forgot how many legs they had and researched. Then and there I aborted the mission. *puke puke gag gag* So now I'm back to plain old fictional cannibalism.

Into


Make me a waterfall -
Wildly thrashing through nature's stones,
And yet all the more enthralling.

Make me a wall -
So sturdy and strong,
Never moved and never hurt.

Make me a flower -
All that blooms and blossoms,
Picked and plucked for my own beauty.

Make me a rainbow -
So bright and true,
Giving hope to those who once not knew.



All of this you have made for me;
All of this you have given me.


But dear me,
The complexity of language -
Is both a gift and a curse.

Maybe I should've added the word,
"Into".



Say I to my maker.



A True Sound



I've never heard a sound so truer than true

Than that of an ice

Breaking in two.



Anxiety



The source of my shame
Is not of me.

But because of the fear
Of you to me.




Think


Overthink.
Overthink.
OverthinkMinkLink.

Linking me to all these things.
ThingsBlingsSlings.
Slinging me back to all of these
Questions in my brain.

I can't stop.
Stop.
Stop.
StopPopMop
Mope.
I mope around in my own world of depression.

-SionOwnLone.
My lone self hurting and crying out.
Out.
OutLoud.
Loud with silence.
By myself.

I just can't stop all the fucking what-if's.

Questions made from all of my own definitions of words, phrases and sentences.
-Ences.
EndThis.


This paranoia.
It hurts.

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Just Before



And once more,

                       Before I sleep,

                                           I hear the hollow cry of







Loneliness.




*Tried the whole blocking thing. Did it work?

Monday, June 2, 2014

A Horrible Life


My sin,
My child.

So tall and strong.

My stitches,
Borne of me,
My hands,
My skills.
My sin,
My child.

A son I made out of my life.
A son I made not from life.

It's strange how much I love you.
I, who tried so desperately to separate myself from everyone living.
I, who mock anyone and everyone I see.
I, who pride myself in science without emotions.
I, who love you.

I gave you life,
Ironic though,
That you are closer to death than anyone living.

Even closer than the infants who haven't seen the light of day,
Even closer than those who struggle with each breath to stay for one more second.
Even closer than those who actually are dead.
You, who are just learning to live, are deader than the dead.

I cry for you,
My innocent Frankenstein.


*Written during the half of Penny Dreadful's 2nd episode. I just love how even though he's so impatient with smart adults, Dr. Frankenstein loves Proetus so much and has patience with him like a parent would to a child. 

Random Poetry (Legit)

So my friend and I were chatting on facebook and this is what happened. 



She's the blogger friend I kept on mentioning during some posts. Also note that there are some Filipino words and gay slang in our conversation but you'll probably understand the gist of it.

Sunday, June 1, 2014

Except


I was scared.

Everything was wrong
And
Nothing was right.

Except
For you.

"It's alright."

Oddly enough,
The sun shone that night.



What You Said



And when I was at my worst,

You didn't tell me to change,
To find the good in me,
To reflect on what I did,
Nor to love myself for me.

Because you said,

"This is enough."


*Still inspired by Lang Leav and Michael Faudet's beautiful simplicity of words.

Friday, May 30, 2014

Pinoy (Over)Reactions

As someone who was born and raised in the Philippines, I have seen firsthand the overreaction of most Filipinos to foreign comments.

When jokes are made about Jews, Mexicans, Canadians, Asians, Whites or Blacks, everything's alright. Everyone laughs. Make one freagin' joke about Filipinos, and all hell breaks loose. So yes, you can't make a negative Filipino reference (no matter how realistic or true) in any foreign show or movie without getting either sued, or bashed on by the entire Filipino community.

In fact, Filipinos' overreaction to things aren't limited to negative jokes or comments. They also celebrate everything Filipino. And I mean everything. Sure, it's a good thing most of the time. We're the country that's known for smiling even during calamities. It's optimistic and lovely, really. For a country that's a constant victim of all-things-nature-can-ever-conjure, we are pretty happy as people. There is this odd concept of Filipino pride though. Anyone and anything remotely related to being Filipino gets celebrated by the Philippines. If you got your name outside the country known, and you've got Filipino blood, you're pretty much the headline of the news for about a week. Never mind the fact that you've never been to the Philippines, or even the fact that you don't know shit about the language, meh, you're celebrated. There's also a strange camaraderie between us Pinoys. There's a notion that we will always stick together no matter what happens. I won't mention any specific examples anymore, because trust me, this post will be long if I go there.

Of course, mostly it's a good thing - knowing that your countrymen will have your back no matter what happens, just for being born. At the same time though, it sometimes gets ridiculous. We become over-sensitive to jokes. Sure, jokes are half-meant, but all nations and countries have those types of jokes told about them. We are not perfect, and the better thing to do when that's pointed out, especially as a joke, is to laugh it off. (Cause really, if that's not the main purpose, what is?)

Also, celebrating every little thing that is Filipino is sometimes too over-the-top. Mentioning another lively people, the Mexicans, I don't see them shouting that a certain celebrity's Mexican at the top of their lungs. I mean sure, they're proud, but not batshit-crazy proud. I remember seeing a video where a Filipino person/thing was receiving negative attention, but all the comments just said "That's a Filipino!" or "Proud to be Pinoy!" and all the other countries were shaking their heads at us - and honestly, I sided with those other people. I don't remember the video anymore though, so don't ask.

I understand all these, but the main point of this really long article was this:



Like, dude. Really? Can I kill the person who did this? This is too much. Really. Even for my standards.


Because maybe, I don't know, Filipinos can be students too, and other types of workers? (Note sarcasm.)

I'm not saying I don't get the reference. If there was a joke about Filipino domestic workers with a witty enough punchline, I'm not saying I won't laugh. But for God's sakes, this is obviously a children's book. Are you really teaching children to identify Filipinos as domestic workers, or vice versa?



Thursday, May 29, 2014

Maya Angelou


I've personally never heard of Maya Angelou, which means I'm probably one of the more ignorant people in this world. My condolences to all the lives that she had ever touched.


"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."


The Secret Fourteen by KelingChai

So a friend of mine's made up her mind to write a story.

Here are the links to chapters one and two. Also check out her other posts while you're at it.


http://kelingchai.tumblr.com/

Seven

One, Two
Three and Four
Five, Six.

You're number Seven.

Trace the red markers around the body.

Hush.
This isn't as sharp as others,
So I have to dig harder than I used to.

And they say sociopaths have no emotions.
I get angry too.

Especially when you call me that.



*I wanted to first cook up the victim Hannibal-style, but I realized it's kind of been overused, so I'm sticking to the carving-with-poor-knives style.

Stay


It was the night when you decided to end it all -
That we wouldn't be;
That we couldn't be.
Not anymore.

A breath away -
A distance once too close,
Now too far,
Going farther
And farther -
Elsewhere.

An inch;
A foot;
A meter;
Five;
Ten;
Twelve.
I counted.

All in twenty-one seconds.

You looked back,
"Why?
Why won't you ask me to stay?"

My face swollen from the tears
(A face you once called ridiculous,
But undoubtedly pure)
I opened my mouth
And said the words that you used to love.

I managed a smile.


"Make me."



*Oddly enough, this was inspired by Michael Faudet, I thought of that last line first, but I realized that I couldn't be daring enough to write a sexual poem. So that last line really has a hint of sexual innuendo, though not totally.

Time Passed



An image at the corner of my eye...
Beautifully distracting.

Graceful,
Elegant,
Wonderful.

A minute too long,
A kiss too deep,
A mark that cannot be undone.

Not anymore just

An image at the corner of my eye...
Beautifully destructive.



Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Finger


Pointer, pointer,
You exploiting finger.

Second out of five,
Always blaming,
Sometimes lying.
Always getting people into trouble.

One day I'll mess that finger up,
Just as much as this finger is.

Third out of five,
The only truth teller.



Monday, May 26, 2014

Hide

I stretch my arms!
I hug the air!
I bask in the morning glory of sunshine.
I sizzle under the sunlight's godliness.

Breathe -
In.
Out.
Feel -
In.
Out.
See -
In.
Out.
Hurt -
In.
Out.

I am under sunshine nudity,
Then I am inside shameful shade.

Why is society always telling us to hide, hide, hide?

Hide your smiles.
Be meek!
Hide your vices.
Be proper!
Hide your body.
Cover up!
Hide your true selves.
Feel shame.

Death to the painful system of made-up truths.
Death to the painful system of truthful lies.
Death to the ignorant society of tie-wearing baboons.
Death to all the cover ups that cause us pain.

Death be to the human race.



*Now if you've read my other poems, you'll pretty much memorize the disclaimer. I am not a serial killer. Just having one of my moods. I rushed this. So by the time I'm writing this, I'm actually still wondering if I'm making sense.

A Twitter Move

"This is the way the world changes, sweetheart. Good people raising their babies right." - Catherine Avery (Grey's Anatomy S10E24)




Just wanted to share. It's a beautiful line.

Grim Reaper

Find a ribbon of your own choosing.
Wrap it around the neck.
Squeeze a little more for security.
Tie a knot by the end.
Tighten it a little more.
Then form loops with your fingers
And intertwine them with each other.

I look at my piece of work.

I knew it.
I always wanted to use ribbons.
Scythes are too big to carry around.

I laugh to myself,
Since sexism doesn't end in death...



I should go buy some ties.

Goes the Clock

Tick.
Tock.
Tick.
Tock.
I look at the clock.
I hum to the tune
Of an ever-steady beat.

Then every ten beats,
I ask the same question.

"I wonder when momma will come home?"

I look at the side,
And as I chant and I hum to my tune.

I wonder again,
This time in my head.

"I wonder when that body will stop rotting?"
Hmm.

Tick.
Tock.


*I wanted to try the whole Lang Leav thing and write an extremely short poem. Apparently that's the shortest I can write. Inspired by: Lang Leav, Fifty Shades series, and Frozen.

Post-Writing High

Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap.

I type.
I think.
I write.

I am in a fine fine trance.

I wonder if this is the high
People get from drugs.
I wonder if this is the intoxication
From exotic wine.

This high and intoxication,
From your own words.
This transportation to another world
Of your own making.

Ahh.
It's beautiful.

A personal secret you keep from others.
Not deliberately of course.
Only that,
They will never experience
This exact same high.
Because
There is only one true author
To a piece of work.

Ha.
My writing may be simple.
It may not be genius.
But the approval,
And the appreciation,
That comes from the self.

I giggle.
I feel like flying.

And when I close my eyes,
I realize.
I have never been so free.

Not when I lay awake at night,
And bear all the troubles I had for the day.
Not when I force a smile,
For all of my loved ones.
Not when I write a prose so thought of,
That I worry for grammar and predictability.

No.
This one.
This one's for me.
Because.
This high I feel,
I have to record it.
Without thinking -
Without knowing.

I'm reading it out loud -
Slurring the words
Like a manic junkie.

This one is for that
Previous poem I wrote,
That transported me,
Into the void
Of black and white.

This is for all the words
That made me become somebody else -
Someone deep,
In someplace else,
And even more probably,
Existing as a murderer.
Haha.

Stripes


You say you're white.
Then a moment later,
You say you're black.
Afterwards,
You claim you're neither,
And then say
You're either.

Which is it really?

The complex tune you play,
Messes up the steady beat of my life.
And yet,
It is all the more beautiful.

I have seen the colors that I once not knew.
I have seen the shapes of a million sides.
I have grabbed the essence, of that which is abstract.
I have held your hand,
You monstrous angel.

I cannot comprehend
Those stripes in your brain.
Is it black?
Is it white?
As I ask myself these questions,
Suddenly,
I see.
Your stripes...
Become swirls.

I am so confused.

The mad beauty of genius art
Pales in comparison
To you
Oh, you.
You unreal creature.

Is it so strange,
That I memorize every line
On your face,
On your fingers,
And even the feel,
Of your fingertips?
And yet,
When I close my eyes,
I cannot envision you.
I do not know you.

Ahh,
But wait.
I do.

You are
Gray.

(With tiny sprinkles of color within.)

You are either black or white,
And at the same time, Neither.
Pity that you are color blind,
Because you can't see yourself,
Much less recognize it.
Mirrors are useless,
Terms are useless.

In your world,
You are Black and White
Put together,
Existing as either,
Negating both.

You exist as extremes,
Pushing each other past their limits,
Past your limits.

You cannot see.
I can.

But for you,
I will be blind.

I will love White,
and I will love Black.
Even though you are both and neither.
I will know your true self,
Without letting you know.
So that this love,
Won't force you to hurt,
And question yourself.

I will hide Gray,
I will love White.
I will love Black.
I will love you,
For you.
Together in your world.


*This poem was inspired by the bipolar disorder - and most especially by this new show I watch, Black Box. More than in any other shows where I've encountered bipolar characters, this show lets me experience her life, her mind, and its fine madness. In fact this poem may actually be entirely dedicated to Catherine Black, an exceptional character, and my interpretation of her. Kelly Reilly is a skillful actress with (personal opinion) almost perfect delivery of a complex character.

Internet Speed Non-rant.



A picture says a thousand words, ika nga. We don't only have the slowest internet speed in all of the ASEAN countries, but also the crappiest speed/price ratio.

Saturday, May 24, 2014

No. Words.


Random Thought of the Day

How is it that when people remark on the fact that something is "humbling", it's actually them saying that they're feeling proud and good about themselves?



Not in a narcissistic way of course. That must be the reason why the word has such a nice ring to it. I do understand that ultimately it's supposed to describe the feeling of understanding that things aren't all about you -  that you're something small in this universe - and that it's alright. It just struck me as ironic that when the word is used, it's oddly directly proportional with the pride that you feel about being so honored about something. Huh.

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Woah.

So I caught a metal thingy just now and it grazed my skin. It hurt for a few seconds and then nothing. After ten minutes, my mother told me to get something. Obviously, it involved me putting my hands in front. Woah. There was blood. I had a mini-slice brought about by the metal thingy. I was so shocked and immediately washed it. It throbbed a little and the pain lessened. After that as I walked around trying not to think about that random slice on my palm, I could still feel the pain from the wound. Then I realized something. That's life. Even though something that could pain us already exists, it doesn't really start to hurt until you know about it. That's why people lie. Especially to themselves.







So basically:

Fall.
Ahhh!
Catch.
Ouchie.
Oh well.
Walk walk.
Hands up.
WOAH.
WTF.
Wash wash wash.
It still hurts. </3
"Why is life like this???" (joke)
Pause.
"Life is like this!"
I'm so fucking deep.
Let's write this shit down and make it seem like I thoroughly thought about it. Let's also confuse people by writing it all in one kinda lengthy paragraph and then explain it again in the simplest way possible.
I'm still deeper than Adele.
Maybe not. But I'm pretty close.
Bow.

*I actually did say "Why is life like this?" out loud. Yes it was a joke. But thinking about it, that joke lead me to a really deep realization. Sometimes, the smallest step is the most important in achieving the biggest things. WOAH. Dude. I'M SO FUCKING DEEP.

*Why the hell am I typing in all caps while using a small font size? O.o This blog is getting weird........

What Am I?

Blood-red lips,
A small cute nose,
Almond black eyes.
Six inches tall.
Made of wood.
Painted with a kimono.

Shy.
Sweet.
Blooming.

A wooden display
At a bright office
At 10 am.

Crack.










Goes the head.


A scar.
Across its face.








Free at last.


It blinks.



Ki ki ki ki ki ki ki ki.




















*Suffice to say I am not a horror fan. No idea why I fucking made this. I'm disturbed. Never again.

**Not saying this is scary btw. I wouldn't know. Honestly I'm scared by the corniest horror tricks. I'm no expert.

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

May 21, 2014 at Binondo, Manila

Tiny droplets
Hitting the pavements
All at once
So strong
So cold.

But the night air
Though windy
Is terribly warm
With a muskiness enveloping
Tonight's
Loud but Lonely
Gloom.

Someone just died
From these words I read.
It's from the news
But to me
It's as real
As the terminally ill
Dead character
From yesterday's book.

Even more odd
Is that today's book
Is more alive than they
More alive than I.

Scary how distance
Can muddle the line
Between reality and fiction.

More than fiction...
Just.
The un-realness of it all.

If humans could rationalize
Only that which they can see.
And if humans can only believe
That which they understand.
Then I guess the line between
Reality and not
Really is only
In the power of a blink.

I cry for the broken souls of the blind as I narrate this.
(And I pray at the same time that they never shall run across this.)

Then again,
I guess it's true.

Out of sight,
Out of mind.



*Again. Not meaning to offend anybody. Just a different persona when I write. With all the depressing things I write, I'm gonna have to stop putting these weird notes at the end of my post at some point.

Blog Update

Haven't written in a while because the net's been shitty. I blame PLDT. (Oh and did I mention how unreasonably angry I am at that one 9gag picture which shows a download speed of 711 Mbps? Yes. I'm serious. If you live here in the Philippines, you'd understand my frustration.)

Here's proof:

Interruptions

A: This cake is
B: Amazing!
A: Yes!
B: No. I mean how amazing is it that they took that deal?
A: What de-
B: My boss told me this morning that
A: I thought we weren't gonna talk about work today?
B: I realize that but
A: Excuse me, Miss. A bottle of
B: I thought this could be
A: Champagne please.
Waitress: Certainly
B: An exception.
Waitress: Ma'am.
A: It's our--!
B: Anniversary. I know.
A: Don't roll your eyes at
B: Then don't talk to me like
A: But you are a child!
B: Can't we just have dinner without
A: No. What use is celebrating an anniversary if we're so tired of each other?
B: Don't over dramatize this, please. I've had enough of this at work.
A: You never listen anymore.
B: Neither do you.
A: I can't even
B: Finish sentences anymore?
A: Yes. No. Yes.
B: ...

B: I'm not tired of you.
A: Then what is it?
B: I'm just... tired.
A: So am I.
B: But do you know
A: What?
B: The thing I loved the most about us a few years back
A: Was when we finished each other's
B: Sentences.

Laugh.
Reconciliation.
Happiness.

Chatter.
City.
Noise.
Traffic.
Sirens.
Police cars.
A child.
A knife.


C: Ahh... Silence.

A giggle.





*Oddly enough inspired by the midsentence ending from The Fault In Our Stars reference book AIA. I'm pretty sure it's meant to inspire happier writings but... Maybe next tme?


Tuesday, May 20, 2014

Paper Madness

I love the feeling
Of black spreading on you
Forming coherent words
And muddled scribbles.
You inspire
The strokes of art
(Art in strokes)
And pattern in colors
(Colors in pattern).

Ink,
Chalk,
Paint,
Lead -
The possibilities are endless.

And yet water kills you
Faster than fire.

I love the sound
Of crumpling as you burn,
That slit slit slit sound
As I tear you up.
That crackling sound I hear
As substitute for pleas and wails
As you suffer and collapse
In the hands of man.

Oh mystical, godly paper
Made from the mightiest trees
That withstand even the
Strongest of storms.
We consume you
Strip by strip
Layer by layer
Rendering you helpless -
Worshiped but enslaved.

This is the rush
That Hannibal must feel
In consuming his victims
Layering them
Into edible meat.

My oh my,
I must be succumbing
To the madness of man -
That which deludes you into thinking
That you are all-powerful.

But no,
Not at all.

I understand so much
That so many things are better than I -
So many, many more
Brighter and more capable creatures;
But not, my fellow men.
Mankind is full of limits.
We are defined by our limits,
And mostly how
We look past them
And I quote,
"Look at the good."

If the definition of madness
Is doing the same thing over and over again,
But expecting different results each time.
Then by proof of observation,
Optimism must be the highest form of madness.

Too pessimistic perhaps?
Ironic - to talk about optimism as a pessimist.
And yet not really unpredictable.

I dis optimism only because
It is the epitome
Of man's delusions of power.
Man is always power-hungry
And the highest of those powers -
Is value.
Both in importance and in ethics.

But I refuse
To give in to that delusion.
I see the limits.
Yes, I do.
Haha.
The limits I see
Are endless.
Paradoxical they are -
Limitless Limits.

And yet it is in our admission
In the presence of these limits
Where we shall find joy.
Only then can we revel in the glory
Of surpassing them -
Possibly once or twice.

Stripping a majestic tree of its dignity -
Wasting, killing, destroying.
Even its descendants.
Those poor, poor sheets of paper
All gone;
All wasted;
All dead.
Ha.

The kill.
It's exhilarating.



*Disclaimer (?) (Did I even use that right?) : In no way is the author a sadistic nature-killer. (Okay the sadistic part maybe. *wink* ) The aim in this post is to create a persona of a mad man. This in no way (I hope) contributes to the mindset of eco-hating members of the society. In fact it would help a lot if you find this persona to be repulsive. Thank you.