The Lightning Atrocity

Wala lang...

2007-01-16T14:54:00.000+08:00

To the glorious quests, anyone?

Kairi's Letter

2006-12-02T16:43:00.000+08:00

I was disturbed by this letter. This letter [ a poem actually ] i got from Kingdom Hearts II. It was sent off to the seas inside a bottle [ yeah, I know, but heck... what's in it is worth everything about the world ]. The sending off was shown somewhere in the game's first quarter and was unraveled only at the ending. It was found by Riku, Sora's company, as the two of them are in a far and sepearate world; a coastal extension of The World That Never Was - I think. With Kairi's name affixed at the bottom, he immediately knew it was Sora's; and so he passed it to him.

Here is the letter/poem:

Thinking of you, wherever you are.

We pray for our sorrows to end,
And hope that our hearts will blend.

Now I will step forward
To realize this wish.

And who knows:

Starting a new journey may not be so hard
Or maybe it has already begun.

There are many worlds,
But they share the same sky –

One sky, one destiny.

*background song: simple and clean*

__________________________________________________________

I love Kingdom Hearts II.

just a realization...

2006-12-02T16:42:00.000+08:00

“You lose to find and you find to lose…”
Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories

Life begins somewhere. Specifically where, we will never know: do it begin from continuity and end in the same go-on or everything starts as blank and end as that limitless void? – We will never know. On the latter, we will know everything and at the same time, know nothing. Is there a God? Or do we just return to the planet? Through death, we’ll know and at the same, we’ll never know.

Life began somewhere and life will end somewhere. Specifically where, it will never count.

Two Noble Thieves

2006-10-30T20:38:00.000+08:00

A daring escapade of
Two noble thieves:

Three O’ Clock in
The morning;
We woke up when
Even the sun is
Not yet ready for
Its crown:
Not a moment to
Lose – sunlight is
The death to the
Creatures of the night;
This is
Our moment of
Parting;

So go on,
Bid today’s
Farewell:

We are
But to follow the
Blueprint
They’ve made.

But, later on,
Late in the night,
We’ll build again our
Own labyrinth of
Stars and planets;

We’ll go,
Here and there;
Later,
When it is the dark,

And we will
Burn in its blossom
While we’re
Silent in its
Savor.

But for tonight,
We do like
Other nights:
We must part,
Dress quick and
Do yourself fast,

Then go!
Hurry to the terrace;
Hurry my angel,
Double the speed of
Your pacing.

Now – good bye…

Go, young angel:
Bloom your wings
And to the stars.

SURVIVAL!

2006-10-27T16:36:00.000+08:00

Red a lightning

A fork in the dark skies

A world in a rythm of dying:

I survive the day!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA: I've passed the first semester of this school year.

First Four Days in Saudi: Gusto ko na bumalik

2006-10-23T01:27:00.000+08:00

Well, I have just arrived here during the nineteenth of this month and *my God* I already want to go back. You can ask K-Ann of the matter (I took the trip of calling her for about three to four consecutive times when I was already in the airport): GUSTO KO NA BUMALIK [note: I was still in the airport when I told her this and I’ve repeated it every now and then; she might’ve noted about it].

True, I would have returned then and there, not minding about the ticket sponsored by the company my father worked in… well, it would have been that way, if it not a necessity for my passport be stamped with “Re-Entry” in order for my father to renew his iqama (Residential Certificate); and to be stamped by “Re-Entry” means to be here, in this hell for a world whose surrounding exists the stench that surpasses the ones used as scent by decomposing bodies *you know what I’m talking about –wink-*.

Well anyways, it was a chance meeting already for me to meet my classmate during high school, Mark Lester Lacanlale aka Blood Freak, and a former school mate, Sulpicio we call him, when I was about to check in my baggage, but it is not only that: when we were already in the boarding area, as I was buying myself a burger that would serve as my snack, Akie sprang out of nowhere. She was heading for Japan. What I could not about that moment also. Akie and I, coincidentally, wore red.

Anyways, at the plane, I dozed off for about three hours until I’ve noticed that the environs were a bit heavy. This would also serve as advice to those who dreams to ride a plane: when your sit is by the window and it is three chairs per row, do not take the middle sit. Your seatmates always have the tendency to fall to sleep with their heads resting on your shoulders; well, in my case, both of them. I just hope they did not drool.

Anyways, things are not going fine around here. There is nothing that I can do. Sheesh. One word, two syllables, seven letters: BOREDOM. Five activities build up the cycle: Sleeping, Eating, Grooming, Playing (PS2), Washing the dishes; all day long. God, its not even a week yet.

Well, at least, Final Fantasy XII and Final Fantasy VII: Dirge of Cerberus stops that word from being absolute.
T_T. Waaaaah! I want to go home.

SEM BREAK!

2006-10-15T21:09:00.000+08:00

SEM BREAK!

Sa nalalapit kong pag-alis, andami ko pa lang makukuwento sa mga magulang kong walang ibang ginawa kung hindi ang maglaro ng jack 'en poy sa bahay kung kaninong suweldo ang babawasan at ipapadala ang anumang naawas sa kasalukuyang nagsusulat nito.

Unang-una:

ONE WHOLE semester of Natural Science.

It seemed like it was a decade of trying to transcend into a level I have never thought of doing since first year high school [traumatic experience between me and my general science teacher].

Ito pa isang dakila.

10% Chance of passing... sarap 'di ba?

Pangalawa:

ONE WHOLE semester of Filipino 1: Sining Ng Pakikipagtalastasan.

Three to four days without sleep during the making of its requirement for our prelims.

"O ganun pa rin yung format ah... 1 inch sa lahat ng sides... 1 page lang... times new roman... font size 12... walang indention... sariling pamagat..." - Sir Eros Atalia. Ito ang madalas niyang sinasabi kapag may mga paper siya ukol sa isang play o sa isang teorya. Ngunit...

Prelims:
"Individual paper... two to three pages... 1 inch sa lahat ng sides... times new roman... font size 12... walang indention... sariling pamagat..."

Finals:
"Individual paper... two to three pages... 1 inch sa lahat ng sides... times new roman... font size 12... walang indention... sariling pamagat... AT transcription (kahit ilang pages) At yung sa group paper, integrasyon at buod, two to three pages..."

Although nakaka-nosebleed,

Ang saya naman ng mga philosophies na natutunan ko kay sir. *salute*

Pangatlo:

ONE WHOLE semester of Philosophy 5: Christian Ethics.

Hay... Diyos ko...

Patawad po sa nilalaman ng aking kaisipan ukol sa aming naging propesor sa subject na ito.

Karapat-dapat siyang ma-debar. Kung may debar-debar para sa mga propesor. Siya na ang una kong idedebar. Putya... wala ako natutunan.

Pang-apat:

ONE WHOLE semster of English 101B: Expository Writing.

OMG... isa pa itong nosebleed subject.

Basta!

Lama niyo na 'yun.

Well, marami pa sana akong gustong sabihin kaya lang umatake na ang number one kalaban ko palagi: tinatamad na ako.

HEHEHE

Silent Conversations

2006-10-07T12:16:00.000+08:00

"On a lexical basis,

Silence is the absence of sound."

We used to talk in the shadows,
With the telepathy of the night,

Breathing words that have no sounds,
Whispering alphabets without phonetics.

And often we were serenaded by
Humming fireflies, lamenting woods;

A small orchestra whose first song played
Always drives me into killing you,

However, their next song would
Allow me to endure another

Moment like this:
Echoes speaking for

The voice glands we’ve muted.
Moon seeing for the eyes

We’ve kept shut like
The windows at your house.

That we never spoke and just felt
Each other out, letting ourselves

Drown in the abundance of silence,
We did not realize that we took

That step forward and have gone
Distant paths apart,

At the same time,

We sat under a starlit eve

Together.

(August 14, 2006)

Losing Wings

2006-10-07T12:09:00.000+08:00

That day, I lost my wings;

Feathers torn away
Like cherry blossoms
Brushed by a gush of wind,
And with the pain of
A blue neon glow,
My wings were gone forever.

Nothing was left of what I have had
But the scars... And
The elemental dust of memory,
Swirling and taking the form of
A wing, still whole and functional;

There were times that
I would feel my wings grow back,
And that hunger for the
Lift sear at the pits of my stomach,
And the thirst for take off
Burst out in every cell of mine.

But then, the attempt fails,
Flat on the ground,
Listening to the what the
Earth I'm lying is telling me:
“No more... no more.”

I guess walking on water
Is a fate that I have to face.

Until the day comes that
I would have to
Lose something again,
Like the wings that
I have had,

Not too long ago.

(October 3, 2006)

oo, tama kayo...

2006-10-02T10:15:00.000+08:00

[Sa mga gusto makihalubilo at maintindihan kung ano ang nangyayari, huwag na!]

PARA SA MGA NAGBABASA: Oo. Tama. Immature ako. Tama kayo at halos lahat ng sinabi niyo nang pualanan niyo ng comments niyo. Oo, hindi ko maharap pagkakamali ko. Oo, ang paki-alam ko lang ang sarili ko. Oo, nagpapansin ako. Oo, ako ang sumisira sa sarili ko. Oo, biased nga ang komentrayo na iyon. Oo, hindi rin ako makalakad ng pasulong. At, oo, ang anim na iyon ay ako.

Pero, hindi ako plastic. Kung ano yung nakilala niyo, isa iyon sa 'mga' ako. At ang aking isinulat na komentrayo ay ang aking mismong pag-amin, hindi ang protesta o anuman na inyong maisip. At wala akong tinutukoy na iba kung ang aking sarili at ang aking dakilang tiyahin.

*

"Kitang kita sa umpisa na ang mga nakalahad ay hindi nakatuon o walang pokus sa isang taong binabato subalit ng maglaon ay kitang kita na may taong pinatatamaan ng dahil sa mga katagang tulad ng 'niya' o 'sila'." Pagmasdang niyong mabuti ang pagprogreso ng komentrayo. Gumamit ako ng mga sitwasyong nagbibigay ng imaginary scenario and imaginary characters. Kaya nagkakaroon ng 'niya' at 'sila'.

Halimbawa:
"Kahit ang mga taong nakatatanda, katulad ng mga magulang, ay may tinataglay pa ring mga ganitong katangian. Kadalasan nga kung sino ang mga nagmamalaki na mature na sila ay sila pa ang naiiwan. Ayaw lang nila aminin." Sa kadahilanang hindi nga lang nga-iisa ang tinutukoy ng komentaryong ito at bilang isang kolektibong sitwasyon ng naunang pangungusap, ayan... 'nila'.

"At para makapagbigay ang mga eksaktong kondisyon ng pagiging immature, ito ang ilan sa mga halimbawa (check list niyo na rin ito):" - ang nagbabasa ang tinutukoy ng niyo.

*

At kung tatanungin ninyo kung ano ba ang pinupunto nung mga winiwika na aking isinaad, ito lang iyon: Iyon ang mga boses ng samu't saring kalagayan ng mga nakababata. Nakabase lang iyan hindi lang sa sinasabi ng bunso kong kapatid, pati na rin sa mga hinaing ni Tito Gino na sinasabi niya sa akin, na kadalasan ay tungkol sa gulo nila ni Tita Gina. (Si Tito Gino ang bunso sa kanilang magkakapatid).

Sa munting komentaryo na iyon, umaamin na ako sa kung ano man ang merong mali sa akin: immature, duwag, tanga, gago, at iba pa. Kaya lang, hindi ko na naman nakamit ang aking hangarin na iparating na ako ang tinutukoy ng komentaryo na iyon. Kung may tinamaan, marahil doon tayo nagkahawig.

*

Huwag kayong maglakas loob na magsabi na dapat kayo
ang pakinggan dahil masmarami kayong naranasan.

Huwag kayong maglakas loob na magsabi na dapat kayo
ang pakinggan dahil masmarami kayong naranasan.

Tama. Ako rin ang mga iyon. Naririnig niyo ba kung paano ko sermonan ang kapatid ko? Kapag narinig niyo, masasabi niyo rin na ako rin ang tinutukoy ko sa mga linyang ito.

*

Napansin niyo naman siguro ‘yung situational irony na ginamit ko? – sa buong komentaryo. Kaya tama, biased.

*

Hustisya para sa mga
Tinatawag na nakababata!

Hustisya? Ano ba ang ibig kong sabihin sa ‘Hustisya’?

Ano ba ang Hustisya? Ito ay ang pagpapatas sa isang timbangang nawala ang balance. Sa kadahilanang pantay-pantay ang bawat tao (at kinakailangang manatiling pantay-pantay), ginawa binuo natin ang konseptong ito. Samakatuwid, ang hustisya ay isang pangangangailangan.

Patunay na kailangang pantay-pantay ang bawat nilalang:

Konsepto ng paghihiganti at ang pagbibigay parusa sa nagkasala, idagdag pa natin ang tinatawag na ‘utang na loob’; kung hindi kailangang pantay-pantay ang lahat, bakit mo paparusahan ang mga nang-aapi? Hindi ba, kapag pinarusahan mo ang isang may sala, inaagrabiyado mo siya sa ngalan ng inagrabiyado niya. May naagrabiyado, so nawala ang balanse ng timbangan. Upang maibalik ito, paparusahan mo ngayon ang nang-api. At kapag hindi nagawa ng awtoridad ang dapat gawin, ayun… maghiganti.

Samakatwid, ang sinasabi ng linyang ito ay ibigay ang pangangailangan ng nagsasalita.

Ano ba ang pangangailangang gusto kong sabihin sa mga katagang ito?

Sabihin niyo ang dapat kong gawin. Alam niyo naman palang mahina ako sa hulaan ng mga ganyang bagay-bagay! Bakit hindi niyo na lang sabihin? Iyon ang hustisya na sinasabi ko!

‘Di ba hinhiling ninyo sa akin dati na kung ano ba talaga ang nilalaman ng isip ko? At nang hindi ako magsalita ay tinanong niyo pa kung ano ang gusto ko gawin ninyo?

Ayan!

Nahanap ko na ang tamang mga salita! Sabihin niyo ang dapat kong gawin. Alam niyo naman palang mahina ako sa hulaan ng mga ganyang bagay-bagay! Bakit hindi niyo na lang sabihin? Iyon ang hustisya na sinasabi ko!

*

At wala ako sinasabing nagkakampihan kayo! Iyon ang hindi ko alam kung saan niyo sa teksto. Saan nga ba?
At hindi ko rin sinasabi na ako ang puntanginang pinakamagaling magsulat at walang ibang kayang magsulat ng sinusulat. Gaya nga ng putanginang pakay ng dakilang panitikan na hindi naman kahit kalian ganap na natamo, sinasabi ko lang ang putanginang mga mali ko sa sarili ko.

*

“Saka hindi mo maiaalis na mas maraming alam ang nakatatanda dahil mas madami silang karanasan at ala-ala…” Amf na iyan… alam ko! May tanong ako? Ito bang mga nakatatanda na ito ay nagbibigay halaga sa mga karanasan na ito at sa mga ala-ala na ito? Malay ko. Hindi naman ako nakababasa ng isip.

At dahil wala naman akong anking galing na tinatawag na telepathy, isinulat ko ang komentaryo na ito bilang ang nilalaman ng isip ko. At wala ako tinutukoy sa komentaryong ito kung hindi ang aking sarili.

*

Ang sitwasyong namuo sa paglabas ng komentaryong ito ay isa na naming patunay na ang mga salita ay neutral at wala talagang nais sabihin. Nagkakaroon lang laman ang mga salitang ito depende sa kung papano ito tinitingan ng parehong may akda at nagbabasa.

Patawad kung iba ang naging ibig sa sabihin nito sa inyo. Nadagdagan na naman ang listahan ng mga kaslanan ko. Pasensya sa abala.

*
Gaya ng aking winika noong Biyernes bago tayo pinapanood sa PETA Theater ng Walang Himala:. Mula dito, bahala na kayo kung ano ang gusto niyong gawin sa akin.

2006-09-24T21:59:00.000+08:00

[Ayaw ko lagyan ng pamagat. Bakit? Baka hindi niyo rin maintindihan kung bakit iyon ang pamagat na king pinili bilang naaangkop sa kung anuman na ito.]

I now write to tell you, dear reader, that I am that voice creeping like icy fingers in the back of your spines, going with the current of your nerves, which were all going back to its mother, your brain. Yes, me, the one you call as the young or the one you have cast to the corners of a shadow, locked in the dim of everything; literally silenced like a creature made by God... though this time without vocal chords. At last, I have returned (or is it "I have emerged"?).

What is it that you saw at my awake? Atrocity? - Or was it a long waited unveiling?

What is it that I have told to a few? Rumors that ran around, decapitating humans like the scythe of death? Or the truth wished clouded forever?

What was it that awoke me? Do I know? - No, you know.

What is it that I cry for? Redemption? Or the sight of the freedom I have craved for?

What do I wish to long last say? Or is that the question?

Will you hear what the mute has to say?

No, I doubt any would. No one would listen to a mute. Principle of Dualism: As there is black, there is white.

***

"String together the words you see fit for the thoughts you wish to materialize." - what they use to say.

Is it a matter of philosophizing, deciphering, or simulating? Not a case; not a problem on which you choose in order to manifest a thought. But thoughts are abstract, a reality not yet distorted that is, so how do you deal with that?

Words are thoughts ravaged by the blurry pixels in this monitor. You would never understand. Never understand...

What becomes now that there is nothing that would connect?

What you see is not what only is.

What you speak was not only what was.

What you seem to see is not what it is.

What you think you are is not what you are.

***

Here begins the poem...

(Or is it "this is where you'll see the poem."?)

... night to day

day to night

poems saying nothing

nothing saying poems

heed the call

mountains do parting

seas give opening

winds say something

hand twisted like a statue

vehemence like the courage of venoms

you were the one crumbling empires

i am the voice

i am the circle

i am the cruel

i am the weak

it takes half for a whole

and a whole for a half

what is said

what is heard

what is understood

time is a whisper of gloom

darkness calling after corners

the lightning has come...

Learn...

... quintessence over matter ...

***

Time goes by,

We can never stay the same...

Feather of Love, Chronicle of the Wings

I am that I am

Hello, Tetragrammaton

That we never spoke and

Just felt each other out,

Drowning in the abundance of

Silence, we did not

Realize that we took that

Next step forward, and have

Gone distant paths apart,

All the while we sat there,

On the grass floor,

Together.

Silent Conversations

***

Can you understand?

Can you decipher?

Can you string them together?

Can you deconstruct them?

Can you understand the stand?

Can you understand up to the last cell?

I doubt.

***

"Remember, remember...

The fifth of November,

The gunpowder treason,

I know of no reason

Why the gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot."

V for Vendetta

***

No one would... No one could... Aside from the one in the mirror...

***

Post Script:

Words are the bosses of images.

Images are the gods of the throne.

Thrones are the level of cunning.

Cunning is the forgetful Dominion.

Dominions are what you may call yourself.

Farewell, Lucrecia Crescent

"... Omega is the End of the World,

Chaos is the one born out of

the faltering of lives."

Final Fantasy VII: Dirge of Cerberus

***

The Maze Goes Deeper As You Try To Shallow It.

To Get Through Is Only Through The Fathoms Of Fog.

No Gamesharks Allowed.

***

Is it really this? Or is it that?

... Bahala kayo umintindi ...

... Kalokohan ang ipagsabi ...

Hint from Tips N' Tricks: Pansinin ang mga detalye. Pero, ewan ko lang. Hindi reliable 'yun eh. Try niyo Codebreaker.

At sa huli, winika na ang katahimikan...

At humimlay sa upuang walang sandalan.

At wala pa rin ang naka-alam.

The Lightning Atrocity...

2006-09-21T11:33:00.000+08:00

Quintessence over matter:

Red is the color of white,

White is the color of black,

Black is the color of red;

We are who we are.

Same goes for the elements:
Wind, water, fire, earth;
Wind is the floatingBouyancy of cloaks,
Water is the drowningson of ember,
Fire is the bastardof a daughter of earth,
Earth is the whore-mother of all;
we are who we are.

Break loose the silence
And quiet the still,
Words breaching borders,
Lips never talking;
We are who we are.

That what I say is what you say,
What what I breath is what you breath;
Hand over valor and valor over feet;
The poems may die as
The labels are coated but

We are who we are.

Four Cups of Coffee and into the Realms of Literature

2006-09-18T08:19:00.000+08:00

I am – as of this moment – in my third cup of coffee. So, imagine the caffeine circulating within my body. That would help, I promise, in the understanding of this essay.

Some people say they write so that what they’ve written would be read, while others write just for themselves. What stirs this thinking of mine is why there are people who only write for themselves. Start asking (first to the person next to you), why?

Plainly, we write because there is something to write. How to write and for whom to write is a different matter to be discussed.

A literary text – as we may say so – is a transfiguration of a certain scenario (which may be based from truth or just plain imagination) into a certain form through the means of language. A literary text is also the key to the realms of Literature. A question is aroused: “what makes the text a key?”

We may say that this line of thinking is in favor of the text sovereignty, which is a way of reading and interpreting a piece, because I intend to cast away subjective influences such as the authors’ and the readers’. The text must stand alone. The author dies (figuratively speaking) the moment he/she places the last punctuation needed for the text to have a physical manifestation through written language. What the text will say to the reader, the author has no care.

This occurrence we may call the ‘coming to life of the text’ and the text, come high or low tide, will give no damn what the author wants to say or what the reader wants to say about it. Though some would say that text is the self of the author (reflection from a mirror), I would not agree. To me, the text is a clone of the author that has no body.

The present state of the author would reflect a reality on-going and that reality would, in one way or another, would alter or strengthen a certain belief or philosophy of the author. This would inspire the author to inscribe it onto whatever medium he/she wishes (as example, a literary text, a painting, or a short film). However, once his/her concept has sprung to reality, it would be ‘out of control’. No one would be able to control the text, not the author nor the reader.
The ability of the text to be totally out of anyone's control creates the following situations: 1) there would different and at times opposing point of views when it comes to categorization and interpretation, 2) and there would be different ways wherein the text would affect the people who have just read the text.

Yours was the scent that saved the world.

A line I handpicked from the five-times-stronger-than-caffeine poem of Lourd Ernest H. De Veyra Vanilla for it struck me as disturbing and I know that to some it will too, while to others, it would either be considered as ‘over acting’ or ‘hullabaloo'. However, sure enough that when the author thought of this line, he did not intend it to be as such nor for the poem as a whole be categorized into a kind. The author just wrote the poem and had it published. And though he may dedicate it to someone, would the reader know who that person is? And even if they knew, do they know what is exactly what’s happening between them? – No. What they knew is what is happening to the persona within the realms of the poem. Now, is their say about the poem as the reader would count as valid? – To some extent, yes, but the danger of subjectivity arises. The reader could be prejudiced or unwilling to face what is said by the text, thus altering the extraction of its real meaning.

Now, since the author cannot dictate the reader how to read this piece and the reader cannot acquire the real say of the piece due to their tendency to be subjective with their judgment, therefore, only within the text can the meaning be found. This proves that the text is beyond the control of anyone aside from itself.

From here, you could question the logic of the criticisms made by critics. Let me ask, do you wish that your text to exist out of your control – as this essay suggests – with it not conforming to some degree of aesthetics?

There is a misconception I wish to deal with. The text exists out of our (authors’ and readers’ alike) control. To go against critics because the reason you’ve given is ‘it is my work, nobody tells me what to do with my work’, for it is my Literature, that my friend is called boasting. Never display to anyone your work when after all you don’t want anyone to say their point of view over the output (necessary corrections included). If you did so, you are already showing off your capabilities when it comes to writing. Here’s a questions: is it that enough? A secret to development is never to imagine that you’re great, that you know all, that you do not need any form of correction, that you can have a say on everything. Just listen.

The realms of literature is accessible by anyone with the key to its portal, the text. And what makes the piece (the literary text) the key to this realm is when it is out and read already. Surely, anyone would like their work to be read in its best said way. To achieve such a state is only through development. When boast goes before development, the writer is not who he/she claims to be but is just a no one who tried to enter the realms and thought he/she has been granted access.

Literature, as I've said before, is not for the 'pogi points' to lure girls in or for the reputation on who gets first published, nor is it for the rank of best writer in the world. Literature was never for the glory. Literature is about telling, telling people what the world is like in this way or that way. Literature is making known what is sometimes neglected and, to some extent, denied.
To those who write for themselves, my suggestion is to make a diary and never let anyone read it. There is no logic in making someone read your work and when the reader said something about it, you will throw at them the lines, “I don't care what you say. This is my literature.” and acted as if you know everything. That is what we call showing off. You write to show that you know something and you display that you know something.

The more you know,
The more you don't know.

When you know a lot, you will realize that there is a lot more that you do not know. And those who knows less will say and show that they know everything. Yes, they know everything that they know of (not a compliment by the way). They know what they can only see, which is... quite a few.

You may ask why is this essay writing in words that are aflame. It is because of many a writer would think that they are making the key to the realm I aspire also to be in, Literature. Truth must be faced, they – you (yes, you who write for the sake of showing off) don't even know a fraction of what you should in order to be acknowledged as great. Neither anyone of us do, but at least we don't claim such prestige. This essay also serves as my vendetta.

My advice to you is just the same to what I've told myself at the end of my fourth cup of coffee – enough.

Hair! Hair! Hair!

2006-09-16T16:38:00.000+08:00

Hah! Still wearing the thick wig I've used to have. Hehe, brings back memories. Hehe

Four cups of coffee and due reports...

2006-09-14T10:23:00.000+08:00

As of now, I am on the process of completing my report on poetry, which would be - of course - delivered later.

I've already had four cups of coffee last night, but - to tell you the turth - it has no effect at all aside from my immediate drowsiness. And this morning, when I woke up, I was contemplating already over the matter.

Shall I go to school?

It took me some time to figure out that I have to pull this one through. So, figurng the solution, I moved with haste I have never done before - or shall I say, for some time now.

First, I ate breakfast at Lopez's Canteen, which is a just a few meters away from the portal of Annie's Place (that's where I live). So I had to take some time to go to the elevator which always come from the fifth floor and then down to where my destination is settled.

Second, after eating breakfast, I have to go back to my place and iron my clothes, wash the dishes from yesterday, and finally take a bath. I've spent an hour to do those.

Third, here I am, typing this entry. Note: I have not yet strated on the making of my report. Nice.

Anyways, I've realized that I've been like this lately: waking up during midmornings (or, sometimes, staying up the whole night) and contemplating - planning, rather, what to do and at how fast should it be done. I've learned that to move with haste and with the execution of exact and appropriate measures which are planned ahead before the creation of the work is another way of staying alive in the academic realm. Of course, the other way to accomplish these requirements is to plan and make ahead of due date.

Well, GTG, got a poetry report to make.

Wah!!! Final Fantasy XIII...

2006-09-11T20:10:00.000+08:00

WHO NEEDS FULL MOTION VIDEOS?!

Not In The Rain

2006-09-11T12:12:00.000+08:00

Water tracing
The contours
Of the slender
Of your figure.

Water dripping
At the corner
Of your glasses.

Water molding
The shape
Of the pencil
You held tight.

Water tearing
Apart the paper
You drew in.

But dear friend
You can't draw
When, where,
What you can't.

(for Chesca)

for the younger of age... my tribute as being one with you

2006-09-10T14:14:00.000+08:00

Isang Maikling Komentrayo Ukol Sa Mga Nakatatanda
Kevin Anthony S. Dumpit nagsusulat bilang si Peka Spaidora

(Sinadyang sa wikang Filipino
upang maging madamdamin)

Isang malaking paniniwala ng sangkatauhan na ang mga nakatatanda ay dapat masunod dahil sila ang masmaraming karanasan. Sila raw ay dapat pamarisan dahil sa kanilang nalalaman. At dahil masmature sila mag-isip. Pero paano kung ang mga nakakatanda ay ang mga mismong walang alam sa kanilang ginagawa?

Hustisya para sa nakababata!

Madalas tayo napapasok sa ganitong sitwasyon:

Tita: Hoy, 'wag kang nagpapasok ng mga kaklase mo dito...

Pamangkin: Eh bakit naman... Wala naman kaming ginagawang masama...

Tita: Ah basta... tingnan mo nga iyan... andami ng gamit ng babae ang naiiwan dito...

Pamangkin: Tita, mabuti na 'yung gamit ang maiwan, kaysa 'yung babae ang madatnan niyo dito...

Tita: Ay, sasagut-sagot pa... ah basta, makinig ka sa akin, masnakatatanda ako... papunta ka pa lang, pabalik na ako... nakakahiya sa ibang tao.... kung anu-ano ang ginagawa niyo.

Madalas, 'di ba?

Tama ba ang ganun?

Hindi, 'di ba?

At bakit?

Unang-una, hindi ang pagkatanda anhg nagtatakda ng pangkalahatang kraytirya ng pagiging tama. Kasi kung tama ang mga nakatatanda palagi, sa isang literal na analisis, hindi na natin kailangan ng doktor na nagbabawal ng mga ganito, ganiyan na pagkain na nakakasama sa ating kalusugan. Sabihin lang ng pinakamatanda sa isang komunidad na ito ang gusto niya at walang karaptang magdikta ang ibang tao na ito ang dapat kainin ay tapos na ang arugmento.

Pangalawa, hindi rin ang pagiging nakatatanda ang nagsasabi na tama ang ang kanilang pangangatwiran. Halimbawa ay sa isang talsatasan tungkol sa aborsyon. Ang mangyayari na lang ay wala nang makikinig sa mga punto at pananaw nila tungkol sa paksa kung hindi ay magbibigay na lamang ng edad at kung sino ang masnakalalamang ng taong ikinabuhay sa mundo ay iyon na lang ang magsasalita dahil siya na ang masusunod.

Pangatlo, hindi rin ang pagigiging nakatatanda niya ang nagsasabi na alam niya ang eksaktong kalagayan ng mga nasasaklaw ng isang kaganapan. Halimbawa ang maikling usapin kanina lamang ay nabasa. Nakita ng nakatatandang tiyahin na may mga gamit ng mga babae sa kaniyang tinitirhan. Agad siyang inakusahan ng paggawa ng mga balahurang bagay-bagay kasama ng isang babae at wala siyang karapatang magsalita dahil lamang ang tiyahin sa edad. Malay ba ng tiyahin kung bakit nagtungo doon 'yung babae - malay rin natin.

"Opo, masusunod po..."

"Oo na, masmarami ka ng alam kaysa sa akin..."

"Wala akong masasabi diyan, bunso ako eh..."

"Bahala na ang mga nakatatanda..."

"Sadyang malupit ang mundo!" - mali, ang mga nakatatanda ang malupit. Ayaw nilang makinig sa mga nakbabata sa kanila dahil nga masnauna silang ipanganak sa mundo. Ngunit, gaya ng nais patunayan ng komentaryong ito, hindi sa edad nakabatay ang nalalaman ng isang tao.

Nakabatay ito sa kanyang nalalaman ukol sa pangkalahatan aspekto ng mga konsepto ng pag-ikot ng mundo. Sa madadaling salita, kung gaano kalawak ang kanyang isip. Hindi kung gaano siya katanda.

Ano ba ang nagpapakitid ng ulo ng isang tao:

Pride.

"Kailangang hindi ako malalamangan ng isang ito. Nakakahiya. Masmatanda naman ako sa kaniya."

Pride. Pride ang dahilan kung bakit pinagbawal ang pagsagot sa magulang dahil sa oras na nakasagot ka sa magulang mo, parang tinanggap nilang mali sila at tama ka. Siyempre, para sa kanila at sa ibang tao, ang pangit tingnan noon. Pride din ang nagtutulak sa mga nakatatanda na magmaliit ng mga nakababata sa kanila. Ang pangit na namang tingnan kung ang masbata ang masmatalino, 'di ba?

Hindi lang sa literal na edad ang naapektuhan sa pag-iisip ng sangkatauhan. Dahil nga dominante ang nakatatanda, gusto ng lahat umasta na nakatatanda at masmaraming nalalaman sa mundo kumpara sa iba. At dito pumapasok ang Immaturity.

Maraming tumatawag sa kapwa nila na immature. Pero, kung titignan, maaaring pantay lang sila ng antas o kaya naman ay mas naiiwan pala sila. Wala lang boses ang tinatawag kaya hindi madepensahan ang ang kanyang nagawa.

At para makapagbigay ang mga eksaktong kondisyon ng pagiging immature, ito ang ilan sa mga halimbawa (check list niyo na rin ito):

1. Takot harapin ang bunga ng kanyang kasalanan.

2. Takot harapin ang katotohanan.

3. Takot lumakad pasulong sa takot na baka lubos na mawala ang nakaraan.

4. Pagkampi sa isang tao sa loob ng isang mainit na sitwasyon.

5. Ang pakialam lamang ay ang sarili.

6. Pagpapapansin.

Kahit ang mga taong nakatatanda, katulad ng mga magulang, ay may tinataglay pa ring mga ganitong katangian. Kadalasan nga kung sino ang mga nagmamalaki na mature na sila ay sila pa ang naiiwan. Ayaw lang nila aminin.

At ano ang gusto kong sabihin?

Huwag kayong maglakas loob na magsabi na dapat kayo

ang pakinggan dahil masmarami kayong naranasan.

Hindi kayo nararapat kung mayroon kayong

kahit isa lamang sa mga nakalista sa itaas.

Hustisya para sa mga

tinatatawag na nakababata!

"Maturity is the ability to maintain an open mind in a consistent rate,

without any influence of pride or greed."

Hail the blood-red cloak

2006-09-10T13:15:00.000+08:00

The last chapter of the story...

Who was Vincent Valentine?

Who was Jenova?

Who was Lucrecia Crescent?

This is the last chapter that will draw the conclusion for the struggle for the world that they have lived in, abused, and - as effect - destroyed.

Final Fantasy VII: Dirge of Cerberus

"It's time i've ended this; right here, right now."

Riddle of Her Death

2006-09-08T20:22:00.000+08:00

You wrote riddle of your death with

Your own blood on the floor:

"wind as daggers"

However,

when you have managed to

to place your body before a mirror

and stare at what you've become,

you became the riddle.

"wind as daggers"

Why?

"wind as daggers"

(for K. Ann)

p.s. She is not in a suicidal drive.

Instant Human (Extra Genius Flavor)

2006-09-08T20:20:00.000+08:00

Madali na lang ang gumawa ng tao ngayon
Bumili ka ng isang pakete ng Instant Human
sa Ministop (P9.50 lang naman ito)
Samu’t sari ang Flavor, subukan mo Extra Genius
At sundin lamang ang naksulat sa likod

Simulan sa pagpapakulo ng tubig

Cook Fetus in boiling water.
Cook for 5 minutes for a boy.
Cook for 4 minutes for a girl.

Ingat ka lamang, baka ika'y mapaso

Then add in the special seasoning,
the brain booster mix. This would
be the key to make the fetus Extra Genius.

Note: Skin tone will vary on how much
seasoning is mixed.

Mahalaga ang flavoring
Pagwala ito, bobo ang kalalabasan
Ng batang iyong ginagawa

Drain the water.
Congratulations…

Patnubay sa madlang nakababata:
Huwag itong gagawin kung
Ikaw ay wala pa sa hustong gulang.

Stagnancy...

2006-08-26T13:46:00.000+08:00

“Stagnancy is when time and memory crosses in a particular point and comes to a halt, immortalized by an incident cradled in the realm of thoughts, giving birth to two sons well-named as Devastation and Atrocity.”

Iyak, Tawa, Iyak

2006-08-25T16:25:00.000+08:00

I.
Tuwa sa araw
Sa ikot ng pagaspas

Baga ng buwan
Sa umagang nakahimlay

At sa pagdilat, lipas na
Ang luha para sa kapalaran,

Ngiti sa pag-iisa,
At kapag nalaman mo na,

Iyak, tawa, iyak

II.
Yumuko sa Butas ng Karayom
At lumuhod ng walang malay

Sa batu-batong sahig
Pasa kung pasa,

Sugat kung sugat,
At kapag masakit na,

Iyak, tawa, iyak

III.
Lasapin ang dusa
At magdasal sa bingi

Paapi sa nanggagapi,
Papatay sa umaalab,

‘Pag hindi na kaya,
‘Wag magpumilit magpigil

Iyak, tawa, iyak

(para kay Sarrah)

Madness

2006-08-21T16:31:00.000+08:00

"Madness can be relinquished by both will and time, but its effect... even eternity can be measured by scales if we compare to how long devastation lasts. Thus acceptance of mistake and fault would become easy, but redemption all the more difficult."

DAMN IT!!!

2006-08-03T19:48:00.000+08:00

There are hundreds of people who seeks the attention of everyone nowadays!

If you are going to post a comment on this blog or in any other blogs, I beg you! Make a real 'comment'! Not a link that really has noothing to do with the post!

Shit! Whoever you are, you've pissed me off! I promise you - people get paranoid when I'm already pissed off. Which means "you have no idea."

A last thing for you - go to hell!

A bird?!

2006-07-28T16:21:00.000+08:00

Your Ideal Pet is a Bird

You're both very smart, very expressive, and very temperamental.
You're as likely to bite your bird as it is to bite you.

What's Your Ideal Pet?

I'm 65% lucky, oh really?

2006-07-28T16:18:00.000+08:00

Your Luck Quotient: 65%

You have a high luck quotient.
More often than not, you've felt very lucky in your life.
You may be randomly lucky, but it's probably more than that.
Optimistic and open minded, you take advantage of all the luck that comes your way.

How Lucky Are You?

Wah! So this is my past life!

2006-07-28T16:10:00.000+08:00

In a Past Life...

You Were: An Insane Poet.

Where You Lived: Peru.

How You Died: Typhoid fever.

Who Were You In a Past Life?

Damn, I have the Final Fantasy Syndrome again...

2006-07-24T12:45:00.000+08:00

Waaah!.....

I am into the Final Fantasy series again. It started when I got another copy of Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children (this is for the fourth time; I always end up losing my own copy). Having watched it - again for the twenty third time, not reaching the peak of consumption to slowly diminish my utility of the good (I am lit. major remember, not an economics major), I rushed to the nearest internet cafe and started to download pictures and trailers, and hell, there would be lots of versions that I would not be able to play.

Here are the lists of what I am talking about:

1) Final Fantasy VII (PS3 Remake)

2) Final Fantasy VII: Dirge of Cerberus

3) Final Fantasy XII

4) Final Fantasy XIII

Just thinking about it makes me crave to go back to the desert-home my father has chosen to live in. There dreams like this are at the grasp of my hand. I felt sorry for myself especially when I saw the latest installment (FFXIII), I asked myself that very moment, "Who needs FMV?"

It is very tormenting.

Ratings and Meanings

2006-07-23T18:03:00.000+08:00

You might want to check a clock near you or ask anyone around who has a wristwatch. It might be already your favorite Asian TV series already. It would be the first that you have missed an episode- please, don’t commit suicide for that. Don’t tell me you don’t have anything to watch this night. Who else would have made those ratings rise? And, no denials please, it is that important for you.

We have gone through quite a long list of titles of foreign TV series, from the Mexicans to the now Asians and, good for those who really like them, they’re flooding the networks. Who here have not heard of Meteor Garden, Lovers in Paris, Full House, My Name Is Kim Sam Soon and Jewel in the Palace?

There are some who really do not watch this kind of shows but life finds a way for them to know like someone close to them watches and they would likely hear about what their cousins have been chatting about for hours and hours during a family reunion. I see misfortune already to the husbands who took a wife who likes to talk about what she has just seen on TV. Pity them, these kinds of shows are all heard about by our people.

The fame of these foreign delights outshines the locally made cry-me-a-river views whose stories are not just repeating but also predictable already. I am his son. She is not my real mother but a poor girl but now rich from my father’s past. You know; the normal rich boy and poor girl setup and vice versa; the mother against her long lost child whom she will only know that was hers when she has harmed her already; let us not also forget the part where all villains are money and power hungry and would do anything just to get what they wanted. What we call “the usual setup”.

But it hits me on why do these foreign works kept on pouring in from different TV Stations and has got the greater side of the proportion. And so the question is aroused: can the Philippines make something with the same quality of what they borrow and show on TV for people to watch?

Accept it: the local stations can only make low quality shows and our so-called “best and memorable series that will make us look back with dignity at our classic movies” is just a rip-off from another foreign creation. Also, our proudest effects are really no good. Poor Harry Potter and Smallville, chunks of them got ripped-off and nobody notices (exemption to the fans!). In fact, the people love these ripped-offs! They embrace it tightly and say these are breakthroughs we could tell the world our finest of our time. No wonder the industry just keep on getting worse.

This is my ‘how-good-list’: graphics – could be but more improvements necessary – and I mean more; story – not good, not original or just repeating in a different costume; acting – never good, their actors don’t know how to act; sounds – maybe but still not a passing grade. Well, avid fans of Philippine superheroes and magical worlds, this things are real but are denied and covered up by TV Stations who care more about ratings than the definition of art (I wonder, do they still know what it means?). And - I know - you can’t stop watching because your crush is on TV and you would not mind whether he/she does not act well, after all, they’re beautiful or handsome – a proclaimed and accepted exemption to the rule. Who cares about art anyway?

These are the times that I know that I am lucky my parents did not allow me a TV in my place. You know, what is there to watch?

Fort Felix Royale...

2006-07-21T17:46:00.000+08:00

A castle of our very own... a center table at the top, a wide never-occupied room below... monuments with a giant inscirption: "Pray The Rosary..." [PTR]

That is our secret camp in UST. Back in the good old days (as if it never was a good old day for us), when we were still the Sile Gang,A giant Mosquito followed us around
and started popping out of no where like a mushroom with an elongated blood-sucking nose, transparent wings, and eyes that are like shades (got the hint on who Mr. Crap is), we would say that the four of us will go to PTR. And when the Mosquito asks where is PTR, we would say it is near Jhed's place or somewhere in Baclaran. We would then separate ways and when the coast is clear, we will all flee to that sanctuary.

But now we are the Felix Felicis Front, an alliance of six and that Mosquito can no longer approach us that easy - my doings, and i would say that I was very pleased on harrassing this mosquito to cowardice. And it was the first time Miguel and Mark would be able to come to this blessed sanctuary.

And what we did...

Summon the kraken! - Kevin

We are the chosen ones, the chosen ones to be sacrificed! - Miguel

Maybe someone had sex on that table! - Mark and Jhed

And of course, the vandalising committee: Rose Ann and Pam

Describing it would be not enough, so here I leave a promise, a promise to take a picture of our castle or sponsor a hidden trip to this sanctuary for people who does not want to be annoyed of someone who thinks he's an american.

Family Album

2006-07-21T15:56:00.000+08:00

A family portrait: the father
And his spouse, the eldest,
The second born, and the only
Girl; the desert a background.

A broken image: a lonely child
Without the four, the city
Beside the sea, seen is the freedom,
The glamour it has.

A longing picture: four of them left,
The desert ever expansive,
Maybe a vastness near eternity.

A decided figure: the eldest,
With his books, his backpack,
Smiling and waving, behind him,
His beloved alma mater.

Race To The Clearing

2006-07-21T15:42:00.000+08:00

Unknown, the rain fell hard,
The water started to take the roads,
And the moderators took the game.

The ingredients vary the
Soup’s taste and color,
The contest more interesting;

Rat pea, fish ball sauce,
Human and animal waste alike,
I though I saw some worms,
A floating human arm,
An eye and a decaying rat.

Now all is set, let it begin!

At the fire of the gun,
Do what you think best,
Tip-toe hastily across the flood
Or immerse your leather shoes,
Everything from here on is up to you!

Rest and warmth would be your prize,
The glory that awaits the victor!

One… Two… Three… BANG!

And there were misfortunate ones…
“STRANDED!”

Tsubasa

2006-07-20T15:26:00.000+08:00

Suddenly, on my table one day,
A flask appeared with a substance
Never before have I seen
Maybe alloy, acid, or liquor
Whatever, I never found out
The same way I never knew
Why I drank it.

It grew me wings, like
An angel’s or Satan’s,
At my back, radiant white,
Its feather the crown of skies,
The glory after hardships,
To glide the winds,
The globe wide and ever
Expansive, a long journey
It would be for me.

The Lightning Atrocity: It is not everyday I can talk about having wings.

FTI or For The Ignorants - Tsubasa means Wings

Those on the Losing Ends...

2006-07-20T15:23:00.000+08:00

A celestial sea with embers in twinkles
The sky she rules upon him

A voice in a hum of a nocturne
Or in the dirge of a broken gland

A bottle with the brandy in it burning
To a throat scorched since yesterday

Lady, oh lady
Why to me?
I sing the song,
See what's just wrong

An alley whose shadow is only his
And in the images, garbage sharing

So him you choose
And I go loose
And paths entwine
- To hell with his wine!

A pair of legs now knows no balance
Limply he fell, dozed off on a corner

A lament forever goes on
His ballad he sang in his sleep

Richer than me
Your fantasy
In cars and carpets
In mattresses and lockets...

I just do hope
That you’re truly happy there…

The Lightning Atrocity: Dear readers, please answer my question. Who is the loser, the woman who left the man for riches or the contented man left by the woman?

Renovations...

2006-07-20T14:53:00.000+08:00

Got lots of problems today... and hell, they are the most horrible yet.

Laptop lost its appetite (figuratively), decided to skip some class, and a forever waiting on-going... Hell, when will you give me your last? Not that some one could read this at the moment, but hell... this whole week sucks for me and it just got worse right now, this very moment I am writing this entry... I don't write too well...

Anyway, until this blog gets refurbished, people may not read from it... T_T

Novels for Trash Can Prize

2006-07-15T18:57:00.000+08:00

Guidelines to be observed in reading my latest post:

1) You will have to remember that my course is AB-Literature and in here, we study how to know whether the literary piece has quality.

2) Keep in mind that I love writing and I have utmost respect with things that are involved in writing (e.g. originality)

3) My tone is British Accent. Just try imagining it.

Attention! One of my classmates has already ‘published’ his so called ‘book’, a novel he said that he had worked for how many years (four or five). He has been showing it off around the class. Well, of course not to me – my classmates know the reason – and I am very happy for that.

First, let me describe to you how novel really is. Read a page of his ‘novel’… I am very sure that you will say this, to yourself of course: “I think I have read about this before.” Know anything about the endless sagas of the novel versions of Magic The Gathering, Forgotten Realms, and the sort? Try reading one of them and then read his. There really is no difference. As I have said, I have read it somewhere before. You know the types – stories without any sense, you know, when you have finished reading, you will realize in a great swift tidal wave that you have wasted money in buying it because you did not get anything after reading the whole crap.

Do you now wonder what is his idea for a story? What is the story about? – Him! He made himself a character and just changed its name and you would find all over about his character being great and undying with all beautiful women drooling over him. You know – his fantasies in life – he just can’t attain it… so at least in his ‘imaginations’, he is handsome and cool. Well, I’ve seen the real guy… he sucks. Anyway, away from digression, his ‘blockbuster novel’ utilizes a lot of the Norse mythology and bits of others. So if you know a lot about these mythologies, you can get around with his novel and get bored later on. To tell the truth, he mutilated the elements of the mythology to show how good in battle and how invincible this character is – typical concept the heroes in Filipino movies, hundreds of bullets are not enough. He is just so proud of his work, my God, but his work is like all those low-class fantasies. You want to question my authority on fantasies? – I dare you challenge all Final Fantasy series and Harry Potter fans.

You know – if my work is as low as that, I would not go parading it off around the classroom, telling the people that they would miss half of their lives if they don’t avail a copy. You know what I would actually do. I would throw it to the trash can and without regret burn it and deny that it ever existed and that I am the one who made it.

And really, Literature is not about who is the first to get his novel or work published. It is not also about getting the ‘pogi points’ to lure the ladies in. It is about telling the people something that will give impact on how they look at things or making known to them what they choose not to see. So, my advice to you, go to hell!

The Lightning Atrocity

2006-07-12T16:36:00.000+08:00

I am the scholar of lightning... None may go through me with their bodies not electrocuted...

Abandoned

2006-05-02T13:30:00.000+08:00

Your figure a silhouette
Standing tall by the door,
The details you hid in shadows.

Tonight, you did not show
To me your face. You said
Something but I did not
Catch it, I was trying to look
At your face, the same contours
that I usually see nights before this.

You left and just then did I
Understand the words you spoke.

I Have To

2006-04-25T16:09:00.000+08:00

The next step leads away;
I took it desperately.

But at the turn,
there you were again,

a ghost in apparition
to where my sight,
my road is on to,

haunting me
as a minute turns to an hour,
always in the comeback,
but just, always, before me.

Finally I saw
Inevitability is perpetual.
As confrontation is fate.

Erlinda

2006-04-23T13:07:00.000+08:00

I saw again the swirling images;
black hair, white blouse,
green skirt, crystal pendant;
Then, I wrote your name: “Erlinda”
My penmanship at its bestOn a piece of paper,
Bearing in mind that I should
Not to waste the whole parchment,
just to be thrown to the fire.

The embers, the flames no longer
Dance about but is devouring
The paper her name was written in.

The end of you – I said to myself.

The Felix Felicis Front

2006-03-26T19:55:00.000+08:00

I want people to meet my friends.

Why?

Three Reasons...

First...

They are crazy people!!!

Second...

I am one of them.

Third...

I am proud of being one of their likes!

May I ask...

2006-03-22T15:57:00.000+08:00

The breeze sweeps past me and caress my face everytime that it does, and it would look beautiful when it goes along to the time the trees shed their leaves in light of autumn; it is, to me, wonderful to walk with that wind and what it bears, those yellow leaves that marks the passing time, and I would think, "Another turn of the clock... Yes, another day, another season has passed and I am still alive, but God -may I ask- how long would I last?"

The kittens (a cat has given birth to another bunch at my house) are young and so am I. I wonder, I wonder, what tomorrow is? Would I die or would I live?

Die. It would be rest. No more of suffering for the day, for the month, for eternity; no more. But what is out there? What would I find when I have gone on to that door leading to the other side of the world, leading to the other side of life? Is it wast blankness and the longingness to go back (also, the guilt of having go through a point of no return) that I will find or will it be the peace that I have craved for when I am still living?

Live. It would be frightening. Life is sordid and, either way around, would launch the most difficult battles I have to go through. Would I stand it?

I hope that the breeze that comforts me now and the beauty of the autumn that I witness would answer the questions that are now bedevilling me.