She lives and works from her laptop on a little paradise island in the Philippines. She's a writer, graphic artist, and mountaineer. During rainy days she loves to sleep and oversleep and dream and daydream and then write. More »
+ Anaïs Walsdorf
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Alright I'm fucking late but here's what's what:
Sewage water in front of our house. (Okay people you can now stalk and rape me.XD Bring condoms, strawberry.XD) It doesn't look it but this watery shit was surging at the speed of a flash flood. The Collective Ondoy Experience (copy-pasted from Tish :p) pales in comparison to the swampland our little quiet village transformed into.
Oh, what lovely weather that was. I'm prolly the only person celebrating the fiery (or, say, watery) destruction of Mother Nature.
To summarize Saturday it was: Death. Flash floods. Death. Landslides. Death. Garbage-choked waterways and drains. Death. Drowning. Death. Dead mudcaked roaches and rats and cats and dogs littering the streets. Death. Houses demolished and washed away. Death. Businesses went kaput. Death. Soaked vehicles beyond repair. Death.
Come to think of it:
- It's so easy to just die
- Tracks of land on mountainsides became nonexistent in just a day
- Material shit by the millions, now rendered useless and worthless
- People devastated because of all the shit they just lost
I see human corruption. I see death and destruction. I see the collective karma of mankind. Holy flying angel dung.
Ah, bullshit. I'm not here to lecture anybody. I haven't lost anything special because I don't own anything special. I give my shit away cos I don't believe in sentimental value.:p All these properties and things we fill our lives with, in the end they're all just garbage. That paper money is really just paper.
All the stuff that symbolize wealth, they're all just that: symbols.
Now we mourn for the death of our self-made symbols.
This symbolizing has got to be flushed deep among our collective excrement. In the name of Jesus. Buddha. Confucius. Lao Tzu. Gandhi. Me, your personal preachifying flibbertigibbet. We're all advocating the same thing: freedom. Freedom from symbols. Freedom from things. Freedom from arbitrary meaning. Freedom from the mundane trappings of the superficial workaday. Freedom from work and fucking airheaded bosses and biatchy co-workers. Freedom from want and desire and so many other man-made shit in this world. Holy flying spaghetti monster with a trident and halo and wings and whatnot, fuck me.XD
Them death tolls the whole year--the ex-president, broadcast network owner, deaths from Ondoy--at least there's classes suspension and a reduction of idiots in the planet.:p And that typhoon calamity, it's no different from splashing a glass of water on an anthill. We're all just ants really. On a large scale our lives are just as meaningless and pointless but beautiful, yes, as pointless and beautiful as, say, the moon.:p (Nay, the moon's gravitational pull produces tidal waves on earth which rendered the evolution process of aquatic lifeforms possible, not to mention the evolution of aquatic animals to reach land and grow limbs and climb trees and climb down and build fire and dance tribal and write poetry. Without the moon, scientists say, life would've been impossible.:o Moon Trivia: it moves four centimeters away from the Earth every year. A billion years ago the moon was much closer to Earth that a day was just eighteen hours long.:p Simply put, life isn't as pointless and beautiful as the moon, but it's just as pointless and beautiful as, say, a carnivorous pitcher flower.XP Debatable still anyway.) I want to build my own improvised rocketship and spacefare to the moon where there's incredible cold and incredible silence and incredible sight of the Earth. Hm, moon, I lovey that stupid lifeless rock in the sky.
Now there's a text and email brigade asking for charity and donations and such--well I don't give a ricocheting crap. Let them all die. Suffaaaaaaarrrrr and die you sons of bitches you!!! Haha.XD Kidding, come on people, let's drop by CAL 208 tomorrow and help pack relief goods.:p And please, stop fucking praying. No amount of praying can resurrect all those 300+ corpses or help them survivors move on. I repeat: praying is just as pointless as wishing; it's all based on the illusion of coincidence. Har. Fuck me.XD It's all up to us intelligent tangible carbon-based supermonkeys to help out. No imaginary bearded asshole can do that.
Izzy. We are officially over. I'm switching phone numbers. It's not because you're a fucking lameass liar. It's because I lost interest. Fell out. Got bored. I'm finished dissecting you, my domesticated bullfrog. I'm sorry but you're stupefyingly monotonous and predictable and stubborn.XD Plus, my precognition superpower tells me you're not any where in my future.
Like all my past relationships, this one began abruptly and ended abruptly. Uk, what's up with that.
I am morose. I am scatterbrained. I am hungover. And. I am poopy. Last night's birthday party, I had veggie salad, baked clams, steamed fish, (Seafood and veggies! Yumyum!:p) Fundador, Red Horse, San Mig Light, and rotten strawberries. Them food and alcohol had a slumber party in my tummy and ignited a bombfarty stomach cramp the following day. Izzy, he was writhing and twisting in pain he should've been rushed to the hospital. The culprit must've been them fucking frozen strawberries. It tasted like vinegarish pasty shit with a tang of strawberry syrup. I nibbled just one, found it unutterably barfy but forced it down my throat anyway cos the celebrant and his mother were sitting across me. Bleh.
Word Up
Tobey30.09.09 - 04:22
Tobey30.09.09 - 12:39
Tobey30.09.09 - 18:18
F30.09.09 - 23:15
Tobey01.10.09 - 16:22
F01.10.09 - 20:07
Tobey02.10.09 - 19:45