It's an incredible thing, this alcohol. Besides dead-sleeping (sleeping without dreams, interruptions, and no amount of flogging can ever wake you up, which, must add, repairs both the body and the mind), unclogging my arteries of execrable fat deposits, and achieving excellent crapping experience the next morning (one in which your anal sphincter contracts momentarily and erupts with one explosive megarectal blow of shit, the surrounding walls of the toilet bowl filled with splattered watery crap, the toilet water untouched and still and sparklingly clear), I always get that neurotic aftereffect the next day--I get anxious, I smoke packets of cigarettes, I chew on my nails, I fidget my legs, my mind is roving around complex labyrinths of speculative streams of consciousness, I forget the world around me and everything else is scrunched up and crammed in the limited hollow space of my skull. And to get this over with, I'd have to consume alcohol again, to placate my restless nerves, quell my scattered thoughts, and get to sleep. Today, all I can see are people shuffling about, muted faces, mouths moving, sputtering gibberish, and my vanishing point of vision is zoomed in and magnified to one specific frivolous detail: the whit of thread caught in the hinge of Gio's spectacles, the delicate flake of dandruff on someone's shoulder, the black baby ant trekking up the forearm of my seatmate in the jeepney, the chicken skin of inflamed pores on some Korean girl's exposed armpit, so forth.

And I somehow lost my train of thought.XP

So yesterday was tattoo day. I accompanied the amateur surfboys Monching and FJ to some sleazy tattoo shop in Boni and this sumo-wrestler buddha-looking artist named Chinoy kept brushing his arm on my right breast every time he finger-pointed them pixelated tribal tattoos from the catalogue on my lap. "Anong gusto mong tattoo?" he asked. Ewan ko. "Saan part ng katawan mo gusto ilagay?" Hindi ko rin alam. "Kelan mo gustong tatuan?" Ewan. Siguro mamaya. "Saan tayo magtatattoo?" I stupidly looked at him. Anong saan magtatattoo? "Saan tayo magtatattoo?" he repeated, as if repeating the question enlightened me, and yet it did. "Saan tayo magtatattoo?" he repeated for the umpteenth time. He was looking directly at my eyes, and I can see all the pores and pimples and creases in his face. I looked back at the catalogue, flipping the pages mindlessly. Err, I said, e di dito.

Pure whimsy. I just thought of getting a tattoo right there that minute until I beheld FJ's tat; it appeared an experimentation of an unskilled tattoo artist. FJ's tat had a rastaman with dreadlocks and a surfboard gliding at the foot of spiral waves, then there's the sun with the spiral rays and crap like that, all spirally and sketch-ish and ridiculously insipid, but I kept saying, Oh it's beautiful, really nice and original. He suffered and endured the pain for three and a half hours instead of the estimated one and a half, kasi ang kapal ng balat niya, the artist had to trace and retrace the spinning needles back and forth the stencil to stain his skin with indelible ink. Braharharhar.XD

Theory and Criticism class. My professor (whose googleable name I dare not mention in this blog) has ADHD, OCD, and has a cerebral receptivity of an infant. All his memories are stored in his dynamic megabrain, nimble and can easily be recalled off the bat. Give him a word, say, talong, and he could prattle volumes upon volumes of libraries upon libraries of infinite buggerific spider webwork of ideas about that subject. He is the sort of person who has a yottabyte internal memory drive of a futuristic hypermultitasking supercomputer. He begins the class with a drivel of gossip, how his day went, famous and semifamous people he's serendipitously bumped into, enumeration of his achievements and blessings in life, moralistic tirades of how to be successful, his past, present, future, all unfurling in a stream-spittle of blabberies that'd stretch through the entire class duration. Call it his anti-drug. Call us his shrink. But sometimes he's hysterically funny he makes a splendid entertainment for everyone. Fun professor, this guy. Then he becomes a stand up comedian at one point, poking fun at one student. This day it was me.

So it went like, I'm cowering at a rear seat reading Friedrich Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil as he goes about in detail what a whirlwind of activity his life is. Then out of the blue he finds me his victim of ridicule, that I look like a serena and that I should cast as the mermaid in some theatrical play whose title I fail to remember. Then he enumerates a list of television shows that I should be in, and the class roars in laughter and I'm all clueless and blinking stupid because I don't watch television. Blitzkrieg! An actress! Much more, a mermaid.XP Mind the burn scars all over my body, the three substandard tattoos, the stab scars on my throat and chest, the stretch marks on my ass, the cellulite on my thighs, the uneven toned sunburnt skin, my nicotine-stained teeth, my unpedicured toenails and unmanicured bitten fingernails, my dark knees and darker elbows, pimples on my face and back and freckles on my shoulders, I'd be better off a witch than a bloody fucking fishperson. At least a witch is a hundred percent human being, unlike a mermaid, a half-human, which all the more insults my sensitive ego.

Or, I should play the role of a pastor, he says, being an atheist and everything, playing the role of a pastor is one ironic mountain-moving challenge. Then he alludes me to a vampire, someone with a personality that sucks every atomic energy in all the men that I date, leaving them all shriveled and desiccated like skeleton wrapped in paperwrinkle skin. And the more I suck in their energy the more I become beautiful. HAHAHA.XD Even merely touching a lamppost would wither it to decay. I must be a ball of negative energy, an exact opposite of who he is, an incurable optimist. He tells the entire class that I give him the impression that when left unsatisfied with the sexual intercourse, I'm the female monkey-eating Philippine eagle who pecks her sexmate to death. Wahahahaha.XD

........so I arrive home and was in horrible need of a shuteye then I see this half-naked corpulent snoring giant sprawled on my bed whose potbelly swelled in and out like a breathing mountain. My brother-in-law. He's moved in. Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.XP

Mount Pico de Loro this weekend! WOOHOOOOOOOTTTT!!XD

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