Moblogging.

I am a goddess sculpture made of hardened feces. A hand grenade has been implanted inside my head. I need to write shit to cut the fuse off, otherwise I will explode, painting the walls a mountain lava of cracked and melted shit.

Peace of mind. That, I need.

I am masturbating in the bathroom; right hand fingering my brickphone, left hand fingering the sensitive pleasure center of my cunt. What's wrong with mentioning the word masturbation? And why am I even masturbating?

I get some sort of quasi-peace of mind when I touch myself, or when someone touches me. In this moment, I only have sweet Pleasure caramelizing from my sex orifice, every touch, every stroke, middle finger circling my hardening clitoris, awakening my zen, my soul, my spirit. And in a brief moment I forget the shit-carved goddess. I forget my shit life. I forget my complicated shit-filled existence.

I close my eyes and moan. Close the eyes to cut the visuals and heighten the tactile sensation. I like touching; I like being touched. And in the art of fingering I achieve both. I mouth a stifled moan. I'm almost there... until someone bangs on the door.

"Titaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" It's Keolo the Bratchild. "Tital tae ako!"

...

Come to think of it, if sex weren't pleasurable—just the pleasure factor—humanity and the whole evolution of mankind wouldn't exist.

Pax: She gives me the impression she's half white. And with that weird accent, I assume she's brought up elsewhere foreign at the very least. She was hot and everything but she was too loud and rants every time she gets drunk. I've seen her in a couple of drinking sprees—at Kurt's, Dustin's, at that grill in Teacher's Village. I've seen her and Marty kissing one time at my place, when everybody was so drunk we all passed out on the couch and on the carpet. But Joanne and Marty, they were kissing by the door. It was too hard to see. I was about to pass out on the couch beside Travis, whose drool was all over my shoulder. I didn't mind. I was too drunk to mind. But I think I saw Marty caressing Joanne's breast, and all I could hear was the sound of their tongues wrestling with each other. I was turned on, somewhat. But I was all soaked up in beer I just fell asleep.

Marty: I met Joanne at Jason's place—Jason, one of the brothers in the fraternity. She was Jason's girl at the time, some time last January? I forget. Joanne and Jason were fighting over something about a third party or something, I can't remember. And Jason left Joanne crying by the gate. I think they broke up that time. Anyway, I went over to Joanne to calm her down but she dissed me and cried louder like some cat giving birth to kitties or some sort. So I said, Okay okay. I was about to back off when she called my name. She asked me to take her home. I think Jason heard her, but he couldn't care less. I mean, I just met her there and I was taking her to her house. Jason was through with her, but I wasn't planning on getting her in any way. I thought she was pretty though.

Travis: I don't know how Jason met Joanne. All I know is that Jason and Joanne crashed at my place after one drinking session—right in my room, with Jason moaning for thirty minutes or so. Jason was moaning! He was moaning to a near scream, I swear to god. Jason is one son of a bitch, you know. He let me sleep in my grandmother's room that night. Just this night, he said. He couldn't resist her. Next morning they were gone. They just left a trace of white stuff on my bed sheet. Right after that, Kurt and Kathy dropped by to screw, then people came and went to my place like it was a motel or something. But is all right. They give me money in return anyway.

Dustin: So Travis' place was the place to be if you're broke and have a chick to fuck. Travis' room is a shrine. God knows how many people fucked there since his parents left for Canada. God knows how many layers of cum stained his mattress. I fucked Christine there when we were on E. Pax brought Hannah there. Then Eric and Izzy. Then Jason and some other chick whose name escapes me at the moment. One time, Travis said, Marty brought Joanne there when Joanne and Jason broke up. It was implied right away—that they're gonna do it right in Travis' room. But all Travis heard was that moaning from Marty which reminded him of Jason. Travis said Marty was moaning real hard, same thing he heard from Jason. This chick must've been doing some real shit on these guys. But I never asked.

Eric: Travis collects all these bed sheets stacked up in one wooden cabinet. When you go to his place there's always some bed sheet hanging on the clothesline at the front lawn. His grandma keeps on complaining about washing bed sheets every now and then. Sometimes, Travis' grandma tells me, sometimes she just hoards them sheets for the weekend and washes them all at once. You wouldn't believe the smell, she said. The sheets reeked of sin.

Franco: I entered the frat just this semester. My cousin Marty told me to join so I did. I never really wanted to join fraternities; they're for cowards. They're for guys who can't stand on their own. But my other cousin—Eric, Marty's younger brother—he said he'll help me lose my virginity. Most of them lost their virginity just by joining. I've never had a girlfriend all my life. No matter what I do I just get dissed and all them chicks want me to bug off. I mean, I'm not even ugly or anything. In fact, my pet's just the right size, five and a half inches. Six inches at maximum erection. But I just can't make girls go to bed with me. Maybe it's my large nose or my widely spaced teeth. But I look alright. Maybe I'm just not aggressive enough. Not self-confident enough. Or maybe I'm just too thin or too tall. I don't know. But I'm alright. I'm cool. Or maybe not. I don't know.

Dustin: Some guys at the frat say Joanne makes them high in bed. But they don't fuck. They say she doesn't want to fuck guys who aren't her boyfriend. Some guys tried courting her just to get her to bed with them. This dude Randy, an alumni, he said he met Joanne at some concert and fell instantly in love with her after. He tried pursuing her for about two weeks, get her to love him back. Then one night, Randy said, he confessed his obsession to Joanne. Joanne rejected him but she led him to some place at Don Antonio Heights. I knew right then it was Travis' house, but I kept it to myself. What's the house like, I asked Randy. He said it looked like a haunted bungalow with old furniture innit and a young guy and his granma in there. Did it have a front lawn? I asked him. Yeah, he said, it was filled with hanging bed sheets for drying. I just laughed and he said, What?

Pax: There was this guy Franco who just joined the frat. He has those dorky glasses and pimples on his forehead. His face was always glistening with this film of oil. Being the chairman of the fraternity, I almost rejected him during the initial interview. He didn't have brotherhood blood in him, not one single fart. He was some sort of an individualist. When I asked him what he does in his free time he said he read literature or played video games. When I asked him what he did in school during his free time he said just hang out in the library reading Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, or some other existentialist crap. I mean, Jesus Christ, who the fuck in the world cares about existentialism? Then Eric dropped by and interrupted me right in the middle of the interview. He excused me from Franco and talked me into helping his nerd cousin lose his virginity. Then I said, Why didn't you say so? This Marty be fun.

Franco: I love the library. It's mainly the air-conditioning that I like. I go there to read the books I lifted from Booksale and some other secondhand book stores in campus. I sit right there at my favorite spot in front of the air-conditioning, on the far end of that long mahogany table in the Social Sciences section. The air-conditioning makes my pet really hard and I just cover it with a sweater to keep potential carnivores from seeing this engorgement rising from my crotch. Just when I entered school this semester, I never made real friends yet. Not until I joined the fraternity anyway. I'm better off with books as my company. They give me cerebral masturbation. All these books on literature and philosophy, they get me preoccupied all the time. Toss the air-conditioning in, and it's mentally orgasmic, I tell you. That's why I don't care about chicks that much. I never really dated a girl on a real date. I mean, I've met some in parties and social conventions and other places, but I never really get hooked. I just try my luck in a conversation, and if that doesn't work, then I'd just go away. I'm better off without chicks. Chicks retard the society from intellectual maturity.

Travis: We had a plan two weeks ago, Pax, Marty, Eric, and me. The new guy—whatsisface—Frankie? No, Franco. Yeah, Franco. I hadn't met him yet at that time, but the three boys knew him. They say he was some fuckass geek with thick binocular glasses, pimples, and oil on his face. Real ugly. Then we came up with a project. We've never done this before but we could take a good shot at it. So the plan was this. We'll have Franco dress cool like we do. You know, something decent for chrissakes. Get rid of the glasses, the worn, threadbare sweat shirt and jeans, and throw in something crisp and fresh, and a pair of dispensable contact lenses. We asked him to give us some money. Two thousand, to be exact. We said we gonna buy him some neat clothes, spray him kickass scents, and hook him up with a real nice girl.

Marty: Pass this test, I told Franco. Pass this test or else, I said, or else you'll end up a wrinkled old virgin when you reach fifty. By then you'll wind up injecting testosterone Travisk into your wiener just to get a hard on, I said. And boy, if you could've just seen the look on his face—he looked like he just saw himself lying in a coffin, his dick having penetrated not a single cunt. He drew his wallet right there and handed me two grand.

Franco: I never really courted a girl before. I mean, I had crushes, real pretty chicks with nice round breasts and nice round buttocks. But I never dreamed of ending up with any of them. I always thought I'm just a nice traditional guy in a world that has moved on from the old convention. I'm a good guy. I'm a gentleman. I know how to treat a lady, got it from that etiquette book I pilfered from a thrift store. What I just really need is some real life application, you know? My brothers—I mean my cousins' frat brothers—I haven't been initiated yet—they said they'll hook me up with this girl Joanne at the library. They say she doesn't read, but goes there because of the air-conditioning. They say she grew up in Australia and is still adjusting our country's humid weather condition.

Eric: The new guy Franco, we told him stories about this chick named Joanne. Joanne the mix breed Aussie-Filipina. We cooked some nice ingredients in these stories to get him the initiation done. First, we told him about Travis' place in Don Antonio, that place with omnipresent bed sheets hanging by the lawn. We told him about the bed sheets, that it was all Joanne's idea, that Joanne was a traditional girl and couldn't bring guys into her place. Her parents are strict. A campus scholar, pretty, hot, and fuckable. We told Franco how Joanne likes nice guys that are closet bookworms or geeks, nice guys who frequented the library and played Chess. I don't play Chess, Franco interrupted me. Whatever, I said. She likes smart guys. Nice, traditional, smart guys like you.

Pax: Then each of us frat boys told Franco stories about Joanne. Discreetly, I mean. Each of us would randomly approach Franco anywhere in the campus, wherever we saw him, talk to him about school or the frat or something else, then fabricate stories about Joanne. Each of us giving a personal confession, until he'd be interested enough, he'd just go straight asking about her.

Franco: For some reason, my future brothers approached me in school and made me really comfortable. For the first time in my life, I realized what the concept of brotherhood is. It's all about friendship, about having someone to talk to about whatever's on my mind. I really owe everything to my cousins Marty and Eric. I also got to learn about this girl Joanne. Each of them told me their greatest fellatio ever no one else knew about. What the hell's a fellatio? Dustin asked the first time we brought the subject up. It's another term for blowjob dumbhead, I'd say. They even thought me how to curse. Weird thing is, they all said the same thing, that Joanne gave them the drug without the chemicals, the high without screwing your system. I mean, they didn't say the same exact thing, but that's the gist of it. Joanne gave them the mother fellatio of all fellatios ordinary chicks couldn't compare to. It was better than sex, something more divine than plain fucking, whatever the position is. Joanne could shot you through a trip to heaven and back. Give you a glimpse of cosmic bliss. Nirvana.

Marty: So today, Friday, is the big day for Franco. He's wearing the clothes we bought him and gave him deodorants, perfumes, and whatnot. We asked him to cut all his classes, take a nice warm bath, dress up, and hit the library where Joanne Marty be. We even tried teaching him how to drive so he can drive my dad's car to get to Travis' place. The goal is to get her to like him, see. And if everything works perfect, when Franco's generating testosterone-driven animalistic feedbacks from Joanne, he'd leave right at the peak of it. Leave her wanting more. So when Joanne meets Franco tonight, the initiation Marty be served.

Franco: I've been to the library a couple of times and know nearly all the people who go there frequently. At the Social Sciences section anyway. Yesterday, I bought some cosmetics. Totally gay, I know. I even went to this far flung cosmetics store so no one would spot me buying powder and eyeliner and stuff. Otherwise I'll be the subject queen of faggotry when my cosmetics-buying escapade reaches the frat. I've read somewhere that guys should always look decent, using womens cosmetics if necessary. Me, I have a greasy face. Blame my mother and her pimple genes. Anyway, I just bought a natural-color compact powder. Nothing of the scented or glittery sort. Just an ordinary, brandless powder. Then an eyeliner, to give Joanne the split-second killer glance that'll tip her off balance. I put them on this morning—cosmetics, deodorant, perfume, crisp clothes, the works—and faced the mirror. I nearly couldn't recognize myself. I mean, I'm one hot beast.

Dustin: We'll probably just have a binge at Travis' place tonight, right at his front lawn after all the bed sheets are out of sight. We'll invite Franco and Joanne and get them to fuck each other. We're all in the library right now. Pax and Franco are standing near the librarian's front desk and the rest of us are hidden behind the bookshelves, except for Eric, who couldn't come today. We're watching, documenting, recording, witnessing Franco's every move.

Franco: Pax points Joanne's back to me, and asks me to sit right in front of her. This is it. And I'm going to succeed three ways: get my pet baptized with Joanne's saliva or pussy cum at the very least, get to formally join the frat, and soar a trip to nirvana. My palms are all clammy and sweaty, and I walk slowly towards the mahogany table right in front of the air-conditioner where Joanne is seated facing her laptop. Pax backs off and hides behind the shelves with the guys. My heart is thumping faster, as if some wild bird is flapping its wings in my ribcage. I'm almost there. Her hair falls right below her shoulders like a black-inked waterfall. I want to smell it, to touch it, but I walk to the other side of the table instead. I sit right in front of her, and my heart stops in suspended animation.

Pax: What happened? Joanne smiles at Franco and Franco smiles back. Why did she smile at him just like that? Do they know each other? Franco takes a pen and notebook from his bag, and looks at her as he does this. She is typing something on her laptop, and her eyes wander off to the shelves, the floor, the ceiling, everywhere but at him.

Dustin: Franco tears a sheet off his notebook and scribbles something on the page. He stops and thinks hard, gritting the end of his pen with his teeth, looking far away, thinking of something deep. He could be writing poetry, a love letter, a proposal, whatever.

Eric: Maybe Franco's cooking a setup, a bribery or some sort. Ah, whatever, as long as he gets the job done then he's in.

Franco: I love your eyes, I began to write. Crap. What the hell do I do now? I scratch the words out and look at her. She looks at her laptop screen, squints, and her large eyes flutter lazily elsewhere. Her eyes—she has the eyes of brown splendor, mysterious and impenetrable. Her long eyelashes naturally curve upward at the tip and her side view profile is a nature of perfection. She looks at me and I am thrown in a whirlwind of distraction. But I calm down. Her eyes are all I see, and everything else is a backdrop of blurred useless details.

Pax: What's this? Joanne's now looking at him straight in the eye. Franco slides the tip of the pen into his mouth.

Marty: Franco's lower lip play with the tip of the pen, Franco gliding the tip slowly left and back. Joanne looks back at her laptop and begins typing again.

Travis: Joanne looks back at Franco, finds Franco still staring at her, and looks away. She shifts her butt on her seat. Distracted? Confused? Uneasy? Does she find him attractive? But Franco finds her alluring, I bet. She gives that look that could release sex-chemicals in your brain and give you a subtle erection. I know that look. She's given me that look a couple of times before. My stomach would churn and tighten and my dick would start rising heavenward.

Franco: I begin to write again: I want to lick your wet, sweet cunt. But scratch it off right away. Poetry, I need manna from heaven to descend unto me and give me words strung in impeccable lyrics—of adoration, of desire, of want, of passion. What do I write, damn it, what do I write? Should I even write at all?

Pax: Franco puts the pen back to his lips, and chews the tip of his pen. Joanne raises her head to look at him, look at his face a few seconds longer.

Franco: She's staring at my lips. Or is it my nose? I look at her mouth hanging slightly open, lick my lips, and put the pen back in between my teeth. Then I glide the tip of the pen at the inner part of my lips, gliding it slowly like some hard fuck, and we look at each other's eyes one more time.

Dustin: She's talking to him! What the hell is she saying? This is not part of the plan.

Franco: May I borrow your pen and a sheet from that notebook, please? Joanne says. These are the very first words that sprung from her mouth. Her voice is the melody of angels, echoing, reverberating, rebounding inside my head. May I, she repeats. I was awestruck for a second I even forgot she was talking to me. I tear a leaf from my notebook and hand her the pen and paper. She reaches out with her left hand. Her hand is fairer than the skies and her fingernails darker than Black Holes. She writes something on the paper and hands the pen and paper back to me.

Marty: What in the world did she write on that paper? Franco is flushed. He smiles awkwardly, and Joanne laughs at him.

Franco: I love your lips, the note reads. I look at her, somewhat embarrassed, she, indulging in a soft laughter of delight. Your eyes, I scribble on the note, your eyes are the most mysterious thing I have ever seen. And that was partly a lie. Her eyes are mysterious, but perhaps not the most mysterious I have ever seen. I hand her the paper back and she smiles coyly at me.

Travis: What is this? A play of words between two mute retards? This is a conspiracy. They're having a dialogue! He should go, leave, exit stage left and never come back.

Franco: The chill of the air-conditioning is beginning to rub on me. I wet my lips, stare at her, and lick the pen with my tongue, tip to tip. I do this surreptitiously, stare at her unblinking, and toy with the tip of the pen. She bobs her head to one side, not averting her eyes off me, and props her chin with one elbow. She puts a finger into her mouth, licks the tip similarly, and gives me that look of penetration. I lean a few inches closer, showing her my teeth, rubbing the pen on the enamel, gritting the pen, as I stare at her brown dilating pupils. The cold air reaches my crotch and my pet begins to stiffen, bulging out and up my pants, thouching my belt. Now she puts two fingers halfway into her mouth, the index and middle finger, her tongue showing, licking, massaging, her pupils in her eyes beckoning me to enter. Then she stops abruptly. A shadow looms behind me and someone taps my shoulder.

Travis: Dude, I say. We better go.

Ahoy plodding invertebrates of blogsville! I have finished enrolling for the first semester in UP Diliman and that means towing my ass to and fro Las Piñas and UPD, queuing serpentine longass lines for the manual enlistment (Why, thank you CRS for being so dutifully helpful and purposeful for approving zero subjects for my course this semester.) with the collective students around me reeking with body odor and heaving and glowing like red charcoal from the noonday heat. Nevertheless, I was able to enlist six subjects for the semester—three major and three minor subjects, no GE available. Le sigh.

Subjects for the semester:

• Comparative Literature 115: Creative Nonfiction by Conchitina Cruz
• Comparative Literature 121: Critical Approaches to Literature I by Jose Wendell Capili
• Comparative Literature 171: Popular Literature by Eleanor Sarah Reposar
• Creative Writing 111: Non-realist Fiction by Anna Felicia Sanchez
• Creative Writing 151: Writing for Young Adults by Maria Celeste Flores
• Creative Writing 198: Erotic Writings by Conchitina Cruz

Harhar. I lurrrrv my course. :p Except for that darned subject forcing me to roll my eyeballs one hundred eighty degrees backwards, Critical Approaches to Literature I. I abhor critical stuff with unrelenting rage.

I've just bought four books! :p

• Dan Brown's Digital Fortress
• Lilian Jackson Braun's The Cat Who Lived High
• John Irving's The Fourth Hand
• Pietropinto and Simenauer's Beyond the Male Myth

I need to fatten up my cerebral corpuscles and aim for the President's List lauding me an Iskolar ng Bayan award!XD

And I have the temerity to take Creative Writing when I haven't even written a short story for the past whole year.XD

I remember bumping this short white-haired old lady (with heavy overornamental dangling earrings the size of jurasic pearls, mind) with my left breast as I bounced in front of the counter in the cafeteria to buy Nescafe Freeze. She went like, "You disrespectful ignoramus you! You bumped me and didn't even say sorry! Naku, ang henerasyon nga naman ngayon—"

"Ay, sorry po! Hindi ko po sinasadya!" aking wika.

"Oh you're sorry! You should've apologized right when you bumped me, not when I have told you you bumped me!"

"I'm really sorry I didn't feel it." Lame excuse, I swear to God.

"What! You didn't feel it! That is not an excuse! How could you not feel bumping an old lady with your breast!"

"I'm really sorry, my mind was wandering elsewhere and I—"

"You're mind was wandering! And you even have the gall to put up excuses against—"

"Look." I cut her off and gave her my infernal diabolical stare. "I am not a bad person and I never disrespect old people. If you can't accept my apology then that is not my problem." I grabbed my Nescafe Freeze from the counter, swiveled the balls of my feet and walked out.

WTF is the matter with her?? Kala niya kung sino siyang putanginang mataas ang posisyon sa lipunan! Propesor ka man, Dean ka pan, pokpok ka man, wala akong pakielam! Hindi mo kailangan magtaas ng boses dahil lang may puting buhok ka! Pakyu gaddemet! Tsaniin ko lahat ng puting buhok mo diyan eh! Harharhar.

Butiki and I have broken up. Scratch that, I broke up with him.XP He is my summer bonanza... Err. Parang noon time game show lang ano??XP Could you lot believe he thought me how to lalalalalove? o_o

I'm so excited and bouncy to go to school. Weeeeeeeeeeee.

I'm moving in to my sister's apartment. Weeeeeeeeee. With two little rascals, Keolo and Kaira. :p Oh right, yeah, I hate kids by the way. Hate.

Humdeedumdeedum. :p

I'm thinking of three more organizations to join this semester. I'm currently a member of the defunct UP Atheist Circle—a member of a defunct org?? Unregistered even. :p And the organizations in candidacy:

• UP Quill
• UP Kabataang Pilosopong Tasyo
• UP ASTERISK
• UP Graphic Arts in Literature
• UP Debate Society

Hummmm.

I have semiresigned and have been semiterminated from work. Say wut, you ask?? I have incurred the maximum number of absences allowed prior the result of my resignation thus rendering me terminated while my resignation is still in process. Yeah, that, it. :p Well, actually I still am not terminated, neither resigned because the company hasn't summoned me for my exit interview yet. Har. So that explains the semiresigned and the semiterminated. I are in bumsville! Hurrah!XD Would you lot believe I was in dental services?? Wahahahahaha.XD Spell spellbound boredom: DENTAL. Harharhar. The only vocabulary I learned from dental services besides all the polysyllabic dental procedures is edentulous. That, toothless and all but gums. :p

I'm going back to school! Tralalalala.XD

We're going to....... BATANGAS this weekend!XD Boohoo, Batangas my rectum. Bohoooooring. Last time I went to Batangas to scuba dive my right leg cramped and I plummeted to the coral-infested seabed bruising my arms and legs and baiting hordes of sharks with my blood. Ugh. Talk about the brine and the smarting pain. Waaaaaaahhh. The first aid people smothered my bruises with ethyl alcohol. Wahahahaha.

I neeeeeeeeeed YOSI. And balut. :p

And so I am leaving my boyfriend, and my new found drinking buddies. Sad.

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