I have been temporarily dead online for a couple of months. My virtual soul flew out of cyberspace in its batwings, and into the hyperreality called the, err, dormitory. Contrary to popular belief, during Out of Cyberspace Experience or OCE, there isn't any tunnel of bright light. Post-apocalyptic cyberspace death rather has two lights, cylindrical fluorescent lights of about 18 watts each--the janitor who changed the lights said they are environment friendly as they are brighter and more efficient.

I have been to Dormitory Heaven for about a month, where I frequently lapsed into epileptic fits and dreamt of returning to the real world that is the internetz, the World Wide Webz. I cruised into blue and red electric wires, lost my way into the million tangles, broke my pixelated soul into a bazillion bytes, and reassembled in a modem somewhere at the lobby of some university dormitory. There I was pulled into a rush of IP addresses sending and receiving terabytes of data in a superhighway somewhere in Internet City.

Then all of a sudden I was disconnected, back to Dormitory Heaven with all its creepy cavernous rooms and peeling paint and regurgitating toilets that erupt human dung sporadically--comes off a bit of a surprise when you suddenly find yourself up in the ceiling, your butt flipping on top of a geyser of human shit. This is what my fellow OCE Anonymous Unite Hell YEAH members call "enlightenment", but not necessarily the last plane of spiritual existence. They say after thousands of days here our cells deteriorate, become prone to diseases, die and rot on earth, and the virtual soul flies elsewhere where there are a lot more geysers, bigger and fatter, of human and angel crap.

In Dormitory Heaven we eat three times a day at the cafeteria downstairs. The schedule goes: 06:00 to 08:15 for breakfast; 10:45 to 13:15 for lunch, and; 17:45 to 19:30 for dinner. Butch lesbianites serve the meals, without spoon and fork--you have to buy plastic ones for P2 otherwise bring your own cutlery as plastic destroys an illusive environment somewhere--I'm not sure where that is. The butch lesbianites serve the food bland half the time and you only have to smother your food with ketchup or toyo to cover up the rubber tsinelas flavor. In the long run you wouldn't know which viand is which because after a month all the food variations are reduced into two: ketchup or toyo. It's no different from kaning sinabawan sa ketchup o toyo. Sometimes I get tempted to snatch up a kitten or two lolling about the cafeteria, to be barbecued later at three in the morning when everybody's dead and dreaming--that's another reality. The odd thing about the cafeteria is, if you drop your spoon or fork all them dormers switch into rioty mode and clap their hands and hoot and howl and stomp their feet and bang their plates on the table. It's funny: you can buy a sack of spoon and fork and spill them around the cafeteria and everybody else would clap and howl and hoot and stomp for the rest of the week.

I once spoke with a dormer--people around here are called "dormers". She was a little girl about the height of a broken stand fan, and had a face of a Mongol: slit eyed, marshmallowy skin, and a wee bit autistic looking. She appears to shake your hand with her jaw as it juts out her face and reaches out to everybody. Her name was Noreen or something. She spoke about the myth of the spoon and fork, that before the beginning of the cutlery world, somebody forged a fork out of stainless steel. But the fork was lonely and wanted a fuckbuddy so he asked his maker to create a companion for him. The creator cut off the end of the fork, melted it, and molded into a woman called the spoon. "You asshole! You made me short! Fuck you!" the fork said to his maker. "But I need some spooning so it's alright." And so that was settled. The only problem was, the fork and spoon always fought and bickered and wrestled with each other. Myth experts say they were having violent sex--one of those BDSM thing. And when the fork or spoon is hurled out of the Pinggan of Eden, he or she usually ends up on the floor of the cafeteria, bruised up and broken, and never to be used again. The fork or spoon has to undergo some sort of baptism with dishwashing soap so that it can be reunited back into the Pinggan of Eden. Why people make a lot of noise is just for added effect; they are the gods thundering at the sky of the Pinggan of Eden, just so the fork and spoon would not fight and make love instead. The End.

Okay. FAIL. My brain died.XP

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