Today is the presidential inauguration of the highest moron official in the country, Benigno Aquino III. And today being a historical day for Moron History, is a holiday. Oh joy. Spent the whole day in bed reading Nick Joaquin's The Woman Who Had Two Navels.

I didn't read this book for pleasure, mind. It's part of the reading list of the Creative Writing Program in UP; the list being a selection from the literary canon in the Philippines. Composed of: 13 novels, 79 short stories, 150 poems, 21 essays, and 2 plays. All these readings for just one subject: FUCK: THESIS. :faint: Stretcher!

The Woman Who Had Two Navels reads very much like Toni Morrison's Beloved. Both thread on realism with a pinch of fantasy, or rather, schizophrenic elements--delusions, hallucinations, lucid dreams, and what have you, which rather bored me. Connie Escobar first becomes deluded that she has two navels. Whether she has two mothers or she was born twice, I haven't the foggiest thought. She simply believes herself to have two navels without actually seeing them.

The book isn't an interesting read, as it is easy to digest, discard, and move on. The novel is self-explanatory (the explanation for the problems presented are analyzed and resolved within the book) and there is nothing else to think about--which is why I haven't written anything about it. If I were to write anything about it, it would just be summarizing the entire book: Connie is a monster because her mother is a monster because they share the same men. Is all. Yawn. And Connie is schizophrenic because she's protecting herself from the harsh reality: that she and her mother are both whores. Their cunts penetrated by the same old dicks.

So?

Methinks it's rather overdramatic. And besides: I don't care. It's boring, I'm sorry Mister dead National Artist. I just don't invest emotionally in a book. Besides, why should I care about Connie? Who the fuck is she to be cared about? I rather prefer your frenzied short stories, the Tadtarin and everything, where women rule and men worship them and lick their feet erotically.XP

I feel like I just wasted my entire day. I should've just finished reading Anthony Burgess' The Complete Enderby. (I used to think the author's name was Anthony Buggress, you know, the one to be buggered.XP) But so what. Everybody in this country just wasted his day today so. Is alright.:p

Say, speaking of buggering, a novel entitled The Man Who Had Two Assholes should be published. The protagonist would have gender identity issues, or maybe split personality disorder like Tyler Durden in Fight Club. He'd live a man by day, and a buggress by night. It isn't he who is confused, but rather his asshole. And so his asshole duplicates itself, as natural selection asks for it. Like Connie, the man too believes he has two assholes but can't be sure because he can't contort himself into a yoga position that would allow him to see his own buttcrack.

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