Old Gods Returning

I pray for the return of the Old Gods so they would bring justice once more in these islands. Maybe a time traveller would go back in the past and capture these Gods, I don’t know how, and bring them into this present time. These Gods would be so confused at first, but in the end they’d shrug their shoulders and be like whatever, let’s just do this thing, I get paid in gold right? The time traveller says yes, and opens his shiny futuristic satchel filled with shiny golden nuggets to show to the God that he’s real, he ain’t joking yo.

It turns out to be an assassination. Political campaign period, politician singing to the watching seating populace in front of the massive stage. Old and fat and corrupt as fuck, see him try a few dance moves from this new dance hit the kids are into these days. The seated lower-level politicians behind him, on the stage, laugh and clap, the bastards are so amused. The people are so amused. The futuristic golden nugget guy meanwhile is peeking from a hidden spot somewhere. He is not amused. He orders the God to do his thing.

The God is tattooed all over with repeating connected geometric shapes. There’s a large bold ring of this around his lower torso, thighs and calves. He is wearing a red loincloth and on each buttcheek is a large spiral almost covering the entire skin. He is short but compact, well-built. His skin is a deep brown color, the color of a certain type of clay only found deep in the hinterlands of Mindanao island. He has long black shiny hair. He hefts his spear, positions himself and chucks it thirty meters straight towards the undulating, gyrating form of the campaigning politician where it penetrates through the breastbone, impaling the heart.

The crowd falls silent, and then erupts into screams. The panicking multitude starts running towards the exits. The politicians on stage slither their own separate ways into their respective sports utility vehicles. Some of the politicians and security personnel minister to the fallen politico. The guards look everywhere, searching for the assailant, but alas, he is nowhere to be found. It is only later when they review various footage of the event that they are able to fully piece things together.

The God and the Man from the Future eat at Jollibee. The God has been persuaded to change into more time-appropriate clothing. His hair is tied in a manbun, he is wearing jeans, and poloshirt with short sleeves revealing his biceps and forearms filled with tattoos. He eats with his fingers, carefully separating chicken flesh from chicken bone, all the while licking his fingers and talking to the Future Man about the prospect of future collaborations. Future Man says oh we still have a lot more jobs to do, don’t worry. He smiles and takes a sip from his pineapple juice.

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Sustainable, environmentally-friendly, Kpop girls

Cute kpop girls. What’s not to like? Pretty young women gyrating their hips, showing off them ankles and calves and thighs, making cute faces at each other. It is easy to put down as another mindless entertainment for the masses. And this is actually true. But like anything, you can intellectualize it, and thus provide a sort of apologia, a defense, for its consumption. One would ask, isn’t this just another example of the male gaze, you know, what is it you ask, this male gaze, you know that academic term where young women are being gawked at only for the visual pleasure of the male of the species. But, kpop enthusiast replies, a lot of the fans of these groups are women – young women. Most are the same age group as the performers themselves. It would be interesting to look at the gender makeup of the fans of these groups. I’ve heard that Red Velvet has a huge female fanbase. I wonder what the numbers are for other groups. And we aren’t even talking about the male kpop groups whose primary audiences are young women. Maybe some guys, hetero guys like watching these groups too, for their fashion sense or just the sheer spectacle of it, we don’t know, we shouldn’t judge.

The end of the world is near, young people are tired and powerless, and so they’d rather entertain themselves until the sweet kiss of oblivion. This is the last generation that could possibly save Nature, says this article in this website I can’t recall. But Nature’s fine, as George Carlin, great American prophet and comedian, once said. Nature’s fine, it’s human beings that are doomed. The Earth is resilient. It’s the biosphere (not even that, just the ‘anthropo-sphere’) that’s going to shit right now, but with humanity gone, I’m guessing it would recover just fine. The planet would be this mausoleum for Homo sapiens. There would be plants and other green things growing in the high rises, the airport terminals, the bus stations, gasoline stations, the airports, all the massive buildings, and other structures that once were used by humanity. There would be new species of fauna probably that evolved because of the various gene-altering chemicals that were left behind. I actually like the imagery of this, curmudgeon that I am.

I’m thinking lizards that glow in the dark. But not the usual fluorescent green. Maybe a sort of red-orange glow, announcing to possible predators that this one’s toxic and could cause stomach upset maybe even death. The Earth’s been damaged so much that no land mammals larger than rats have survived. The largest animals are all in the ocean. I have a slight thalassophobia so let’s just say that though the ocean was polluted, it is so vast and large swathes of it have been left unmolested by humanity that its recovery was quicker.

No cute kpop girls in this future. Why even live? It’s not like you have a choice anyway. Shit’s going down, this ship is being sucked into the void, this plane has sailed, and all other images and or metaphors, whatever. What we should be doing, if we haven’t been swallowed completely by the ink-dark pit of pure hopelessness is working towards the production of sustainable k-pop girl groups. We must channel our energies so that this treasure would still be available thousands maybe even hundreds of thousands of years in the future. I don’t know how we could do this. Maybe start recycling or segregating the waste one produces or something.

5NOV2018

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Staying inside, just reading

I am in the flatlands of CEntral Luzon. This is where the Maoist movement in the Philippines was born. A bunch of students and instructors from my University, so many decades ago, allied with the already extant armed movement here and formed the CPP-NPA. This is where Luis Taruc’s rebellion happened. This is where the Taruc clan still lives. I kind of want to see all the relevant places, but the heat reaally is too much. This is not the time to be travelling. I was in a tricycle days earlier in the town proper and I happened to glance at my face in the mirror, and man it was not a pretty sight. I just cannot function well under heat. It is the -ber months already and still there is no coolness to be had.

So instead of going out I stay inside and read. And what I’ve been reading: Mo Yan’s short stories, V.S. Pritchett’s short essays collection regarding writers and their novels. Some of the essays are illuminating, but most are kind of uninteresting or at least interesting only to those who are into this sort of specialized thing. Literary criticsim. I’m not into it. I just read criticism in order to look at what to do, what not to do, what to read next, various tips and tricks to apply in my writings.

Mo Yan’s story about the fantastic children who found out that iron is edible started out very good, but ended kind of for me in a question mark. The other one about the wife who escaped her husband by flying into the sky also is the same way. What I like about these CHinese writers I’ve been looking at recently (Mo Yan, Yan Lianke) is the earthiness of their motivation for writing. Both have lived their childhoods during the Mao years of famine, and both have had experience of hunger, of oddly enough, eating coal to deal with this hunger. Yan Lianke thanks Mo Yan in his introduction to one ofh is books. I don’t know which of them is older. That New Yorker (I think) article about Yan Lianke was incredibly well-written. (Yan Lianke’s Forbidden Satires of China). I like that he’s not that concerned about literary theory and criticism. I guess coming from the social realist school of writing for the masses, his criteria seems to be that so long as it captures the attention, it works. I’m cool with that.

This reminds me of this Russian writer, Pelevin who also writes about the Communist period, this time in Russia. It is interesting to contrast and compare how the Chinese and Russian writers make of the Communist periods in their respective countries. Pelevin’s Omon Ra’s bleakness reminds me a bit of the tone in Mo Yan’s darker works. I want to see how they thought of the figures of ultimate authority in their respective nations. Authoritarianism, the treatment of it in these works of fiction would be an interesting thing to look at. Garcia Marquez’s ‘Autumn of the Patriarch’ came to mind when I wrote that earlier sentence.

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Depressing Attempt at a Sci-Fi Story

[going through my laptop for any writings i abandoned, and I indeed found several. at the beginning of the year it turns out i attempted this apparently cyberpunk short story. The depressing effort I put here for all to see, because why not.]

Depressing Attempt at a Sci-Fi Story

10 JAN 2018

The sky is the color of smoke, like grey maybe, or something similar. It is also raining, and there maybe a few lighting strikes here and there. What do we hear? Do we hear thunder? Yes, that too. And it makes our heart skip not just a few beats, but a lot, and we’re worried now if this is going to happen every time there’s thunder. I used to be a brave child, you would say, one who is unafraid of loud noises. What happened, you’d ask. Was it something I ate along the way?

You place one of your two hands, either one, just choose one right now, on your chest. The point is to feel your heart. Is it still there? Wait, there’s no beating. Holy shit. We wait a few seconds, and oh shit, fuck, okay, there it is. Still ticking. Phew.

Now that the sky and the heart has been sufficiently described, we describe now the city. It is an urban hellscape, like in one of those late 80s early 90s cyberpunk B-films. The poor live in hovels while the rich and powerful live in gated high-rises. One can imagine them looking down at all the poor, dirty smelly people, while sipping their sugary alcoholic drinks which are also very expensive. They are doing this looking down behind a thick glass mixed kind of with plastic, like plexiglass maybe. The entire side of their apartment, which is the side of the building is just this clear plexiglass. This is so that they have a wonderful view of all the hovels where the poor people live. Robots that look somewhat like large spiders clean the glass from the outside. There he is, looking down disdainfully, that’s the adjective, at the slums surrounding the high-rises which are in this heavily-gated/walled/guarded circle and or square. I think ‘block’ is the word. They pay a lot of money for security. ‘They’ being the capitalists and the managers of the money of the capitalists, and the various technology innovators and financial speculators of the city, and also of the country. In this gated block/community also live senior and high officials of the government. There are a lot of these gated communities with high-rise buildings in the country.

Now we describe where the poor, and the majority of people who are not rich live, and go on with their lives. It is a high-tech future. By this we mean, at the very least that there’s electricity. There’s also some form of mass communication, both two-way, and one way. Two-way (and or multi-way) communication would be similar to what is called ‘cellphones’ these days. I am still using the old term, for I am an unrepentant hipster, but the more popular term these days is ‘smartphone.’ I don’t have one of these, but that’s beside the point. The one-way communication system are of course things like television and massive LED screens that just continuously play all sorts of advertisements – new shampoos, new soaps, make-ups, new religions, new weapons, etc. The streets are all mostly unmaintained, for there are privatized roads now where only those who can pay for it can go through. The streets are all cracked and there are potholes, and there’s not even any asphalt, so the people have to make do with filling these in with sand and or soil. So that when it rains, it gets washed down and becomes muddy so it’s fucking useless, and this just underlines how shitty the public infrastructure has become. The privatized roads meanwhile isn’t something the rich use for traveling here and there. They use it for the transportation of goods. It shows how unequal this future cyberpunk society is that the goods of the rich and those who can afford it travel much better than those people who have no money. These goods, what are they? They’re futuristic goods, and we’ll look at these later. Maybe they’re energy sources or something.

The rich travel by flight. They have flying or rather levitating cars now at this dark future. It’s like Uber, but there’s no driver as the cars are guided by AI who are connected wirelessly to the overall private transportation system computers, or something futuristic like that. They can of course choose to drive it themselves, but it’s too much effort, and they’d rather do some other things while going to and from their destination. You can imagine what sort of things these people would do on their way to wherever they’re going. It’s not something for those of the more delicate and refined sensibilities to see. Though some of these rich young people are educated and refined and decent, most are just plain unlikeable since most of the culture and morality they learn come from watching their holo-televisions. The programs produced by the various holo-television channels and or corporations are just plain shit. They cater to the basest and lowest instinct of human beings, so that they cut through the class divide. There are shitty people of all the strata of this society, and they all like watching the same shows. One of these shows is basically just pornography. The theme of this show is so abhorrent that I would leave discussion of this in order not to offend those with refined and cultured sensibilities.

How did things become this horrible? The simplest answer would be that this is just how capitalism works. But that sounds too ideological and leftwing, and it wouldn’t be palatable to my imaginary readers. It is because of capitalism though. Money and power, power and money, these two go hand in hand. The State protects the property of the rich. The rich keeps getting elected into all these seats in government, and of course what do they do? They won’t act towards dismantling their influence, that would be irrational of them. What they’d do is make sure that their influence and power remains, that this gets handed down to their family and friends and followers. So it’s basically kind of like now, only this future has high-tech stuff. But we also have high-tech stuff now, so what I wanted to say was that this dark future would have more high-tekky stuff than what we have now in this current sad capitalist world.

We have to give agency to the poor and downtrodden too, otherwise it would be too hopeless, and what’s the point of reading something too depressing? The politics of the poor in this future dark society we would look at. Maybe finally there’s some sort of popular anarchist groups or something. They’re not outright anarchist, though some are. It is their methods that should be looked at. Do people still vote at this dark timeline? What would the government look like? Finally, does this story have one main character that the readers can follow and be sympathetic with? These are all general questions and we’ll turn to this concerns later on.

10 JAN 2018

11 JAN 2018

So in this future cyberpunk dystopia, the poor can’t buy much food. Therein the Catholic Church found a new role, well it’s not really a new role, it’s just more technologically-advanced. What they did was to provide food for the needy. And their specialization in this regards is sweet potato. The nuns administer this system. There are still land owned by the Catholic Church, and this is where hey grow the sweet potatoes. The particular variety they grow is a GMO. They don’t just grow one variety, that would be monoculture, which is at this point considered a sin by the Catholic Church. More than one varieties of a crop shall be grown in a field so that if there’s a pest, whether this pest be micro-organism or insects like beetles, the crop would not all be gone. There would still be left. People would not starve. The variety they grow came not out of their own research but it was handed to them, stolen, or broken out of the laboratory by a Catholic faithful, a young research scientist. The young research scientist felt that there was little that he could do to fulfill his moral duty, he felt stifled working in that corporate lab for the giant multinational corporations that put profits before people. So he contacted one of the nuns who was his biology teacher in high school, and it was through her that the Catholic Church acquired the methods, the genetic techniques for the production of this sweet potato variety.

The more enterprising among the orphans and or street children can be seen selling this sweet potato. It is a common scene in this urban hellscape, among all the other not so miserable scenes, it’s just images of people trying to survive. It’s quite a homely image if you think about it actually. Street carts, street vendors, children walking to and fro selling things. Still, it’s child labor, but it’s not strenuous at all. Well I guess that’s enough with the sweet potatoes.

The research scientist wakes up after a night of hard liquor and even harder anime and levitates himself through sheer effort of will to the bathroom. There he blasts himself with cold water. Amidst the cursing and shouting, his coffeemaker turns on, it’s pink blinky lights turns on, indicating that yes, indeed delicious coffee is being made. For all his faults and shortcomings and other personality issues, he is at the very least consistent and punctual. Emerging from the bathroom, having also defecated and brushed his teeth and dried himself, he then puts on his clothes, and on top of that he puts on his work/lab uniform which is just basically a simple white coat with several buttons on the front. He’d put the mask and goggles on once he is at the front door of his apartment as that is where he places them, at this rack on his door so that he never forgets it. He still remembers that time when a dumb workmate got one of his eyes exposed to acid vapors, and now that guy only has one guy, and that’s why you should always wear safety goggles. He doesn’t sit in his house upon waking up. Once he starts the day, he makes it a point not to sit as much as he can. He does a lot of sitting enough in his work, and he read articles online that this sitting a lot, this lack of physical activity. His place doesn’t have mirrors or much reflective surface really. He has self-esteem issues, having grown up fat and being teased for it in school. He feels his pudgy middle, and sighs. He just has issues with food, among other things. He feels good when he eats, then he feels bad afterwards, but he has learned to drown these feelings and emtoions with alcohol, because is an adult now, a working adult at that, and working a research laboratory for a major multinational corporation. So at least he has that in his life, he thinks.

He lives in corporate housing. His place is basically just a large enough cell to house a bathroom, a sleeping area, his computer, a small kitchen … etc. Other workers and researchers live like this too. As you go up the corporate ladder, you get better and better amenities, bigger rooms, etc. As for a love life, he’d rather not talk about it. So we won’t. Just know that he lives alone, drinks at night and falls to sleep watching anime.

Anime at this point in time has become a large massive wonderful industry. That’s a consolation in this hideous hyper-capitalist society. Anime cuts through all classes of society – the rich, the poor, and the middle-class all watch anime. There are anime for all sorts of tastes. Most don’t even know at this point in time that anime was a shortened form of the word ‘Japanimation’, which is an amalgam of the ‘Japanese animation.’ It’s just one of the things that has been forgotten at this time.

The corporate leaders don’t really have to see each other face to face. Like now, they just tele-conference, and then delegate the work to the on-site managers. But what do we care about these people?

He places the glass cup on the glass table, then he walks back in front of the window overlooking the hovels of the poor at the distance. There was a time when they would shoot firecrackers, missiles at the buildings, so the security company added anti-rocket defense among the other systems already in place to protect life and property within the compound/block. He sometimes sees a kite flying, the kite is made of cellophane, the frame from strong but thin plastic. So the string would not slip the maker of the kite would use super glue to secure it, and that’s how the kite is made. He sees this and is fascinated. He considers the slum area as places where interesting things might come out of … It’s his hobby, poor people watching. Does he like them? No, he doesn’t like them. He’s just curious. His view is like a scientist looking at virulent microorganisms under the microscope.

11 JAN 2018

12 JAN 2018

There she is, the Ukrainian maybe Russian beauty singing her heart out for the Lord and His Kingdom here on Earth. This Kingdom here on Earth is in Davao to be precise. It is led by the Appointed Son of God, who is this intense delusional person who has somehow managed to spread that delusion virulently to other people, so much so that it has made him rich, and he has a white helicopter, he has a large white mansion, they have this large massive cavernous worship hall, which is round and so brightly-lit, it looks like the inside of an alien spaceship. It’s sad to see someone so beautiful so weak-minded. It is also a sad thing, tragic even, that they put make-up on her that makes her looks like she’s in the 80s. Massive poofy hair, too much red on the cheekbones. And she’s singing in Russian or maybe Ukrainian. SHe’s not the main singer though. She’s just a member of this chorus. The camera sometimes focuses on her. It’s all so weird and surreal.

Who’s dating who, what’s dating what. It’s the future and people are still concerned about the lives of celebrities and actresses. It’s about who’s getting married, who are dating this person, break-ups, secret love child, etc. It’s disgusting, and the people swallow it all up. Here’s one of them on this massive LED screen on the side of this massive building. She is being interviewed, and she looks so kind and smiling and benevolent and harmless. The streets are grimy and dirty, trash everywhere, and up there, just a few floors above are the twinkling, glittering, flashing neon and LED lights. Neon has made a comeback. People are really liking that aesthetic. Here are abunch of old women and out ofo work folks, those who cant work because of phsysical impairment, and they are sitting on the central … looking up at the interview going on. there is no audio, as per city regulations to mnimie noise pollution, so they make do by reading the subtitles on the massive screen.

She’s been holding up fine, she has moved on, she’s dating someone new. The death of her boyfriend was hard on her, but she has survived that time in her life, and all she wants is to move on and focus on new projects, movies and dramas and new singles and albums all that stuff. Footage of the carnage and the destruction in this massive mansion. It’s been about a year since the incident. It was a bombing, it was on the news for days, massive close-ups of the various damaged objects from the house which was ejected hot and burning and scalding onto the perfect manicured lawn outside, but inside the gated compound. It was a terrorist incident, investigators claimed. There was a note that was left, but it was half-burned, and only half the message remained. The notes said that people should wake up, rise up and stand up for their rights, don’t give up the fight. This one here dead celebrity came from the scion of a family that has oppressed this county for such a long time, like how are they still active in politics and government in this country? Like why do you fucks keep electing them? So we decided to kill this fucker, the note said, let this be a warning to the rich and powerful. We are coming for you, we do not forget, we are anonymous , we are everywhere. The interview continues, and she dabs a folded handkerchief on one of her eyes, the left one, and she continues speaking. The face of the interviewer meanwhile is all sympathetic and understanding and occasionally, at the right times, he would nod and make sad faces, good use of the brows especially to indicate concern and understanding.

She says how she has found religion and faith, how she wasn’t that faithful in her life a while back, and she has changed now. Her family is Roman Catholic, and they go now with her to this church, a pilgrimage, where the crucified Christ is said to be miraculous.

Those watching on the grimy street below talk and nod while watching. They like how beautiful she is, and kind and religious now, when she wasn’t religious before. There really is a space for change in this world, to be a vessel once more for Christ’s love. A sweet potato boy walks in front o them shouting sweet potatoes, sweet potatoes, hot sweet potoates, and some of those sitting would buy sweet potatoes, and they’d give the child money, and the child would go and sell more sweet potatoes. They munch on their food while continuing to watch the show. Then the advertisements – they’re showing herbal pills, these are supposed to cure this or that disease, or to prevent this or that disease . But they don’t claim this directly. What these people do is they have one of these people who claimed to have been cured because of these herbal pills talk and make testimonies to convince people of the truth of the makers’ claims. Then there’s that quick and mandatory fast-talking caveat which essentially warns people that these products are not drugs and should not be taken to cure ailments and such. But they still allow the showing of these ads because they are revenues for the broadcasting companies. People buy these pills, making the companies rich, then those companies pay people to make ads which are then shown on televisions and massive LED screen on the sides of buildings in pedestrian-heavy places in the city.

Where I really like to be in this helhole of a city is on the top of a building. Maybe I’d be a security guard, and working in a team, and then it’s my turn to do the rounds – from the ground up, then from up there back to the first floor. Most of my colleagues hate this job because it’s tedious and tiresome, but I like it because I get to spend around fifteen minutes tops at the top, just sitting on my chair, either looking at the sky where all these blinking lights are passing by, the LED from aircrafts, or I’d be looking down at the traffic of vehicles and pedestrian below.

12 JAN 2018

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Hesitant

I’d like to fall in love with a girl who is similar to me in temperament, interests and intellectual abilities, except she is way way sadder. One day she’d invite me to a double suicide, and at that point I would be too in love with her to say no. She’d say to me after looking down into the river, ‘jump first.’ I’d look at her. She’d look at me. We’d stare at each other.

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Cannot sleep

It is early morning and I cannot sleep. I cannot sleep because my skin is itching. I cannot sleep because my breathing gets really shallow when it’s cold. I don’t like taking medication because the taste sucks. An inhaler would have been better but I don’t know where my nebulizer has gone. I think a neighbor borrowed it sometime ago in a place far away.

Having asthma when I was younger made me feel special. Adults always treated me differently when they find out. I was excluded from most strenuous activities, which led to me leading a sedentary existence and later on gaining weight which I only managed to deal with when I got into college when I discovered sports.

One time that asthma held me back in this life was when I was taken off library cleaning duties by my teacher-adviser. This was in elementary and I really wanted to be in that cleaning group because I liked being around that much books and because two of my crushes were in that group, and I was the only boy in that group, and I thought I could be with them a lot, cleaning things and talking about books. I liked books and girls, still do.

And then in high school I got depression, self-diagnosed, which is the worst kind of depression. There were several theories on why I got depression. The first one was the hopeless repetition of it all. The commute was just too much for me. That depressing view outside of the moving vehicle of garbage and burning garbage, and smoke and dust. I remember liking the greeneries – trees, shrubs, ricefields, but all it did was to prolong the inevitable, which was of me dropping out and leading a cool rock n’ roll lifestyle. Theory number two was my grades dropping. It was I think the very first time in my life that I struggled academically and it was so much for my ego to handle, and so I broke and shattered and just let things get worse. I remember doing fine in some things, but this was overshadowed mentally by my failures. Still now, I don’t have much memories of my time in high school. So it’s actually just two theories. But that’s more than enough explanation.

I like being awake at godawful hours of the morning. It’s cold, it’s quiet and I can hear myself think, not that I don’t do enough introspection already. But the voice seems to be clearer at these hours. It could be that the mentalspace is much freer because people are asleep. There is just me and those other night-owls who cannot sleep or must not sleep because they have work to do. I remember so many other moments like this – just me in front of my computer typing / writing all sorts of shit in the early mornings. I hope for more moments like this.

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Dorg

Beware of Dorg

If you have this sign on your gate, it would confuse people.

Did they misspell ‘Dog’?

How could they misspell a three-letter-word?

Maybe it’s intentional? But why?

Maybe it’s a dog named ‘Dorg’?

Why would they name a dog ‘Dorg’?

Maybe it’s some weird new creature they have genetically engineered?

Finally unable to deal with the mystery, they would take a peek through the gate and promptly get attacked by Dorg.

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