The Thick Sense

November sucks. I’ve hated this month ever since the day I realized what fear of the dark elements is all about. Every time it’s nearing, the local channels (we don’t have cable… so sad… so limited...) go frantic about showing every bit of scary movie they could lay their hands on, from the corniest Tagalog wannabe horror movies to the newest Japanese long-haired, anemic freaks of nature fad. I’ve never enjoyed watching horror flicks so I don’t know why I keep on watching them. There must be something about sleepless nights and a throbbing heart that keeps, not just me, but just about everyone else from wanting more and more of these neurotic, fictional creepers.
I can hardly remember why I was so scared of Jason Voorhees, Freddie Krueger, and Michael Myers when I was a kid. Maybe I just didn’t understand why gore or bloodlust makes them go all bonkers and chase after people to cut open their torsos and feast on their intestines while amputating both upper and lower extremities and dissecting every layer of the brain after the head has been decapitated and ripped apart by using purely the simplest of machineries and barest of their hands. Well now, I do. And the pattern on horror movies hasn’t changed over the years. Still the same thirst for blood, hunger for flesh spilling on the floor, and the urge to see some struggling B-class actress strip down to merely two pieces of clothing or succumb to a boob exposure in order to boost their acting stratum as they sexily die in the end with not only their skulls split apart but also their legs. I do comprehend how it worked for Jennifer Love Hewitt, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Elisha Cuthbert, Paris Hilton, or even Neve Campbell before, but I certainly don’t grasp how it worked for Jamie Lee Curtis at all, cos like 30 years ago she looks exactly the same. Or worse, a 50-year old looking 20-year old, what’s up with that?

I do get scared easily so I’m not exactly a reliable source if someone’s to ask which scary movie is the scariest amongst them all. And everyone has their own opinion and own level of wussiness so, it is totally subjective. But I did ask a few people about which horror movies petrified them the most just to see if my list of scary movies does make sense or if it’s just me being stupid and getting scared by these films for no apparent reason. And the top three on the list as of the present, based on limited resources, are:

1) The Sixth Sense 2) The Blair Witch Project 3) The Skeleton Key

Hmm… so my own list does make sense. I have a few people disagree with having The Sixth Sense as the scariest movie of all time because some people actually didn’t get scared during and after watching the psychological thriller. Talk about lack of imagination and shallow comprehension. I can’t believe why people get more scared by watching those insipid, hirsute, bone-wrecked weirdoids that kill non-relevant people for very superficial reasons. Like in The Ring (don’t know why Hollywood even try to make their own version of this), Samara (Sadako) killed people for watching a video tape that she obviously didn’t make and distribute. The clairvoyant son there, who calls his mother by her name, sues his mom for even trying to solve the mystery behind Samara’s death and helping salvage her remains from the well. Son goes like: “Don’t you understand, Rachel? She never sleeps.” What the fuck is wrong with that little bitch? What is she a Starbuck’s fanatic? They said she just wants her story told, so why kill the people who have seen her video tape when these people can pass on her story by means of word-of-mouth? And the video tape doesn’t even tell a story at all so what is there to tell anyway? If she truly wants her story to be told then she should’ve just left a diary instead or hired someone to write her autobiography. (Teka, baket ba ko nakekelam? Kanya kanyang trip lang yan, di ba? One week lang naman akong di pinatulog ni Sadako ahahaha.)

The Ring Series came out with such a bang that all the other Japanese horror movies were patronized as highly as Thalia was patronized in her Marimar telenovela. Then came other movies with the same petty reason for getting people massacred such as The Grudge, The Phone, The Eye, The Notebook… oh, wait… not The Notebook , that’s a love story… sorry… it’s just that the idea of Ryan Gossling starring in a love flick is scary enough. And then, there’s also The Doll Master, Child’s Play dumps shit on this one. There’s no scarier doll than Chucky, not in a million years. Chucky rules, he doesn’t get attached, he can do voodoo, and he can make babies too, and you can’t kill him just by poking him in the eyes and getting his head detached from his body.

Enough about the Japanese, let’s go lower down the ogrish shelves. There were scary movies that used a colossal amount of gore in order to haul up fear and maybe disgust from unsuspecting people, who normally went out of the house not carrying barf bags in their pockets. Some of those that I wouldn’t want to lay my eyes on again due to squeamish rationale are: Dead Alive, Day of the Dead, Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead, House on Haunted Hill, The Ghost Ship, 13 Ghosts, Mad House, Amityville Horror, The Wish Master, Rumplestiltskin, The Leprechaun Series, Resident Evil Part 1 (but I love Resident Evil: Apocalypse, I don’t care how gross the zombies in that movie were, Jill Valentine is sooooo hot), Saw 1&2, and many others that showcase the inner part of the human body being eaten or grated by another human being, ex-human being, or by a being that didn’t come from this side of the universe. And also there’s this gruesome movie entitled The Dentist, I don’t know if anyone else has seen it, we just borrowed it from an old video rental place cos we got curious. It friggingly is stomach-turning even from the start of the show. Everything was all white then there’s this guy on the dental chair in the middle of the room and when the dentist went to him and used the ruddy drill on wherever parts of his teeth, blood squirted from all over his mouth, and then to his face, and then to the dentist, and then to the entire room, and then my cousin went screaming, “Turn it off! Turn it off!” And that was all that we saw of that very bloody movie. I’m still curious though, but I don’t think my stomach can handle watching that cornstarch flick anytime in this lifetime or even in the next one.

Also, there were horror films that I asininely watched in the big screen forgetting that I’m one of them wussiest people on this planet. One of those was Resident Evil Part 1; I was already inside the movie house – alone – when I remembered that it was a movie about zombies. Holy Moron. I wanted to go out but I was so scared I might bump into a zombie on my way out so I had to wait till the movie was finished and all the lights had been turned on. And then, another movie that Pothead and I watched was The Exorcism of Emily Rose, we got through that movie with our eyes half-opened, our feet up, soft drink cup on the left ear, and KFC go-go’s on the right. I hate the fact that movie house people assume that everyone watching their movies are hard of hearing. They should distribute ear plugs on the way in, that way we’d have both hands functional for eating purposes. Another was Silent Hill, I watched it with my sister, who’s just as brave as I am ha-ha, and I have the same complaint: TOO LOUD!!! I CAN”T THINK HAPPY THOUGHTS!!! The others I remember seeing were not really scary (naks naman… courageous) but were a pure waste of, and some of those are: The Haunting, The Exorcist: Director’s Cut, White Noise, The Fog (Tom Welling will forever be Superman, and I’m disappointed that he didn’t have super powers here, just as I’m disappointed every time Sarah Michelle Gellar doesn’t play Buffy.), and Pulse (a really bad attempt at propagating against technology). And I want to swear that I will never again watch another scary movie in the big screens, but there will always come a time when I’ll forget how much of a chicken I am and even dare to watch a horror film in the expensive seats of I-max.

Now, this is a very long entry and yet I still haven’t defended why The Sixth Sense, The Blair Witch Project, and The Skeleton Key are in the top three. It would seem pointless anyway, for those who have grasped the real essence of these movies; they already know what I’m talking about. But I guess for those who aren’t thinking in the same sphere as we are, hopelessly haunted by pale freaks, who have trouble walking and have hair all over their face, spend a night in front of a mirror, turn off all the lights – don’t bother bringing a candle, and just as you feel a warm breath gliding behind your ear and you hear some stifled cries, Mama Cecile and Papa Justify will then be the ones to tell you why.

A Couple of Kicks, A Packet of Bubus

It wasn't so long ago when I started to attach my self to a certain chat room called lezpinay. Not so surprising that I immediately got hooked to it. I am not so into meeting the different genres or species of people that walk this earth, but with so little option of not encountering them every now and then, it's better that I get to mingle with them without the freaky necessity of having to look them in the eye as I sense their neurons crash and burn into oblivion.
The whole lot of creatures that I've met here gives me both the realization of how endowed my life is and how docile it can considerably be compared to those currently subscribed to the overwhelming era of youth.

I've taken time to recall those beings who have contributed to the decency of my existence and those who I taxonomize to the bewildering depot of imbecility and utter moronity.

Off I go:

acerrrr - 7:50 AM I logged in, she was there, 1:40 I came back, she was still there, at about 10:30 that night... I was no longer surprised. I conclude therefore, chatting is her life.

agoraphobia - I'm not so proud to divulge my encounter with her. I stupidly asked her if she's afraid of spider-man (having the term arachnophobia in my mind); only after banging my head on pure concrete did I remember that agoraphobia means fear of wide spaces. Tsk... Should've asked if she was living in a coffin instead.

animony - there are things in this world that just don't make sense, people like her should be blamed for them.

aryt - I thought her nick was tyra spelled backwards... shesh... it was just alright spelled in vain.

audrelorde - one of the little sensible chatter who barely goes online. Rare pick, usually ignores you. Unless you're ready to engross yourself into a brain busting session, keep your distance. Or hold a dictionary in your hand, it could help.

bondbabe - met her under the nick lysander, apparently she's played hermia in a grade school play. I just hate that her nick reminds me of denise richards (she was once asked how it is to play someone smart and she actually tried to answer it).

boobastank - if I were to mar hoobastank's name I'd refer to them as hoobastink. But since boobastank's boobs are probably bigger than her brains, this became the end result.

bystander - present but currently unattached, in Tagalog "tambay". Self-proclaimed introvert, haven't been seein' her in the chat room lately, guess she's too caught up in her own little world.

cho_chang - has never read a Potter book. I believe the nick appealed to her for reasons that she is Chinese... and what's with the underscore?!! (Hmm... the downsides of youth...). Also a self-proclaimed Dishwalla fan but does not know a single line from Counting Blue Cars.

chugger - her identity has been deemed classified. This is her incognito self incognito.
d^reason - met boobastank?

femme 'fatal - it must really be deadly to have an IQ so low.

freawaru - boobastank's sister. Hah! Two in the family, it's a gay world after all.

hgrg - she macked me, I complied. Consider the word pervert and raise it to a thousand, that's her.

honda_vios - Toyota has heard news of this, your subpoena is on its way.

horned_one - nick seemed promising, but after the predictable usage of the "annoying startup line" (a.k.a. asl), I was once again proven wrong.

huffergurl - thou art thus. Replies with a traumatic "yeah?". Believes she is the only person in the world who knows that huffergurl is a ski brand. Duhhh...

jupit3r - I've never met a person this slow; all the moons around her probably caused such lunacy.

meeh - goat fixated onomatopoeia?

minnie_meeh - kid fixated onomatopoeia... hahaha!!! This must be meeh sinking a notch lower. God, I didn't think that was possible, how can somebody stoop that low?

makeMEreal - I asked her if she'd be an animal what would she be, she replied "a dolphin maybe". I'm a little disappointed, I was expecting her to say a unicorn cos it wouldn't be so far from what she thinks she is right now,something that doesn't exist.

oTiStIk_ako - need I say more?

ownmyown - when I first laid eyes on her nick I thought it was a typo error, but the consistency implied that no, she's not pertaining to that Les Miserables song. In Tagalog her nick would be, "akin ang akin"... oohhh... how possessive.

rockchick - (became an ex) barely a few of us left on the path to greatness. Kudos to your chosen genre of music and never back down on the fight to extinguishing the burning flames of mainstreamity.

saidsadly - a year less than a decade ago, we've met and bonded, and entered an ultra-neurotic society called GINGY (pronounced the way it's spelled), up until now the amount of nightmares flooding in due to the experience is unfathomable.

stucked - how caught up in the past are you? stucked?

stupid_me - your admittance to the truth moves me.

zerious - hmm... I wonder how you spell words when you're not.

[twisted]- not a zafra fan... just when you think the world's already down the pits, people as such reminds you that it could still plunge down much deeper.

Pausing for a moment, I need a breather. I guess I didn't know what I was asking for when I started this diss-and-praise-list... one of the prices to pay for exploring the abysmally confused realm of lezpinay.

The Jerassic Era

She got smitten… AGAIN. But then, I thought, what’s new? Maybe it was a bad idea all along. We never learn. Never EVER try to save someone who’s not asking for help. Instill that in the brain for morale’s sake. And yet we’re still trying to save her from the trap we ourselves laid down for her to fall into. Free falling, as she often is. Will she catch her? Will she call? She wouldn’t even return her text messages. Okay, fine, she doesn’t have her own cellular phone. But there are ways, if will is there.
She didn’t even ask a single dull question about her. She didn’t even mention her name, not when everyone around was sort of pushing the idea of her existence into her head. Was she too preoccupied with laughing at my stupidest punch lines? Or too absorbed by the cheap thrill she gets every time she slapped me on the arm or gave me a pinch on my side that she forgot all about her existence, her persistence? Did she mean to hold my hand? Or was the alley just too dark and abandoned that she felt the need to hold onto something thermal? But those were their streets we sauntered back and forth in search for ice and smokes and coffee, why the hell would she feel daunted meandering a familiar path. Was I the one who held her hand first? I don’t remember the consistency of events but the point is she didn’t let go.

I woke up with her next to me. Actually, “woke up” is technically false because I really wasn’t able to sleep even for a second. Her scent and the smell of stale beer kept me awake, aside from the unvarying movements she made. She didn’t have to stay in the same bed; there was another empty bed perpendicular to ours. Do us both a favor and move out, I thought. But she chose to stay. I chose to daydream.

I left the sheets first. No interaction happened after that. Along with the alcohol came the events. No hangover from either the alcohol or the events dwelled after 11 o’clock in the morning. And so this means we’re moving on.

Yet she’s in my head, almost all the time in my fucking head. So that’s how it feels. Good one, cosmos, I get your point, my lesson learned. I know I’ve done the same thing over and over for different people, leaving questions in exchange for the passion that was too confusing to handle.

Maybe she didn’t even think of it that way. Maybe I assumed too much. Maybe I…

I got smitten… AGAIN. But then, I laugh at myself, what’s new? It was a bad idea all along. For she’s another hard-to-pin-down-cloud that puts me on a chase. Another fair muse that encourages me to dream. To dream of wasted sunsets and of fallen stars. Of sugarcoated words that would never be defined – could never be defined as long as I can’t make her mine. And it’s pointless to dream of things you can’t deal with and make happen while you’re awake. So, with this I’m convincing myself, I’m more for planning not making dreams. I want to think of things I can actually achieve, not conjure up ideas for some alternate reality. And that’s probably all she’ll ever be, someone heartbreakingly outlying and far a field from everything that’s real to me.
Evolove. I was telling Straight Kabuki about this certain pattern of falling in love, being in love, and getting out of love last Monday night. I’m trying to pretend to be a relationship guru as though I’ve experienced everything there is to experience in the demented world of EVOLOVE. Well, who would she prefer, a free practicing fake guru or a totally expensive shrink? She didn’t have much choice and she knew that.
And so, there’s this word-illustration, I showed her:

BRIDGE OF HATE
MALIGNANT EVOLOVE ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ APATHY / INDIFFERENCE

I told her, you’re a hopeless case. Imagine, she’s still wishing or hoping or praying that after 25 years she would still end up with Boy Abnoy. Hopeless is she not? I felt like skewering her brains with banana cue stick and feeding ‘em to the dogs. But we weren’t ready for anything like something you see on Hannibal or the Saw series. So, I just used Pothead’s formularization, to get over the fucking feeling called love; you must hate the object of affection up to the extent where you can hate no more. And tested by the reigning Queen of Pathetiqueness (two years of basking, mon, you will forever wear the crown), it truly does work.

But how to do that really? Hate the one you love. Replace an uber strong feeling with its complete opposite. I used to say, Hate is a stronger feeling, it’s more precious than Love. And no one deserves my Hate; no one deserves anything that special. But it is the cure. It is the antidote. Love is poison. Drink Hate and cross the bridge. Cross the bridge and get to Apathy or Indifference. When you finally reach that point, even when someone tells you, “Hoy alam mo ba ung ex mo naputulan ng kamay?” You’ll go like, “Ows talaga?” Continue with what you’re doing before you’ve been interrupted and not even ask, “Which hand?”

It is okay to go, “Give me my money back! Give me my money back, you b*tch! I want my money back! And don’t forget to give me back my black T-shirt!” – (Song for the Dumped, Ben Folds Five) at first. It is initial reaction. No one’s that nice. Or if someone is, she shouldn’t be. Then breed the Hate, let it grow.

Let it grow as big as your Pride is. If it wouldn’t by itself, then make it. These are your two best weaponries. Hate is your spear, Pride is your shield. There’s this whole Spartan thing going over me because I just saw 300 and I really liked it haha. Anyway, the entire pampering of Hate process would really come in handy if you have an overly reliable tolerant friend like Pothead. Because she’ll tolerate anything from combing the hair of an ex until the ex feels goddess-like with her very long hair to pissing in a plastic bag inside a bus. Very supportive, Pothead is.

Going back to Straight Kabuki, well it’s only been what? 3 months? And they spent like 6 decades together. It’s normal to still feel that way. Be in denial. Hope for the best. Want what’s surreal. Try to convince yourself that there is such a thing called FATE and that what’s meant to happen will happen eventually. I do that last part every now and then still. Jeez.

A friend of mine, JDC, left me some precious lines less than a year ago, they go like, “No one knows how much they got until it’s gone. Eventually she’ll realize your worth and she’ll know what she’s lost. When that happens she’ll come back or try to. Anyway, they all do.”

So, Straight Kabuki, hear me now, “Boy Abnoy does not see yet how much he had. Eventually he’ll realize your worth and know what he’s lost. When that happens he’ll come scuffling back into your life or try to, because every sad-a** loser with sad-ass intentions will always do. It’s just up to you if you want to put up with b*llsh*t all over again.”
Culture shock. I thought I have an open mind for just about anything. I guess the openness does not include anything that concerns gore, violence, or death threats.

The very essence of being in a woman-to-woman relationship is to shun out the abhorring attributes of the male specie. Their arrogance, double standard views, machismo, and the putrid idea that they are the dominant gender. And yet, I often see or hear about women practically turning into them, acting like undomesticated creatures, hurting the ones they’re with physically.

But it’s not going to happen without the permission of the other person, the violence that is. So, when one realizes that her partner is capable of doing something so inhumane, why still stay in the relationship? Because of LOVE? F*ck Love. No one, in her right mind, who really loves a person, would ever hurt the one she claims to love in whatever way, at least, not intentionally.

I don’t get it. Can some people really be THAT insecure?

Pothead told me, “One thing we have in common: Our ex’s would rather be with orcs than bask in near perfection.”

Are we back to the Stone Age? When, although life was so simple, the manner of humans isn’t an inch away from that of a savage beast. Back then, when a male wants a partner, he’d just look for a female pleasurable to his eyes, hit her smack in the head with his club, drag her back to his cave, and rape her.

Then when they get hungry they just go out and eat a mammoth or a saber-toothed tiger for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Have we not evolved at all? Perhaps some of us never really did. Maybe there is more than just one missing link. And that link will never ever be found for it exists in the part that cannot be seen by the naked eye… under the sleeves of battered women or on the arteries of their tattered hearts.