It's sembreak I presume in UP, and with All Saints/Souls Day haunting nearby the campus was almost a ghost town. The internet cafe at Philcoa wasn't as crowded as it usually were, and Likha Diwa is just as happily deserted (if it were always deserted, I wouldn't know—it's the first I've been here since a very long time when I was checking out their vegemeat products). I couldn't merrily enjoyed the solitary affair, if only my eyes weren't so heavy. I'm at my caffeine limit, that is certain—Sting energy drink and brewed coffee were powerless to keep me wide-eyed. I fear for my ever bloating love handles.
Without my laptop today, it's double the pain to be writing right now on paper. I hadn't the mood to write when I had my laptop though; instead I was busy drooling over the soft-lesbian context of Madlax, and discovering the joys of Game of Nerds (which sadly doesn't enjoy me back). Had I been more productive I could have finished more Lady Gaga parodies by now. Or perhaps start a new work of fiction I had in mind.
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The story would revolve around seven characters, who are in essence the manifestations of a certain being bent on exacting revenge on existence (hurray for antinatalism!). The seven will bear the names of the Seven Deadly Sins in Latin—Superbia, Avaritia, Luxuria, Invidia, Gula, Ira, Acedia—but that's just because the words sound cool more than anything. There will be violence, lots of it, to draw sympathy against a crule world and make the seven antinatalist protagonists cool antiheroes. Whether they succeed in their plans or not is still conjecture. Perhaps I'll even put an open ending. There's be cameo roles of course from Amores Celestia. It's a related universe after all.
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Meanwhile, I'm still getting used to a Facebook-free routine. I miss it terribly, but I do not regret permanently deleting the account, the same way I deleted Friendster on a whim many years back. If I badly need to keep in touch with anyone, I may as well contact them by phone or meet them personally. I'll be blunt, I only have close personal contact with Christoff and Khaleesi K these days, and what's the point of only keeping two people in my FB list?
The Almighty Internet has a perfect description:
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| To self: Temper thy impulse to trash this pic, nor this post. Honor thy vomit. Honor thy vomit. |
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