Four days of neozep-induced bedrest later, I am done counting mosquito bites, staging a vendetta against tissue rolls, and wondering if the veins on my arm lead to Emerald City. I thought there was nothing more to do while I stayed horizontal, but I got pushed off the boredom cliff.

This is a list of things I have accomplished in attempts to ward off the enemy. Usually I'd be content with a book, but the fever made my head feel like an infuriating carousel every time I picked up Crime and Punishment (oh how apt). Also, we have no interwebs at home, causing my Farm Town corn and coffee crops to go to waste (gaaah). Still, I had to avoid unleashing the volcano of vomit I was ready to spew keep myself occupied.

I managed to:

1. Listen. Too much of The Format is good for yer health, but waking up to the neighbor's stereo blaring "Shine Jesus, Shine" is not. Also, our virus-infested home is an orchestra of coughs and sneezes now, with the occasional trumpet from a noseblow. Don't buy tickets to this concert, please.
2. Play. After tiring of Tekken 5 on Neia's PSP, I gave Patapon a shot. It's like mini-300 with less blood and more flame-arrows. Haha. Also, creating warriors out of titanium ore and cherry tree branches is surprisingly fun.

3. Think. (But unfortunately, the soldiers of profundity couldn't get past my shield of germs and antibiotics. Then again, they never have.) There are too many ants; do they procreate like it's the first day after the apocalypse? Is there such a thing as a unilemma? Probably not. When delirious with a fever, one thing you can really miss is a bath. I'm an insignificant pimple on the world's cheek and when I die it's one less blemish to worry about. The ceiling would be an interesting place to live in. If I put together all the paper I've used, I could build um something to fill up the trash can.
4. Watch. Movies with Sunshine in their titles don't really produce the expected result. Oh well. They did manage to contribute to my involuntary blubbering. Thank you, Olive and Clementine.
5. Sleep. A lot. I have been taking my dreams for granted. Hm. Perhaps drifting off to the greatness that is Karen O has something to do with it. Silence tends to worry me, even more than seeing my nose tremble on its own.

I'd like to end this properly, but I'm tiredno,w goo dby e.

Hm. I wonder if alpha-carotene decided to stay behind the curtains when its successor, beta-carotene, became more famous.

Also, why is there no alphamax? Was it too much? If the "max" in betamax indicates "maximum," then "betamax" should just be called "alpha." Shouldn't it? Fnr.

It's these morning-walk thoughts that make me believe my skull's gone toilet bowl. :|


Edit: According to Sony's own history webpages, the name came from a double meaning: beta being the Japanese word used to describe the way signals were recorded onto the tape, and from the fact that when the tape ran through the transport it looked like the Greek letter "Beta" (β). The suffix -max came from "maximum" to suggest greatness. [Source]

So no, they just couldn't call it alpha. Haha. Now I can get to corprithorinns (for a wany ear today).

Dear Morpheus,

Why all the sudden attention to what occupies my skull-nest during REM? Oh wait, it's your job, haha. :|

- Neobie


P.S. While the details are appreciated and the homicidal gore is intimidatingly awsums, this past week's wake-ups are never helpful to the rest of the day.





* (Images from Radiohead's Just)

The 20th Century:

Hm.
Thank you, but I said I wouldn't stick around to see it.




Now what? :\

God of War on Neia's PSP = >:D. I am very amused by the way Kratos' weapons swish and slash.


I'm not sure if it's a good thing, but one highlight of family reunions is that you get to know yourself through other people's memories of you. I was told that as a kid, I shut myself in our bedroom when visitors came over. When they decided to drag me out, I'd be clutching a book and putting up a tantrum. Haha.


baby makopa = oldy popcorn


Dream: 8 people being targeted for murder. Much like the SAW installment. Four soon-to-be victims were stuck in my room with a dead fellytone line, while the other half was in a warehouse. In the end, the killer said, "Did I put a god in there?" and then the ambulance invaded the scene. Hm. I've never seen any of the films though.


Wolverine. The swords. Explowdy cards. Oh my.


Tsk. Elders never seem happy unless they're telling me what to do. They vehemently protest against my choices and claim it's all good for me. We all laugh afterwards. Yes, it's really funny because all I'm talking about is um shoes and posture.


Grah. There won't be any more Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. :(


Pacquiao looks like a baby seal when he smiles. No, not in a good way.


Despite the crescent-shaped mushrooms, Pampanga holds few epiphanies for me. I prefer bus rides.


Book Sale Pampanga: Dream Jungle and Siddartha. Wheeee.

This Salmonella-infested jar of peanut butter will be staying on the shelf for now. Then again, chances are there'll be a post office casualty and this won't even begin to push through. Funny how "recall" and "recall" figure in this situation, especially when the head office has been printing out 19 (or aak 20?) years' worth of receipts for past purchases.


Transition:

:\ -> :O -> :D -> :| -> :O -> :| -> :\ -> :s -> :[ -> :| -> X/ -> :| -> :( -> :|

I saw a lady from the Environmental Sanitation Center pause, drop her broom and run across the street. I thought she was going to let herself get run over by the FX that drove by. I also walked past her dustpan. It was full of plastic items.

I applaud her for leaving.

* * *

( Free-writing juju )

* * *

Let us now resume watching Malcolm in the Middle for a distraction to this allergic reaction. Goodbye Virginia Woolf/probably-Jeff-Buckley-too weekend.

Good splotchy, Dr. Splotchy! In over-saturated pixels. Uncomfortable in current comfort zone. Might need shoes. Watercolor wish-wash. Oneiros sent bus after bus. Didn't ride any. Question quest. Marble cloud veins up up up above. Nothing = laf. "Ha." The onion lesson. Dried-up wandering jew clumps. The fork changes things. Always in fragments. In snippity snip snippit. Like sleep spells. Never a stalwart spool. Spring soaked in solutions. Wait. Take us with you.

I want to go back to sleep and finish that Jupiter scene.



Wait. Hm.

Said the interwebs:
- Jupiter, or Zeus, is a "good father" that provides the opportunity for growth, development, prosperity and health. Jupiter, as a planet, has a central position among the other planets in the solar system. Mercury, Venus, Earth and Mars are on one side and Saturn, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto on the other.
- Astrologically, Jupiter represents balance, organization, abundance and optimism. If you are down on your luck or a bit disorganized, this dream may be calling for awareness of supportive internal and external forces. Our dreams often compensate for what is lacking in daily life. In this way, dreams attempt to balance the psyche.
- dreaming of Jupiter is reassuring and invites the dreamer to access the power in his own psyche and to embrace a positive attitude.
- Jupiter is a reminder that there is an order to the universe that provides us with an opportunity to have a prosperous, balanced and joyful life.
- A Planet in the dreamworld symbolize the process of moving around, this can be as simple as a walk in the park or something more significant like a big move.
- Jupiter is the thinking person's Planet. As the guardian of the abstract mind, this Planet rules higher learning and bestows upon us a yen for exploring ideas, both intellectually and spiritually.
- A search for the answers is what Jupiter proposes, and if it means spanning the globe to find them, well, that's probably why Jupiter also rules long-distance travel.
- Luck and good fortune are often associated with Jupiter, and for good reason. This is a kind and benevolent Planet, one that wants us to grow and flourish.
- Leisure time also lies within Jupiter's realm.

HAH!

Oh. Um. Erm.
Okay, maybe I just want to go back to sleep.

See, this is what greets you when you decide not to walk away, and just stop to turn your head back:

Well fuck I shouldn't have done that

The I is never singular, because it is far too attached to specifics.

Wall switchies.

Walking old roads.
The Boris dissatisfaction.
Recapturing.
High tolerance.
An article of _ untouched since 2002.
Frozen taste buds.
Wristcutters and kamikaze pizza.
The word "mulish" in a bell jar.
Congruent sentiments.
Theories.
A morning Metric system.
Hair on end and bespectacled Bettying.
Quick snap frustration.
The constant qu'il of oneironauts.
Descent!

Dear Forces of the Universe,

There are days when I enjoy having you around.

Like when you make me take the route to a more visible bloody sunset in the afternoon, then show me an amusingly misplaced pebble in the morning. Or let me listen to the perfect wake-up song on Peoria, plugged to my ears during an uneventful bus ride. Or watch me cross the street before helping me realize that a motorcycle zoomed right behind me with the driver caught in an awkward yell. Or give me sudden indifference to noise, which has been masking itself lately as post-apocaplytic silence.

But you weren't always so forgiving, especially when you witnessed that gravity-hungry bottle of shampoo fall on my toes and bruise my foot. So I limped past all your phenomena and didn't bother formulating theories regarding today's results. I will not fight you; I shall only take a walk. And I hear you'll be joining me?

Unfortunately yours,
Neobie, who is free-falling towards Gronland of Montreal :\

* * *


I am bored of being bored, but I am bored of the ways which I use to un-bore myself. How shall I go about this? New ways?


* * *


If you're playing "What's Wrong with this Picture?," can you be considered a pessimist?

I am aggravated. By the Internet. And yet I am using the Internet to alleviate the anger.

Yey for contradictionssss. :|

I am tired. Of writing about female wrestlers. Of having to expound on matters. Of things.

I froze up while sleeping. I thought I was being strangled. Hm. But I also thought I accomplished astral projection. Hm. But whyyyyyyy would I go to our office if I knew I could do that? I don't really like the office. It has a noisy cow dog (not a red or a green but a bell puppy).

I am very bored today. And annoyed. And Neia is sickly. And I want to go home now. And the window indicates near-darkness, despite the time. And something in my skull is going blrblrblrblr again. I don't like Sprite, but it's sitting on my desk, half-consumed.

It's taking so long. My Mr. Burns posture is going even more concave.

A stranger on the bus gave me a pack of Bread Pan, which he says is his favorite. Maybe I did look hungry, but I haven't eaten it yet.

Despite my initial trust issues, we got to talking. He's this oldy American dude with Mexican roots who told me to scoot over the seat because he was getting off nearby. He's this private tutor who has worked in Makati for two years. He's this dad with a five-year-old kid he'll be taking to MoA in a while. He's this Beatles enthusiast who finds the vehicle's radio version of "Hey Jude" rather indistinct. He's this hopeful who buys a ticket to the Lotto everyday, and even won a few times.

He used to be this English professor in La Salle who taught during the 1980s. He used to be this TV personality who played a doctor in an ancient Bisolvon commercial. He used to dress up as Santa Claus in events for Nokia (the photographic evidence he had with him was laminated).

He knows he can get a bit too friendly sometimes.

He thinks I'm half-Chinese. He thinks I look mature for my age (must be the formal attire). He thinks I went to college when I was 16, and even did the math for me. He thinks my name comes from a vegetable.

He gave me his cell number and didn't ask for mine (whew), giving me the option of surrendering to my paranoia or not.

I chose not to communicate with Professor Art further, since my parents drilled the "Don't Ever Talk to Strangers!" lecture into my skull again. Fine, that makes sense. But still, to random occurrences, :)

* * *

( Because it's that time of the year )

Not where you think. Haha.

( Oh shut it, Newt Scamander. )

Look up the date of your birthday in Wikipedia. From the date page, pick three interesting historical events that occurred on that date, two births, and one death.

May 5:
3 events:
+ 1260 - Kublai Khan becomes ruler of the Mongol Empire.
+ 1891 - The Music Hall in New York City (now known as Carnegie Hall) has its grand opening and first public performance, with Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky as the guest conductor.
+ 1964 - May 5 is declared Europe Day on the 15th anniversary of the Council of Europe.

2 births:
+ 1813 - Søren Kierkegaard, Danish philosopher (d. 1855)
+ 1818 - Karl Marx, German political philosopher (d. 1883)

1 death:
+ 1821 - Napoleon I of France (b. 1769)


* * *

Guh. :(
Like that feeling when the crabbabies died.

YEY!

1. "Amphigorey Too" - Edward Gorey (170PhP, but what the hell)
2. "Long After Midnight" - Ray Bradbury (70PhP)
3. "The Afterlife and Other Stories" - John Updike (75PhP)
4. "Other Weapons" - Luisa Valenzuela (45PhP)

I would like to thank the corprit world and the powers that be (Book Sale clearance sale!) for making all this possible. I never thought I'd say that hahaha.

And now, I do not know what to begin reading. Oh, one of the best conundrums evar. :D

Boris Gleek has had his first meal too. Clickety-click, but not the high heels on wood kind. ^^