Fiction and Reality

Have been working OT for the past couple of nights lately. just finished a monumental endeavor at work this afternoon--3 CD album designs. Pheeww

after that i needed a break and since watching TV ain't an option here in the office (we have a plasma tv with cable but dont know how to turn the dang thing on [besides it's in the production room, i'ts crazy to be alone there at night])

i continued reading the last arc of Y:The last man.
i've totally forgotten about the last 5 unread issues--that i decided not to read in one sitting.

and issue 58 ended terribly.

355 is dead.

the thing that i like about literature is it's power over me. sometimes fiction and reality are one.
i get hung up, with passages/images that move me for days.

and Y was totally unexpected, i like the fact that i could relate to Yorick, like I am Yorick.

english major? check
geeky? check
have a beth? uhhh....i'd like to?

fine, enough hehehe

don't you think that the movies/books you like are the ones that you could relate to? or maybe it's just a facet of your fascination but it's true, I think.

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Y: has made me brood about gender and sexuality lately.
actually not just Y: but this time. this phase in my life.

the universe is making me think of human sexuality.

like my late night poetry interpretations...are i don't know not for the homophobic?

a lot of the filipino writers, great Filipino writers....are turning out to be gay after all.

all this tues nights this sem expect me to discover another homoerotic bent in the poems of so and so. but they are beautiful in a way, most are tragic.

not to mention that most of them died miserable and alone.

Whoa, that can mess up anyone aspiring to be writer huh?

it's just like what Luna sicat-cleto articulated in her novel "Makinilyang Altar"

there's a haunting image in the piece in which her father, a great writer,
is portrayed as one kneeling in front of the altar of writing.

like to be a writer, to be an artist involves an immense sacrifice.

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and how i feel like my sexuality is repressed somehow.

wanna know how i came to that conclusion? well reading some freud and lacan lately....
i could relate to this past experience, dont wori i didnt get molested
but

that day when i was a boy and had my penis erect.

i cant remember why but it showed through my shorts obviously,
my younger sister saw it and was disgusted.

somehow i still feel that lingering shame everytime i get a hard on.

and i dont know but Y: made me reclaim that emasculation.
you know be proud--walk and talk with a hard on!

its coz u know with all the machismo of being the LAST man and all.

reminds me that i love my dick a lot.

wow.

ok i'll get back to work before i spill more of my guts out in cyberspace.

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i still have two issues left.

THE FINAL TWO.

i wish i've read it back in 2003 when it came out once a month.

and i dont want to finish it just yet, so i'll hold off. no matter how much im dying to
now how it ends. i'll finish it in the summer. when all of this craziness is over

abstinence, will be my little homage to Guerra and Vaughan.
Seriously i wanna write them some fanmail.

but i have two persecutors now. Religion. Education.
can't wait for the summer.

later