Trying Out Fiction:// Edited

These are two stories I wrote just awhile ago. Please do comment on them. But *again* please, no destructive crticisms. I might end up giving up writing. T_T

Eyeball

I didn’t want to see him. He was the one who came, somewhat uninvited. I pretended not to notice him arriving as I walked away into the crowd of busy strangers in the arcade. He couldn’t possibly blame me. We haven’t met. But I knew him too well already. The sight of him has had me wishing I could have made some extra effort to look better. But then, I thought, What the heck. There’s nothing wrong with you, silly. Who is he, anyway? Unable to delay the inescapable any further, I walked back to where he and my best friend were with a huge smile on my face, feigning a giddy mood like I was so thrilled to finally meet him in person, saying Hi!, and mustering all the strength I could to not fall on my weakening knees.

Fourteen Minutes

20.59.17

There seemed to be no end to the rain. I sat almost impatiently at a bench on the station, waiting for the train to arrive, beside a couple publicly displaying excessive adulation towards each other. Disgusted and ironically, a little envious, I maintained a decent distance from the two, so as not to disturb them. And then there he was – muddy sneakers, ripped jeans and an almost transparent wet white shirt – nonchalantly positioning himself in between me and Romeo and Juliet. I immediately recognized his faint scent.

“Wired?”, I muttered.

He looked at me and said, “Victoria’s Secret? Romantic something.”

“Romantic Wish”, I corrected.

He laughed.

I laughed.

21.01.25

The raindrops savagely kissing the station’s roof deafened me. Despite the weather, the temperature in the station was summery. The thick air made me sweat profusely that I decided to remove my jacket and began to fan myself with a bare hand.

“Going somewhere?” He asked, this stranger sitting next to me.

“Home.”

“Oh…”

“You?”

“Same.”

21.02.18

“The storm seems to be enjoying her stay here in the metro.” He began once more, as though trying to start a conversation. I noticed a pin on his knapsack that read good for nothing student, exactly the same as the one I had. I snorted, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“She sure does.”

“I hate the rain.” He said.

“I do, too.”

21.04.09

Romeo and Juliet are still on with their extreme PDA. If I weren’t mistaken, I’d think that he, too, was a bit uncomfortable being on the same bench with the two. He tried to avoid looking their way.

21.05.11

“Some people are just shameless, don’t you think so?” He murmured into my ear, as though we’ve known each other for a long time already.

I grinned, trying hard to suppress a guffaw coming all the way from my stomach.

21.06.56

We were both still snickering. Romeo had one hand in Juliet’s cardigan.

21.07.28

“Single?”

“Double.” I answered.

“Haha!”, was all the sound he made in response.

21.09.35

My patience is running out. It’s getting quite late already and heavy traffic will surely cost me a few more hours of waiting before I reach home. “Whatever happened to the train!?” I blurted out, getting off my seat at the same time and walking towards the edge of the platform, trying to make out an image of the train in the dark. There was nothing. I sighed and got back to my seat.

He just shrugged.

21.10.02

Romeo and Juliet were insatiable. They made me wonder how long they have been together. Is this really how people are when they are so very much in love with each other, or is it just them? I rolled my eyes. “Let’s go get a room.” I joked almost aloud, trying my best to sound as innocent as possible, enough for the lovebirds to hear.

He almost died laughing.

21.11.13

The station was already swarming with people. Strangers, just like me and him. He kept whistling tunes, his soiled Chuck Taylors alternately thumping on the tiled floor, his palms on his thighs, producing what seemed to be pseudo drum beats for his tunes. I tried to get a good vision of his face, carefully though, for him not to notice. He looked so Filipino, like there isn’t a single drop of foreign blood running through his veins. When he looked my way, I immediately turned my gaze towards an elderly couple on another bench.

21.12.49

The train finally arrived. We hurriedly stood up and began pushing ourselves into what seemed to be a war for seats or even just 10 inches of space when I realized that I have forgotten my jacket on the bench where Romeo and Juliet still sat, now merely embracing each other. His gentlemanly instinct had him hurrying back to get it for me while I was squeezed into the mob of clashing outfits: elitists, student activists, punks, thugs, senior citizens, construction workers, children, monsters, and animals.

21.13.02

The door shut. As the engine sprung back to life, I tried to look back to where I left my jacket, only to find heads and more heads blocking my view. In disappointment, I embraced myself, feeling cold despite the warmth of the bodies temporarily pasted onto my own skin. There no longer was the faint whiff of Wired. Instead, I stood amidst the stench of expensive perfume mixing with sweat and body odor from all around me.

There’s Something About the Letter P:// Polymorphous Perversions, Pedophilia, Pornysue, and Pussy

I’m having a hard time breathing lately. Literally. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone back to smoking. I think it causes this sort of… suffocation. I dunno. I haven’t had a single stick this week. No, actually, since Friday, when I used up all the remaining cigs I had before going home. Maybe I should try quitting again. If I could. We’ll see.

I wonder what this day has in store for me. Let me guess… Nothing?

*sighs*

It has always been like that. There’s nothing particularly interesting about my life or about myself. Although there was a point where it was kinda interesting, actually… in 2004 and 2005. I grew up the most during those years, thanks to the guy I was with at that time. With him, I was a walking contradiction. I was both awfully brave and shamefully cowardly. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. But I do know this: with him, I am most sinful.

Whatever. Enough of that.

I still am not over this polymorphous perversion thingy. I think my imagination is in need of some exercise and I’m not about to deprive it of that.

Emryss’ Personal Listing of Polymorphous Perversions:

-

-

-

My list is fuckin empty. WHY!? WHY!? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!? And I thought I was such a pervert (as if it were a good thing). Hm, how bout YOU cite some examples of these PP’s? Anything you might have in mind. Help me, please! HELP!

This is the worst post ever. Worse than my one liner first post.

No, really, I’m curious.

Ooooooh… goodie! I just remembered something. But it’s not original. Well, fuck originality. Let me just share this one. An orgmate told me about this. It wasn’t her idea either. Someone just told her about it too. Okay, here goes.

There’s this porn site that has a video clip of a girl – a young girl, a child – on a swing. She does nothing but swing. Swing. Swing. (This is making me sing. XD)

And we, me and my other orgmates, were like Oh my God. Why is it there? I mean, it’s a porn site. What is the video of a swinging child doing there with hardcore xxx?

For the pedos.

Triple omg. Pedophiles find that… sexually pleasurable? I mean, how perverted could one be? That, my friends, is PP. (I hope I’m right. Please don’t flame me. ) Well, that’s how I understood it.

Okay, how about this? Smoking. I suppose you know this idea of the pen being symbolic of a penis. Why not the cigarette, then?

In the organization I belong to, I have this feminist friend going by the alias pornysue who sings this song by the Avenue Q Puppets that goes like

~the internet is really really great for porn

She sings it out loud in the tambayan, at the Faculty Center, wherever she is. She doesn’t give a damn whoever might hear her. Interesting. We have this logbook for the members which we also use as a pseudo chat room. That’s where she exists as pornysue. All we ever talk about is sex, sex, more sex, porn, slash, and yaoi… those things. But we’re not horny bitches, mind you. We just think it’s fun to talk about those things. And a lot of other members get shocked but eventually end up laughing about it, too.

Personally, I too, am a feminist, in the simplest sense of the word, which is, women empowerment and the equality of genders. No superiority and inferiority shit whatsoever. But I’m not hardcore. Pornysue is. And if I got yesterday’s lecture right, I think that a woman’s openness to such issues is part of the liberation brought about by feminist thinking. I like that.

I go by the pseudonym pusa in that log book. Maybe I oughta be braver and use pussy instead. Meow.

Wait a minute. Almost, if not all of my posts have sexual thingies in them. OMG. Is this my liberation? 0_o

Incoherent Thoughts and Grammatical Errors

I told my roommate that I’m too tired to do anything tonight but here I am, composing a new entry for my latest blog. This morning I had two classes, one being a major subject, and another, a required Literature course. I attended neither of them. Instead, I stayed at the dorm making a “movie” for a friend who was celebrating his birthday.

I liked doing those things better than silently cursing my professors as I listen to their digressions from the lessons. I hate that.

This afternoon we were discussing Marxism and Feminism in my Post-colonial theory class. I think they’re both interesting but I like Feminism better than Marxism because I am not really into economics. French Feminism is kinda silly though. Although it is also quite fascinating how these women writers believe that a woman should speak through her clitoris. Through her vagina. LOL. My prof joked about having the vagina write for the woman. Cool. He said it might be orgasmic to some. Haha. Yeah, why not? Who knows, right?

Ever heard of polymorphous perversion? It’s like, this sort of thinking, wherein everything is sexual. Hahaha. Funny. Disturbing. And interesting. All at the same time. Oh cool. Everything a person does can be orgasmic. LMAO!

And again, I am not making any sense.

I’m too tired to even consider the coherence of my thoughts. No critic will be reading this anyway.

My friend loved the video I made for him. His first reaction was, Oh my God. And I was like, Why? and he said he was watching the clip and it kinda made him cry and I went, What!? The clip’s making you cry!? Why!? Like, that is so contradictory to what I intended. Mission Failed.

But I was wrong. I didn’t fail. Because he told me that he is actually happy. In fact, he said I made him the happiest person in the world. It feels really good when your work is appreciated. Especially when it’s something like this video I’m talking about. I really wanted to do something special for him. But I had nothing to give him, I mean, we don’t really see each other. He’s in Pampanga and I’m in Quezon City. And I’m broke so I won’t be able to buy anything for him. And the worse thing is, I’m really bad at gift-giving. But this time, I think I hit it.

Basta angel masaya ako dahil sau

I like it when people thank me for the little things I do for them. And when I am able to make other people happy… It’s like, waw may silbi ako. LOL. And it feels good, right? ^_^

Maybe I’m not actually as bad I seem to be, after all.

I hate being an English major. It’s like, there’s this rule that prohibits you from committing grammatical errors. *sobs*

But I am so so so stupid when it comes to these things so puh-lease… -_-

18.07.06