Menthol-Guy

At Booksale I dive in books. Dive–I mean, jump in the swimming pool. Dive dive. No swimming pool gutter tiles and shit. No chlorinated water or anything. Just the smell of paper, the sight of paper, typefaces, and book covers, the glossy or matte surfaces, and the memories sandwiched between the pages. Then there’s this guy and this girl who shouted HOLY FUCK ROBERT PATTINSON(!!!) which almost made me threw up while I was on my trance–the dive, I mean (or the swim, or the entire process). It kind of made me puke, really, on all the hardbounds and pocket books, as if I have seen the receiving end of the toilet–but I’m too polite to even do that. The two of them went straight to the cashier and bought the magazine they’ve found with the Twilight cast on it. With pride stenciled on their faces.

You know what I did?

You know what a delusional wizard kid does to those vampire fans?

I got out of my weekend dive and ran after them, before they even got out of the bookstore. I grabbed their shoulders to stop them, pivot of my foot to swing me 180 degrees to face them, and muttered at them, secretly, with my wand in my shirt pocket (I’m not allowed to wear a cloak–I’m in the Muggle world), the spell Sectumsempra. The vampire fans bled to death, writhed in pain. As a finishing move, I snapped my wand into two and gave each of them a piece. While dying.

And then I thought, while writing this flash fiction or whatever-you-call-it five minutes ago, that I must be a Harry Potter… fan (but that’s an overstatement!). A friend texted me, upon my madness while reading the last book (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows) last week, that I’m Harry Fatter (no kidding; I felt weird with that text message since I received it out of nowhere), probably another lousy version of the hero. I Imperiused her for a day to trim her nails until it bled, and forced her to eat pickles.

(I’m no good in writing the fun out of things. I should be on the emo side.)

The book gave me a hangover with magic that I fucking dreamt about having magic, with wizarding skills and all! Just for one night, really, but it seemed real that I wouldn’t doubt if I even tried to find the broomstick I used in flying (Accio Firebolt!).

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Happy New Year, guys! I really hope I would be blogging more often this year, and hope my readers are still…. there. I’ll be doing a Project 365, hopefully sponsored by my sister (she should renew my Flickr Pro account), but it’s still tentative as of the moment.

It’s 1:31 AM. I bought packs of Kinder Bueno!!!

I should be celebrating my four fucking years of blogging this 20th, but it’s nothing really special. (See last year’s post here, though it’s really stupid.) I’m doing this post for the sake of reminding myself. Plus for the sake of celebrating something, or anything.

Thanks for my readers. Without these guys, well, I wouldn’t be here I wouldn’t have this drive to blog, to write crappy short stories, to share what’s going on. I don’t really want to call you guys as cheesy as “the receiving end of my breather” or whatever, but you guys! Just thanks. A lot. For even bothering to read.

Changed some of my category names! Morphed them into something informal, since I think “past is fucking past” among other loser categories are just worth the *facepalm*. (They also have a hover caption, or whatever you call it.)

Show a damn! :) Testimonials, comments, booty calls, even poems or short story ideas. Or even the most boring webcam pic (fansite?). A Jonathan Safran Foer e-book is much appreciated.

First, I’ve changed my theme! I’ve been finding a nice theme since Thursday; it’s quite a rarity to find something really minimalist lately. Thanks to Derek Powazek for DePo Clean theme. [Just a thought: my past themes are made by Derek Punsalan. Are all the Dereks in the world do creative stuff?]

Last night, I indulged myself in a drinking spree and, after downing a second round of brandy (my request, actually), I miraculously got drunk! The happiness! I’ve been telling my friends these days that I’m wishing to be drunk–oh, if only my silver-meshed liver could give up.

This morning I had a slight headache. We had four movies today: Frozen River, The Boy In Striped Pyjamas, Burn After Reading and Donnie Darko. All of them are good! I’d probably post a handful of movie reviews by tomorrow.

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I’ve been meaning to tell this for days. Someone named Weng (hello there!) posted a comment on my love letter post. It reads:

I’ve been reading blogs for about a year now. I don’t have one of my own. I just blog-hop (is that what [sic] u call it?) Yours is one that I always look forward to. And let me just say that I have never ever left a message or comment to any other blog no matter how good the material was or how touched I was or how compelling the message was or how controversial the issue was, except this time. I don’t know why but I would just like to tell you that it’s such a waste of an impressive attempt if there’s nobody to offer it to. Well, maybe you’re just talented that way.

I have to say this made my week. It flattered the hell out of me, really. It’s nice to know there still are people who anticipate for my next blog post (warn me if “anticipate” is too much a word)! Wow.

That must be painful for them reading shitty posts every now and then. Still, thanks!

We have internet here at the apartment, and though we’ve spent three thousand pesos for this I still think it’s good, though not that fair. But at least I’ll be blogging more often than usual. :D

But you know what? I’m scared. This is so potent to be a distraction.