I'm Very Chatty
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
+ I'm looking for a 1-bedroom/studio type apartment in the QC-Diliman area for around 5K. Help a homeless harlot out!
+ My short story "Hunters" is out in this week's Philippines Free Press
+ That is all.
posted by marguerite @ 7:59 AM
Friday, March 20, 2009
In my long-standing tradition to rehash piddling opinions about me, I would just like to announce that a tricycle ride and my mortality have, yet again, held hands pa-sway-sway pa. Kind of. Some people are convinced that I’m going to die in either a taxi or a tricycle and, considering that their opinions are based on my eerily consistent ability to be physically injured/verbally molested by drivers of said vehicles, I’m sure as hell convinced of that, too. Last night added a new dimension to my fatal affair with The Commute. Kind of.
I hit my head fucking hard on a trike’s ceiling (?) yesterday. Was on my way to EDSA Central when the driver decided to take a speed bump on like a motocross moron. Just made the trike fly in the air ‘cause it’s like, you know, astig. Because I do not normally ride tricycles with 50-pound bags of grain tied to my ankles, my head slammed against the trike’s ceiling (?) so hard, I felt an intense rush of blood to the head not unlike the one you get when you fall down a flight of stairs. There was a bit of smarting and wooziness for a while, but it died down after a few minutes. No bumps, no bleeding.
So what’s the deal? Why have I suddenly resurrected my blogging habit after a month of happy silence to do some long-winded narrative on an untog? And why can’t I just get straight to the point in any of my entries instead of paving my hell-bound road with adjectives?
The latter, I don’t want to answer ‘cause it’s like, you know, astig. As for the former, well, ever since Natasha Richardson’s freakish untog of a death, I would like to think that I have every right to be paranoid. It’s been almost 24 hours since the big, bad bump, though, and my normal bodily functions have yet to be hindered by any mouth-frothing or speaking in tongues. In fact, seconds after the bump, I started asking myself standard me-specific questions such as Quick! Where are you headed tonight?
and Quick! What’s your password to the company e-mail?
and Quick! Remember that thwarted Chuck Bass sex dream a few nights ago? Where did you almost do it?
, and I think I answered them quickly and accurately enough. And I have been able to get my ass to the office all the same today. It’s just that I still think there’s the eensy weensy chance that medics will find me face down in my plate of Mexican later tonight.
Let’s just hope for the best. Or, fine, at least I will. But just in case I do conk out for real, it was Trike # 43, part of the fleet of lime green trikes allowed to bring Kapitolyans to EDSA Central, and it happened yesterday, March 19, at around 5:10 in the afternoon. And the driver? Well, I never really got a good look at him. I don’t have time to look people in the eye when I’m busy formulating links between myself and sufficiently successful dead actresses as blog content. Timely
blog content. I should get a medal.
posted by marguerite @ 12:43 PM