Deadpan Diaries II

Dear Diary,

At this very moment, I am inside a bus homebound. Yes, I am mentally composing this entry because it’s 4:30 in the morning and 3 drunkards just got in the bus talking in some obsolete drunken language. 

In my semi-lucid consciousness, I started praying for dear life. Although, I do not create the slightest attraction easily, I fear and I mean my paranoia thinks that when it comes to drunks all is fair in love and war.

So yes, let us resume with the entry and the hail marys. I am sitting in front of these 3 drunkards trying not to eavesdrop and to look inconspicuous. However, the less I try to drew attention the results becomes otherwise.

I noticed one slightly turned his back and look at me and started saying some inaudible and incoherent  phrases to his drunk comrades. And then they laughed and teased each other like fucking hyenas. Meantime, I tried my mean-construction-worker-look and tried to act tough, with matching clenched fist. Yes, I learned that from watching some kung fu movies.

In this case, diary my mind is trying it’s hardest to plan for my escape in the event that this drunkards pull off any devious act. You see diary, I have this love-hate relationship with commuting. I like the fact that I am learning the ways and routes of the metro even in the wee hours and that I haven’t felt the urge to hoard unleaded gasoline because of the oil price hikes and what not. However, when it comes to safety and convenience, the idea of driving or eventually becoming a mutant and fly comes to mind. Now, if I were I mutant, I would be MAGNETA (Oh yes, what a rip off) and I will hurl cars and all sorts of vehicles out of my way because that’s just how I roll (pun intended).

And while we are on the subject of love-and-hate, the season of love and hating is here again. Christmas gives me all sorts of nostalgic feeling of home,  of endless sales, of massive people on streets, and gift wrappers scattered on the floor. Oh, hey It’s Scrooge talking here. Yes, once a year I play that part where I take my brooding to the next level. And in this particular season when all are really busy repairing their homes and restoring their lives because of the  triple threat typhoons or trying to look for a safe place to crash and burn. I don’t know how I’ll be able to  get pass the brooding every Christmas or whenever there’s a holiday. I juse feel like staying inside my own personal space and read my basic spanish grammar book or “think” of Johnny Depp.

Oh, diary I am exhausted and filthy and about to get off a bus ride from the north. Yes, I happen to make it out alive only because me and Johnny Depp have a lot of “thinking” to do. Happy happy joyjoy time. 

I shall wallow in my sweet imaginary sanctuary because tomorrow is another day and another chance to screw with the world. 

Until next,

J