Sunday, April 24, 2011

I Want You To Do This With Your Tongue

I don't usually get to talk to anyone these days, unlike in the past three years when you only need to bring a pack of MSD to the callroom and everyone would chat away and there would be loads of stories to embellish and blog about. Even Uni-Horned Beef Jerky Alanis Whore, whose cubicle (yes, cubicle, not clinic desk or anything, but cubicle, because we are soul-less automatons) is just beside mine, rarely gets to make kwento. In many instances when we get a chance the opening line would be something like this, "May kwento nga pala ako, nakakatawa, four days ago.... pero four days ago pa yun, di na relevant ngayon." Hence instead of stories I have sound bites, yes, sound bites, so here are my top sound bites of the recent weeks. Most of them are of the nega variety, so if you have positive sound bites of the Coelho sorts throw them in.

On ennui and pagmamabagal
"Kakapasok ko lang din. Wala na talaga ako gana. Beyond toys and gadgets na ang kalungkutan ko."
-Uni-Horned Beef Jerky Alanis Whore

On poverty and subverting Wow Ulam-ing
"May sweet sour meatballs dito sa Jollibee. 39 pesos. It's da best. Aabot hanggang friday, one ball a day."
-Suka All Over

On death, multi-organ failure, and intubation
-Hurricane Katrina

On solitude
"Gusto ko na mag-resign. I'm slowly dying. I'm becoming a Una-bomber."
- Callistus Netromedev

On failed attempt at de-uglification
"Uy nagpagupit ka na! Nagpagupit din si Moriarty."
-Marth V.

On poverty
"Huuuunggggh huuuuuunggggh HUUUUUUUNGH.... WALA NA KO PERA!!!!"

Yes, quotables that are quite fertile for hours of conversation, debate, and collective annoyance, yet the hurly burly of things prevent any follow-up whatsoever, in fact most of them were either received as text messages or overheard in the hospital. I no longer have healthy interactions. I need a conversation whore.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Moriarty. Gaaaaaah!

When asked recently why I wouldn't cut my damn hair off I've thought of two new reasons to add to the multitude of excuses that have accumulated through the years much to the major karindihan of everyone. "Among other contributions, it's yet another one of my contributions to ugliness," is one. Another is "I'm poor." Looking back these were some of my quips, which were just excuses to the one pervading theme in my life: laziness. Nakakatamad naman talaga magpagupit e.

1. I should revel in its shagginess because in a few years I'll get bald.
2. It protects my head from the rain.
3. Long hair prevents cancer and atrial fibrillation (kids, not true).
4. I'm still having hang-ups from the forced siete I got in ROTC.
5. It looks great and shiny and flowy doesn't it.

This time, though, the poverty excuse is not exactly untrue, because when you start surveying the price of Wow Ulam and you start fearing you'll have beri-beri and rickets you can safely say that you are in the financial dumps. For months I've remained unfazed at everyone's stares at my hair which has been growing exponentially taller by the day, until who should accost me as I was writing in a patient's chart but the fellow-costumed clean-cut Marth V.

"Cut your hair. You're starting to look like Moriarty," Marth said. Moriarty being another person who does rounds in the pay floors.
"GAAAAAAAH!" I screamed in my head. For two seconds. It's just one of the things I could shake off, like my recurrent abdominal pains which I suspect are from some cancer, recurrent palpitations which I suspect are from some cancer, and recurrent headaches which I suspect are from cancer.

It was a few minutes later that Smoketh chanced upon me in COOP surveying for the cheapest food in the menu. "I'll treat you to COOP lunch," she said. I said no, she insisted, and after three rounds of dancing around I finally said "Okay I'll have fried pork chop and a coke light thank God I saw you I was about to be contented with a pack of cornik!"

"By the way," I started telling Smoketh while we were falling in line, "I don't usually get affected when people tell me I'm ugly and that I should cut my hair, but when Marth V saw me this morning he told me that I'm starting to look like...."

"MORIARTY?!?" Smoketh said.

Friday, April 8, 2011

At Around This Time: Five Years Ago

Because they said you shouldn't forget. I don't know who said it or if it's even real, it's just the sort of thing someone would say in a B-movie or B-book or B-comic book. Speaking of B-comic books, have just been catching up on the DC title The Outsiders as written by Dan Didio. Now that's a B-comic book, made more B by the new character--the red-skinned villain Freight Train!!!! In any case forgetting is, most of the time, not a matter of should and should not--because right, as if we have a choice in the matter. No psychotherapy, for instance, would make me forget Alex Z chokeholding Callistus back in grade 6 which caused copious amounts of uhog to make talsik from Callistus' nose.

And so in a manner of flashback-flashforward motion with no sepiafication effect but with a loud swooshing sound because I always like to imagine that I'm a character in Lost, we begin with:

Five Years Ago: Doing MICU endorsement rounds, as interns. I was not listening most of the time, because we were too busy watching our blockmate Plocky aerating his armpits by making sabit his arms on the curtain bar thingie in front of each bed, with the full blast of aircon shooting directly to his armpits. At one point he forgot that it wasn't a monkey bar and pulled the whole thing down, which is quite long as the curtain bar spans all ten beds--the entire ICU, essentially. This mishap would have made history, except that it was immediately bumped off from many people's memory by the curious incident of the leg falling through the floor and into the ceiling of the isolation room the following year. The ICU endorsements were loooong, and I swore then that if I would be the one to conduct them I would cut the damn thing short. I discovered two methods how to do it: 1) Force everyone to present in haiku, which no student really took seriously. So I resorted to 2) Escape. Let Aids facilitate the endorsement, and escape.

To be continued. Next: Twenty Years Into The Future!