Crapulous! It’s not a word yet but just saying it out loud to describe what deadlines mean to me can be powerful. Crapulous! Like a spell HP would use to conquer sloth and procrastination. On hindsight, it sounds much like the opposite. Like something you say in the john to eliminate hard poo.
But yes, crapulous sounds better than crapola!
Doesn’t change the fact that I have papers to write. The thought of them looms over me and it also occurs to me that I am the happiest I’ve been since declaring my default mode as “sad”. Sorry Chard, I think I’m happy by default.But stressed-happy, I guess. I have work pending and lots of pent-up ideas and stories to set ablaze. I just can’t seem to figure out where to start.
Do you know that the first line of Fahrenheit 451 goes: It was a pleasure to burn? This is by far the most amazing first line. And also, did you know that there’s been threats of excommunication going around in Manila lately because a local tour guide went costumey as the National Hero and held up a sign that slapped many priests in the face? Something is bound to burn in this city of mine and the more I look into these dystopic fictions, the more real my world seems to become. It’s strange.
Did you also know that Ray Bradbury had affairs? This broke my heart a bit because he’s my hero and one true love. But still, I guess he had to be human to afford this imperfect love of mine. I just can’t wrap my fingers around it, you know? The man was almost perfect but now he’s even more so. I just wish he hadn’t said that he had extra-marital affairs because then my inner self begins to mimic the dinosaur he let loose in the Fog Horn. I suddenly am allowed to tap into these immoral digressions, this space where it’s okay to look at a married man with longing and dream of him with passion. Why did Ray have to make it okay?
Crapulous! Time to write and make sense of this all. Hmm, perhaps there could be a way to assemble the photos of last weekend into a post of sorts. It was a truly awesome week. Just sort of bummed over this school pride which i don’t seem to have too much of. Went to a bonfire as a bonfire baby/virgin and emerged rather bummed. They say the first time is always bad and there must be a reason for that. I wish I took photos though. It would have been nice to capture the “private” lechons and all that stored testosterone that makes nights like that semin-synonymous with trouble. I mean it. The school was an ashtray for a night and I’m pretty sure someone got laid that night. I just wonder if they got caught.
Ugh. Digression. Time to work.