Ihateitwhenidreamaboutzombies

Zombies. I have been dreaming about those undead lately. Last night I woke up with a start when I dreamt about zombies in our neighborhood (specifically Tramo St) chasing me because of my magic shoes. My body clock says it’s 4am. Don’t ask me how I know. I just know. I tried to sleep again and forced my mind into happier and pleasant things. It settled on a dream about me dancing Usher’s Yeah in Dance Central 2. I feel exalted because I’m nearing 5 stars and following the routine perfectly and well, because this is my dream. But then suddenly, before the last part, the music started shifting to the beats of Michael Jackson’s Thriller. Thisiscrazyshit I tell you. Thefuckingzombieswontleave me. I find myself suddenly inside the hospital tied on a bed. Supposedly, like Inception it was a dream within a dream and I was dreaming of dancing while I’m tied into a CT scan something.

Next thing I knew, I was struggling because the doctor was a zombie bent on eating my brains. I ran again with my magic shoes that makes me run exactly at 6.1 seconds per 100 meter, but found out that it’s the shoes that draws them into me and I have to untie the shoestrings to break the spell.

Then my cellphone/alarm clocked turned off and I have to reach it to snooze. I pressed a button and was momentarily blinded by the screen. I wanted to “snooze” again but the freaking light woke me up.

Long Time No Post. So Here's Something to Keep us Running

I am playing John Legend's Evolver album in my iPod in the loop for almost a day now. His album is sooooo addictive I think I'm turning gay overnight.

And I used to be industrialspeedmetalprogressivepunk rockerboy with a peace sign and a beer on my hand, and Ayn Rand book with an attitude.

I borrowed a DVD from the library, and I don't know what came into my mind when I took it. For once I thought I'd see a bollywood film that is not a musical production given that the main actor is English. Fat chance.

Now, I'm not really a bollywood watching kinda guy, but I'd watch any movie with Aishwara Rai. She's the only indian actor I know, and yeah, Amitab Bachman (who doesn't know Amitab Bachman anyway?) There is something really special with Indian actors really, specially the Men. They can act, do action movies, dance and sing -- in falsetto mind you. I wanted to go to India someday and I'm wondering if people will actually spontaneously break into a dance number. Flash mobbed in India -Dude that will be an experience of a life time. 

Jai ho!

Having a Japanese Friend is the Closest to Being One

I wish I have a Japanese friend. So far I've only met and almost talked to one, Yusuke, during a lomo photowalk. I talked to him once while crossing the street and joked about being the same name as Ghost Fighter's main protagonist and all I got was a dumb stare. Like "who-the-hell-are-you-talking-about" look. But I later learned he can't just cant really understand english. For all the hightech gadgetry and badassery when it comes to technology, apparently his mind was running like a 512mb modem when it comes to language.

So I left him alone, with his green Diana looking serious, sporting that Samurai look. I wanted to befriend him, but I guess that's not happening. Why is it so hard to do that these days without sounding like a complete retard?

Anyway, I finished re-reading The Train Man again for the nth time and it never fails to make me smirk everytime i see the typography characters.

Let me share you some.

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    |      -- macho man
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( \\     -- ocho ocho man!
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Signal Man! My Superhero Name

Today I have a strange super power. Everytime I stare at my phone, it's either I will receive a call at that very moment or a text message from someone. EVERYTIME.
My worry is I may not be able to handle the responsibilities that comes along with this power. And I have a tendency to break like a bird sometimes.
Should I make my own tight costume? Or should I mingle with mortals?
The stress is just killing me-

Also, I can't think of a better title for this post 0_0

Fark Pork!

I once had a chat with my across-the-door-neighbor Rashid in the stairway while secretly sipping coffee, secretly because its the Holy Month of Ramadan and nobody wants to get caught with food and drinks stuffed in our mouth during this time or face an unholy consequence.

Anyway Rashid is a complete retard and full of shit because he told me that in order to cleanse my body and soul, I need to stay away from meat and consume only vegetables and tea. I told him that its such a stupid thing to say that even Gandhi will probably wake up from his grave and slap him seven times so he'll achieve an instant Nirvana. 


I further disputed him by implying that pork is sooo delicious it will give him the tranquility and limitless experience of enlightened mind that he's searching. He told me he opposes any violence against animals, I told him its fine, pigs are aware that they are being fed to be violated and be serve as Barbecued Pork Ribs with Chili Sauce Glaze. They will die fulfilled and satisfied if they served their purpose in life. He told me I'm crazy and I can go fuck myself. I told him I will.


This is not a post against vegetarians nor racial and religious discrimanation, but a post about a man wanting his meat and being told that he will go to hell because of it. 


PS. Just so you know, Rashid's breath stinks with curry, works at a construction site at the Marina district and constantly boasting his supposedly 7inch penis in every conversation and the number of Pinay from Lucky Plaza he supposedly banged with it.