Tool Box

My childhood deliriums haunt me as my heart races.

I’ve never been up this early since High school.

Can’t Breathe. Can’t sleep.

I’m never drinking again.

For a time though.

Funeral For A Friend’s Acoustic Version of Juneau is a masterpiece, a third sequel to the videos "Bullet Theory" and "You want Romance" starring the faceless couples (See picture, left).

Such a sweet song, accompanied by boredom, "conjured" my fingers to work on the previous blog post’s drawing (the girl).

Cute ang drawing sa? Aw sketch diay. Aw drawing lagi.

I made that out of boredom. There are a lot of scramblings all-over that page.

The "poem-thingie" sounds pornographic. EWWW.

The drawing is independent from the poem. They weren’t intended for each other, actually. I just thought they look and sound good together.

At the moment my will is breaking and I just don’t seem to have the effort of editing something. My computer refuses to cooperate no matter how hard i wrestle with the mouse. Oh well, I might as well soak myself in the rain again.

Seeing that graceful escape,

I provoked the twilight against my conscience.

Let’s not stay in this tango long enough,

I can’t stand to see those eyes watch me drown in your bitter-sweet drug.

Let’s end this game either,

I can’t hold on to my card any longer.

My will is breaking…

Instead of me, making a sculpture of my "feelings", it turned out that the sculpture was somehow anticipating me to imitate him, mocking me in that sense.

Every attempt i make to conceal my violent tendencies ends up exposing my insanity. Am i really?

Show me the scale from which they measure insanity, and if i qualify, i will gladly submit myself to the king of fools.

I find it hard to define October 10, 2005 with just one word.

Waking up wouldn’t have been that bad if the plaster of paris i tried to dissolve the night before hardened already. I had to buy another batch, which was a bad thing since class would be starting in just 4 hours.

I decided to be late at class (Three hours late, that is) and finish the sculpture. I arrived at school 4 p.m. and found that noone was there to attend to me. Then I learned that projects that are to be submitted next week are given a grade of 3.0.

My sculpture is an avatar of the day’s anxiety, hate, mild insanity, fear, violence (I impulsively stabbed the damned thing with my dad’s swiss army knife) and inner self pacification .  So powerful that when i try to worry,i take a glance at it and I tend to lose that feeling of anxiety.

Should I burn it?

Maybe Jen would have it.

There’s one more project to go. My engineering paper’s crumpled and I’ve no idea how to neutralize it or whatever. I’ve done the design fundamental’s plate in less than 10 minutes. I won’t bother posting it here.

My digital camera’s batteries are lost. I’ve lost a pair before and now I’m down to ONE battery. Effin’ dwarves.

I feel that I’m not writing the way I used to. I write cheesier already. I should start reading books again. F*cking course.

Jen’s right. I’ve created a monster. Halaaa.

(Shudder).

I won’t attend tomorrow’s Art History class. I haven’t made the MOSAIC for that greek art plate. I haven’t compiled my plates. I haven’t printed my research about greek buildings yet.

GREEK WITHOUT THE "R".

I’m itchy all-over. I get itchy when i’m tense. I’m tense when I’m itchy.

Here’s a line from Waking Up, a Funeral For A Friend song, substituting the word "walk" with "scratch":

"And will this ever end? I’m tired of all this scratching. And If this never ends, I’ll scratch until my back is bleeding…"

Yes.

I’m taking a bath.

Stupid Art History Class.

I hate mosaics. I’m not very good at crafts. I hate glue.

Yesterday’s field trip wouldn’t have been fun if it wasn’t for Nikki’s CD player.

The 3 groups (The art history classes of Mr. Sagayno and Ms. Canonigo) went to various museums in Cebu, Carcar, and Argao. Ugh. I forgot to bring some beach shorts / trunks. 

Carcar boasts of their BUTU and BILAT (BUgnaw TUbig, BIbingka`g LATik).

WE had free lunch at Argao. Somebody offered me a shot of GSM. That’s ONE.

In another hour, the groups were to leave for the TUBA factory. It smelled like GARBAGE JUICE.

We headed back to the Church in Argao where I didn’t bother going down the bus.

Though aware that there were a couple more students left in the bus, I was obliviously screaming my throat out, with the accompaniment of Nikki’s CD player. Juneau (Funeral For A Friend), Waking Up (Funeral For A Friend), Blood Clots and Black Holes (Thrice) were playing an endless loop until the batteries were dead.

We went back home at around 5. Fortunately, we bought a galon of TUBA earlier. I may have had the most shots. That’s TWO. The other busses were getting jealous of the party we had. Haha.

The busses halted for a "piss-stop". Of course, only the men dared pee on the roadside. Everyone in the bus were laughing at how i walked, I almost fell off the bus stairs. I was clearly a bit tipsy already.

Judel kicked me while we were relieving ourselves. That hurt.

We bought beer. But it was a bit short. That’s THREE. Mostly everyone in the bus wanted a shot of it. Even Lovely wanted some. We forced Ivy to have one, but she was too conservative to accept them. Hah.

The school nerd, Chryst, accepted the shot. Hahah. Everybody cheered.

Mr. Sagayno had his share too.

Funny. I’m supposed to be getting allergies right now. Getting red all over. Getting itchy. And most likely have a hang-over.

Wooh. IMMUNE NA KO. YIZ. I’m utterly happy to be normal again.

It could’ve been more fun if my sister hadn’t brought with her to Manila my camera.