By: Iris P. Concepcion
Suddenly: the drift off the coast. I saw one tricycle turned over by strong winds. It was a mini-tsunami with a megman's touch.
I still do not trust the telephone lines. We do the walk and find some sharp fang on posters.
I was hoping that some exaggerations could attain their full potentials. The typhoon did cloud the Metro but I was struck by this aftermath: the pavements were so clean the day after. I imagined hobbits digging up the canals, bringing some broomsticks in the middle of the night while everyone fell asleep over the cold temperatures of bedrooms. Hobbits walked silently, touching their beards that fell to the ground, sweeping the dirt in nods, occasionally picking here and there some residues of junk food stuck in their long nails, muttering the humping words: tsk-tsk-tsk. Errrrrrr, tsk, tsk, tsk, because they are little people.
PAG-ASA was doing something good finally, and it is not just selling some of its immobile scraps to buyers. They truly know the terrain of rains this time around.
I have seen some shrunk faces when the dreaded cyclones of fear did not happen: they really wanted some macabre outcome this time (I do not understand their thirst for the worst) but on hindsight, the fear factor was a dud just like its secular followers.
Anyhow: an impassioned kibitzer and commentator that could not find anything right with the current administration had at least credited some silent heroes working funnily underground boohhh-ing the rains to stop. It even crawled in churches. One song was composed: We fear not the storms of heaven: God the Father will make sure it is above the catastrophe. Well, not exactly the words. I am not lyrical in the context of a Canseco but I finally understood a segment of societal malaise that I had bought, tooth, line and sinker in the past.
I did not believe some people could float fear to bilk off from this writing and verbal conditioning. Now that the goofy swordsmen are manning the streets and air, everything went upside down.
Also, there is breakthrough education on television right now. Especially the drama series illuminating some acting highlights. Best comedy in the universe. I was very impressed with my throaty laughs after: I saw the worst actor in the galaxy and I could not help asking why he was given a spot in that creative continent while a real actor (a kid am throwing daggers with) is with me, making an Oscar trophy out of everyday life.
A teaser on the film La ragazza del lago went this way:
"It is eight-o clock in the morning when Marta, biting a doughnut, is returning home after having slept at her aunt's house."
The sentence stopped being spectacular after the word doughnut. It is a funny sentence. It is crass, out-of-synch, terrible and overtly delicious. I mean, this is funny.
I think I would like to scribble a movie synopsis along the lines of this recent Keynesian film product:
"She batted her eyelash while holding her spinal column dredged in bandage, at a wigwam (a Monopoly-like board game) that is built like a pyramid. She thought it was him."
I think I did better. Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehe.
Children of the corn, stay away from your Mom. She is bad news to your grammar.
Readers: I will not tell you where I bought my out-of-this-world sansrival. My God. Could it rival your prattling jewelry in fulfillment-content.
Ask me where to get it when you pass by this writer, even in some gutter's paradise.