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Hi all!

I am relocating.

My new abode: mouthpieceofthedead.blogdrive.com

A 20-August-2005 Thought

Most of the time, when you've kept pushing on and you've grown tired, you gotta rest. Other times, you just got to wake up.

Carrion

"My feel for you boy... is decaying in front of me... like the carrion of a murdered prey...."

Can't get the song out of my head. All day I thought, I'm done. Enough already. The waiting is almost over... Fiona Apple is releasing her third album.

I guess music gets me more excited than people do.

So long, cocksuckers! (I really feel like cursing today.)

"Hunger hurts... and I want him so bad oh it kills 'cuz I know I'm a mess and he don't wanna clean up..."

What's Up?

Hi. As you might have noticed already I am not an avid blogger. Not as avid as I would have wanted. See, I plan to be an emotional nudist, like most artists before me that I adore. Unfortunately I am not an artist. I am a call center agent, an outsourced factory worker, screwed up in every faculty because there is no other choice but to be screwed -- sideways, doggie style, you name it!

I just thought I'd drop by -- to check if you've bothered to drop by as well -- and explain why the header above is no longer showing. See, I have uploaded that image to my webspace -- the URL of which I cannot disclose as of yet, which you might figure out yourself if you've enough Internet experience -- and my account has been suspended due to non-payment. I have not paid for it for two billing cycles straight. Because what's the point, anyway? I have not made any progress on that website for seven months (or even more). That's five months already of wasted money.

I shall be able to start working on that site again, though, once I get to buy a new computer. See, my computer is too slow... running on 32MB RAM and all that. I cannot even write because of this computer. Too slow for my fast typing fingers, and my even faster mind (which these days has been slower than a worm, though.)

So I guess I'm just dropping by to see if any one of you could help me buy a new computer... a laptop, most ideally, so I can sign up for Wi-Fi and work on my site (or write my adult novel) at some Wi-Fi HotZone like Mango Square or Ayala Entertainment Center.

I guess 80K will do. I might even consider whoring for you.

Text me if you're in the Philippines at 09179226987.

Or send me an email: rye_glass@hotmail.com

Thank you in advance! =)

Nah... I'm really just interested in meeting like-minded correspondents. Good luck!

Breaking Point

short fiction

A WRITING ON the wall facing her said: Rufus Hidalgo, I love your cock!

Amanda laughed aloud. Girls rarely admit to loving some guy’s cock, especially girls her age, let alone write it on a wall. She was pretty certain, though, it was written by somebody her age, as older girls simply do not do silly things like write vulgar things on public restroom walls. Girls older than her are women, she thought.

She went out of the restroom and went back to their table with a nonchalant expression on her face. She intentioned herself to wear a nonchalant expression because she didn’t like the people she was hanging out with that night -- all except for Martha, who was her bestfriend, whom she considered a genuine person.

"So what did I miss?" she whispered to Martha as she sat down beside her. She took a stick from her pack of Marlboro Lights and lit it.

"Nothing," Martha retorted.

Amanda blew a fine trail of gray smoke and said, "Thought so."

"They’re always too young for me, even those who are a couple of years my senior," the girl opposite Amanda vented. She was the one who has been talking since Amanda got back from the restroom. The girl was talking to the two other boys that they were hanging out with.

"Who are?" Amanda asked the girl.

"Boys. Men. They’re all boys, really. They’re always too immature for their own good."

The two boys they were with gave their flirty don’t-be-unfair and not-all-boys-are-boys responses to the girl. The girl gave an amused expression.

Amanda smiled to herself. "Relationships and all that horseshit, huh?" she whispered to Martha.

Martha gave a subtle nod.

"They can’t handle you? Or you find it hard handling them?" Amanda said to the girl. Only Martha was able to note the sarcasm Amanda was throwing.

"Both. Cause-and-effect, if you know what I mean."

Amanda nodded and inhaled from her cigarette. "I’ll always know what you fuckin’ mean."

"How many times have you been in a relationship, What’s Your Name Again?" the girl asked Amanda in a caustic tone. Apparently, the girl was able to note Amanda’s sarcasm this time.

"The name’s Amanda," she answered brusquely. Suddenly Amanda was furious -- not because the girl forgot her name fifteen minutes after being introduced to each other but because of the question that was thrown at her. "And I have never romantically attached myself to anyone."

The girl gave a condescending nod.

Amanda stared at the girl. "Not everyone’s like you," she said incisively, which silenced everyone at the table.

The girl shrugged haughtily.

Amanda wondered why she had stayed on, even at the very moment when she saw the two guys and the girl step down the jeepney. Martha had described them to her earlier as "goddamned posers." Brian, a tall-dark sort, who was almost handsome, was decent enough, except that he, as Amanda had noted, had kept on smiling as though he were high on drugs, and had kept on treating all the girls with annoying chivalry. Antonio, the tall-skinny-fair type, whom Martha has somewhat of a crush on, was okay, except that Amanda knew he was "typical male" in that he is completely dense about girls’ feelings, and that he was sadly an untalented architect-wannabe. And then, of course, Venus, the girl who claims to have outgrown all the boys in the world, whose relationship with the two boys and the reason why she was with them that night will always be a mystery to Amanda. Amanda felt that she should have acted on what she felt was coming the moment she saw Brian and Antonio and Venus step down the jeepney.

"Hey, Ton, is your girlfriend coming or not?" Martha broke the growing silence.

"Don’t think so. It’s their prelim," Antonio answered Martha.

Martha nodded.

Amanda looked at Martha. "You fuckin’ loser," she said under her breath. She couldn’t understand why Martha was still working hard to get Antonio back into bed. Martha had told her it only shook her a little when she found out he has a girlfriend, and at the end of the day Antonio was a great lay, and she wanted to do it with him again. Amanda wondered what sort of good lay promised beneath that terrifically empty-headed disposition. Antonio is obviously empty-headed, Amanda thought, because of his choice of friends -- Brian is so bland he is invisible, and Venus is delusional. Amanda also wondered why it is always that much work for her to like anyone. Her thoughts also wandered off to Zed, the guy whom she has always referred to as her quasi-boyfriend, and why the hell she was having ambivalent feelings toward him.

"Are you all right?" Martha asked her mechanically, drinking on beer from a plastic cup.

"I’m always all right," she retorted.

"Zacharias David!" Martha hollered right in front of Amanda’s ear, which startled the latter.

"What the fuck!" Amanda taxed as she massaged her middle ear with her pinky finger. She looked to her right after a guy’s voice boomed "Hey!" from a considerable distance. A pleasant-looking guy her age was approaching their table with a smile, to which Amanda didn’t bother reciprocate. "Hello, Zed," she greeted dryly as soon as the guy got to where they were.

"Hi, Amanda." Zed patted her on the shoulder. "And Martha," he nodded to Martha. He grabbed a stool from the next table and seated himself. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Drinking, obviously," Amanda replied with unfounded sarcasm.

Zed grinned. "Just so you know," he started, "I came here for myself. I didn’t know you were going to be here. I’m not dogging you around, if that’s what you think."

"I never fuckin’ said you were dogging me around," said Amanda. She noticed that everyone at the table was looking at her. She took the pitcher and poured beer into the plastic cup that Martha had drank from. "Your turn," she said to Brian as she placed the cup in front of him. She turned to Zed. "That’s Brian, Venus, and Antonio." Then she turned to the three. "Zacharias David. People call him Zed."

Zed exchanged nods with the three. He turned to Amanda. "Why do you always have to be rude to me in public?" he whispered.

Amanda hesitated for a second, then she said, "Because you fuckin’ annoy me."

Zed looked down and stayed quiet. At that moment he was just coming up with a perfect way to exit.

Amanda absently fingered through inside a bag Piattos then masticated on a mouthful of chips. "You know what?" she said in a little while. "Let’s just go."

"What do you mean, let’s just go?" Zed, still looking down, said with a hard expression on his face.

"To your place."

Zed heaved a sigh and stared at Amanda long and hard. "Okay," he said almost inaudibly.

Amanda addressed to the circle that she and Zed were leaving. She smiled and nodded to Martha, as though mentally telling her something only the two of them could understand. Before Amanda turned to leave she heard Venus whisper to Antonio "I thought she doesn’t have a boyfriend." Martha also heard it and took it upon herself to say cheerily "That’s her quasi-boyfriend." Amanda corrected it by saying Zed is just her fuck puppet. Zed, already standing a few feet away, pretended not to have heard.

---

While Zed was unlocking the door to his pad, Amanda was rubbing his crotch. "You know what we could try?" Amanda whispered in the dark. "That erotic asphyxiation thing I read from somewhere. It’s supposed to heighten the orgasmic experience."

"Uh-huh," Zed retorted without much zeal. The door knob made a clicking sound and Zed opened the door. "You want me to strangle you while we both have our orgasm?"

Amanda knotted an eyebrow. "Who fuckin’ died and made you an asshole?" She got in the pad after him and grabbed a monobloc chair and sat down. Zed sat on the bed. They sat facing each other. Amanda thought the moonlight shining through the opened window gave the room a sensual ambiance.

"Amanda..." he said. "Do you really see me as just your fuck puppet?"

"Well, aren’t you?" Amanda walked towards him then knelt. "I pull one string and you’re hard." She unzipped his pants and pulled his penis out.

"Stop this!" Zed stood up and put his semi-tumescent penis back in his pants. Amanda sat on the bed as she heaved a deep sigh. Zed, towering over her, stared at her expressionless face, dappled by shadows of the foliage outside the window.

Amanda started laughing. "Are you crying?"

Zed didn’t answer. He sat beside her and stared at some universe in front of him.

"Stop crying, you homo!" she said, still laughing.

Zed craned his neck to face her. "I really don’t like it when you treat me like I’m not good enough for you in front of your friends."

Amanda didn’t say anything for a long time. She couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty. She cleared her throat then said, "You want me to leave right now?" Zed did not answer. Amanda waited for a couple of minutes before standing up. She slowly made her way to the door. As she was about to turn the knob, she felt a hand jerking her hip so she could turn and almost in an instant she found herself locked in Zed’s arms. He kissed her deep in the mouth and she responded ravenously.

Minutes later, both of them were naked on the bed, making unintelligible noises, hands running all over each other’s body. Zed was on top of Amanda, going in and out of her in a rhythm that made her bite him on the shoulder. As they both headed their way towards the climax, with her hands squeezing his buttocks and his hands squeezing her breasts, she whispered to him, "Hold your breath."

"What?"

"Just hold your breath..."

Seconds later, they both moaned in each other’s ears and there was a split moment when everything could not be named. They started panting and gasping for air as though they were drowning.

"How was it?" Amanda whispered, playing with Zed’s sweaty nape.

Zed pushed himself up to look at Amanda in the eye. "Divine." Then he rolled on his back and rolled the condom off. He grabbed a towel then wiped himself. He handed another one to Amanda.

---

It was four o’clock in the morning and Amanda found herself unable to sleep. She rolled on her side and noticed that Zed has been asleep for minutes now. She ran her finger on the bite mark on Zed’s shoulder. She could not understand why but she felt an urge to kiss it. After much deliberation, she lightly touched her lips on the bite mark.

"What did you just do?" Zed rolled on his side to face her. He was holding back a smile that Amanda found annoying.

"You fucking annoy me," Amanda snapped. She sat up then started gathering her clothes from all over the room.

Zed was looking at her while she was putting her clothes back on. "Amanda, I know I don’t," he said.

"You don’t what?"

He sat up and reached for his underwear on the bedside table. "I know I don’t annoy you." He put his underwear on and stood in front of her.

Amanda laughed. "If you say so." Then she turned and left the room, closing the door behind her as quietly as possible.

Out in the streets, while waiting for a taxi, the wind was so cold that Amanda had to rub her hands in front of her face. She was startled to smell Zed on her fingers. "Oh, fuck it," she said to herself.

End.

The Spectator

For all I know there is no wind.
That these leaves hanging low before me
Are swaying on their own, as
If by choice they know

They can dance to the mere
Weather if they willed themselves
To freestyle as if
I wasn't watching.

A Dank Room

short fiction

The day she and her mother engaged in a fight on account of her acquisition of a pierced nose, Martha lost her virginity. It wasn’t just a fight, it was the fight of fights. Mrs. Tecson started by saying "What did I ever do to deserve this?" and Martha, smart-alecky towards her mother as always, said "You deserve everything." Then they went on with a raised-voice debate about the role of children toward their parents against the role of parents toward their children. It was Martha who seemed victorious in the end, as after she accused her mother of being a lousy parent -- saying that no mother should think her child owes her life to her, as no child ever asked to be born, especially that being born means enduring every hour in this horrible planet, and that she really shouldn’t try to dictate her actions, especially if such actions aren’t so harmful like getting one’s nose pierced -- her mother slouched in a chair and broke into quaking sobs. Martha immediately left upon seeing her mother cry and met with a guy named Ted Baylon.

The first thing one would notice about Ted is that, virile as he is, he is five feet and two inches tall. One could not immediately tell he is hunky and muscular and satisfactorily vain, because he is five-two, a midget, a bonsai of a man. Martha, unfortunately, happened to be physically attracted to the little guy. Nice physique and wheels, she had often told her friends.

They met at six in the evening, thirty minutes after Martha texted Ted about wanting some company, with the residue of Martha’s rage towards her mother still fresh in her that she would at intervals find herself balling her fingers to tight fists. They had KFC for dinner and, at Martha’s request, watched a Rated R movie after that. It was also her idea that they drive up to the mountains after the movie -- to watch the "city lights," she said.

Watching the "city lights" below them, at about ten-thirty or so, Martha marveled that for something bursting with all sorts of noise and movement, the city could be silenced by distance. "Up here," Martha thought, "cold and foggy as the mind of a furious young adult, are sexual beings. We could do all sorts of noise and movement here and my mother will not know of a single thing." Martha looked at Ted out of the corner of her eye and did not decide against "accidentally" brushing her fingers with his. Then, annihilating whatever it was that had stopped them from it, they kissed, freshly, awkwardly. Martha ran her fingers inside Ted’s shirt and whispered: "Let’s get inside the car."

---

"I’m not bleeding. Why am I not bleeding?" Martha said. She was sitting beside Ted at the back seat, blanketing her sweat-moist upper body with his shirt. It was her fourth tissue and she worried why she has not dabbed on even a little sign of blood. "And is semen really this slimy?"

"Yes, semen is that slimy," said Ted, pulling on his underwear. "And stop worrying why you aren’t bleeding. That is not unusual."

"How would you know? You’ve slept with a lot of virgins?" said Martha, putting her bra back on.

Ted jerked his head towards her and said flatly, "Eight out of the twelve of them were virgins, incidentally."

"So I was the eighth virgin?" Martha looked away, watching blankly the blue-black sky through the tinted car window to her right. She wondered where the ghosts of stratus clouds that had been thick earlier dissolved to.

"No, ninth. Nine out of thirteen." He tittered. "You’re lucky number thirteen!"

---

The bleeding came, in torrents, during Martha’s second time, with a guy named Antonio Perez on top of her.

"Is this your first time?" Antonio enquired, having noticed the flow of blood and Martha’s agonized expression. His thrusting had become slow and irregular, as though he was still deciding whether he should stop or not.

"Second time," Martha retorted in a whisper. "I thought this wouldn’t nearly hurt as bad as the first."

Antonio disengaged himself from Martha and rolled on his back.

"What’s the matter? You don’t want to anymore?" Martha sounded concerned.

Antonio ineptly stared at the ceiling. "You’re bleeding. I’ll go get a towel." He went to the bathroom and came back handing Martha a towel.

As soon as they were fully dressed, sitting on either side of the bed, an ear-splitting silence grew between them. Antonio interrupted it by asking, "Why don’t we have some coffee you and I?"

---

Antonio Perez and Martha Tecson were classmates during their first two years in college. In that supposedly sufficient amount of time they hadn’t managed to get close with each other, despite the fact that from afar, Antonio admired Martha. Martha had never bothered to give Antonio a proper glance. All she took Antonio for were the last-minute notes he lent her before exams. Martha hadn't even noticed right away that Antonio had transferred to another school in their third year.

A good observer can say that Antonio Perez and Ted Baylon are exact opposites, if one should actually care comparing the two. In height, Antonio towers a fantastic five-eleven. He doesn’t have a car. He is lighter-complexioned than Ted, but he doesn’t have the washboard abs nor the bulge of gym-developed biceps. He is slender and tight as a ballet dancer, and Martha hadn’t expected liking it upon seeing him out of his clothes.

Martha and Antonio had met that afternoon, at about one o’clock, in the mall. Martha was faring through a tight crowd that was mobbing a celebrity when Antonio flicked her on the back. "Hey!" he greeted, beaming a boyish smile.

"Hey!" Martha greeted back. "Long time!"

"Yeah. Long time. How are you?" At that point Antonio was pushed hard against Martha. They had gotten deep inside the crowd of hysterical Jericho Rosales fans.

"I’m great." Martha sniffed and was surprised to note that Antonio didn’t smell of anything, not of splash cologne, not even of sour sweat. He smelt like a baby. This gave Martha an idea. "Hey, would you like to get out of here and have some Quickly?"

---

"Do you really like him?" Antonio asked Martha. They had both gotten to his boarding house, finishing the Quickly that they took out earlier that afternoon. It was at Martha’s request that they both went to his boarding house -- to check out his plates, she said. Antonio has long aspired to become an architect, that is why he shifted from Med Tech to Architecture. Martha admired Antonio’s balls for having stood up to his parents to follow his dream.

"Who?" Martha asked back, leafing through his works. "Wow! Nice one," she said to herself, intentionally making it seem as if she were saying it to herself. She thought Antonio’s plates were awful.

"Echo."

Martha laughed out loud. "Hell no! I was there to spit in his face."

Antonio laughed back.

"Well, how about you? Why were you there? You’re an Echo fan, aren’t you?" Martha asked, mockingly, still pretending to be admiring leaf after leaf of Antonio’s plates.

"Hell no. I went there because I saw you."

"Really." Martha put the papers down and looked at him straight in the eye. She noticed he was much better-looking up close.

"Really." Antonio’s Adam’s apple slid up then down, accompanied by a faint sound of his gulp.

---

The afternoon they spent together at the coffee shop was one of the finest afternoons Martha spent with anybody -- that was how she described it in her journal. Martha felt she was the funniest girl in the world talking with Antonio. He was so responsive to her wits and he manifested it by stretching his lips -- lips reddened by the warmth of coffee -- to a heartening convex. Antonio’s smile was painfully wonderful to ogle at. The whole time Martha’s face felt ruddy and warm.

"Any chance we’re finishing what we started this afternoon?" Martha finally couldn’t help asking it. She figured whatever answer Antonio would give her wouldn’t devastate her in any way. She thought his smile would make up for anything.

"Maybe. But not too soon." Antonio smiled again. "You’re spellbinding, Martha. You’re different from all the other girls I’ve known."

Martha was at a loss for words.

---

"T’was fuckin’ corny and you fuckin’ bought it?" Amanda said, casually, to Martha, while blowing an elegant train of smoke. Martha’s friend always has this overflowing confidence in her that makes all the sentences she says seem to sound like "How you fuckin’ doing, brotha?"

"Well, I thought it was sweet. Nobody’s ever told me anything like it before."

The very next day that Martha hung out with Antonio and had her second time, she went to Amanda’s house. Amanda has always been Martha’s confidante, and Martha Amanda’s. Right away after Martha went home from having her first time with Ted, Martha called Amanda over the telephone. She confided that it wasn’t as ecstatically sensational as it was described to be, and that if anything, it was painful, and that it scared her that she didn’t bleed -- the sight of blood would have pleased her, as it indicated she has crossed that border. Amanda said that she didn’t bleed herself during her first time and convinced Martha that it’s going to get really good in time, and in no time she’ll be wanting it everyday, the way the former has been wanting it each day after her third time with her quasi-boyfriend.

"You’re fuckin’ crazy and you make me fuckin’ puke." Amanda said.

Martha absently stood up and went for the door.

"Where the fuck do you think you’re going?" said Amanda, irritated.

"I’m making peace with my mother." Martha gave a nun’s smile. "I haven’t spoken to her in three weeks," she said before she closed the door behind her.

---

Ice cream, that was how it felt like. Everything about the day felt like ice cream. It was sweltering hot, but all noon Martha felt like she has ice cream on her tongue. While everyone around her cussed about being sticky and uneasy, she thanked God for everything feeling like ice cream. The jeepney ride she took to get to Antonio’s boarding house felt like a sleigh ride, and she wondered why all the other passengers’ faces looked disfigured.

That morning, Martha woke up to Antonio’s text message saying that if she could, she might want to drop by his place so he could show her the new plates he made. Martha promptly replied by saying she was going to be there in a jiffy. She immediately showered and wore her favorite blouse and skirt and didn’t even breakfast. At twelve-thirty she was knocking on Antonio’s door.

"You look like you’re in a good mood," Antonio said as soon as he opened the door. He looked like he has just taken a bath, fresh and ready for anything.

"Shouldn’t I be?" Martha smiled and entered, affecting Antonio’s nose with Hugo Red as she passed. She sat on his bed. Only then did she notice that Antonio was in a foul mood. "Anything the matter?" she said affectionately.

He sat beside her, leaning forward and covering his eyes with his hand. "I didn't know it was going to be this hard."

She raised her hand and placed it on his back. Then her fingers went to his nape and started massaging him. "What’s going on?"

It took him a while before he raised his head to face her. His face was so close to hers that Martha thought it would be insane if they didn’t kiss.

Minutes later, Martha began to understand why Amanda had told her she was going to be wanting it everyday.

---

Her head was on his chest, her fingers playfully running on the smooth surface. Martha was spent, having felt sensation after unimaginable sensation. "So tell me what’s going on. Maybe I could help you out."

Antonio sighed. "I’ll be fine."

Martha raised her head and saw that Antonio was still at an emotional ebb. "Come on, Ton, you have to tell me."

Antonio only closed his eyes and shook his head.

She rested her head back on his chest and thought how difficult it was to penetrate into this guy. For a moment she felt like getting all hysterical to ask for his heart and soul. She laughed out loud, picturing how Amanda would righteously enunciate "You fuckin’ loser" to her. She raised her head again and saw that Antonio hadn’t heard her laugh, as he had fallen asleep. She kissed his nipple before dozing off herself.

---

They were both awakened by the sound of a cellphone ringing. Antonio jolted. It was his phone.

Martha sat up as Antonio answered his phone.

"Hi," he said in a weak voice.

Martha watched Antonio. His lips were starting to stretch back to that heartening convex, and in a little while he was full of life. "Yes, yes," he said. "Yes... Okay... Four o’clock... Okay... See ya." He hung up.

"My, my. Look who’s loving life now..." Martha said cheerily. She felt very pleased seeing Antonio looking happy.

Antonio couldn’t stop smiling. "I know, I know."

"Who was that then?"

"My girlfriend. She’s not mad at me anymore." He stood up, excitedly, and scampered around the room like a toddler in a playground. He started picking up their clothes, throwing at Martha hers and putting on his. "We should go now. I am meeting up with her in thirty minutes." He went to her and kissed her on the forehead. "Thanks for the wonderful time."

Martha smiled. She began to realize what an awful room it was that they were in. "This room’s pretty dank," she told him. "Small and dank."

"Huh?" Antonio looked at her, confounded.

"Is this what inspired you in making all those plates?" She gave him a nun’s smile.

Antonio only looked at her, devoid of any sort of apprehension.

"I’ll wait for you outside, okay?" she said. She stood up and left the room fixing her skirt. As soon as she got out she dialed Ted’s number. "Hello, Ted? Hi. I was just wondering, are you free tonight? How would you like to drive up to the mountains again?"

END