Archive for January, 2011

the book raid

Posted in Uncategorized on January 30, 2011 by armedlittleboy

Last week I was itching to buy some books so I decided to raid the nearest bookstore from our office. Here are my purchases:

Blue Shoes and Happiness

The continuing saga of the best lady detective in Botswana. A very different kind of detective series that offers stories that are so real yet in a tone that is so light.

I was just curious about what this book is all about. Let’s see if its worth all the controversy it stirred up decades ago.

Hoping to come across another engrossing family drama (the last novel about a dysfunctional family that I really like was ‘A spot of bother’ by Mark Haddon), I decided to try this book out. Hope it works out.

What can I say? I am a sucker for mystery novels and Agatha Christie was one of the best.

I love Dilbert, ’nuff said.

I admit that the Man Booker Prize seal made me buy this book but hey it might be worth it.

Another Murakami. He has never enthralled me but I keep on reading and reading his novels. There are actually times when I get this feeling of ‘I need to read a Murakami novel NOW’. Weird.

Maybe cheesy. Maybe uplifting. Maybe none of the above. Let’s see.

The best book if you need a door stop. But I liked ‘The Stand’ so I decided to get this one, now all I have to do is get the time to finish the whole damn 1000++ pages of it.


scarred mangoes

Posted in poetry on January 23, 2011 by armedlittleboy

I opened a pack of dried mangoes tonight
And savored how the sweetness
copulate with the sourness in my mouth.
the flesh, not giving at first, resists my advances
but ultimately surrenders to the forceful
penetration of my teeth on its surface
creating an orgasmic experience
so much different from what is being offered by the fresh ones
which yields its flavor to the gentlest probing of the tongue.
What it is like to be a mango that is picked,
Stripped of its flesh
Chopped into pieces
Exposed in tremendous heat
Until it curls up in pain
And becomes dried,
Unmoving and resisting,
Guarding its flavor to the hilt:
A flavor that is so confused
That it is verging on wonderful,
Giving a taste of what it is like to be chosen
Just to be torn apart.

my mom is super evil

Posted in mom on January 17, 2011 by armedlittleboy

(mom holding a white plain sealed package)

mom: ano ba ito?

me: ewan ko

mom: ikaw ang bumili nito eh

me: hindi ko yan binili, hindi ko nga alam kung ano yan

mom: ang tagal na nito dito sa bread box

me: patingin nga, buksan natin para malaman kung ano yan

(me opening the package, the content is yellowish and oatmeal-looking)

me: ano to? parang oatmeal na ewan

mom: (taking the package) ibigay na lang natin kay shine (my dog)

me: wag! baka kung ano mangyari kay shine

mom: eh di mabuti

me: ggrrrr

ang labo mo

Posted in poetry on January 11, 2011 by armedlittleboy

kung kailan masyado nang mababa ang sikat ng araw
Ngunit hindi pa rin maaninag ang liwanag ng buwan.
Sa mga oras na ito, nakapinid pa rin ang mga bituin
At iilan pa lamang ang mga ihip ng hangin.
Sa ganitong mga panahon kita naiisip,
Sa mga panahong hindi ganap na panahon
Kung hindi isa lamang lukot
Sa gitna ng mga panahon,
Sa mga oras na walang identidad,
Sa mga bagay na walang katiyakan,
Sa mga patlang na mananatiling mga patlang
sa mga pagsusulit na walang kasiguruhan.
Ikaw ang letrang x sa equation,
Ang may kasariang di tiyak ang kasarian,
Ang mga pelikulang walang tuldok na iniiwan.
Ang tag-araw na maulan,
at ang tag-ulan na ma-araw.

Ikaw ang walang katiyakan,
Ang mahirap at nakalilitong pagsusulit
Na aking tinayuan
Ipinasa ang papel na walang laman
At nangakong hindi na babalikan kailanman.

kung sakali

Posted in poetry on January 4, 2011 by armedlittleboy

Kung sakali
Na hihinto ang ikot ng mundo
Bago ko matapos ang tulang ito
Isipin mo,








Na walang magbabago.

THE new year’s resolution

Posted in Uncategorized on January 2, 2011 by armedlittleboy






voodoo girl

Posted in poetry on January 1, 2011 by armedlittleboy

-Tim Burton

Her skin is white cloth,
and she’s all sewn apart
and she has many colored pins
sticking out of her heart.

She has many different zombies
who are deeply in her trance.
She even has a zombie
who was originally from France.

But she knows she has a curse on her,
a curse she cannot win.
For if someone gets
too close to her,

the pins stick farther in.