If I were to write about my life, it will be without praise. Without rancor. And without hope.

People will not always walk up to you to tell you what they see; but there are those who see and they’re the ones who matter.  Not this army of locusts infesting the land.

Oh social therapy oh funding agency

I actually like it if people think that those who have stuck to their guns are nuts. That means one of either hasn’t got a clue. And will die blissfully.

I even like it better if friends insist you are in need of psycho therapy and they don't

all that anger.


I told Dee, friend and mentor from way back: Our friend Z is still the slob that she is. Her health project seems to have only succeeded in reproducing the worst in the petty bourgeois.
Dee said,  Why don’t you go see a psycho therapist.  

Thankfully, no ambulance came.

But all that racket. They callit self-transformation seminar. Some callit feminist healing. They pay for your ticket to send you to a spa in Bali so that you can have a steam bath while they fornicate. We all make mistakes. We are not here to hurt each other. We are sisters. Bilat sang kuring buli sang amo. Why didn’t they get backhoed in Ampatuan? That’s where they belong. I wish Bai Sandra read this. Orak, you rascal, I never even once asked for a favour from you, did I. I held the camera you shoved into my hands when the Dimaporos started shooting, remember? Since then I have made a career out of documenting who is shooting who. A fine job it is. I could never have been better suited; could not have been better educated. If I give you my hit list, Operation Kahos will keel over. I will be the only person left in the Philippines doing human rights work. That to me is world peace.

And now I feel like running up the hill and do a Maria van Trappe number.

A you’re adorable
B you’re so beautiful
C you’re so cute and full of charm

Oops gotit mixed uo. That should be Lea Salonga, not Julie Andrews.

We only have each other dapat tayo pa rin ang magtulungan. Why are you in the feminist movement anyway. Why don’t you just shop to death you eel.

All that mumbo-jumbo. After murdering a sister.

May you die fat and squat. The top of your head meeting the tip of your feet.

Holy Mary. I keep on at it and I’ll get another invite.