IOU A Post Internet

Arrived an hour from SM. Withdrew some cash, bought my vitamins, a can of powdered milk, and two books. One is a biography of Woody Allen by Eric Lax. The other is a novel by Norman Mailer, The Gospel According to the Son.

I was thinking of filing some articles this evening, but I don’t feel like doing it. I read Watchmen instead, which goes without saying is much greater than the movie. Cripes, I should have read the graphic novel first, then watch the movie. But I keep doing things backwards. A handicap.

I was not reading much the past weeks. Except plenty of comic books. I finished one fine book though, which I think deserves a whole post. The book is called Rich Dad, Poor Dad by Robert Kiyosaki. Don’t be discouraged by that title as I was when Louie told me about this book. It took exactly a month before I picked that book again, and read it till wee hours in the morning.

If you are like me, you should read the book. It can do you good. It has done me some good, to say the least. Because we all deserve better in life. And because of that book, I now have a plan, which I am now really hoping to achieve, one day at a time. But these things are best for another post.

I still did not finish reading Look Homeward, Angel or rather I stopped after reading half of that thick book, and put it back to the bookshelf. Speaking of bookshelf, I fail to mention it in my last post that I have a new bookshelf. I finally have a decent shelf for my books which some of them were damaged by dampness and pests (sigh!).

That’s that for now. Need a smoke outside. When I get back, I’ll watch A Clockwork Orange. If I like it, which I think I will, I’ll go find the book. Also saw The Bridge of San Luis Rey last night, and have yet to read the book. Yes, I am doing everything backwards these days.

A Boned Life, Books, Comics, & My New Job (Yay!)

After some writing stints in various companies (8 all in all) for almost 3 years, I am once again in this mood to re-examine my life. Like that old fish in a story told by David Foster Wallace, I ask myself this question: So, Jonas, how's the water? Well, there's only one word to describe it: BONED. Yes, boned water. Go figure.

Also here are some updates of latest happenings since my last post:

Read two books

1. The Tombs of Atuan (Ursula K. Le Guin)
2. Side Effects (Woody Allen)

I was quite busy this past two weeks. I wrote my last article for Rambo, which he will probably hate or love (that depends on his mood). And last July 30, Friday, was a blast night with my former officemates in Kitteric. Here, let Xan tells you the story. You’ll love her blog, too. I'm especially digging this:

I... remember him coming to the office ever so timid and silent, smoking a stick or two, and wearing the most decent clothes among us all, he looked boring to me. But it didn't last long, thank jeebuz! The real Jonas was pretty much an alcoholic and talks of so many things in a span of, oh I don't know, let's just exaggerate it to 5 minutes. He's got tons of stories to tell, books to share, and words that sends me to look them up in google.

Xan's story complete with pictures explains why that Saturday morning didn’t do well for me to open a book. And I just realized again that two cappuccinos and a couple of biogesics won’t go well with a hangover, or maybe still don’t enough. But I may again forget.

The hangover was still with me till Sunday. The rest of the day was spent trying to stay sober till evening, and succeeded, of course. Monday was my first day on the new job. So you can surely get the picture. I did finally find to chuck some minutes to read the second book of Ursula K. Le Guin’s Earthsea Cycle in the weekdays.

And I have to tell you, Woody Allen’s Side Effects is pure hilarious. But still, in my opinion, the man is a lot funnier and more wicked in movies.


I am now again starting to read Look Homeward, Angel by Thomas Wolfe. Maybe this is the best time to read him. I am also nibbling some pages of Tribute, a true treasure to me, thanks to Genica for this great gift. Also gave her one of my favorites, Frank McCourt’s Teacher Man.

Read 15 comic books

Yes, kids, I am an awesome hoarder of comic books. And I don’t want to finish them off in just one go. That wouldn't be proper. The best thing to do with comic books is to consume them one dose at a time. You have no idea how it weakens me trying to keep myself from taking more than two comics a day. I have to control my impulse. And I tell you, it takes a lot of discipline.

Put up a new blog about SEO

I know it would be a boring site to keep. But when I started toying with the idea in my head, I was surprised when I find my self loaded with ideas to put there. I already have some rough drafts in my laptop that I’ll soon publish there. I am also reading blogs about passive income. Maybe writing articles about SEO content is my best niche to generate some dollars in the internet. Yes, Internet, you can’t keep me from getting rich someday.

Got a new job

My 8th job in three years since I left the university. This time I am the staff writer of Live2Sell Group of Companies. I average 7 articles a day and I think I can improve on that. I am targeting to produce 10 500-word articles, SEO techniques applied, per day. The company pays me higher than my previous jobs in the past, and I can still do some freelance writing on the side.

It’s early yet to tell, but I love the location and the environment in the office. The Boss seems a good man, too. I also work with an awesome team of SEO specialists. SEO people are best kind of people in the world. I have never met one whom I don’t like, except perhaps the one side of Rambo when he’s on one of his epiphanic moods, which could turn you to stone or bore you to death as they put it, deluding himself to think that he is the fricking Justin Bieber of SEO. Maybe he is. Or at least he has that spirit.

A Tale of Two Piles

You see, I started late. I was not much of a reader till one book changed all that. Said book led me to another, and then that another to another till it's too late. I am hooked and became aware of the gaping horrible void in my life. And I think only through reading the great lore of awesomese can save me from total self-destruction.

Those two piles above show the earnestness of my goal to read 100 books this year. I have yet to get past that number since I discovered my passion for reading only in college.

Like any virgin bloke to reading and with no one to guide me which one is a good read and which is not, I read any books available in a library near me. Or when one good soul told me that I could find cheap books in Booksale shops and when I have enough money to buy them, I would pick ones that have fancy titles and covers in them regardless of who wrote them. More reading made me wised up a bit, and became more informed, biased, and a little intelligent in my taste on books.

That said, here are the books I've read so far since the start of the year. Apparently, I'm much behind schedule but there’s still enough time I think to catch up.

Since January 01, 2010

1. If You Really Want To Hear About It (Edited by Catherine Crawford)
2. Capote: A Biography (Gerald Clarke)
3. The Dark Side of Genius (Donald Spoto)
4. My Lost Mexico (James Michener)
5. V. S. Pritchett: A Working Life (Jeremy Treglown)
6. Siddhartha (Herman Hesse)
7. Of Human Bondage (W. Somerset Maugham)
8. A Moveable Feast (Ernest Hemingway)
9. 21 Great Stories (Edited by Abraham H. Laas & Norma L. Tasman)
10. Walden and On Civil Disobedience (Henry David Thoreau)
11. The Greatest Salesman In The World (Og Mandino)
12. The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
13. A Century In His Life: Alexander Solzhenitsyn (D. M. Thomas)
14. Waiting For Godot (Samuel Beckett)
15. Where Angels Fear To Thread (E. M. Forster)
16. F’D Companies (Philip J. Kaplan)
17. Catch 22 (Joseph Heller)
18. Welcome to Hard Times (E. L. Doctorow)
19. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft (Stephen King)
20. 99 Novels: The Best in English Since 1939 (Anthony Burgess)
21. A Portrait of The Artist as Filipino (Nick Joaquin)
22. Education of a Wandering Man (Louis L’Amour)
23. How The West Was Won (Louis L’Amour)
24. The Ferguson Rifle (Louis L’Amour)
25. Scott Fitzgerald: A Biography (Andrew Turnbull)
26. A Wizard of Earthsea (Ursula K. Le Guin)
27. Tropic of Cancer (Henry Miller)

Second pile comprises of some classics I've missed and contemporary books that I want to read. This is only a short list. I still need to find more books to include in it. If you have some titles in mind, kindly drop me some lines in the comment below.

Thanks guys as always for reading.

What do you read?

Been trying to catch up with my reading quota this year. My goal is to read 100 books before the end of 2010. To keep me going I'd occasionally buy supplies of good books from Booksale, or from other regular bookshops.

Some days ago, I went to La Belle Aurore, a modestly well-stocked bookstore located just about 600 meters away from our office. I walked that distance out of a whim, originally thinking of eating my lunch when I found that I wasn't really hungry for food, but of something else. So I skipped lunch and went to La Belle and was very lucky to find a rare copy of Education of a Wandering Man by Louis L'Amour. A good rush of delight swept over me. I've been trying to find that book for months and finally held it in my hands and would never part with it come hell 'n high water, till I claimed ownership to it. Mon, that's the name of the bookstore gay assistant, who is kind and very helpful, asked me if I have any particular author or title in mind. I doubted her at first if she knows John Cheever or Louis L'Amour, or Education of a Wandering Man. But she proved me wrong and commended her for it when she got me just exactly what I wanted and then more. I paid for Education of a Wandering Man. Also bought two of Louis L'Amour novels How the West was Won and The Ferguson Rifle, and Yondering, a collection of stories. While at it, I wasn't able to resist temptation and took two more books from the shelf. One is A Biography of John Cheever by Scott Donaldson, the other is A Biography of F. Scott Fitzgerald by Andrew Turnbull.

It was raining hard when I got out from the bookstore. But the owner (whose name I should remember) was kind to offer me a cardboard which he procured from a stockroom somewhere and gave it to me. It would at least help you not to get too wet when you reached the next corner, he said. I said thanks and went my way with the books securely wrapped in cellophane.

The thick cardboard did help a lot.

After dinner, I took a quick bath, dressed, and commenced to reading Education of a Wandering Man. It tells about the author's journey to educating his self by leaving his home, his 10th grade school, for good, at age 15. He became a nomad and traveled the United States, embarked to many travels around the world as a seaman, and explore various places and times through his omnivorous reading. He said to have read over 20,000 books. Cripes, that's quite a lot.


(This post is still in progress. Will write some more after I eat my dinner and drink my milk. Thanks for following my own little journey to awesomeness.)

Going Hiatus & Green (A Crappy Precarious Bloke's Note)

After some crappy hiatus involving me, the girlfriend, and her angry (ang-gay) client over some “Going Green” article I’d wrote last week, I am now back to what I really love doing: blogging another fucked-up day of my life. That crappy yet simple hiatus has the potency to become serious – a crazy blown-up-kind-of-serious – which again comprises of me and the girlfriend walking the thin line of b.r.e.a.k.a.g.e. Though I really hate to admit that but the way things are – no good mind can help it where it now leads.

So what’s this all about? You may ask. It was really very simple: a client looks for a writer to write about “going green” (or is it “going gay”?) copy for his website. I am the available writer and the most needful of money (still am). So I just decided to do it. I informed the girlfriend, who was out-of-town that time attending a wedding. She said okay and added with a caveat that I better be careful with that client as he has the reputation to be difficult to please and fondness to break a writer’s heart whose article doesn't particularly make him happy. I didn’t grasp the full meaning of the warning. And I have a good reputation to ignore anybody’s warning too. But that’s another story for next blog.

Yet I found out later.

Groggy as I was that morning, I ignored the caveat and proceeded to work (I can’t work well anyway with anyone threatening me with hell and damnation if I pissed one of them off with my writings).

I read the instructions minutely for several times. I got little from it which proved to be a bad omen. There were only the given title, News-and-Society category, suggested conversational tone, and the client’s website. I clicked his site and found out what I need (or thought found out everything I need) before I wrote his article. So the rest of the day was spent reading other existing articles about the topic, researching further, and finally got some rest.

After a light lunch and coffee, I started writing the first draft. Complete with the right perspective, structure, content, voice, and a cute ending (wish I can publish it here and boast on my cute ending. But the salamagan has already paid for that article though bad as he thought it was). I rewrote it, played basketball with bystanders, won 20 pesos from the game, went back to my room, rewrote it again, and sent the cutie away to the beasts.

One week or so later, the girlfriend called me. The client has emailed and I can read the message myself thru her email. The client was fuming angry. His choice words are designed to cut like daggers that go:

“Just to tell you that your article was the worst I have ever seen... Not sure if English is your first language but judging from the number of errors I\'d guess not.”

Well, there was more but they were again kind of mean. So I just stop there. But again I fucking digress!

Of course, English is not my first language for crissakes! I learned my Hebrew when I was 8. Mastered Greek in kindergarten, and my parents had decided that English was kind of cool too and so I better learned it together with Latin. But it was only later when a couple of friends showed me those Sidney Sheldon novels that I seriously trying to learn the English language. And I discovered D.H. Lawrence, Hemingway, Dostoevsky, Sinclair Lewis, and fucking DOB, among others, for myself.

But the hiatus did not end there. The girlfriend had panicked. She valued her clients too and I was doing my best to scare them away. So she decided to just scrap me off from her team of writers. Which is the best thing to do, I think. So the die is now cast.

But she seemed very consoling. As our telephone conversation went:

GF: ... so what’s your plan?

Me: Ummm, what plan? (I was planning to just get drunk that night).

GF: Well, what will you do next? I mean, if you really care for my opinion, I will be very happy to see you back teaching again in college. Or try to apply other jobs aside from writing. I can accompany you in your job interviews if you like.

What the..., I mean fuck. I can’t believe she said that. She was like telling me why not stop from punishing yourself further and drink this arsenic for your own good. I mean if someone (the only person you care about in the world, only she’s not) stop believing in you and said things like that, the effect would be the same. Okay fuck it, and so I just replied,

Me: Okay I hear you completely. Thanks for the offer. First off, I am finished teaching with college students (the picture of young innocent virgins just cross my head, makes me beam and tremble). Let’s stop this (the thought of a bottle of rum that I hide somewhere crosses my head). I know what I am doing and I don’t think you understand me anyway. So let’s just cut this conversation. I still have important things to do before I sleep (like getting drunk for cripessakes!)

GF: Like getting what?

Me: I mean you need some rest, right? It’s almost 12 midnight. Good night then..’

I put down the phone, tried to find that bottle (thanks God, when all things fail, something is there for you), and started thinking for my future prospects, which was easy ‘coz I’ve none for the moment. Except, of course, live as I am.

To Watch Is To Gasp: US Pres. Barack Obama's Speech!

After caffeinating my system, shrugging off sleep and nausea out, I proceeded to do my duty that morning. Well, my dear invisible readers, nothing happened. And I hate myself for hating to do my duty in the morning, which I've been doing for almost two years now.

But cripes I needed the money and I should be working now. So I told my self, hey, self, seems like I should again remind you that you just emptied the last bottle of whiskey in the refrigerator, and your angry girlfriend will be coming, or maybe not coming, this evening, and that you should finish those long-due articles, and fuck you self if you'll not work this morning you'll soon end up again in the streets, jobless and probably laidless for days to come unless you can produce something and not hating too much of doing your duty every morning. And for cripessakes, Take a Bath and Grow up!

So with that, I took a quick bath, opened my laptop again, fixed another cup of coffee and started to look at the pictures of Maricar Reyes to help me gain some perspective. Then afterwards, I read some scripts from the Tonight Show with its new host Conan O'Brien. There and then, the world has started to become friendly and its humanity becomes sort of loving.

When I come to read the Late Night with Jimmy Fallon's comedy scripts, the world seems to stop. HAHAHA, Pres. Obama was in Egypt giving a historic speech at Cairo University with all those Muslims in the audience, and those Muslims loving him in Iran. The now much translated speech, according to Fallon, is now available in Twitter, MySpace, and Facebook, and yes, all of them are misspelled. The other comedian Jimmy Kimmel said that although the speech is much too awesome for the Iranians and even for America, those same Iranians dismissed the speech as "all talk."

Indeed, what can they expect? It was a speech, right?! Are they expecting flying "Burjers" too, just like in Benjamin Abalos' speech and all talk!? Those funny Iranians...'

So with that, here is the speech in full. This makes another good reason why I love America (or why you should love America) her system, her people, well some of the people. If you can find the time, you can watch and listen to Pres. Barack Obama's "A New Beginning" Speech here.



Best listened to alone or with someone you love, a cup of coffee, or a bottle of whiskey..' Now wait, that reminds me of something...

My Open Post Break Up Letter To Lily Gaga

Dear Lily Gaga,


Yeah, right, we had it hard. I had it so hard myself I almost knocked off that guy you dispatched to fetch your things from my place. He was bigger than me, I know, but I imagined knocking him off with one of the empty bottles in my room. And, umm, well, you are right too. I handled it too badly. And I think I am sorry. Now allow me to explain.

I am aware some people got envy when they saw us together. And we simply look great on Friendster. But by judging us together by appearances and the number of envious emails from your Friendster friends are enough reasons to stay in a relationship, right? Wrong. You see, a relationship is more than just that. There is also called chemistry, not your usual high-school chemistry stuff, which you once got crazy about.

Yet believe me, Ly-darling you, writing this letter is far easier than rescuing our dying relationship. I gave it a chance, tried to make things work, and even followed my mother’s good counsel to just love you. That I can’t find someone like you: so wonderful and, as she once said, almost perfect. Well, I tried, honestly tried, and yet failed, utterly failed. I must have missed something and got no idea what, or why.

Like during Sinulog, you became quite jumpy and not yourself when some television celebrities passed our way. One celebrity was throwing kisses to the crowd-mostly-howling-girls-yet-to-get-laid. I was busy fixing the gin and lime drinks and being careful not to get them spilled. When I looked up I saw you catching those thrown kisses like the other girls and swallowing them like chorizo balls, strings and all. That is, in front of me and few other unimpressed men in the crowd. I did not see the point of it, or pretend not to see the point and I was embarrassed. I know and understand what blood can do to jumpy-little-girls when they saw Dingdong or other actor passing by and blowing kisses, and them girls passing out. Well, it might have been required, a commonplace spectacle, or something in this third world country we called the Philippines. I am not sure and I don’t really care anyway. But I almost puked when that continued for some minutes and laughed some gin-aided later. It was a very hot afternoon and I was drinking my gin on that huge elevated platform especially made for the government people. I wonder how much it cost for only a day use while I saw lots of poor people below us evidently suffering from hunger and thirst. But let’s get back to this love-lost letter for you.

Now please know that I never hate you or anything. You are a great woman and you have equally great attributes. But another man who has similar greatness and attributes like you possess would simply have clicked with you. I am not that man.

Of course, you are very sweet and know it, and quite anxious to show that off especially when there are other girls around. There’s nothing wrong with that really and it amused me when you are like that. But I need a girl with more than just mere sweetness. I need someone who knows when to apply, or break, the imaginary rule of propriety, or impropriety, and can hold her own when we are mingling with other people.

Finally, allow me now to just tell you that there is no other woman as you may have now assumed. I just imagine it would have been much easier if there is one. Sadly, I haven’t found anyone yet better than you. I mean, you cook well, you are thoughtful, you are a good Friendster hacker and, as far as I know, you have no bad intention of ever owning their private profiles, so long as those people at Friendster don’t pissed you off as you once warned me. But darling, is that the best we could come up with after having been together, for what, 7 years? Not to count that year when I was too busy with studies and you were dating with some other guys you met somewhere.

Well, I’m sorry, Lynnimickens, like the others too, this blogger also still believes in a little something called Love.

As usual, I am not too sure now. Maybe it’s just me, preferring a bottle and fighting my own demons in my room than having your company and fighting your own demons as well as mine. Or it can be that I am not too disposed to love. That could be true too. Yet I believe there’s some hope that the right one for me will come my way someday. I am that hopeless romantic and I am miserably cursed.

Bid you now fair winds Dear-Ly-Gagafinesse. I’ll think well of you from now on.



Love lots and lost,


Jonas




P.S. Please be kind to tell that guy to stop texting me, I am not interested. And besides, I’ve enough stalkers already and going through the process of issuing him, and the others, a restraining order is not fun. Hope you understand. Thanks a lot.

Of Lost Art of Courtship & Conquest

Looks like I have lost the art of courtship and conquest of women and I am just 26. Don’t get me wrong. I had my share of lulling women to my arms. I started as early as 11 and made a good career of it till I was 25. There were women alright, lots of them, and that is the sort of thing not to be tallied. But it would have shamed Giacomo Casanova. They were all decent women, and well, a few numbers of whores too. Of course, some were married while the rest are between 15 and 25. And there were times of weariness and anxiety of getting one of them pregnant. Don’t blame me since there must be some element of love in each affair and besides each party usually dupes the other. I don’t know the reasons but seems like I lost the hang of it now or maybe the challenge no longer interest me. Or it could be that the filling of wenches is not really a greater part of my nature as the emptying of bottles.


Yet why the heck I occupy myself with this? Is it that I am sort of adoring-sick again, my raging hormone-related sickness, or just totally freaked-out and lonely?

I told myself I am doing okay and I can make it alone. Why not? It was only some weeks ago that I live in with a woman? We were together for many months and yet still my heart long for some place alone. And now that I am alone, my mind starts to wander around, eyeing some sexy-clad women in malls and streets wishing to speak with them and lulled them to some excitement somewhere. Why that’s plain unfair, and pervert, and I don’t really like it. Sometimes.

Or it could be that I am longing for something more. Something that is sublime and great that could make me get up in the morning with a gaiety heart. That something, they said, to live with and die for.

It was just but an hour ago when a friend asked me why all of a sudden I stop to write for this dotcom company. I told her I don’t know and I seem to have lost it too – the interest of writing. And for cripessake, it is how I am earning my living for quite some time now. And it affected my friend too because she too is earning something through me. You see I gave her half of my writing assignments. If my productivity goes well, my assignments will go well too as the editor will give me more to write. Consequently, I got no projects for the whole week. The editor understands it as not a good idea to give me some assignments this time, with the deadline at the end of the month and I appear to be consistent not to care about deadlines. And with my performance last week provides her enough reason not to give me anything. I think my friend will understand. I hope so. I am in such a tight hole and I am struggling to get out. So this friend told me, maybe I need inspiration. I know what she meant by that and replied what for in a jest. Then I remember George...


Back to what I said about courtship and conquest, I lost it. Since when, I don’t know but it could be sometime after I turned 25. Maybe I need again to practice or something and gain some confidence along it, or get worse by doing so. But I think I don’t really want it. If I really need this woman, there will be ways to have her. If she wants me, it will be bliss. If not, well, there will be additional reasons to be more miserable. As you may know I meet this woman and she is beautiful as she is smart, simply beautiful, those lovely eyes, the face of an angel, and her voice so sweet and engaging I want to listen to it night and day. She was an acquaintance in my previous job some months back. We had some good times together with other officemates and I really like her the first time I saw her when she first set foot on the building. Although I did fancy her a lot, I could die for her, I did not make any attempts to seriously court her. There were obstacles besides from the fact that she is engaged to someone as I was with someone too that time. So I just sort of be satisfied to see her around in the office and went out together with the other officemates. So that was that till I finally resigned my job and hopped in to another one in yet another location and company.

I lost contact with her for months till today. She still looks great and I find my heart still aches for her that made me a bit incomprehensible in my speech. I just finished reading a Saul Bellow book when she appeared from somewhere. She asked me what I am doing in Ayala and told her my room is too hot I need to stay in the mall. She said hers too and she’s waiting for someone for lunch. It was only around 11am. I asked her for coffee and got a little lucky to still have some money left in my pocket to buy a cappuccino at Bo’s. I just resigned yet again from my job which brings me to this present bumming-writing stint. She asked me why and replied why what. Why I resigned from my job and told her the only sure answer I got: I don’t know. And I am in the process of figuring out something for my life to fit in and that job is not it. Besides I have this work. I do freelance writing which I seem to be not doing so well too. She said okay and told me she arrived last Monday from Leyte and now she is waiting for a friend. At the back of my head, I was hoping that she's waiting for a female or gay friend. Please Lord, make it gay, my heart also prayed.

We had quite a talk though I am not too good at it. But we talked about general topics about how was this and that friend now, about landing a job somewhere, chatted with some friends online, exchanged cellphone numbers and decided on a date this Friday with some of our common friends. She finally needed to go and I wish her well. I stayed for a while, cursed my goofy manners, and have myself go to my room to finally write something.

An Unfunny Whistleblower Title and His Appeal to Reason

I stumbled into a conspiracy quite by accident and my life is in fucking danger.

So I run through everything again in my head and how it all happened and all that. I was left astounded and perplexed after I deduced everything and came to a conclusion that sent shivers down my spine. It can't be. It can't fucking be. The cook, that dagglenailed filthy woman with a weird hair and leecherish persona, must have been accumulated through years of smutgery. WTF, no, I need to do something and stop that filth like her from ruining those good people's lives in the company.

So, with that thought, I got out from the Metrobank building and went straight to Fuente Avenue to buy my favourite DVDs of Bob Dylan, the Carpenters and other collections of both wholesome and perverted videos. I then went also to a convenience store and bought some stocks of Gilbys, rhum and chicheria. The short walk to my underground refuge had done me some good to clear off my head of some doubts, allowing me to digest everything and plan my course of action. Well, after a moment of some serious reverie (about three seconds), I got everything thought out, and you can also say, under my control – thanks to those high school days of reading books by Sheldon and Ludlum, of which I learned much about counter-conspiracy measures, among others. So with that, I enjoyed the rest of the night watching Lerner's The Other Side of the Mirror of Bob Dylan, sipping my gin and read a book of Nietzsche before I went to some nice repose.

That morning, armed with chocolate bars, a flask of gin hidden in my pocket and a folded Cosmo Magazine also hidden in my Kappa jacket, I approached boss Charisse and told her that the company is in danger and that I got some ideas on how to stop it before everything is too late.

'Hi, boss,' I said as casually as I can with the taste of gin still in my mouth.

'Oh hello, now, Jonas! Good day, isn't it?'.

Awkward silence.

'Now what? Oh, let me guess. Is this still about that vocalist at Asle, isn't it?'

'No..not him, boss. This is something more serious. The thing they called a matter of life and death. Really. Now listen carefully boss. You might have guess this already but I think somebody's planning to take over this company. A devious somebody I must say and she can do that easily with her cooking. Well, they call it that but I call it “cherookeifuckeery” – an ingenious cuisine develop by the ancient Croukeerokee tribe to lull other Malay tribes that they would soon annihilate or make into slaves and... –'



'Okay now, Jonas, spare me the gory details. So what's exactly in your mind right now. Now tell me straight what we should do provided, of course, that your hypothesis inkling or whatever is correct.'

I now took one bar of chocolate from my side pocket, tear the wrapping nicely and took a little bite.

'But, of course, yes, I notice some things are not right here these past days.'

I offer the rest of the chocolate bar to her and said: 'I suggest that the company should fire the cook. Nobody likes her cooking, you see. What she has accomplished so far in the company is extorting money from ordinary employees like us and she can't cook. Oh, c'mon, don't pretend you like her shomai or smeary vegetable soup. It was not supposed to be that smeary, right? And I attributed to her so-called cooking the reason why I had those days of upset stomach and not to mention writing in that dismalposition.





'Okay, I get the picture. So what exactly do you propose?'

'How about hiring an American hitman to exterminate her and her cohorts . They do that in movies, right? It's quite simple actually. A Kalashnikov's automatic assault rifle model 47 would do.


While she and her bunch are cooking or preparing their ingredients in the toilet, or so I heard, the hired hitman would do them some nice skirmish and everything would be fine again. Johnny Depp did that to the Mexicans.'

Boss was busy nibbling the last square of the chocolate.

'I tell you boss, if you notice how she deals with our people in the company, one can easily reach to the conclusion that she's plan of taking over the company.'

“You mean the cook can possibly know how to do the LTV or TLSA?

“Well, why not, she can buy us with her accumulating money and we would still be the one to do the LTV and TLSA for her. Oh, c'mon, boss! Wake up. She can't do that to us. We are not like a fucking government. This company is owned by a British gentleman. And I have this suspicion that the cook look at us like we are no different from them stupid government that she must have had some dealings or even manipulated in the past.'

'Excuse me for a while boss, somebody is behind our back, reading us.'

Hey you, yes you, we can no longer discuss this thing with you. You see this is now mark classified. I mean that all caps "CLASSIFUCKINGFIED". Now move along.

OF INITIAL INTERVIEWS

You know how it is with initial interviews. Your cover letter and CV were awesome. [It has to be you moron.] Now comes the time for a big break. You dress up and talk to impress would-be employers – of both, needless to say, I awesomely suck!

My recent stint was with a FM Station. The FM woman said that the letter and CV are phenomenal and she'd read my blogs too. She's quite impressed she said and her looks told me she's surprised to see me existed in person. She thought I am a virtual character, one of those bastards that exist only on the internet, and I should remain as such. That bitch. She probably thought I was too awesome she was shocked I got a body that needs to dress up and talk to impress people further.

Okay, that was a lousy introduction but what the hell, and fuck you too.

The interview went smoothly. I'm a smooth talker they said. Too smooth I talked only in few syllables, in a sentence if it's really necessary like “Yes, ma'am, I started writing when I was in my stroller.” Or “ No, ma'am, I suck at verbal stuffs.” It was a smooth talk and short too - the interviewer got little from me. She did all the talking I just sat down and said Yes or No, or expressed some affirmation and negation at times like when she said that she saw masterpieces in my portfolio. Mostly, I kept my silence and blushed all the while.

Ok now, let's go over there so that you can meet other applicants and also take your test, she said.

It was too cold I couldn't get hold of my pencil from shivering. The others were through with their tests except a horseface at the other end of the table when I just started mine. I almost shouted fuck you to the horseface when he kept glancing at me and at my clean paper.

Instruction said I write about an experience, an interview, a book review or a personal essay of my choice. I chose my choice.

I started to write with a caveat: “Mine is too personal. Please read with caution.”

Title: Of Initial Interviews

I remember one rare awesome interview I had. The first question they asked me was about my strengths and weaknesses. Awesome that I am, I replied with confidence that my strengths can be exceeded alone by my own strengths. To wit: I still have this enormous power in my arms like I can carry you around with my left arm alone, that I can sneeze without blinking my eyes and that more you shall see if only you accept me for the job.

For my weaknesses, um, well, actually I have only one weakness that I was unlucky to have. It's an inborn, you see. No, not like those things you read in Marvel or DC Comics – they are crap. Mine is real and too depressing to admit. I am even ashamed to speak of it now. But if you promise you keep this talk between us, I might tell you. When she said “promise and cross my heart.” Well, then, I continued. If I'm really provoked, this my singular weakness, I can't help to shout: “Eat my Bilbul, you fag!” Or “Bow down you damned hopeless people!” Or simply put: “Bilbul! Bilbul! Bilbul!” till some nice security guards would get hold of me and show me the way out as nicely as they can.

This happens Ma'am, be rest assured please, only when I got really pissed off, provoked, and all that.

* * * * *

There you have it.

Felt contented and quite pleased with myself, I passed my paper to the FM woman. She smirked and with that look again saying “are you for real?” She said she'll probably call me Monday morning if I got the job.

Well, it's now almost Tuesday. Of course, there's no call from the FM woman you stupid moron. What do you expect from me I sucked, and most probably will be a sucktard in all my initial interviews.