Quietly he stood up and walked away from the monitor. He wanted to shout. He had the energy of ten thousand elephants and he wanted to run around the hall as fast as he could. He wanted to be in his room, alone, so he could dance wildly, something that he does when he is profusely elated. Like the time his wife got pregnant. It was just like that, he thought, but different. This time, he felt whole. For the first time in his 33 years of existence, he felt at home. He was doing exactly what he thought he should be doing and that meant a great deal to him. His existence was validated.

He took a stick from his pack and lit it and his nerves calmed a little. But still, excitement was dripping from his every pore. He attempted to stand still for a moment, which was difficult because he realized he was shaking. Tremors seem to originate from the inside, rendering his muscles useless. On stage a girl in skimpy skirt was belting out a ballad. She couldn’t sing he could see that and so do the audience. Such things used to affect him back when he was still a writer. If he was his old self he would have bolted out even before the hosts came on. Today, however, it is different. Everything, everyone depended on him.

He went to the rest room and doused his face with water. He looked at his face trying to find something. For some strange reason he was searching for something, a trace of happiness or perhaps a physical manifestation of success. Shouldn’t directors look like something else? And he stared at himself again: eyes dead serious, lips cold and pale. His entire body seemed stiff and he thought he looked, oddly enough, dead.

He went inside a cubicle and unzipped his pants. He was already holding his penis when he realized he doesn’t need to pee so he just brought the seat cover down and sat on the toilet. He was quiet for a few seconds until he started to shake again. It was in the privacy of the cubicle where he again felt the energy, the excitement and at that moment his hands, which lay idle between his legs, began to curl into a fist and on his face a devilish grin began to form.

- oct. 9, 2004


Ana Margarita said…
ok... stupid question. tapos na ito? o may part 2? or tanga ba ako at hindi ko na-gets?
bwisit diaries said…
yup. yun na yun actually. naging demonyo lang yung taong yun bwehehehehe!
Ate Sienna said…
hehehe.. naloka ako! pero labs na labs ko mga kwento mo... kwento ka pa ha :)

-Ate Sienna
fuchsiaboy said…
i really like your entries.

it's like mixing a cock-tail of optimism, melancholy and black humor.

i get that feeling when i overdose with coke.

and i find this particular entry quite erotic. mental masturbation.

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