Sep 19, 2007
The Smell Of Rain – September 19, 2007

Coming out of the office building, I smell my favorite fragrance in the world – the smell of rain. A coworker asked 'smell?', I replied with a noncommittal shrug and simply said 'yes, smell'.


That scent, fragrance, odor or aroma...whatever that you smell as the earth's thirst is slaked by the rain. Its weird I know. But that particular scent reminds me that everything gets cleaned, washed up and washed away. Anything dirty gets cleaned up in some way or another. Just the same as I like the smell of a newly-bathed baby – pure and innocent. The smell of rain cleans the dirty, grimy steel structures that this Earth is pock-marked with. The urbanity and modernity of the city goes down the sewers as the Powers-That-Be reminds us mortals that there are even greater things than the boob-tube, the neighbors and the wackos that run countries.


P.S.TTWRTC nothing beats the smell of your loved ones though. And thats for another time for me to write about.


P.P.S. TTWRTC = to those who read this crap




Posted at 04:08 am by marx_morpheus
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Oct 9, 2006
the ruler of the universe according to Douglas Adams Part 1

This excerpt from The Restaurant at the end of the Universe by Douglas Adams reminds me of a class in Philisophy about how we percieve things. This is just Part 1. I have not much time to type the whole excerpt up. ehhehe.

.....

"In there?" shouted Trillian above the noise of the rain.

"Yes," said Zarniwoop.

"That shack?"

"Yes."

"Weird," said Zaphod."But it's in the middle of nowhere," said Trillian. "We must have come to the wrong place. You can't rule the Universe from a shack."

They hurried through the pouring rain, and arrived, wet through, at the door. They knocked. They shivered.

The door opened.

"Hello?" said the man.

"Ah, excuse me," said Zarniwoop, "I have reason to believe..."

"Do you rule the Universe?" said Zaphod.

The man smiled at him.

"I try not to," he said. "Are you wet?"

Zaphod looked at him astonishment.

"Wet?" he cried. "Doesn't it look as if we're wet?"

"That's how it looks to me," said the man, " but how you feel about it might be altogether different matter. If you find warmth makes you dry, you'd better come in."

They went in.

They looked around the tiny shack, Zarniwoop with slight distaste, Trillian with interest, Zaphod with delight.

"Hey, er..." said Zaphod, "what's your name?"

The man looked at them doubtfully.

"I dont know. Why, do you think I should have one? It seems very odd to give a bundle of vague sensory perceptions to a name."

He invited Trillian to sit in the chair. He sat on the edge of a chair, Zarniwoop leaned stiffly against the table and Zaphod lay on the mattress.

"Wowee!" said Zaphod. "the seat of power!" He tickled the cat.

"Listen, said Zarniwoop, "I must ask you some questions."

"All right," said the man kindly, "you can sing to my cat if you like."

"Would he like that?" asked Zaphod.

"You'd better ask him," said the man.

"Does he talk?" said Zaphod.

"I have no memory of him talking," said the man, "but I am very unreliable."

Zarniwoop pulled some notes out of a pocket.

"Now," he said, "you do rule the Universe, do you?"

"How can I tell?" said the man.

Zarniwoop ticked off a note on the paper.

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Ah," said the man, "this is a question about the past, is it?"

Zarniwoop looked at him in puzzlement. This wasn't exactly what he had been expecting.

"Yes," he said.

"How can I tell," said the man, "that the past isn't a fiction to account for the discrepancy between my immediate physical sensations and my state of mind?"

Zarniwoop stared at him. The steam began to rise from his sodden clothes.

"So you answer all questions like this?" he said.

The man answered quickly.

"I say what it occurse to me to say when I think I hear people say things. More I cannot say."

Zaphod laughed happily.

"I'll drink to that," he said and pulled out the bottle of Janx Spirit. He leaped and handed the bottle to the ruler of the Universe, who took it with pleasure.

"Good on you, great ruler," he said, "tell it like it is."

"No listen to me," said Zarniwoop, "people come to you, do they? In ships..."

"I think so," said the man. he handed the bottle to Trillian.

"And they as you," said Zarniwoop, "to make decisions for them? About people's lives, about worlds, about economies, about wars, about everything going on out there in the universe?"

"Out there?" said the man. "Out where?"

"Out there!" said Zarniwoop, pointing at the door.

"How can you tell there's anything out there?" said the man politely. "The door's closed."

The rain continued to pound on the roof. Inside the shack it was warm.

(ends part 1)

.......


Posted at 09:52 pm by marx_morpheus
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pithy

 

i just reread the sequel to Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams entitled The Restaurant at the end of the Universe. I read a verse that was actually quoted to me by an acquaintance and i simply would like to share to those who read this crap of mine. Here goes....

" The History of every major Galactic Civilization tends to pass through three distinct and recognizable phases, those of Survival, Inquiry and Sophistication, otherwise  known as the How, Why and Where phases.

For instance, the first phase is characterized by the question, "How can we eat?", the second by thequestion, "Why do we eat?", and the third by the question, "Where shall we have lunch?" "

Striking isnt it?

In my opinion, our civilization is still in the second phase...

what do you think?


Posted at 09:51 pm by marx_morpheus
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BLEACH

 

WE COME TOGETHER,

LIKE DROPS OF WATER, LIKE ASTRAL BODIES

WE OPPOSE EACH OTHER,

LIKE MAGNETS, LIKE COLOR OF SKIN

                             ------- BLEACH


Posted at 09:50 pm by marx_morpheus
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choice

 

to quote that little rascal's movie

decisions... decisions... decisions...

being old and having to make your own decisions is certainly tiresome.

choices... choices... choices...

i have to make a choice now. this turning point of my life or do i have to choose, according to an old friend just a week ago, " the lesser evil".

oh well, i am going  home and i get to weigh my decision in (i hope!) a practical and objective manner or do i go berserk and go with my emotions again.

heheheheh.


Posted at 09:44 pm by marx_morpheus
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Tinta

 

makulay at mapayapa

ang iginuhit ng bolpen kong ito.

isang tagpong kailan man

ay di ko maatim

na maiguhit ng bolpen ko.

lobo't mg laruan,

mga batang nagsisyahan,

ang guhit ng bolpen ko.

napaloob sa isang kuwadrado,

nakatuntong sa isang eskaparate

ang iginuhit ng bolpen kong pula.


Posted at 09:44 pm by marx_morpheus
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Oct 4, 2006
SSDD

 

hahay...

isang bagong umaga na naman.

pagkagising

maliligo at pupunta

sa trabahong ndi ka naman binabayaran

para lang mayroong magawa

at di magpataba

nang nakahiga

sa isang kawayang kama

pinuputakte ng nakaraan at kinabukasan.

sa eskaparateng bubog

nakatunganga

buong maghapon

habang sa mukha

nakapaskil ang isang ngiting

nagtatago ng matinding kalungkutan

dulot ng kasawiang

hindi man lang masabisabi

kaninuman.

ang puso nagdurugo

naghihilom.

isang sadista

nabubuhay sa sakit

at kalungkutan

na idinudulot

sa sarili.

*SSDD = Same Shit Different Day


Posted at 06:04 pm by marx_morpheus
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Sep 29, 2006
Obstacles and Being Free

 

To some, indulge me... Convince me that you read things other than what is required of you. That despite everything you're still free. Perhaps not as free as me... but free in whatever terms you assume being "free" to mean whether you're a realist or an idealist. After this, hopefully, we can proceed to attempt "freedom."


UNDER A CERTAIN LITTLE STAR

Wislawa Szymborska

My apologies to chance for calling it necessity.
My apologies to necessity in case I'm mistaken.
May happiness not be angry if I take it for my own.
May the dead forgive me that their memory's but a flicker.
My apologies to time for the multiplicity of the world overlooked each second.
My apologies to an old love for treating the new one as the first.
Forgive me far-off wars for taking my flowers home.
Forgive me open wounds for pricking my finger.
My apologies for the minuet record, to those calling out from the abyss.
My apologies to those in railway stations for sleeping comfortably at five in the morning.
Pardon me hounded hope for laughing sometimes.
Pardon me deserts for not rushing in with a spoonful of water.
And you O hawk, the same bird for years in the same cage,
forever still and staring at the same spot,
absolve me even if you happened to be stuffed.
My apologies to the tree felled for four table legs.
My apologies to large questions for small answers.
Truth, do not pay me too much attention.
Solemnity, be magnanimous to me.
Endure, O mystery of being that I might pull threads from your veil.
Soul, don't blame me that I've got you so seldom.
My apologies to everything that I can't be everywhere.
My apologies to all for not knowing how to be every man and woman.
I know that as long as I live nothing can excuse me,
because I myself am my own obstacle.
Do not hold it against me, O speech, that I borrow weighty words,
and then labor to make them light.


--
"I began to look into the seams of your doctrines. I wanted to pick only at a single knot; but when I had got that undone, the whole thing ravelled out. And then I understood that it was all machine sewn."

- Mrs. Alving to Pastor Manders, Ghosts by Henrik Ibsen (1881)

Posted at 05:03 am by marx_morpheus
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Peanuts

 

In a Charlie Brown cartoon, Charlie is eating a
peanut-butter- and-jelly sandwich, and as he eats he
notices his hands
and becomes enamored with them. He holds them up and
starts looking
up at them, then muses: "I like my hands. They are
fascinating. They
really are. I have nice hands. They have a lot of
character. Do you
realize that these two little hands may someday
accomplish greater
things? These hands may someday do marvelous
works...miracles. They
may build mighty bridges, or heal the sick, or hit
home runs, or
write soul-stirring novels..." Lucy finally interrupts
this grandiose
musing and puts it in perspective. "Charlie, your
hands have jelly on
them."

We need friends like that too -- friends who don't
worship at our
altar. We're only human, not gods.

If you only have friends who think you're wonderful,
they aren't
friends. They're admirers. And admirers won't hang
around long once
they see the not-so-wonderful sides of your humanity.
Lucy may
sometimes seem to Charlie Brown as the bane of his
existence, but
she'll always shoot straight with him, and he --as
well as you and I
-- need that.


Posted at 05:03 am by marx_morpheus
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VaRiAtIoN oN ThE Word LOVE

This is a word we use to plug
holes with. It's the right size for those warm
blanks in speech, for those red heart-
shaped vacancies on the page that look nothing
like real hearts. Add lace
and you can sell
it. We insert it also in the one empty
space on the printed form
that comes with no instructions. There are whole
magazines with not much in them
but the word love, you can
rub it all over your body and you
can cook with it too. How do we know
it isn't what goes on at the cool
debaucheries of slugs under damp
pieces of cardboard? As for the weed-
seedlings nosing their tough snouts up
among the lettuces, they shout it.
Love! Love! sing the soldiers, raising
their glittering knives in salute.

Then there's the two
of us. This word
is far too short for us, it has only
four letters, too sparse
to fill those deep bare
vacuums between the stars
that press on us with their deafness.
It's not love we don't wish
to fall into, but that fear.
this word is not enough but it will
have to do. It's a single
vowel in this metallic
silence, a mouth that says
O again and again in wonder
and pain, a breath, a finger
grip on a cliffside. You can
hold on or let go.

Margaret Atwood


Posted at 05:01 am by marx_morpheus
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Next Page


i like to entertain my eyes with beautiful things
movies
reading books
nature
people

i like things that are pure
love
children
hope
dreams

i am a dreamer of beautiful things
a visionary
expanding my horizons
far and wide


   





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