Wednesday, September 22, 2010

A Walk in the Mist: A Prologue

One hot summer's day a Fox was strolling through an orchard till he came to a bunch of Grapes just ripening on a vine which had been trained over a lofty branch. "Just the thing to quench my thirst," quoth he. Drawing back a few paces, he took a run and a jump, and just missed the bunch. Turning round again with a One, Two, Three, he jumped up, but with no greater success. Again and again he tried after the tempting morsel, but at last had to give it up, and walked away with his nose in the air, saying: "I am sure they are sour."

This isn't as hard as I thought it would be. 

I've never had a stick of cigarette my entire life. Back home, my mom and my grandma are walking pugons. I grew up swimming in a pool of smoke, thinking that smoking is as commonplace as the air itself. 

As the years passed by, I've probably inhaled more smoke from peers than they ever have themselves. It's easy to spot me in the crowd. I'm the only one without a stick in hand...and the one who keeps on raving maniacally against smoking.

I had a brief but life-changing thought over the weekend. If I must go on extolling the bad effects of smoking on one's health, how different am I to the fox who never got the chance to taste that luscious fruit?

Whose word would you listen to about the war: that of a soldier - all grimy, messed-up, toughened by the trenches; or that of a novelist who went around doing his little researches, all for the aim of literary integrity and poetic license? 

Mark this day for this is the one that will live in infamy (or glory, depending on what side your looking from, right Roosevelt?). My goal is simple: I will smoke for a year, then quit. Can it be more clear-cut than that? In the intermediate period, I will write about the experience as much as I can. 

Am I scared? Two answers: Of course not! and Hell, yes! One stems from the side of me that believes I have insurmountable strength to overcome this, and the other from the doubt lingering in my mind, what if I do not come out unscathed? The first premise is out of pride. The second is out of strong belief in the first premise, but uncertain about how much bodily harm is involved. 

I would have to lay down some rules for myself while in the process:

1. In line with my principle to never make the tycoon roll in more dough than I can ever see in a lifetime, I would NOT smoke any form of tobacco that came out of my own pockets. I would be a professional bummer, a slipshod moocher, a compelling cadge. It's my way of giving the finger to The Man. So, my dear friends, prepare! 

2. My limit is 6. Yeah.

3. In the process, my advocacy would never be put to a halt.

4. When all else fails, I pray.

Today, I was able to down 4 and a half sticks of varying brands: Gold, Menthol, Lights. And so my journey begins. Aesop's fox is now taking measures into his own hands. A simple step ladder would do the trick. Now the question is, will the fruit be something that will give him validation, or will it lead him down to ruin?

I do not have illusions of grandeur that this endeavor would change the world. Heck, it's even possible that nobody would even care. But for all it's worth, if I can plant an idea in others that it is indeed possible, then I will have fuel for my little revolution.

Sept. 21, 2010


oh other new look.

yeah. now pucker up and take it.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Come Hither

damn, i miss writinG.

i usually have plenty of time to write, except when the mind is preoccupied by the affairs of the heart.

speaking of which...

last time i had put my hand down to caress the keyboard was to talk about Venus Raj. rar.

lately i find myself in the clutches of Eros. i didnt really see this coming. but i've dreamt of it. and somehow i am beginning to think that The Secret actually does work.

i have always been Love's biggest fan. and this time around, i'm watching what could possibly be his latest and greatest performance.

at this point in my life, i feel that there is a whole wide world out therE. i left the world i'm getting too comfortable with because it can no longer handle my corners. i've outgrown it's walls. what held me once in rapture is now but a fleeting memory. you see, life is maniacally devious. just when you think you've seen it all and could never get that feeling again, bam! it hits you like a runaway truck.

whatever happens, i always go back to writing. it's a lovely sensation to hear the echoes bouncing off the walls of my mind.

a commenter in the previous entry said that he finds my stilted views entertaining. that really made me smile. everyone is stilted, some just more so than the others. and who can be more stilted than blogger who named his blog as such?

so here's a toast to the madstringsmanifesto, volume 2!

-this entry was brought to you by the color purple.