faeries
and
goblins

Helpful Elevators
Sunday, 08.19.2001 : 04.13 a.m.

Excerpt from The Restaurant at the End of the Universe:

"Yeah, yeah," said Zaphod as the elevator doors opened.

"Hello," said the elevator sweetly, "I am to be your elevator for this trip to the floor of your choice. I have been designed by the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation to take you, the visitor, into these offices. If you enjoy your ride, which will be swift and pleasurable, then you may care to experience some of the other elevators which have recently been installed in the offices of the Galactic tax department, the Boobiloo Baby Foods and the Sirian State Mental Hospital, where many ex-Sirius Cybernetics Corporation executives will be delighted to welcome your visits, sympathy and happy tales of the outside world."

"Yeah," said Zaphod, stepping into it, "what else do you do besides talk?"

"I go up," said the elevator, "or down."

"Good," said Zaphod, "we're going up."

"Or down," the elevator reminded him.

"Yeah, okay, up please."

There was a moment of silence.

"Down's very nice," suggested the elevator hopefully.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Super."

"Good," said Zaphod, "now will you take us up?"

"May I ask you," inquired the elevator in its sweetest, most reasonable voice, "if you've considered all the possibilities that down might offer you?"

Zaphod knocked his head against the inside of a wall. He didn't need this, he thought to himself, this of all things he had no need of. Most of all he didn't want to be standing in an office block arguing with an elevator.

"Like what other possibilities?" he said wearily.

"Well," the voice trickled on like honey on biscuits. "there's the basement, the microfiles, the hearing system... er..." It paused.

"Nothing particularly exciting," it admitted, "but they are alternatives."

"Holy Zarquon," muttered Zaphod, "did I ask for an existential elevator?"

A talk with the wall
Thursday, August 16, 2001 : 05:49 p.m.

- Let me go outside
*it's worth asking*
-Dare you not reply?
*It doesn't look openminded*
-Must be nice on the other side.... Can you see both sides?
*faking to go away*
-Ok, I've got to go. See you
*turning back*
-Oh, you want me to stay, maybe? I guess it's been a long time since you last had a talk with anyone in here
*Trying to be as friendly as possible*
-Can you keep a secret?
*puting a hand on it as on one's shoulder*
-I'm in love. Do you no what it means, at least ? I mean really in love
*lighting a cigaret*
-Not this obsessive kind of love that always brings you back to the loved one
*looking through the wall*
-No.... This is not a choke of mind. It's a direction that leads your will. It gives our will a shape, that shape without which our energy runs out-of-goal, like anger.
*with a worried smile*
-she's probably waiting right behind you.
*silence meaningfull*
-but I am boring you with my stories, right ?
*looking at the sky*
-We met... I can hardly remember.
*touching the wall with the top of a toe*
-And still, I see her in my dreams. Thats where we last met actually.
*sitting against the wall*
-I feel so tired all of a sudden. I must have crossed the univers to reach this place.
*whistling to break the loneliness*
-I walked selfishly in a strait line, and I got lost, until I find you.
*Standing up, turning on again, and sitting in front of the wall*
-At least, is there something behind you?
*throwing away the cigarette*
-There must be. I always thought there was something somewhere. I didn't see anything in here. So it's on the other side.
*writting a word in the dirt covering the wall*
-or maybe I didn't watch carefully.
*The wind covers the name with fresh dirt*
-as a consequence I'm talking with a wall ! hahaha

Flying with the wind, a bird comes above our talkative characters. The bird can easily pass over the wall that is not so tall, after all. Instead, the bird catch an air stream and makes a U-turn. Fighting against the opposite wind, the bird finally finds his way back to where it once came from, not without many difficulties.

-Have you seen that strange bird ? How I wish I could have the opportunity to fly over you like that bird and see the world from above!
*Where is that animal gone?*
-Why the hell it didn't cross?
*walking along the wall, talking to himself*
-foolish guy, you loose enough time. Climb that wall now!
*jumping to catch the top of the wall*

The man cleared the obstacle after several attempts, and finally did exactly like the bird; coming back from where he arrived. Because the univers as a limit; infinity. Or ethernity. Time and space aren't independant anyway.

The Greatest Camoflauge.
Wednesday, 08.14.2001 : 04:13 p.m.

It... is... alive!

Hello. The Greatest Camoflague is alive once again. For just one issue, at the moment (we do have lives to lead, interesting or mundane, believe it or not, hehehe).

The theme (As Jink'O put it: "Thank God, it finally has a theme!":-)) is about being lost&found (a unanimous choice). So those pics you see below, in the past entries, are actually part of the Camo. The printing isn't quite up to par as the others in the market, so I put the original one here, so at least readers will know that the original isn't as crappy as it looks in the flyers (aiieeee). Hehehe.

But no one cares, we're pleased we've released another issue.

So thanks to everyone who put up with my usual irritating behavior while making Camo, to everyone who contributed under such short notice, and to everyone who happens to "find" a copy lurking around and reads it. Thanks to Emil for the fantastic layout (I never knew one could do so many layouts in just 4 pages...). Till the next issues, which will probably have an arabian theme to it...well, my articles, anyway. ;-p

I have to shield my face from your beauty.
Tuesday, 08.14.2001 : 06:23 p.m.

(okay, so I totally annihilated the pictures. I admit it!!!)

A Cube is the Squaring of the Circle.
Tuesday, 08.14.2001 : 05:34 p.m.

X.
Monday, 08.13.2001 : 01:04 p.m.

My friend X sold his first painting.

Known more as a performance artist than a painter, X singlehandedly found himself a willing client, bought a canvas, primed it, spent 3 hours meditating on what to paint, then painted it red, kissed it, and sold it for several thousand pesos.

The client : "This is truly a work of art!"

X : "I can't believe he bought that red shit."

Me : "He probably thought you were the next Yves Klein, only, you were red."

So now, X's eyes have opened to the world of possibilities that lie in the field he decided to pursue, 5 years ago.

X : "I will use my talents to fool all the art ignoramuses in this world."

Because of the success, we celebrated by the only way we knew of : by spending all his money on useless things, because that, as his philosophy goes, is the only way money should be spent. We bought Halloween costumes on sale ("To invoke the spirit of Halloween during the rainy season," said X). We bought pirated VCD's ("To help our fellow con artists," reasoned X). We spent several hundred pesos buying junk at our favorite junk shop in Cubao ("One man's trash is another man's treasure," quoted X), and ate endlessly ("One cannot live on bread alone," X managed to say as he munched on... well, a loaf of bread).

And finally, with just few coins left, we went to UP and skipped them across the lagoon, watching the lovers frolick in the dying Sunday light, reminiscing on how we used to be so idealistic, so haughty, so carefree, and somehow, so young.

We talked about how we were now confused where we currently were, wherever that was, away from the comfortable womb of our University, where we used the green acacia trees and free artfilm showings and familiar faces to seek refuge from the horrible visions of Makati buildings and neckties and curriculum vitaes lurking in the nearby future, like childhood fears of monsters hiding underneath our beds.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, while we smoked our Marlboro Lights on the rooftop of the library, watching the football practice taking place on the Sunken Garden below, X asked me, "Do you think I'm a good person?"

"Yes," I answered honestly. "Even though everyone, including yourself, says you aren't."

His plane is probably landing right now, taking him back to the province, where I know he doesn't want to be in but should, because of certain circumstances. I feel comfortable writing about this because he will never surf the Net, just as he will never realise, no matter how many times you tell him, that he has a lot to offer to the world, if only he realises what he can do.

Not too many people understand him. He's rude, confused, obnoxious, totally distrustful, irrational and irresponsible.

And he's a very good person.