fucktards and dirtclods

A few clods of dirt wobble like people who've had a little too much to drink and roll out of the way as the soil starts to rise up into a little molehill. The mound shakes a little, getting a little taller and expanding horizontally. By all accounts a mole should pop out some time soon.. Except that moles don't seem to be that common of a creature in the Philippines. Which is one of the little reasons that my heart weeps in the evenings on the second day of February each year. But my heart's kind of retarded like that because moles aren't groundhogs though I suppose I'd take either really...

As usual I digress.

I miss digressing. I miss a lot of things. In the months since I left my multiply to gather cobwebs and dustballs, things have slowly gone to pieces and I've been too ashamed to admit it. People are used to me being peppy and cheerful and with a ready smile from ear to ear despite the pointed lack of substance abuse. *flashes patented maniacal grin* I decided to cover up the cracks in the wall by putting up pretty pictures. Which is stupid because you have to stick nails in the wall for the pictures to hang on and given the cracked walls metaphor you can see why this is not the best idea in the world. I had a lot of pretty pictures. It was easy. But when it starts to rain and the cracks have branched off to the roof and you're sitting in a puddle of uncommonly cold rain water on the fringes of what should be summer time, surrounded by representations of reality, altered to be aesthetically pleasing... well, you feel like a fucktard.

And I'm too smart to be a fucktard.

This isn't to say that life's been a complete bitch the past few months. Honestly in some respects it's been kind of wonderful. Once more I find myself surrounded by amazing people who, though few in number are worth more than *insert random popular person's name here*'s entire list of facebook contacts. Where do you think I got all the pretty pictures from? :P But like I said, I'm too smart to be a fucktard. So it's time to acknowledge that there are some things that are really shitty and that now's the time to stop hiding in the corner and waiting for them to go away. Now's the time to shoot them with a shotgun and drag out the carcasses to be burned in the enchanted forest of yonder in the north. There are mango trees there. They'd like the smoke. And once that's done I can plod my way back and get to work on rebuilding my little room.

...

Something pokes out of the soil. What may have passed for a mole nose for maybe half a second rises further and dissappoints us all by revealing itself to be nothing more than a furry finger. It is soon followed by four more. The mound breaks, and the paw is followed by and arm, which is soon followed by a head and then a torso as the buried body wiggles it's way clear of the dirt. The gani bear flops out on to the ground in front of the fresh hole, snuffling and hocking up mudballs (spitballs with oomph) irritated but feeling much better than she has in a while. She lays there for a while, brushing herself off distractedly, thinking happily about how much lighter it feels without several feet of dirt on top of her and whehter or not she can get away with not taking a shower.

Public service announcement: Gani bear is back. You may want to hide the peanut butter...

P.S. I can't believe I've used fucktard three (now four) times in one post. LOL.