I feel lazy, gang-raped tired and sleepy.
In many ways a weeklong repose in Pangasinan is a viable relief. But just the thought of the five-hour air travel and an another five-hour bitter romance with Victory Liner and the obligatory VISA bills afterwards is the very anti-thesis of what I’m after—some f*** rest.
Wouldn’t it be great if we humans can elect to die temporarily?
I’m not talking about being medically dead and then waking-up from coma later or the excommunicable undertone of death and resurrection and the founding of a new religion. I’m thinking more in the vein of death-like deep sleep—ala hibernation.
Falling into a cavernous sleep without the need to eat and excrete, do debit-credit, answer phone calls, send tuition-money back home, add weird people to your FRIENDSTER list, blah blah blah and wake-up like you’re zany Cameron Diaz the morning after an earth-shattering Justin Timberlake shag would be liberating.
But reality bites.
Someone please bring me a spindle and tell me Charles Perrault’s version of the “Sleeping Beauty” is a non-fiction.
I still feel lazy, gang-raped tired and sleepy.
15 February 2007
Labels: Diarist Mode