november 9, 2001

"strip." "talk to your self." "look at the view." "masturbate." it's a day later and the two of us are rattling down along Banaue Avenue., handed for our usual road trip. we're in your Toyota Corolla, an endearing gray model of some sort driven up the sides of commercial establishments and held together by popsicle sticks, chewing gum and scotch tape. and in the car we're playing a quick game -- answering my open command to "name all the activities people do when they are by themselves out in the desert. "take nude polaroids." hoard little pieces of junk and debris." "shoot those little pieces of junk to bits with a shot gun."

"hey," you roar. "it's kind of like life, isn't it?"

i guess.