Enemies and Utopias

Contre la montre: French for "against the watch." )often used to describe individual time trials in the Tour de France.) I don't like people who use French or other foreign words when they can really have it in English. But I like this phrase here because "contre" says more than "against." We're not just against the watch most of the time--more often, it is our enemy. During time trials, the greatest enemy aside from time is pain. You just hope you've already crossed the finish line before you give in to pain.

Puto and sikwate: more insperable than Malakas at Maganda.

It was a a rainy morning and I went to Consolacion to check out the guys who were going to Danao. Since nobody was still around at 6.30am in Jollibee 'Lacion (another example of time being an enemy), I decided to do the Bisaya way of warming up: painit. I had puto and sikwate, the inseparable couple that exchange their vows inside your stomach. Sikwates don't really taste and putos don't either. But they taste good when they're together. This kindah reminded me of that negative-times-negative-is-positive stuff back in high school. I would have been a number theorist if my teacher thought of that analogy. Numbers for numbers' sake never did interest me.

Markets are a place of equality. We see men and women carry the same heavy ice bucket; we see naked guys with their boobs hanging down and people not minding them; and we see trapo political posters resemble what they really are. Just see the photo below to get my point.

If there's such a thing as Utopia, I bet it's full of dead pigs.

When I got back to Jollibee, the guys were already there. I was thinking what to do if I could no longer bike when an omen appeared on the parking floor:
At least it's still got wheels.

I did not bike until the afternoon. It was 14.46 when I had my time trial from JY to Willy's (5km, mostly climbs) to determine if I could beat the "impossible" time of 15mins. I know I could not make it but I've set up my cellphone alarm clock just to let me know how far I was when I hit 15. It felt really good that Willy's was near and there was still not loud buzzing from my phone. But celebration right away turned to frustration when I realized that I set it at 03.01. That meant I could bike for 12 hours more before the alarm goes. It got me thinking: after all the mathematical considerations, where did I go wrong?

If Rodin was a cyclist, he'd come up with something like this.

When I got to Willy's, they had this "blasting" stuff. They blow land rocks up when no other thing works. I wish life was as simple as that. We just blow things up when nothing else seems to work. You don't know why you're uncharged phone does not turn on, you blow the whole thing up. You don't realize that you're just holding the car key with your left hand, you blow the whole thing up. Your boyfriend does not straighten out, you blow the whole moron up.

Mr. A explained how the blasting works. I didn't quite get it but my confusion was not bad enough to make me wish to blow myself up. Anyway, he said there were these set of batteries that are used to make the explosives explode. Those guys used "dinamita." There was a slight tremor on the ground when they did it.

You know why he's called Mr. A.

I visited my girl at Nivel Hills before going home. As we walked towards her place after we had snacks, she pointed to a place where a girl was found dead on a Tuesday a month ago. She was gang raped while the f%^&*@#$ who did it restrained her grandma so she could watch. Granny was dumped several meters from where her body was. That place where the girls body was left is near the foot of the cross that bears the print "The Second Thief." It reminded me of that father in The Kite Runner who said there's no greater sin than stealing.