Found this while rummaging through 2.5 years of computer files mess. The file was titled "Dilbert" and I created it. Curious to remember what it was, I decided to open it, and I was greeted by this:

     Nothing looks sexier than a man in boxer shorts, illuminated
    only by the light of a seventeen inches SVGA monitor, lashing
    out 100 lines of C++ codes per minute.

    -- Original by Scott Adams, creator of Dilbert
    -- Bastardized by <<ME>>, a C++ programmer

 Then, I decided to dig in further and saw a C test code I wrote on March 13, 2005. I decided to open it, and voila ....

    #include <stdio.h>

    int main(int argc, char** arv)
    {
       printf("e[0;31mee[0;34mre[0;36mle[0;33mee[0mn");
    }

I somehow remembered writing this code, but I forgat what it was for, ... then it hit me, if you were to compile this in Mac OS X and run it in the terminal, it will render my name in full colors ... ah, the joy of code tracers ... Other programmers love to debug using fancy debuggers and tools,... but me, I ride bareback,... tracers baby ...

 I decided to dig further for surprising "things" I might have wrote, and I got this from a file I titled "Thoughts" written on March 18, 2004.

    Green console, like devil eyes staring ...
    Captivated by the spirits of the unknown ...

 What was I thinking?

Then there's this ....

    Desire

    Like snake curling in my body
    The sweat of your skin, blended with mine
    Together, we smell like heaven would
    Perfumed with our mortal desire

    Like fire, you burned my body
    Melting my frozen craving beneath,
    Every sound, every whisper, every laughter
    It excites the beast within me.

    Like smoke, it chokes every reason
    Draining my weakening strength to resist
    An epic battle of lust and logic
    Triggered by an innocent night and a kiss

 Hahay ... so much for ... oops ...

A friend texted me last saturday night and asked what plans I had for the evening. Being the loner that I was, I told her that the plan was to get drunk and get laid. Of course, I was kidding and told her the truth, that I had no plans, that either I was just gonna sleep or have another "Soul Searching" night. She asked me what "Soul Searching" is ... and I answered :

 Soul searching is the art of sitting in a bar table, alone, ... with a Red Horse 500 in one hand and a lighted stick of cigarrete in another, .. and thinking that this is the best thing in the world.

Whew,.. that was some weird brilliant bullshit. I tend to have lots of crazy ideas, for instance, at one time I attempted to guess how people would react if it was gonna rain with shit ( mag-ulan ug ta-e) , or rain with spears (mag-ulan ug bangkaw),... or what's gonna happen if a missile fall from the skies and hit my office, but the "soul searching" thing was ... zen ...

Geeh ... this is what happens to guys who can't get a date or who don't get laid. Boys, dont do this at home.

Some wordplay ...

 

 I saw you last night,

You were hanging clothes from your window.

Your clothes danced with the wind, 

Like fire swaying with the motion of the air.

 

Why do you cry?

Why do you still shed tears?

Wasn't it you who imitated

The trickling of tears from your eyes,

Only that the distance

Between your eyes and the  ground

Was five stories high? 

 

Like wisdom from a glass of vodka

You came,

You disappeared.

I'll light you a candle someday.

And bring this flowers to your grave.