Because I am now “the” Machiavellian Prince, I would like to share with you some pesky, evil points that you may ponder on in times of need. These axioms may not relate to you directly today but as time passes, you may feel the need of its guidance. Surely, I am a rightful giver of advices especially for those who would want to see things from a different perspective.

1. Huwag lumaban ng patas. Tanga ang hindi nandadaya!
Stupid is the man who does not cheat

2. Sabihin lamang ang nararapat. Higit dito’y maaaring makasama lamang.
Say only what is necessary; any more may be harmful.

3. Mas madaling mag-sinungaling kung ito’y itatago sa katotohanan.
The best lie is that which is hidden in truth

4. Ingatan ang iyong pangalan, lalo kung ikaw ay pangit.
If you’re ugly, be sure to have a good reputation.

5. Isipin ang tama para sa sarili bago ang sa nakararami.
Think first of oneself before others.

6. Ang katahimikan, pag ginamit ng tama, ay nakakabingi
Silence, when used properly, can be deafening

7. Huwag salungatin ang agos; ika’y malulunod
Do not go against the tide; you’ll drown

8. Ang tigreng papel – nananakot lamang, hindi nangangagat
The paper tiger is scary, but it does not bite

9. Ang tamang paghihiganti ay hindi minamadali
Vengeance should never be rushed

10. Mas mahirap kalaban ang malas.
Bad luck is a harder enemy

End notes:
Somehow it sounds smarter in tagalog. 😛


Like today’s generation St. Ignatius hollered at his new B.F.F., St. Thomas, over the latter’s alleged divine intervention over what was supposedly a LaSalle favored game. St. LaSalle, the conio french guy that he is, screamed “O.M.G! T.I.S.N.F!” then sat in a corner and threw a tantrum; yakking “chamba” and protesting that Chris Tiu’s pogi points should not have counted in their previous match.

St. Lasalle also protested that St. Ignatius fielded two foreign players in their said game, and as it seems, the protest does have bearing. Although from the eyes of the civilized world.. it does look like sourgraping. We’ll see on thursday what the outcome will be.

I hope Ateneo gets banned for two years!!! Jowk.

More photos below.

Oh, and about that BFF thing …everybody loves this commercial nowadays. ROFLOL!

End notes:
Again visit for the news..


I had once said that I fear growing old; not because I want to live lengthily, but rather because I may have lived it too short. People’s wish lists are so ideal – they want to sky dive, bunjee jump, scuba, learn photography, make music etc. – these are often just results of trying to sound cool for their friendster profiles; but at what point will one consider himself fulfilled?

Truth is, man has to learn to be content to be fulfilled. It is only when he has been freed of regret that he may welcome death with open arms. As for me, I would rather die young than grow old. I would rather be dead than senile. But then again, I would also rather be dead than watch Wowowee. So you can say I’d just rather be dead.

No, this is not a suicide note. If I were to commit suicide I swear I would be taking more with me… I am drastic like this. I was only making the point that being old may be worse than death.

But then, does man really grow old? Maybe. I had never seen myself to be 25. Now I do not see myself to be 26. If I live to be 30, I shall consider it a success. But while I live, I would like to make the most out of it. I shall consider myself old when my body does not permit me anymore to do what it wants – The time when to dial the phone would take fifteen minutes, when I start pooping on my pants again, when my younglings begin to make decisions for me ..and I cant do anything about it. Blogging may prepare me for seniority; I can now be stuck in a room and keep myself productive. If I dont have a computer, I wish I will still have porn.

“Carpe diem!” they say, seize the day. Time is a passing, death is a coming, and you is a sleeping? shieeeet!

Maybe that’s why it was never my hobby to sleep. I already cut it from 6 to 4 hours so I could spend enough time blogging. Wanting to read that post that will make my day. That’s why I do not drown myself in drama, even if it seeps in my veins, I find it too unproductive to be melancholy. There is so much more to do than be self indulgent.

So yeah, I guess that’s what I’m trying to say. Do not hesitate… masturbate! Carpe diem!



The death of Harry Potter sent a dark cloud hovering over Hogwarts; there was nothing he could do. Voldemort had struck him with a decomposing spell that slowly drove his body to rot.

The great war in the realm of magic had taken its toll on every wizard, forcing them to take sides, making them betray even the ones they treasured the most. Ron was one of these, turning Harry in to Voldemort in the promise of his father’s freedom, but not after killing Hermoine himself.

But Voldemort saw Ron’s vengeful heart. He knew that he would be back for retribution after he had freed his father from the clutches of his soldiers. It was only proper for them to be slaughtered together; after all, it was Potter whom he needed.

With the confession of Ron Weasley, the armies of Voldemort charged to the Forbidden Forest where Harry had been protected by Snape, Hagrid and the centaurs. Voldemort advanced ruthlessly with his army; slaying anyone who stood in his way. Hagrid was the first to die among these revolutionaries, speared to a tree by a soldier. The war was swift and easy. The centaurs could only provide help in letting the wizards, Snape and Harry, get away.

The forces of the Dark Lord was quick to overpower the centaurs, reaching the two wizards near the edge of the forest. Snape would take one final stand to protect Harry by sending him back to Hogwartz through a spell that opened a secret door to the Chamber of Secrets, a place hidden beneath the school of wizardry where Harry would be safe.

Escaping Voldemort yet again, Harry fell asleep in the chamber and dreamt of Dumbledore. It was here that he learned his scar’s connection to the evil wizard – that a fragment of Voldemort’s soul had been transferred to Harry 14 years ago when the Order of the Phoenix killed him, that Dumbledore was one of the wizards who had executed the spell that separated the Dark Lord’s soul thereby preventing him from coming back, that Harry was now holding the final piece of Voldermort’s omnipotence inside his scar, and that the Dark Lord would become immortal if he is ever to sieze it. All of this, however, proved too late as it was the Dark Lord himself who’d wake up the young Potter. Striking the scar amidst the boys sleep, Voldemort would successfully complete the final piece to his omnipotence. Harry could only watch as the evil wizard brought back his human form.

It was here that Harry, refusing to bow before Voldemort, took his last stand. Attacking the evil one with all that was left of him, Harry would fill the chamber with spells only the greatest of wizards could fulfill. Still, the Dark Lord proved all too powerful for the young Potter, mocking what had become of him, insulting his parents, revealing to him how he killed Snape, and how Ron had snitched him away. Voldemort prodded Harry to give all that he could give ’til the young wizard himself gave up.

Then it was the Dark Lord’s turn.

Whispering a spell towards his wand, Voldemort would release a black cloud as small as his fist that slowly floated towards Harry, which struck his hand. Harry felt nothing, there was no pain; it was as if a slight breeze had touched his skin. Distraught, the young wizard would look to Voldemort blank to the magic he had just pulled.

And then it happened. Realizing what evil hid behind a seemingly harmless cloud, the young wizard felt an overwhelming burning pain in his hand. Harry grimaced as he held his arm to see what had happened. Harry’s hand turned blue, then purple, then grey, then black and finally it began to decompose. It was then that Harry understood his fate; that he was now rotting alive.

The spell spread from Harry’s hand to his shoulders, to his neck then to his face, til it took over his whole body. The young Potter begged, and wept, and pleaded to the Dark Lord as maggots began to ooze from the corpse he would become. He lay on the ground asking the Dark Lord for mercy, offering himself to the evil one; but it could not be undone. It was a slow torture for Harry and Voldemort treasured every single moment of it ’til there was nothing left of him.



Severing the skin off of her victim,
she feasts on yet another of the living
The blood drawn beast, winged like a bat
a scavenger of the heavens in search of human heart

A far cry from how she stands under sunlight;
A woman of scorn shun from the evils of the night
She rests in her lair smiling at her harvest;
Feeding off the souls of the generation she plunders.

Ah! But her satisfaction is short-lived.
Erstwhile the hunger for the living takes heed.
She bathes herself of oil cursed by her predecessor
Jarring to turn into this ghoulish raptor

The rituals of the dark, she dances and chants
slowly turning to a half-split avian lycanth.
Her eyes turn black, horrid with lust;
And finally, the manananggal, she becomes.

She fleets to the skies cloaked in Luna’s clouds
Up til dawn wrecking havoc in the towns
She does not choose man, woman, young and old;
For everyone is prey to this creature of the cold.

And as night blesses her with a soul to embark,
The manananggal charges to churn on her snack.
Intestines, eyes, brains, guts and livers;
hearts, lungs, limbs, flanks, ears and fingers.

It is impossible to flee from her grasp
She haunts you even when you do break from her wrath.
For those who escape her fangs aren’t survivors
Later in the day, they too shall become such carnivores.

Oh! A woman of myth some may have thought her to be;
But let it be known to you and to all who wish to be free
that I have proof the mananaggal does exist.
She had just delivered a speech earlier this week.


play this while reading, it will help.

Been awhile since i poetried. The music I caught from Tami’s blog (inspired me too)