Xixi Maturan's THIRD WORLD LIVING

I guess it was in the early part of the new millenium that a paper shredder found its way to my realm.  My brother, also as gay as the month of May who happens to be an anthropologist and a consultant of multinational entities sought the contraption to do away with confidential files .  Being manual, I shared the chore of destroying reams of documents and when there was almost a mountain pile I found it rather interesting.  I kept them in a box where for whatever reason , I'd grab a handful and start a bush fire [I was quite ignorant then of the Clean Air Act];  keep fragile gifts cushioned inside their boxes and even mix them with the  kapok in my pillows.

Nothing salacious. Nothing prurient as the other mouth of the chlamy-proud attests to a movie where she is supposedly ecstatic to be part of .   Of course, inserting risque scenes in a totally absurd titled flick would be merely redundant.   Without having to bat a limpy eyelash, it quite is screamy for comfort to see a film produced by one of largest syndicated network in the world.   Isn't it enough that they are quite successful to serve mediocrity into our gullible tribe?   Actually, the    THREE X'S are as follows:

No trace that I am balancing a selfie stick here! Oh yes, image manipulation is evident No filters. The Chaikran Sisters torching the darkness. When I archived my long running ALIWAN AVENUE domain and settled to go on a dollarless blog, I promised my imaginary friend RazaZo'O that my foundling borne out of desperation and orgasmic frustrations in life will exploit the very essence of what my cellular components are made of.

My fascination with botanical sprouts goes a long way back to childhood.  I was born and raised   in an agricultural college [which eventually became a university] in Bukidnon . To crossover in a lush environ is a phenomenon in itself ; growing up gazing at vasts mountain ranges is another thing.  You are effortlessly  drawn towards a sacred vacuum where nature reigns supreme and absolutely convey  a mystical thought that indeed man is one with his Supreme Creator.

Age is merely a referential element to acknowledge one's generation.  At 59, although I no longer hunger fame or glory, I just wish to keep my consciousness in focus.  Doing best what I love , and filled with excitement even just to whip up a breakfast feast or smudging a song.

... pensive.  THE Mercedes Cabral! As a child, it may have occurred to her that one near future she was going to wear skins of a myriad of women [and men?]. It may not have come as a wondrous dream but rather a steamy afterthought.