Remember your hatred and one day you will be significant enough to either spit on their faces or piss on their graves.
Never ever let them see how much you really bleed.
The next time you feel dirty because of something you did or something that was done to you, think about this: we are all damaged goods, each and every single one of us crawling across this unhappy world. Tough titty, ain’t it? Now we can either deal with it the best way we can and thus live or wallow in it and then die.
A life partner is that person to whom you can safely show how broken you truly are.
When it matters, art is merely a consolation and not the prize. The real prize is life. A dude who spends too much time artsy-fartsying his way through it has already lost the game.
Respect is not the default condition of the human race. Believing otherwise is naïve. One either earns respect or bloodies his fists and takes it by force.
Winning the lottery and becoming a rockstar is nigh on the same thing, mon ami. And by rockstar, I’m not just talking about rock stars. I’m talking about people who are lucky enough to do exactly what they want to do, when they want to do it, and how—and then still manage to get a lot of dough for doing it. Dear Satan: where do I sign?
I once heard someone claim that he’s devoid of pretensions. I didn’t know whether to laugh my ass off or weep by the rivers of Babylon.
Money may not be able to buy a dude genuine happiness but what it does buy sure looks damn good enough as a bloody substitute.
I wonder what the church fathers were thinking when they agreed to include the Book of Job in the Bible. I mean, it makes Jehovah look like a Jerk.
If there is a God, then He loves all of us equally and unconditionally. He loves the man who raped your daughter as much as he loves you and your daughter. You want justice? Go buy a gun and blow the motherfucker away. God’s not going to do it for you, man.
I love making up stories because my father told me so few of them.
I love the Gospel of Saint John. I mean, this dude woke up one day and said: “Screw Mathew, Mark and Luke. They’re all rehashing the same shit. This bitch’s goan tell a whole new story.”
What’s the point of getting reincarnated if you can’t remember the mistakes you made in your past life?
Most times, I think the only thing holding me back from getting a gun and robbing rich people is that I’m too lazy.
A writer would tell a million strangers the sins he wouldn’t admit to his own wife.
I have made peace with the fact that the terrible thing will NEVER give me peace.
Don’t kid yourself. There are some things that cannot be healed. We’ll just have to go through life bleeding.
Politicians steal from us all the time. It’s time to steal back from them.
I’ve just realized that the ideas I give away for free are the most awesome while the ideas people pay me to think up really stink. What the hell is wrong with my brain?
I may be a prostitute but I’m not a willing prostitute. Which just means I get raped on a daily basis.
On Growing Up
I’m the not the most grown-up person I know. Jesus, no. Not by a long shot. But I’d like to believe I’m grown-up in most of the things that matter.
Other than stewardesses and tourism people, does any Filipino actually use “mabuhay” as a greeting? Even our ancestors didn’t greet each other that way. Had Jose Rizal greeted passers-by “mabuhay,” he’d have been beaten to the fucking sidewalk for being a retard.
I’m not saying that I think marijuana is Satan’s own pubic hair. I’m just saying I’ve always been too egotistic to be comfortable with relinquishing control of my mind. The few trips I’ve had down that path left me terrified.
I love Facebook. There are very few things on this planet that help a dude make his life seem 350% more interesting. With Facebook, the illusion that you lead an enviable life becomes complete!
If you haven’t found anything to love more than yourself then yours, I’m afraid, is an empty life.
Up to my 'nads in work. Up to my neck in attitude. Up to my eyeballs in dreams. Am I doing things wrong?
Dear good buddy: Shape the fuck up. You're old enough to know that no one becomes a rockstar through sheer attitude alone.
We are all potential heroes waiting for our moment.
I actually hate writing. The only reason I continue writing is because every time I tell myself I'm going to give it up to find a decent job, my muse (a sonofabitch who looks like Christopher Walken and Max Alvarado's love child) grabs my nuts and squeezes really really hard.
On the Afterlife
Once again, Squid Villanueva doesn't know what he's doing but is going through with it in the hopes that it will all make sense in the afterlife.
Dear Bus Preachers: Please stop using the "you can buy shit for yourself but you can't give a single centavo to God" guilt trip. God, if he exists, does not need my money. It's your church that does. Let us not get those two things confused.
I've just realized that it's been a very very long time since I worried about the world. I wonder what that means.
Something inspirational from Soviet astrophysicist Yakov Bosisovich Zel'dovich: "The highest praise of God is the unbelief of a scholar who is sure that the perfection of the world makes the existence of gods unnecessary." On the other hand, it would be inspirational if we ignore the fact that the man played an important role in the development of Soviet nuclear and thermonuclear weapons.
Stop asking and looking for signs, I told her, or else you'll find it everywhere. Human beings are wired to find patterns where there are none: Jesus on a piece of toast, God in a dispassionate universe, destiny in a random car accident that leaves you alive and your brother dead. Stop letting the dice control your life.