Notes for a Memoir – Part 3

Continued from Part 1, Part 2, and the Addendum

  • Discovering Mexico; Changing My Life (Mexico Trip 1: Puerto Vallarta, Sayulita, Guadalajara, Guanajuato, Mexico City)
  • Back to Manila One Last Time, My Friends
  • An Interlude to Discuss the Finer Points of Buddhism
  • The Dissolution of a Friendship, or: Just Admit You’re Secretly in Love With Me, Already
  • Valentine’s Day Regrets, 2017, or: Eating Breakfast Alone at Jollibee on Valentine’s Day Is Not Very Romantic
  • Rooftop Bar Regrets
  • America: Land of Utterly Endearing Insanity (Related posts here and here)
  • Farewell to the Philippines (Hey, I already wrote a blog post about that! Now I just need to rewrite it to include more salacious details)
  • Climate Change and the Inevitable Collapse of Human Civilization
  • G. Bear: A New Friendship
  • The Dissolution of Another Friendship, or: Just Buy Me The Damn Hot Pot, Already
  • You Can’t Go Back: Totally Demoralizing And Utterly Failed Attempts to Recapture Past Glories Around the World
  • Moving to Mexico
  • COVID-19, or: A Great Excuse to Move Further Inward and Also Lose Weight
  • Toronto: The Least Worst Option in the Worst Possible World
  • Halifax: The Much Worse, But Still Probably Least Worst, Option for an Increasingly Bad World

Notes for a Memoir – Addendum

So far, I have written Part 1 and Part 2 of my notes for a never-to-be-written memoir. Before I hopefully start Part 3, I would like to sketch out a few chapters that either could be slotted into Parts 1 and 2, or that cover recurring themes that might not fit nearly into any linear chronology. In past instalments, I wrote brief summaries of what each chapter might cover. From this point forward, I would rather leave the chapter titles/descriptions even more vague, in the hopes that sample chapters will actually appear in this blog within the lifetime of the Earth’s Sun. And so, with only a little bit of further adieu…

Part 1

  • Going back to playschool after kindergarten, skipping a grade, and “special” classes, or: How to Disorient the Living Shit Out of a Child
  • Mr. Moskalyk, the Visionary Teacher Who Quite Possibly Left No Permanent Imprint on my Life, Because Life Is Pointless and Dumb
  • My violent mother-abusing alcoholic uncle who is totally dead now
  • My many schoolboy crushes (or: A study in proto-adolescent sexual repression)
  • All about autism, and what it can do for YOU
  • Dogs are, and always will be, better than people
  • Almost every dream I’ve ever been able to remember in my entire life has been unpleasant, or: Dreams
  • My A&B Sound Family (In retrospect, I already wrote at least one chapter of my memoir without even realizing it)
  • Temporary autistic obsessions:
    • Catalan music
    • Trains
    • Hip-hop
    • Terrible early ’90s techno-pop
    • Classical music
    • Cinema (As discussed in the newly-added chapter “My Hot Psychologist”)
    • Learning languages
    • [Redacted]
  • My Failed Career as an Early-Teen Filmmaker
  • Johann Sebastian Bach is the G.O.A.T.
  • Staying Up Til 3 AM playing Nintendo 64, Eating Potato Chips and Drinking Pop: A Study in Friendship
  • Beautiful Lady from the Dollar Store, Beautiful Lady from the Coffee Shop, and Other Beautiful Ladies Who I Spent A Lot of Time With But Was Afraid to Kiss
  • Watching Grandparents Die

Part 2

  • Almost getting shitcanned during pre-departure training for Manila because I was a hot, sticky mess of anxiety; bonding with the cutest gay guy ever during a starry post-training night on Parliament Hill
  • The existential rot of the autistic introvert trying to enjoy nightlife
  • Failed Pygmalion: How an eccentric rich Filipina made me her temporary, honourary son-in-law
  • Five Months in a Dilapidated Mansion
  • Living With Two Hot Sisters, Or: The Worst Mistake I Ever Made
  • Computer Programming: The Least Objectionable Profession
  • How I easily succumbed to shitty alpha male mind games, and hope I won’t again: pre-departure training for Vietnam
  • Loneliness – So, So Much Loneliness
  • That Time My Landlord Tried to Entice Me Into A Gay Orgy
  • Filipino Dentists and the Joy of Unnecessary Fillings
  • My five year pseudo-romance and its nightmarish end (related chapter: Breaking Up in Myanmar)
  • Khao San Road, A Beautiful Blond Danish Girl, and the Dying Gasps of My Youth
  • Am I Gay? And Other Conversation-Starters

A Little Free Writing

With all the things happening in the world, my reader (sic) might wonder why I’ve been so silent. The answer, to the extent that there is one: I had a fortuitously timed surge in my workload – fortuitous because it coincided with the rest of my life becoming boring and sad, like so many other people’s lives starting a few months into 2020. For a time, work for the sake of work became my primary distraction and purpose in life, which had the added benefit of granting me temporary insight into the lives of normal humans. Now that my workload has subsided, I can again return to a mixture of goofing off, acting insufferably entitled, and desperately grasping for meaning, i.e. by writing.

Now, you might think that half a year after my last post, I’d have a lot to share about the state of the world (both outer and inner) today. But, you’d be wrong – or at least, partially wrong. After half a year of letting my hyperverbal inclinations gather dust and gather rust, the first point of order is to clean out those leaf-clogged pipes and let the verbal fluid flow. And what better way to do that than with some cell phone autocomplete-esque free writing? Ha-hem.

Rickety bark snot consumed and complained of pleasant palpitations in its preposterous spleen additive. The thunderous crumpets of wilting agility snuggled up to the dessicated necktie of all things purple. Waggle waggle snorpity dazoozoozip. The cruel steel of the blade tore into his ambivalent protestations. Add three sticks of worry into the bubbling cauldron of uncertain pedigree, lick the fiery nipple six times to the left and twelve to the orange side, twist twice counterclockwise and five-point-Z times atop the translucent polka-dotted side of your bruised and battered Buddha figurine.

Drip, drip, drip – thus went the drooping dripping of the dreadful dreadnaught. Crispy, creamy, crumbling pillars, decaying ruins of a lost civilization of orange Oreo orangutan organisms. Slippery, dripping, persnickety, waffling waffles, wandering wands. The stream of chocolate vomit shot out from his friendship, angrily splattering across the bow of his amazing aunt. Do doodads do what doo-doo does best? Can your uncanny can-can cancel out the cantankerous cancer of the cantilever bridge? Nobody knows the answer, but almost half of everyone knows the question.

Thank you, and elbows.