Here then is another task: Trinity. I don't have to suck up to it to level the scale. I'm not essentially hedonistic but the other side has been taking charge of most of my thought processes that I just might start shooting cabbies for sheer pleasure. The heavenly master, his human offspring, the holy ghost: I won’t flagellate myself towards expiation, but I have to write something about trinity.

It’s an ongoing thing between friends and I. We trade topics to write about, which I believe is an indication of an unconscious fear of being reduced to plants. The brain has to exercise around issues of the world such as Pitch, Thunder, Draft, Horse, etc. Ultimately, we plan to solve the rice shortage, put order to chaos that is the permutation of the price of gas, scour the Pasig River for a more pleasant commute, and inhale this thick form of matter that is the Metro Manila atmosphere so we could all breathe easier.

Mr. Green wants order. He tests things to make sure they work as intended. He tells you what needs to be done to make things better. He’s interested in cute little things like conversation and he believes it can fix things. He does it over coffee. I do it over vodka. If your life is broken, if you just got dumped, if your friend and S.O. are dating and you need to belt out your rage on someone, I feel like he’s the right guy to talk to. He wrote about Storm. Congratulations for meeting the deadline, and my apologies for being late and this entry’s high nonsense potential. My brains oozed out of my ears because of my neighbor’s scooter. The attached pretentious speakers spewed out torturously loud noise all afternoon. The moment he started playing Tagalog covers of popular English R&B, I went comatose. I’m writing this in this state.

On the other hand, Mr. Blue will whack it in your head that there is no shortage. Run to a resto under a rain of fire called sunshine. Order as much as you want, eat as much as you can. When the glutton in you is itself protesting your excesses, leave the table and watch the games. The Blue Team must win and your leftover is inconsequential. You can’t solve the famine in Somalia by finishing your plate. But if he could, I know he will. He’s supposed to write about Deviant. He hasn’t done it yet.

As for me, Mr. Black, I’ll make sure not to undo their latent contributions to the world. I’ll make sure not to shoot a cabbie with a bullet. There are other means. And this time around, I made sure not to impose the darkness of my previous entries on the world. I feel I can threaten the universe when I write, but not this time.

Cheers to us three. Wait, do I still need to write about Trinity?