Tuesday, March 20, 2007

It's gettin' hot in here.

One time last week going to the pantry for a cold drink, I felt the sweltering heat inside the small cramped room envelope me within seconds. The pantry is getting direct sunlight and the jalousies were closed so the heat was trapped. It’s like a giant thermos blew out its hot vapors. It was not surprising though since we’re entering into the dry summer months but alarming since every year it’s getting extremely hot that when you’re out there exposed you can’t help but sweat profusely and get skin cancer.

My officemate quickly followed behind me to sit down. She came from the outside and was complaining about the heat as well. I explained to her a scientific fraud that the sun is exploding anytime soon. I continued to joke around by sounding more scientific. The color yellow of the sun indicates that it’s near its dying phase. Of course it would be in a million years or so. It will have to turn into orange and red till it finally collapses into a black hole disintegrating the entire solar system. What made me laugh though was her remark: “Unsaon na lang ang mga nakapuyo sa Mercury?” (What happens to the ones living in Mercury?). I didn’t know where to laugh at – the fact that Mercury has no inhabitants or that she categorically excluded Earth from such catastrophe.

Speaking of a solar disaster, I’m looking forward to Sunshine directed by Danny Boyle (Trainspotting, 28 Days Later, Millions) and written by Alex Garland, author of The Beach, the movie version of which is also directed by Boyle.

1 comment:

kawadjan said...

bitaw jay, unsaon na lang ang nagpuyo sa mercury? hehehe. :)

Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family, Choose a f—king big television. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players, and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental insurance. Choose fixed-interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose a three piece suit on hire purchased in a range of f—king fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the f—k you are on a Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing f—king junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, f—ked-up brats you have spawned to replace yourself. Choose a future. Choose life . . . But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin’ else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you’ve got heroin?

Renton, Trainspotting