Putana: letter from Kremlin

PUTANA, a very dear friend who is comfortably holed in one of the palaces surrounding Kremlin--functioning only, sanely, upon the the desires of one the youngest of the young guards of Putin--sent me a letter.

He gave me a mountful upon learning about my recent mishap. He knows I need his nagging and he knows when to shoot it and how do it the right way--in my face. Painful. Ugly. But who cares when it is the truth? And it may sound really odd like what Penny Lane (in Almost Famous) implied when she said "Isn't it funny? The truth sounds really different."

And this he said:


Bananachoked wears love misery like an amulet, warding off all possible decent, long term lovers. The anti-eros amulet is not him per se but an erratic principle towards relationships on account of a crystalization of years of broken relationships, slit wrists because of broken relationships, and transient jobs because of slit wrists from broken relationships.

What's left of him is a walking, breathing void of dry lust that pounces on every homo sapien with a dick. But this is not because he is hell-bent in satisfying his craving for senseless sexual gratification.

Horribly, this is so because he has come to relate his need for connection with shallow man-hunting.

Picture a kid who has come to fancy the taste of lemon-flavored candies. To find his choice, our kid licks, munches on, gobbles, devours all other flavors in the shop--bitter melon and expectorants included (wink...wink...).

Now we know what overdose of sweets does to our oral hygiene. Uber-candied, our kid can no longer distinguish the lemon drop he so long for because his been too foolish to try everything!

Ngayon, bad teeth and all, takot na si bananas kumagat, mag-lick, mag-gobble at mag-devour uli.


Ito ang ang tanging maisasagot ko kay Putana: Puta ka! Ang saya ko kaya! Lech!