yesterday afternoon, my friend jesse and i rendezvoused in robinson to meet ann(who’s around for the Sinulog) in ayala. while inside the jeepney, our discussion veered towards how many of our original “lagoon friends” entered the sacred ground of uhrmm…Parenthood. To our surprise, the head count had reach a dozen or so. And mind you, that’s just counting the male side(we haven’t got the chance to count the female friends or concluded that they are espoused to the male on the same circle). and as if too afraid to come up with a rational justification, we receded to a safe conclusion and began to evoke the eternal cliche of “it happens, because it happens” (a slightly off-tangent yet positive take on Murphy’s Law). it’s a stupid and illogical rationalisation, i know, but what better way to make a safe excuse. ahhh, the follies of youth.

walking all the way from ayala to mango opens the floodgate of not-so-distant memories. mostly good, some bad. which happens because it’s supposed to happen. and so the three of us swapped gossips, interests, experiences, murakami, movie quotes, mushy films, mushy soundtracks, baby stories, how-are-yous, and whatnot.

we still laugh at the same old running (inside) jokes, but we now live different lives.

tonight, i can never write the saddest poem -
one about stars, the distance or the wind singing.

like any nights, i am bound for infinite sky,
or the solitude of darkness gazing. on the
verge of inutterable stiffness, the night
etches every nook and cranny of her being,

justifying the ugliness of my scars. for
only time can heal and i no longer love her
yet i can never forget her face. the face

i trace not so long time ago

smoothly(yet sadly).

tonight, i will try to write the saddest poem.
i will write about scars, infinity and stillness.

like any other nights, i will call upon heavens,
longing for the hush of your voice, yet without

listening to the ghost of what has been – a gust.
only time can tell and i no longer see her face yet
very much, i love her still. and what once was mine,
every nook and cranny of her being is now

yearning for somebody else, she is somebody else’s. for what was
once under my arms is being cradled by the stars. tonight
under the infinite sky, my soul is lost without her, yet i can no longer love her.

shall i go back? or not. na-ah. multiply is good for now.

baby steps, baby steps.

still haven’t had a good sleep lately. sleeping is a curse like gazing through the open window of despair. i don’t want to wake up soaked on a wet pillow. i’d rather get soaked with extra moolah on my bedside. atleast work is something to look forward lately. this morning my boss asked me to design the company site. i still haven’t gone around to it. still busy dealing with nothing. preoccupied with things i know will lead me nowhere.

sometimes i ask myself, why am i still doing this? why i choose to get drowned in my darkness is beyond me. why am i still hoping when at this point i am soo done moping. and for crissakes, why am i still listening to the smiths? john kusack’s character in high fidelity asks, “did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?“

baby steps, baby steps.

Me: well maybe its because of the hair
Someone: nndut pajd au tingog oi pisti
Someone: yeah he dint look as hot when he had short hair
Me: girls nowadays always fall for “the hair”
Someone: no ui
Someone: but how it falls on the face
Me: heck…im waiting for ym to release an emo smiley
Someone: …
Me: or an emo emo
Me: lol
Someone: naa diay?
Me: that’s why im waiting

* on a discreetly related event, ‘m currently downloading Hannah and Her Sisters

is the cosmos that small?

last night while out on an alcohol binge(ah! the cause and solution to all problems) met the younger sister of my close friend from a different “set of friends”. now the weird thing is, i was also out with my friend exactly a fortnight ago. i know the universe is knocking at my doorstep and is trying to tell me something. i’m trying to answer it but the problem is, i forgot my mantra.

eversince “it” happened, i’ve been waiting for that proverbial flashing “sign” from God or some cosmic diety to wake me up on my deep emotional slumber. but to my disappointment, it never arrived. yesterday, i had an epiphany, a sudden bolt of realization so strong it required me to ponder on it the whole afternoon(well, i was on my trip back to Cebu, so it still counts). i made a silent mental jousting with “reason” and “consequence” and came to a conclusion that perhaps the “no sign” was the “sign” itself manifested. it’s a cosmic pat on the back that says, “hey you’ll be alright without her” or “it’s ok to let go now”. (it’s quite hard to explain and i have no obligation to do so, so go figure.)

that whole feeling of waiting sickens me and “hate” is a very mild world to describe it. i’m sick of being restless and hopeful over something i can never control. when she said, “time to move on now,” i thought she was just being discreet and unraveling discreetness is something i’m not good at. but then again maybe i never got over that “denial” stage and alas! how comforting it is to finally let go.

so that flash of epiphany i had yesterday was something i’ve been waiting for the longest time. that certainly explains a lot now and the view is more clearer from up above.

currently crossreading Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore with John Sellers’ Perfect From Now On (How Indie Rock Saved My Life). bought both books since it’s on sale(20% off) and what perfect way to pamper oneself on a boring turn of time they call new year. anyways, the former is fiction with interrelated crisscrossing plot in what could be described as a marriage of Holden Caulfield and a Hayao Miyazaki movie. the latter is a non-fiction – autobiographical, in the very sense of the word and more like a blog than a book – which details his life as a kid with a Bob Dylan nut for a dad, his high school life, being a Guided By Voices nut, and so on. still quarter-way through both books and i’m not trying to really finish it on a swoop. letting the words and meanings fell and reflecting on it once in a while like sifting through someone’s diary and getting caught on the wonder of it all.

Jens Lekman – The Opposite of Hallelujah

But sister, it’s the opposite of hallelujah
it’s the opposite of being you
you don’t know cause it just
passes right through you
you don’t know what I’m going through

i just received my full salary, in cash. i’m finally going home after a year or so.

how could it get any better than this?