My Blog

haven’t had a deep, undisturbed one in a week. dreaming of things i struggle to remember in waking. i was told last night that my past life i was a gorilla

i saw you. barely having the chance to speak to you, you were suddenly gone. in a car driven by your mom. what? in a former school in my hometown. not saying goodbye. does this mean goodbye? dreams are not what they seem. what if they are actually what they seem? how to tell this difference. my pscyhe feeling and absorbing human energies, flow of emotion. anticipation. communication. let’s have a long talk. let’s have a whole day of talking…for such a simple wishful thinking, this one seems impossible. patience. soon, i know it will. waiting for the time to go by. i’m guilty of waiting. who is not? i am seduced by the tempting notion of naive and innocent longing of bodies, soul, sound and laughter. if only to communicate through conventions other than words and see the world from those wide, childlike eyes. to share a pair of eyes and peek through rose-tinted glasses. foggy. blissful. blissful. dreamlike. sigthing you in my not-so deep, disorienting slumber.

what are the whims that bring me to this eternal waiting. one week almost. anticipation. expectation of some news or even of your one-second breath. and yet, nothing. i do not understand. but tell myself that after all you are not and i am not. so why the wait and anticipation of expectant affection, mushy convention.
unending grief for the memory of your dry voice, childish giggle and occasional undecipherable sounds. sounds that do wring in my ears. that keep repeating itself along with naive reconstructions of some event slowly lost to time and memory.

wisking, brisking, flasfjasidroiufc, bsahfajryaoskf, mi, moving, talking… wishing
walang humpay na pag iisip at pagnanasa sa isang nakalipas. anu na kaya ang ginagawa mo ngayon diyan sa sarili mong sulok ng mundo na di ko pa nararating. ang iyong sulok na iniisip kong marating. makita ang makaluma at bagong pamumuhay. matikman ang panlansang parati mong binibida in stories of home. anung mapaglarong pagkakataon ang nagdala sa atin sa isang lugar na walang katahimikang pagiisip at pangungulila.

…haay, bwatskuki…napnap…nap…ayoyoyoyoy, bratuyxcvbna
breeze, dreaming of coming home and embracing joaquin. counting the days left till i get back to the pollution, chaos, humidity, flooded streets, rain, pungent smells, smoky roads, warm and hot, warm and spontaneous, breathing city of home. a month didnt seem that long, actually it did not…just realized how time just passes by. I think im getting tired of this keyboard can never find the z and the y and the places of other letters seem misplaced. went to MAK museum, it was a free day. now in the arsenal, trying some free writing and talking. writing what comes to my mind…maybe something might come up…then maybe not… we wait and sometimes it happens but sometimes it doesnt…

i have’nt bike this much in my life. my legs are killing me already but i’m having fun and learning that the best way to ride a bike is by letting go and giving minimal exertion. minimum effort. te best thng about learning to bike is knowing how to go about life in a calm manner, its like youre just breeying through the wind through the road, through life and yet able to experience the environment. the best thing about biking is that you learn to highten your senses to everything around you and still keep this calm and cool composure