***
it never lets us go, this business of unlocked knobs of closed doors.

abstract forevers.

***

such is the chorus of the song only us knew.

like the silence that was almost always saved by whatever pathetic rap that used to blare out from your car stereo…

like the minute i broke the rule and chased you down the elevator for a goodbye kiss…

i long knew you didn’t want us to sit down on these things. because the world is complicated and it breaks you to realize that even in shambles,

one thing always makes itself clear:

there is love

and we have ours for the most unlikely persons.

me.
and you.

—
for missing bra hooks and the way their specters haunt you in all odd places, like bloody ol’ facebook.

it never lets us go, this business of unlocked knobs of closed doors.

sentences with premature punctuation; 
wonderworlds in poor pixels;
fragmented iloveyous;

abstract forevers.

—
after all these years,
i still believe you were my biggest love

you gave me my favorite adjective: beautiful.
you, great, great grandson of gods.

there’s no better time to write about us than tonight.

in your years of moping over history and archeology,

i wish you realize,
the best times are now

and there are treasures that aren’t buried.

i fancy distancing myself to you, seeing you chase, making you stalk, pushing you to desperately let yourself be known to me,

running after me, even in pathetic realms like Yoville.

well, here’s news for you:

i hate doing this
but this is the part girls like me play.

then again,
let me tell you,

it will be worth the wait.

born in a dog-eats-dog world and raised in a country where crab mentality is the unspoken anthem, charity is a virtue i am yet to receive. years of surviving by means of minding oneself FIRST helped me deal with the fact that the world’s biggest lie is painted on Philippine public schools’ roofs:

Bayan Muna Bago Sarili

pffftt.

but there was this stranger who once upon a time, upon learning that i weave words, fancy good music and worship art, bequeathed me a handmade journal, his entire mp3 collection and a bagful of ballpoint sketches—

—tilled the soil from where my dreams took root.

this is the same stranger who from time to time, embraces silence for a while because he gives away his musical instruments to random other strangers; who always has so much to give even if he doesn’t have enough for himself; who doesn’t run out of love and laughter and life even if in some sad ways, he, more than most, yearns for it too.

i do not know much about SKETCHES FOR CHARITY or PENS OF HOPE. but i do know Dan Guillano, and the mountains he is willing to move to brighten up other people’s day, make room for others’ dreams to come true.

let us support his cause.

—

(this post’s publication has been delayed due to my desperate (and needless to say, failed) attempt at being impersonal.)

some years ago, fate whisked a five-minute moment of sheer bliss my way. but it was the longest and will always be the most remarkable stretch of five minutes in my existence. a flicker of chance where i was at two places at the same time:

fantasy and reality.

over time, i have attempted to immortalize that short glimpse of heaven, but couldn’t quite contain in a more straightforward manner. along the course of the struggle, i understood why romantics had to hide flowers and daggers between lines. because there are certain things that feel so good, it could never be right.

for how could i pass up a romance story when the part i play is that of easier more convenient and handier, reserve tire? there is no place for third wheels in love. if there is, then you’ve got the privilege of being billed as the biggest bitch.

i savored THAT moment for somehow, even for a while, i felt that if only thing could’ve been a little different, he would have been more than willing to spare the gist of that memory with me.

unlike most of my mindless exposes, i took care of that moment’s transcript with unwavering respect. the strict discipline of the Japanese haiku was strung into verses; the arresting truth into untainted rhymes, the compression of a lifetime into a few carefully chosen words,

and most of all, with the help of some friends,

a reverie into melody.

LISTEN.

~*~

for inky callora, for blessing my verses with your voice

and for Manong,
the one who got away.

here’s a bad truth:

often, i just look for sex.
but instead, i get love.

and here’s a sad truth:

there are some who looks for love
but doesn’t find and get anything

not even sex.

—
see the difference?

euphemisms has no place in my fancy at the moment.

the reality is staring straight back at me with the message clear: “don’t fcukin tell me you are a person of depth because right here, right now, you bloody have to take care of the surface.”

true.  i concede. as much as i very much aspire to enroll in a proper course on photography or poetry or programming, as much as i am very much tempted to swipe the almost 150k php credit limit on my Visa (don’t bother asking how much Mastercard has in store for me :P; ans SWIPE is the operative word because i couldn’t otherwise afford CASH) for my titanic Nikon d90 dream, i simply couldn’t.

you see, i still cannot be selfish.(although in a way, living for others is the biggest favor i have been doing to my happiness eversince.).

lately, i have decided to weed out everything that is not good and of no use to me.

1. the universe conspired and flatmate is moving out. of course, that would mean that i will be paying what used to be halved between us. but that is just the only downside. for one, i can finally call and count my place as MY HOME.
2. having said number one, i am going gaga in buying every household trinket i could lay my eyes on. in the mean time, stacks of storage boxes and shopping bags are kept in my bedroom, waiting for the day of my flat’s makeover and rebirth.
3. thousands of miles away, my family is doing the first steps for their first NZ visit, and if they could survive the weather, maybe migration. this means that i have to shell out some more for the walang-kamatayang-fees for everything in Philippine offices/agencies. plus i have to prepare for their living allowance once they come here.
4. in order to support my current needs, i am working nonstop. and at night shift, for higher rates. but the set-up isn’t good considering that i am never a routine person. it drains the creativity out of me.
5. and because all my energy is chanelled to money-making, i do not have anything left for household chores and to do lists. i cannot even feed my blog, considering how big a part it plays in my life.

with all these said and done, it is quite clear that somehow, i am making logical choices. i am planning to stick to being little miss mundane for a while until i get things in order.

only then, can i LIVE again.

–

friends, do hang on

when lights go off
and skies are sheets

emerges
another Oz

where iloveyous are forbidden

and flesh
are traded
like livestock

and it doesn’t feel,
not even a bit,

bad.

“the power in all relationships lies with whoever cares less”

-Uncle Wayne, Ghost of Girlfriends Past