1st instance:

while we were descending an escalator, we spotted arnel pineda near the exit of the mall. he was with his wife and kid. i was star strucked and you can't blame me. i'm a sucker for long haired men and great voices: he's both.

2nd instance:

same mall. just yesterday. we were shopping for undergarments and some of the sales lady asked to have their picture taken with longherr. they thought he was arnel pineda.

i know. funny...and a bit embarassing at that. we were laughing the whole night because of it.

i really cannot find the slightest hint of resemblance...well aside from the vast area on their faces also known as their forehead.  

i remembered that.

and up to this date...

you had never broken your promise.

thank you.

but because of that i am hunted and bound to never move on.

you knew that it was our memory that i always

took comfort on

whenever i feel like hurting myself.

you always knew it was around this time...

always mornings...

after work.

but you didn't know that

it's only when i'm drunk that i can surrender

to my dismal defeat.

that after all these years you knew

i needed you.

STILL.

not because i needed a wound to dig

but because i wanted to heal us.

++

sorry. thoughtless ramblings. i can't sleep.

funny thing is i'm not even drunk. i just miss you.

AND I HATE HOW SHE FLIRTS WITH YOU.

while everyone is in disarray to rise above the disaster left by ondoy and pepeng,

i am spending sleepless nights

looking for hotel accomodations out of town.

there was this one hotel that i was so ready to pay the reservation fee on...

only to find out that it was one of the best known red light area in town.

NO.

i can't wait for friday...

all work and no play leaves janni bipolar.

so i better go and find worthy reservations.

why should i deprive myself from it...

it was sheer ecstasy...or just a rush of caffeine + nicotine to my core.

hahaha. either way, i missed us.

+++

media itself is one problem we need to solve. after convincing noynoy to do the unthinkable, it prophesized doom in the form of pepeng.

hey pepeng, no offense but ondoy was the shit...

SHIT.

Yes, divine intervention.

I'll make it short and simple:

Considering Corazon Aquino for canonization is certainly crazy talk. For one, she only fits the standards of a HERO. People, it's HERO and not SAINT.

And it's not as if she is morally spotless.

Don't get me wrong. I admire her courage to stand amidst all her detractors. I believe she is one of those few women who had changed people's view on being one. I can continue praising her but i CANNOT say her being a saint is rational.

And besides, it is during her administration that Comprehensive Agrarian Reform Law was passed and people who had watched the struggles of the sumilaw farmers  and hacienda luisita farmers, would know my point.

Sorry. I am not really into politics as i see it as one great circus act. But i really hate how Filipinos would be so desperate in finding their new Superman.

++

And yeah, i'm back. I've been verbally assaulting people due to my inability to rant on my blogs.  So yes, for the greater good of things, feed on my immortality.

Siguro masaya.

Pero hindi tulad ng dati,

Katumbas ng pagsulyap mo

Ang kamatayan at muling pagkabuhay ko.

Magaling nako. Natawag na kitang "akin"

At natapos na din ang panaginip.

Eto ang muling pagkabuhay

Nating dalawa

Bilang hindi minsan nagkakilala.

Anna who was mad,
I have a knife in my armpit.
When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages.
Am I some sort of infection?
Did I make you go insane?
Did I make the sounds go sour?
Did I tell you to climb out the window?
Forgive. Forgive.
Say not I did.
Say not.
Say.

Speak Mary-words into our pillow.
Take me the gangling twelve-year-old
into your sunken lap.
Whisper like a buttercup.
Eat me. Eat me up like cream pudding.
Take me in.
Take me.
Take.

Give me a report on the condition of my soul.
Give me a complete statement of my actions.
Hand me a jack-in-the-pulpit and let me listen in.
Put me in the stirrups and bring a tour group through.
Number my sins on the grocery list and let me buy.
Did I make you go insane?
Did I turn up your earphone and let a siren drive through?
Did I open the door for the mustached psychiatrist
who dragged you out like a gold cart?
Did I make you go insane?
From the grave write me, Anna!
You are nothing but ashes but nevertheless
pick up the Parker Pen I gave you.
Write me.
Write.

-Anne Sexton

I have mastered the art of

Selective memory

Until I heard those lines

And tasted the bitter

Ills of feeling you

But cursed to never touch.

"Bring it back...

Brinkg it back...

Don't take it away from me

Because you don't know

What it means to me..."

Love of my life...

My beloved and my being...

My existence and my demise.