Showing posts from 2011

sometime last april

Yesterday was an absolute nightmare. Feeling ko na-Drag Me to Hell ako. After breaking up with my boyfriend, my laptop bogged down. Sumabay yata sa page-end ng aking relationship, kumukuha ng sariling moment. Punyeta. So I spent most of my day looking for a repair shop in Cubao and Greenhills and when I realized that my efforts were for naught, I decided to drink myself to death. Well, not exactly to death. I just needed to fast forward the day. I want to be blissfully asleep. I want to forget that I was, well, still breathing. If my life was an opera then this is the part where I sing my aria!

But then my phone rang. It was my boss. She needed the script I promised her earlier. Pronto. Owkay gow! So I went down to the internet shop (kasi nga sira ang netbook ko), did the script and went back to being a drunken drama queen.

Pero hindi rin ako naka-tulog kaagad so when 4:30 am arrived, I decided to take my depression to the empty streets and jog. I jogged away my resentment and the vod…

mababangong panaginip


Two dogs were in flames. They were running around, screaming in pain. I was with my brother and in my hand was a pale of water. I was trying to put out the fire but the dogs kept moving. Later on, when the fire had been put out, I tried wrapping cloth on one of the dog’s burned skin. When I looked up, I saw that the dog was missing a jaw. His muzzle had been sliced off. He looked at me with his flesh exposed, fresh and pulsating.

Then I woke up.


A cat has been possessed by the devil. He jumps from one end of the room to another. At one point, the cat turned into an infant. I took out a samurai and immediately cut both of his arms.


A small elephant hurls itself at me. She snaps at my neck but instead of hurting me I am reduced to giggling. Apparently it is a female elephant and she is procuring me for her baby.


I woke up in the rear seat of a moving car. The interior lights were on but the highway outside was pitch dark. I asked the driver where we were heading. She said she wa…

sabi ng emoterang beki

After accomplishing one of my four deadlines for the night, I decided to sit in front of the TV and watch the last few minutes of “Eat, Pray, Love,” a movie I detested even before I have seen it. But there I was, trying to search for clues on how I can heal myself in the four corners of the screen. Heal. Yes, heal. We do get wounded by failed relationships no? That came to me pretty late in life. I wish I had my first major heartbreak when I was a teenager. If I could just sweep away the memory of my previous relationship I would. The break-up shook me to the core. And I’m still smarting from it.

I realized that I no longer crave for pleasure. I no longer seek mind-blowing experiences, sensations that paralyze us for a few seconds, pleasures that give us hints of a heavenly after-life. Instead I seek peace. I want to be able to sit in an empty room and not feel the gnawing pain.

-Sometime in the last several months. Ngayon keri-keri na.


“What is a man but a piece of meat that grieves too much,” sabi ni Lourd de Veyra sa tula niyang “Seaon of One Thousand Suicides.” I’ve always been fascinated by suicides especially the ones done publicly. Ano nga ba ang naisip nung isang babae noong tumalon siya mula sa MRT ilang taon na ang nakakalipas? Nabasa ko sa isang blog tungkol sa mga metro crimes nitong taon lang, isang nursing student ang tumalon naman mula sa 5th floor ng isang mall sa probinsya. Uso na pala ang suicides sa mall these days. Pero mas uso yata ang pagtalon ng mga kalalakihan mula sa mga gigantic billboards sa EDSA. “They clamber up one thousand billboards of Sharon cuneta/ peddler of one thousand cellular phones with a single fat smile --- shadows/ of their razor-thin arms and legs prickling her plump pink cheeks,” sabi nga sa opening line ng tula ni de Veyra, his line loaded with socio-political meaning. I’ve always thought that suicide should be done privately and the abovementioned acts makes me wonder i…

tumbling sa tumblr


Will you please, please teach me how to doggie?

I tune in to Nat Geo and there’s Cesar Milan. I tune in to HBO and they are showing Haichiko. And oh by the way I just finished reading Marley and Me. Naturally I’m thinking that God wants me to have another dog. But I already have two and I have a small apartment and most of the time the apartment smells like Bio Research.

At night, when I take down the mattress and the blanket, the first to climb into the bed are my two dogs. When the boyfriend sleeps over, Chichi snuggles between us and curl up. Last night, I found myself sleeping on the floor because she has effectively pushed me out of the bed. Chichi’s a bit bipolar. She always has an anxious look on her face. When I still had a balcony, she loved spending lots of time staring at the horizon, thinking of God knows what. I hope she’s not thinking of leaving me because I would cut my arm for her. Marcel, on the other hand, is the cheerful one. He always has a hearty appetite. He would eat everything, even my cable wire. He loves w…

cold night no?

It was a cold night no? When I went down to buy breakfast at 5am, the streets were a bit foggy. I felt somewhat invigorated even though I was braving the empty streets alone. I’m not too fond of the December rain though. It reminds me of June, a time when my life was basically in shambles. In fact, everything that reminds me of my post-break-up experience immediately sends me into a funk --- the smell of cooking liver, the taste of a tepid gin, damp streets, ,warm empty afternoons, etc. It helps that I’m no longer in my old apartment. “Papatayin ka ng mga alaala,” sabi nga sa libro ni Chris Martinez. I have to admit though when I first moved in to my new apartment I thought the lack of space would drive me crazy. I remember having a quiet afternoon a few weeks ago. The afternoon sunlight flooded the entire apartment and all the light made the small space appear somewhat bigger and in many ways more cheerful. I paused for a bit and sat on the floor with the dogs. I thought it was a bea…

ano pa ulit yung punchline?

I’ve been trying to give my life a comedic spin. If I can’t pull it together I thought I might as well make fun of it, di ba? But I just get lost more and more. It’s a nice afternoon. The dogs are sleeping. In my mind I am in Quiapo, walking aimlessly looking for something that probably doesn’t even exist. It’s not that I’m lonely. It’s the fact that the loneliness has become more piercing.


The truth is I’m so miserable now my mind is about to explode thinking of ways on how I can get out of this abject funk! How the fuck did I end up like this!

waste disposal management

Woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. It's MJ. Wants me to accompany him to UP. I would've loved to muni-muni in UP pero yun nga I have deadlines. And I need to finish my deadlines because I already need the money. Money is a big problem these days. Money and, well, some other things. I feel shit today, to be honest. So welcome break sana yung UP pero yun nga I have deadlines to do. I'm repeating myself aren't I? Kaloka. I just woke up and I already feel tired. And lonely. And I have deadlines due this afternoon. Okay, so my other half is already flaring up. Enough with the deadline already! Pero I'm still writing this so kung mapapahaba yung entry e di mas made-delay yung deadline. Kaloka. Can I just laugh? Like laughter yoga? Or like Koala in Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang? I don't know. My neck hurts. At hindi siya stiff neck ha! I think I need to lie down and sleep some more. Maybe it's the gin. I drank the gin in the ref after I arrived home from joggi…

Love according to David Sedaris

“The picture ended at about ten, and afterward we went for coffee at a little place across the street from the Luxembourg Gardens. I was ready to wipe the movie out of my mind, but Hugh was still under its spell. He looked as though his life had not only passed him by but paused along the way to spit in his face. Our coffee arrived, and as he blew his nose into a napkin, I encouraged him to look on the bright side. “Listen,” I said, “we maybe don’t live in wartime London, but in terms of the occasional bomb scare, Paris is pretty close second. We both love bacon and country music, what more could you possibly want?”

What more could he want? It was an incredibly stupid question and when he failed to answer, I was reminded of just how lucky I truly am. Movie characters might chase each other through the fog or race down the stairs of burning buildings, but that’s for beginners. Real love amounts to withholding the truth, even when you’re offered the perfect opportunity to hurt someone’s …

What I picked up on my way to the meat section

Last Sunday, upon the suggestion of the boyfriend I went to the grocery to finally stuff my refrigerator with real food. For the past several months, I’ve been subsisting on carideria take-outs, tapsilog, and noodles. I also lost a spectacular amount of weight, which, I think is good. I no longer have to run twice a week to upset the calories I’ve been imbibing because of constant beer drinking. But I think the weight-loss can also be attributed to the fact that I have two dogs, an actual busy schedule and an entire apartment all to myself, which means that I’m the only one who does all the cleaning. But I digress.

So there I was at the grocery picking up the necessary items: eggs, butter, bread, etc. I was in front of the meat section wondering what to order when I realized that it doesn’t really matter what I pick. It will just rot like the bangus my mother gave me two months ago, which, I just remembered is still inside the freezer. The fact is I don’t know how to cook. And yes, a…

it tastes like shit

I could taste depression in my mouth. But I’m done with being depressed. Too painful. I think I’m just going to wash it off with Red Horse and call it a night. This has been, so far, one the worst weeks of the year.

pissed off thursday

It’s pissed off Thursday. Got my salary but most of it went to dog food and bills. I went home, cleaned the house, and went out again to Tomas Morato to meet the boyfriend. I could feel stress crawling like worms inside me. I need a bonggang-bonggang massage. But you see here’s the weird thing. I’m still looking for things to be pissed about like I want to finally push that detonator and blow myself to smithereens.

Night in day

I was walking home, the mid-noon sun bearing down on me. There was light everywhere and suddenly I was reminded of this poem by Joseph Stroud.

Night in Day

The night never wants to end, to give itself over
to light. So it traps itself in things: obsidian, crows.
Even on summer solstice, the day of light’s great
triumph, where fields of sunflowers guzzle in the sun—
we break open the watermelon and spit out
black seeds, bits of night glistening on the grass

Read this almost a decade ago but it still speaks to me.

to my darling wife leon...

"To my darling wife, Leon, whom I love more than any man has ever loved another man in all eternity..."

- al pacino, dog day afternoon

please tell me

Please, please tell me if there is something that I should know, if there is something that I am missing. Is the universe keeping secrets from me? Should I prod a little deeper, search a little further? Is it hidden beneath the flesh? Should I pry it open and swim into my wounds? Is it hidden beneath the sidewalk? Is it in the very air that I breathe? I am practically lost. I seem to be walking around in circles. Really, is there something good for me? Tell me, is there something that I should know?

how to wake a sleeping lover

The sun pierces through the curtain, turning the light into a happy yellow. He kneels down before his sleeping lover and looks at him. He touches his eyebrows, carefully tracing where the hair begins and where it ends. He realizes that at certain angles he could see parts of himself on his face. Isn’t that usually the case, he thought, we always find clues and hints of ourselves in our lovers? He softly kisses him on the lips and whispers something in his ear. The lover responds absent-mindedly. He smiles.

He looks at his naked body and admires its slenderness, its softness, the curves that his bent leg makes, and the hollow spaces here and there. Spaces he has already conquered but would and could never own. He wraps his arms around his body and run his fingers across his chest and, because it is already mid-noon, tries to wake him up in the gentlest way possible.

i'm running out of cigarettes and fuck it i'm still here

The sun is out. It’s three o’ clock in the afternoon. It’s a Sunday. I stare at the benches along the strip. The light bounces off the ground, turning the glass panels into mirrors. There is a slight breeze. I’m listening to Morrissey. Beware, he sings, I bear more grudges than high court judges. I wish I was at the Cote d’ Azur, wherever that is.

The heart has rooms and hallways waiting to be explored

I realized how much I love the boyfriend when I asked about the contents of his netbook. I know that it is a silly thing to do because why would I care about what he puts inside his portable computer when what I should only be caring about are the contents of his heart. But I guess when you are in love you want to know your lover completely. It's like having a new apartment and wanting to inspect every nook and cranny, flashing a light at the dimmed parts, looking for places to hide in and wondering if there are ghosts and if they are haunting still. I don't know about others but this is the way I love. I do know that the request itself is intrusive but it was a genuinely innocent request. I just wanted to know what he keeps inside his folders or if he downloads more pictures than books, videos more than music. And so he gave me a tour, opening the folders and showing me pictures, letting me read his works and in the end revealing poems that were meant for his previous lovers.…

exploding head syndrome

Lately, I have been having really bad dreams, nightmares actually. And whenever I’m about to have one I could feel my head throb and swell. Usually I end up being half-awake, conscious that I’m still in a dream but helpless enough not to be able to move my body. A few weeks ago, my boyfriend told me about a dream he had at the apartment where a seemingly malevolent entity kept repeating what I said before we slept. Before we went to bed, I asked the boyfriend if he had taken his medicine and in his dream a woman was violently asking him the same question as if mocking him. A few days later, I would experience the same thing where a man kept echoing what I said earlier. It has gotten worse since then. Last Sunday, while we were taking an afternoon nap, I dreamed that I was looking at a dark screen, pitch dark really, and I was shouting at it, trying to coerce the entity into showing his face. Then I saw a silhouette of a man followed in quick succession by several symbols and faces. At…

coffee in the afternoon, gin at midnight

I am in a cafe. The weather's a bit nice. Cool. Not sweltering. There is a possibility of rain. Well, apparently a big storm is hitting Manila in a few hours. I'm not exactly feeling well and this is after having a fabulous time with Jed last night and after having a fabulous deal at the computer shop just a few minutes ago. I don't know. Maybe I've been staying at the apartment too long. Maybe I've been paying too much attention to my emotions. But then if you find yourself suddenly crying in the shower, don't you think there is something wrong? It's such a cliche no, crying in the shower. But I think this breakdown is long overdue. Should've had it when I was 25. And yes, maybe that's what I'm currently having: a breakdown.

I watch the stream of people, looking for a familiar face. I see one and he mistakes me for my ex. I normally get mistaken for my brother. I ask him if the ex has been going to their place because I stupidly thought that th…

last night in hell

had a tough night. ran out of gin, cigarettes and internet load. ran out of money and ran out of excuses to not look at my pathetic self. got to the point where i was muttering expletives at no one in particular. had a brilliant idea of videotaping my breakdown. in all fairness, i love my slim bod (bwahaha)but beyond that i was in terrible pain. got to the point where i was pacing around the empty but dirty apartment. i was even bothering my (new)boyfriend who is in iligan right now for a workshop. i keep telling myself to not need anyone. to not need a babysitter. to be completely logical and to be immune to the whims of my emotions. it didn't work. i was still drowning. last thing i remember i was lying on my mat, looking at nothing in particular, while Chichi and Marcel kept biting my legs. then i blacked out.

bleach and sadness

I open the door to our room and see the cushion stripped off of its usual dirty blanket. The room is practically empty apart from the crumpled old shirt lying on the floor filthy with cum and sweat. But I refuse to clean it. I refuse to disinfect the floor, set aside the cushion and throw the blanket and the shirt into the laundry bin. I want it to be just as it was when we left it this morning. I want last night’s memory to be briefly frozen in time. It feels easier this way I guess because if I do take them away what will remain are sepulchral white walls and tiles that will only reek of bleach and sadness.


Meet Marcel

Meet Marcel. He is a terrier slash Labrador slash Azkal. Yes, just like Phil Younghusband (only cuter and hairier?). The first time he came to the apartment he was with a cute, young poet. When I opened the door, I immediately noticed the cute smile on the poet’s face and I thought: Man, I’m so going to get laid tonight!

No, that was a joke.

But before I could ask him to come in he said: “Someone wants to meet you.” And I thought shet finally Piolo has received my e-mails! And then he showed me little Marcel wrapped in a white blanket. My heart, as expected, quickly did a somersault. Twice!

I have been planning on getting another dog since the X left. I noticed that Chichi was also experiencing some kind of depression. Every time I would leave for work, she would bite my ankle and bark endlessly until I was out of the apartment. Both of us, I think, were drowning. On certain nights, I would look at her and she would look at me and she would stand up and wait by the door while I would lo…

my life in bits and pieces


Because I realized I needed something to inspire me on a daily basis, I took out some of the pictures I’ve taken and photos that I had somehow collected all these years and pasted them on my wall. Dito makikita ang litrato ng aking ama, ni ex-boyfriend, litrato ko, mga samu’t saring invitations, postcards at posters na for some reason hindi ko itinapon.


My first and only tape recorder. It’s a relic compared to the mp3 recorders that print writers use these days. But this one has served me well. I’ve interviewed artists, filmmakers, interior designers, wine makers, musicians, composers, opera singers, ballet dancers and some shitty public servants using this recorder. I still use it although now when I playback the interview it always sounds as if I’m interviewing Mickey Mouse.


Because I needed to keep track of my schedule and deadlines, I have begun listing them on a white board. Kasama na rin ang utang para hindi makalimutan. Of course I get the greatest pleasure whenever I er…


Well, it’s official. My five year relationship is over. It has been over for almost two weeks now but it was just this morning that he finally packed his bag and left our apartment. The very same apartment where we ate, slept, and fucked for almost four years.

But yes I was the one who broke up with him. I broke up with him because I realized that in the last three years we were together I have begun to hate him. He knows why I hate him.

But yes he did take very good care of me. He cleaned my apartment, prepared my meals, gave me massages every night, took care of my dog and perhaps even loved me. I don’t know. I’m just trying to be fair. I did love the guy. In fact, I was hoping that he would still stay here at the apartment but then last night I got drunk and thinking that since we had broken up a week before it would be okay to bring home a guy.

Well, surprise!

As soon as he left, the first thing I noticed was the pervading silence that seemed to have enveloped the apartment. I tur…

Bluer than blue

Okay, I should be working now. I have at least two deadlines due tomorrow --- no, later today. It’s already five in the morning. I’ve downed two cups of brewed coffee, finished at least a pack of Marlboro Black, fucked two guys (joke!), and still I couldn’t get any work done. I don’t know. Lately I’m all about living in tra-la-la land. So instead of starting on my deadlines, I am in front of the laptop cam doing a Stevie Wonder impersonation. I know I’m going to regret this in the morning (because it’s so disgustingly idiotic and narcissistic and I'm 32 years old for crying out loud. I shouldn't be spending too much time on the net. I should be, like, I don't know, outside trying to save the dolphins or running for peace or anything that will make this world liveable).

But what hell, just for one night no?

Tiyo Packs and his super duper friends

Tiyo Packs, may problema. Ang bulkan mukhang sasabog ulit. Kailangan ng tulong natin!
Ah, ganun ba?

Napakunot ng ulo si Tiyo Pack. “Tang-ina naman o,” pagmumura niya sa sarili. Hate na hate niya ito kahit kakaiba ang high na nadarama niya tuwing nakakatulong siya. “O diyos ko, kelan ba matatapos ang paghihirap kong ito!” patuloy na pagrereklamo niya.
Tumingin tingin siya sa kanyang paligid. Nasa isang sosyalerang café siya sa isang four star hotel sa Makati. “Tang-ina talaga!” sigaw niya. Mabilis niya nilabas ang kanyang portable player at sinalang ang isang mala-gintong CD. Insert lens flare effect. Isang masayang beat ang biglang umistorbo sa tahimik na café.

“A la tuhuelpa legria macarena
Que tuhuelce paralla legria cosabuena
A la tuhuelpa legria macarena Eeeh, macarena
A-Hai 2x"

“You like this huh?” sabi ni Tiyo Packs sa mga tao habang gumigiling giling. “You like this?”

Natulala ang mga nasa café sa kahihiyang pinaggagawa ni Tiyo Packs. Dancing the Macarena? In the middle of t…

chichi is pure love

At first I thought it was cute. We were running side by side. I was speeding up but she stayed beside me, gaining speed as well. Her tongue was sticking out of her muzzle. Her cute little ears were pointing backwards and her tail was wagging in the air. And every time she wandered away from me all I had to do was call her name and she would be with me again. And yes I thought: Look at us sweetie, aren’t we cute? An athletic (athletic daw o!) gay guy and his beloved dog out for a run, isn’t the idea cute? If I saw us I’d turn to Cassandra and say: Cassie, look at that cute guy with an unruly beard and his equally cute dog, aren’t they cute? I’d do him in a heartbeat.

Kalurkei ang thought right?

But then Chichi saw another dog and ran after him. Instantly thoughts of cuteness were erased from my mind as I sprinted across the oval in pursuit of them. As I ran after Chichi who was running after another dog I was reminded of a romcom from the famous ‘90s. Kulang na lang tumawag sa akin si …

my life as an oscar speech

I wish my life was like an Oscar acceptance speech delivered by Colin Firth or Tom Stoppard, a speech peppered with self-deprecation, funny in some parts and earnest in others but ultimately moving, eloquent, and more importantly momentous.

Marcel the dog

Marcel has always been a finicky eater. He calls him Marcel, after Marcel Proust who after sniffing bread sat down and wrote a terribly long novel. Marcel — not the French writer, but his dog, has a pretty good memory. Sometimes he would watch him run around the house retrieving toys he, himself, had forgotten buying. Whenever they visit his mother’s house, he would watch in amusement as Marcel pranced around the garden, knowing exactly where to go. He has done research on this, about the memories of dogs. He read in some online journal that dogs actually don’t remember anything. But once they smell their owner or hear their voice, the memory suddenly comes alive. They suddenly remember. How poetic, he thought. He thought of love.

He got Marcel at a low point in his life. Before he arrived, he voraciously read books on dogs. He knew for example that puppies should be put on a crate, that no matter how piercing their cries were the owner should leave them there. During Marcel’s first …

Shoot and roll

Kung minsan kapag ang tagal ng shoot tapos uwing-uwi na ako nagkakaroon ako ng existential crisis. Bakit pa nga naman kakaririn ang paggawa ng isang imaginary world kung ang totoong buhay naman natin ay one big mess? Bakit pa iisipin kung tama ang linya, perfect ang make-up at moving ang acting eh pag-step out ko naman ng set chaos rin ang sasalubong sa akin? At dun wala nang take-two take-two.

Sometimes I find it absurd.

Pero in hindsight perhaps that’s the reason we create to at least have some semblance of control over our ever messy lives.

But really what I just want to say with this page-emoemohan post is that I actually had fun shooting with film last Saturday. Part kasi ng requirement namin sa class ay gumawa ng isang short at lahat kami pinaghati-hatian ang mga sequences. Iba pala pag film na ang gamit mo. Dahil alam mong mahal ito at hindi pinupulot lang kung saan saan ang mga rolyo bago ka pa mag-take ilang ulit mong ire-rehearse ang mga artista. At pag sumilip ka na sa view…

Get crazy with the CheezeWhiz

Because I can’t seem to wrap my brain around the article I’m currently writing (about a cute artist whose work I’m actually interested in), I started downloading songs from the ‘90s. Beck. Crash Test Dummies. Stone Temple Pilots. Barenaked Ladies. Tori Amos. Sleeps With Butterflies actually sends me back to a time when Manila was wet and cold and I’m in love and filled with longing.

But yes, yes, I know what about REM, Smashing Pumpkins and Pearl Jam? They have been on rotation ever since I started bringing a walkman around that they no longer evoke nostalgia and I’m all about nostalgia tonight. I realized that if it’s still the 90s I’d fit right in because the 90s was all about angst and alienation. Part of the pleasure of buying cassettes and CDs then was reading the sleeves and basking in the coolness of my favorite bands. I even treated the lyrics as poetry, something to decipher and relish. I’d lose sleep trying to figure out what the fuck does Beck mean when he sings:

“You can’t…

Haggard much?

I could feel my eyes popping out. For the last several days I’ve been working all night just to beat my deadlines. It took me almost three days to transcribe, write and edit an article and another two days to finish a script. Ang bagal ko na teh. Well, to be honest mabagal ako kasi I spend most of the time chatting on Planet Romeo. Kamusta naman di ba? Di talaga ako matatapos nun. Kasi naman guys, stop messaging na! Echos. Arte lang.

Technique ko kasi yun para mas makapag-concentrate (weh? I-justify pa ba). No, seriously, I couldn’t focus on what I’m writing if I’m, um, trying to focus solely on the article alone. Ang labo noh. Pero antidote ko yun sa katamaran. E di kapag inutugan, mag-sulat ka na. Buhay na ang dugo eh. Kasi mga kids, ang pagsusulat kailangan parating may libog (wahaha!).

Hanep sa lecture, right? Kanina nga, para lang matapos na ako sa isang AVP script hinostage ko na ang mga bossing at tinapos ko na mismo sa harapan nila. Para wala nang balikan. Move on na.


Piolo, I dreamed of you last night. Did you dream of me too?

Jan. 4, 2011
Dream sequence

I was following Piolo Pascual around. The reason is unclear. I’m not sure if I was interviewing him for a magazine or I was just kibitzing. I was walking around in a commercial district when I saw him. He recognized me and then there I was following him around. We were in Cubao X or someplace similar.

Suddenly we had to attend a film awards and I had nothing to wear. Piolo offers to lend me some of his clothes so we go to a changing room. Piolo tells his assistant to find me something to wear. I should note that he was not at all warm --- he was aloof and guarded. A stylist joins us. She was accompanying Piolo to the event. Piolo tells her that I needed an outfit. She half-heartedly picks one for me. She also picks out a necklace with a huge blue brooch in the middle. This will look good on you, she said. I put it on and I look ridiculous. I would take it off when they weren’t looking. The assistant gives me another outfit, which I finally wear. …