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Showing posts from October, 2012

drunk man at the bar

A beautiful young girl dances before him, barely clothed. Small, pinpoint lights glide all over her milky white skin like frisky hands, searching for her softest parts. Smoke was rising from somewhere. He holds his beer tighter, letting beads of melted ice spill over his fingers.
Oh baby, baby, he thought, why do you have to do it?
He looks at the girl’s face, a homely face with a piercing here and there. Her hair parts like curtain, letting men get a peek at her sad, filthy eyes at her will. She’s not as beautiful as the one he lost, not nearly as beautiful, he thought. That one had an innocent face like a little girl’s. Small with piercing almond eyes, lips that tasted like wine.
No, it was my fault, he argued, she had nothing to do with it. Nothing.
He refreshes his pack and snatches a new stick. Somewhere in the city she is laughing, undressing. He closes his eyes and sees her at the foot of the bed a little drunk. She throws her purse on the table, kicks off her shoes. She unbutton…

Aning friday

It’s Friday evening and there’s a light drizzle over Cubao. I sit outside a restaurant people-watching with two cold beers on the table. I couldn’t find a seat in a cafe so I decided why not get a drink instead. It’s aning Friday after all. Ewan ko, suddenly my head started spinning this afternoon --- not spin as in headache but spin as in aning-aning. Bigla na lang naging restless ako. Parang may gusto akong gawin na hindi ko maisip kung ano. Inisip ko baka panic attack. Maybe that’s it. A panic attack. So I told myself while showering to relax. Relax. So I jerked off.
Didn’t work.
I went out wearing my favourite red shirt. Iniisip ko how appropriate. I have a date with the boyfriend and I’m wearing red. Passion. Love. Sex. Lust, etc. When I got to Cubao I realized that my shirt doesn’t match my shoes. Not that I’m a matchy-matchy type. The truth is even if I write for a makeover show I couldn’t care less about what I wear. Well, I care actually pero hindi lang ako nage-effort. Somet…

friday morning

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I woke up from a sad dream. That was at least the pervading atmosphere in the dream. In it I was watching an acquaintance ask a favour from our boss. She was telling her that she has to leave because her new husband wanted the family to be together at the dinner table. The woman was distraught but our boss was sympathetic. What was sad about it was that I was envious of their relationship. Watching them made me feel more alone.
It was just a few minutes after midnight when I woke up. I thought about drinking the left over beer inside the ref but I already had four bottles before I got home. I should stop drinking. Just yesterday, I sat in a neighbourhood tagsilogan at four in the morning with my stomach grumbling from too much alcohol, my chest hurting from too much smoke and with my ears being assailed first by Imelda Papin and then by April Boy Regino. I listened intently though, pondering the meaning of the lyrics to “Honey, my love so sweet.” The tapsilogan was making me miss th…