It was another day of going to the office. Early in the morning at six, coming out of the shower I opened our matrimonial closet and saw there hanging at the spotlight the onesies we bought for baby.
Even before we knew baby’s gender, we picked brightly-colored onesies for three to six months of age. Jaycelle hang it by the closet facing forward so that it will slap me into reality that baby’s on the way.
And yes it did. Every time it caught me staring at it because I couldn’t believe. Maybe I don’t want to believe that in a few month’s time, someone will join in our lives like an exchange student from a foreign country with the promise of stay.
It is heart-melting – like the feeling I had when my younger brother came into this world. I wanted to carry him every day at our front yard, under the rising sun before breakfast. I wanted to show him how happy it was to bathe in the rain and under the downspout.
I needed more slapping.
And this time, it was a set of onesies for ages zero to three months.
Would you believe that US has a government agency for Fatherhood?
I want to tell you… Whoo-oo… That I love you…
You won’t believe it. That was me singing.
Guess what? I was drunk last night. Maybe I should make this a template.
I found myself meeting up with my former officemates / drinking buddies, Peachy, Alex, JE, and Badong. Too bad, Mandy retired earlier. These beer-repapips made the tiresome work at the office bearable. Of course, the venue – at Stir-Crazy. I don’t remember shelling out money. Well, there were very little that I remember, anyway.
Then they all went away except for Peachy who stayed with me and my bottles of beer. Suddenly, my brother texted me; telling me to go to some beer-house at Timog. He needed my drinking-buddy expertise, and my sensible opinions on matters ranging from ants and dinosaurs to end-times religions. But mostly, it’s about love. It’s all about love.
When people who rarely call you up (to ask you how have you been) suddenly call, ninety percent of the time, they have a problem. And you know what it is about.
Cutting the long story short, we went home and at 4AM, I went to the other side of the street where the carinderia was still open. I had my dinner, finally. The papaitan was served smokin’ warm. After five minutes of wondering why in the world did I not have rice, I told the girl to give me one cup. I thought I was going to rot there staring at the viand.
The real moral here is that every Wednesday, I and my friends should have a Stir-Crazy session. That’s what I realized with my genius brain.
Originally published on Friendster, 18 January 2007
I miss Something New. A friend borrowed it for a Swatch photo contest.
I found Cozy But Nozy. I’ll be looking for this whitey in stores; wear it on my left wrist then give it to my girlfriend if she wants it.
Originally published on Friendster, 04 March 2007
Are you going to be in my dreams tonight?
In the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
~ The End by Beatles
Originally published on Friendster, 11 March 2007
I was lying down the barren bermuda grass with a triple-bent fork in my crotch talking about the Anahaw plant. That was a patch of land about six square meters. We used to wrestle and waste each other there, my cousins and I… Would you stay or would you not? Wait… consider that you were my childhood friend who used to cower away because I wanted to sing Christmas carols to neighbors?
Yes, you will leave me to die like a lunatic feast to blood-hungry-non-existent-malaria-infested mosquitoes.
My last thought was our cousin bleeding to death with his foot-long gash on his shin; wrestling with me to no avail.
Originally published on Friendster, 08 April 2007
It Is Sunday Morning
While everyone is asleep still, enjoying their respite from the yesterday’s bustle, I am wide awake. I let the hours pass by an occasional dreamless slumber.
I’ve been loved, hated, loved, hated, loved… And it always ends up the same. Never a cycle and my behavioral pattern abruptly ends at this point.
When it is Sunday morning, I am always like this kid back in the past waiting for the three o’ clock afternoon sun. How I like it up above; blistering, conducive to self-realization.
But I realize nothing but the solace of finding myself alone in the backyard just walking to and fro. Walking to and fro. Going nowhere.
Until I feel the heaviness of lifting the gate handle; watch it swinging behind me.
I am not leaving home. I will find another.
In your heart.
And most of all in my silence.
The very silence that will whisper to cross the street back and lock the gate; take a cigarette and watch people pass by.
Originally published on Friendster, 04 August 2007