adventures of a couch potato

sept 01
angels and demons
the past few has been a mosaic of theorems, proofs and realizations. to my delight and eventual dismay. some are so full of themselves and of others that bestowing titles with seemingly plausible criteria had become a habit. a very bad habit. some sobresaliente spelled cuba with a Q. it makes me so darn glad to be titled alumnus. xiexie ni men. she smiles, walks and talks like an angel but it all boils down to fierce profit. maybe that's how things ought to be done. i learned a thing or two there. xiexiexiachie.

sept 09
days of lemony snicket
i'm entitled to one idiot day per three hundred sixty-five days. this curse (of the many hexes performed by the Almighty or its counterpart) made me do an ops boo boo. but i did concoct a reverse spell. hope the damn thing works and updates in twenty four hours. or else, i could end up dead.

sept 09
sands
those were all my happy moments. however fleeting and trivial. i recall them, eyes closed, with a rush of blood to the head and a faint smile. with eyes closed to recreate a mental moving picture. these are forever to me. vivid and real in every rerun. to you, they are fleeting like a gusting wind. trivial as dried leaves. need i remind you of its existence on this humid tired september night? minutes earlier, i have stooped so low to do just that. i am so hating you right now. On second thought, thank you for keeping me out of trouble, time and again. I’m sorry if I got you in trouble instead. You’re a worse liar than I am.
Anyway, shen je kuai le.

Sept 15
perils of a dial-up mechanism
there’s nothing left to write other than the same hollowness of this hapless status. I tried to seek refuge from my chapel. It had the same holy humidness at three in the afternoon. Stuffy and immaculately clean. I had a grand time slouching. Even nice catholic girls have a dark side.

i sure do like spectator sports. i love sitting at the sidelines. waiting. watching. creating scenarios. imagining motives. maybe i am a stalker by heart. i could be in my secret vault armed with my own google earth. i just love watching you. the way you work the green screens. they way you scratch the back of your head as if turning on an idea. the way your eyeballs roll  (as if it can be seen) when i pass by. swaying your hair into place. the way you close shop. log off. turn the whole thing off. collecting your papers. drinking your water to the last drop. you head straight to the door, using the most efficient path possible. hai suai chuna.

or the strawberry mouse. achietimi is so into the protein thingy this past month.who could blame the guy who wants to score big time in boracay. mwahahahaha. i ate one of those fabled bars while waiting for lunchtime. i'm not sure why guys stand it. something's that sticky, smells like barfed milk formula and turns to polvoron once chewed-- coughing it all the way to the last bite. what i got was a creepy stomachache. bobilicious ate some too. i wonder how he's feeling?

morning rain is most welcome. after drinking plain taho this time, with the usual tiny tapioca and arnibal. i almost waited forever until water turn to steam. impatience has been a bad habit of mine. being time bound has its benefits, sometimes. there we go enjoying taho. the best ever taho comes to mind. sold for five pesos behind makati's tallest building, most of all, it is libre.       

banks are scammers. credit card companies are scammers. even your neighborbood deli shop is a scammer. everybody in your life just turned to an ugly scammer. yep, even the dude who woke up beside you this morning. so don't you go calling for the supervisor to bitch about it because you are stupid and up-to here in bank charges. douglas and the others over at the twentieth floor know what's going on. last sunday, i prayed hard. i asked God Almighty to give me some more strength (and apparently wisdom) to bring some sense to goats like you.   

I took my love and I took it down
I climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
Well the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky
What is love
Can the child within my heart rise above
Can I sail thru the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life

Well, I've been afraid of changing 'cause I built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older
I'm getting older too
Well...

Well, I've been afraid of changing 'cause I built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older
I'm getting older, too
Well I'm getting older too

So, take this love and take it down
Year and if you climb a mountain and ya turn around
And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills
Well the landslide brought me down
And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills
Well maybe
Well maybe
Well maybe the landslide will bring you down

-- Landslide (smashing pumpkins, 1994, pisces escariot)

 garden variety hold music is oftentimes defined as stinking elevator muzak cranked to the heavens or classical-anticlassical tribute to gung-ho mozart. deafening. eyeliner boy aka d'substitute aka that faggy kiddo from isd (which i vehemently deny and, probably, until my final breath continue to uphold his so-called masculinity. he has a wife and a 3 year old. and they say so is tita swarding and ogie diaz. the defense would be pertually busy. that kiddo took off his headset and with that big smile, who could resist the invitation. i paid atttention to the earpiece. "i've been afraid of changing 'cix i built my life around you." reflex time, so i asked rather condescendingly -- "what department are you calling?!" my voice kind-a screeched. "The 5th avenue branch". here i can rest my case.   

freaky friday eastern seaboard time

freakier when i saw three missed calls on my ol' battered moto

mr. poon -- seems like nagkukumahog over saturday morning breakfast

i pretended i was out of load, which means i was not able to call or text back

then there were three again and one last at around seven a.m.

number one would cackle and would love every second of this anecdote

this could not have happened if number one is not sick and on leave.

i owe her that much - or the fact that i really really want to go home.

sorry, last minute appointments are subject to availability of time and alibi

and human resource. i can blab all i want, fact is, i could never do it alone.

between the unfamiliar sound and hopscotching arrythmia

chiming off after i have taken the mandatory before-work bath

it could only mean breakfast

between detective mac taylor, csi and you

it was not a statistical anomaly nor a fluke

between the fake maple syrup and the faint smell of butter

the chatter of breakfast eaters

morning sunshine after a night of rain

the squishing puddles and low density mud

do we have to oblige to the occasional beso?

between the portable playstation and you

the noise of some v8 engine in my head

my stickered toyota in fantastic graphics

air10, switchpaint, near miss, crashed

no pun intended to the story of our lives

we were there, fronting the pacific rim

misplaced effort for talk with this handheld console

between using directional keys and analog

me the former and for you the latter

i feel speed brewing with my signature combo

thumb - index -dirty finger (hinlalatot for the vernacular)

pressing turbo revving up rpm

between you, me and the leftovers

fatigue formal, northface, bulgari, trod, havaiana

bossa nova, the heavy wind and rain

chai latte and cold coffee

you, number one and me

carl zeiss and 56mb

could it be just heartless and pure business?

separate breath separate busses

between you me and the great viaduct

i could not waste a second standing next to you against the heavy wind

pouring rain, carbon monoxide and one pm.

wo fey chang hen ai ni

it's stupid to define that

between the language, the cellsite,

the past eleven months, the moon and you