Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Someday We'll Know

Someday, flowers will rain all over town. The perennial blossoms will cover every thatched roof of this medieval squalor. Who knows, a fairy tale might just emerge out of all of this.

But until then, we shall toil and smolder beneath the sun: it's orange tentacles a force that secretes the sweat of every bowed head; and watch the wind hover in the horizon as it gallops across the blue canvas. 

Someday, we'll know. Eventually.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Post No. 171

I fear the inevitable. This afternoon, yet another crossroad will emerge and I do not know if I will be able to make the right choice. Lord, I do not know how I will feel looking him in the eyes. I do not know how beautiful his voice might sound to me. I do not know how another touch will bolt a gazillion watts of electricity to my system. I just want my shirt back Lord. But I do not know what the effect of him returning my shirt will have on me. I do not want to be the loser here Lord. I do not want to emerge out of all these unending pains and flames still undaunted by the lessons that you injected on my brain. I pray for guidance Lord. Vigilance. Self-control if I may need so. But please Lord. Help me. You know that there is nothing I can do without your help. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen.

Friday, August 24, 2012

A Thousand and One Nights

And then he finds himself in a desert-a kaleidoscope of sand and stars that filled the expanse of his visions. An ancient caravan passes over the horizon, and the putrid smell of cinnamon and cardamom was tangled in the malevolent vines of air that traveled eastwards. 

He rests on a maroon carpet that weaved his stories; hatred and failures, disappointments and depressions, borderline psychosis and insipidness. The carpet, it seems, is veined to the sands and like film noirs that flash through projectors, he views his life in the starry darkness above him. 

Sometimes he enjoys the desert and the stories it tells. The sand, moon and stars, to him, an ancient romance that intensifies the surrealness of the experience. But there are also those nights, dark viper nights that reciprocate the frost of his soul. The longer he stayed there, the colder it becomes.

Friday, August 17, 2012

Serenity and Solitude

These days, his afternoons are empty films. Slow, monotonous, senseless conversations and images that jumble back and forth across the screen. It reciprocates his thoughts, fragmented as they are, but beautiful in all its betrayed glory.

That sickly tree, graceful in its deathly state, overlooks him as he gazes up the sky. The thin branches blocks his view of the feathers and marshmallows that glided gracefully across the blue canvas. He ponders at how boring placidity is. He yearns for a splatter, a sabotage, an exclamation of emotions.

But then again, boredom is a gift to artists; to observe controlled chaos, to wrap all of it into words. And as his pen utters monumental poetry in his notebook, a flock of birds steadily flies ahead, breaking the stillness of the serene sky. 

And Then I Met Adam

It wasn't love at first sight, but I knew that we are soo meant to be. 

We both have G-Force Levels hairdos. 
He loves photography. I love getting photographed. 

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Train Ride

That shroud of bitterness engulfs me as I lay scantily clad in bed. My thoughts traveled, an ancient train ride, somewhere to that memory lane where cold and bitter nostalgia blossomed like a daisy in a fresh spring morn.

The mountain of memories sprouted here and there, and the little fragments began to explode on my thoughts, accelerating as the sojourn continues. A river flowed equidistant and equal to the mountains; the greater the slope, the wider the berth of the water as it cascades to infinite oblivion.

When will the mourning end? The next stop is a welcomed destination.

Monday, August 13, 2012

You Lying Jerk

Having learned that you cheated on me while we were together pounded the pillars off my system. You horrible, horrible whore. And I respected you, slain a million dragons and impeded a flood if I had to. But you couldn't even give me the respect of at least staying faithful? How dare you dare me by daring to look for someone while we were together?!

. . . . . . .

Urgh. These are nothing but worthless rampages my dear readers. I guess one can never really move out quickly and forget relationships(or is it just me?)-especially when there's betrayal involved. What's difficult to assess though is the extent of my authority in reacting to this situation since I learned about this after the break up. I don't want to sound like a broken record-a seriously ugly cliche-and neither do I want to look like as if I don't care because in the first place, I am involved and though I shouldn't care since we've already separated paths, one cannot help but ask the inevitable question: why?

Was I really too blinded by my fairy tale dreams that I forgot to stay rational and assess the probability of love impairment (if I can call it that)? Why have I been ignoring the signs when we were together? Haigoo. 

You stupid, stupid boy. Good thing you made a mistake. Otherwise you wouldn't have learned.

Saturday, August 11, 2012

That Solitary Line

The boy stares blankly at the screen. His thoughts, an endless slide of images, takes him to the dreams of mad Kings and their being; to the sun, as it dies slowly in the West and to the Indies where the spices  lay tangled in it's jungles, ready to be uncovered. 

The horizon was a dangerous mistress as the sailors once foretold. The infinity of that solitary line sends chills to the backbones of seafarers and as the ancients put it, it was the tail ends of the world. The legends died slowly with the tide, when the expeditions of the valiant proved that the world is not a flat surface. 

But what propelled these men, mad, mad men?

Was it sheer desire to have the riches the new lands have to offer? Or is it ingrained in the spirits of men to not be limited to the confines of what society and culture tells it?

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Lazy Days and Thursdays

Unlike popular belief, I am not dead. I'm just in a perennial state of laziness. And while scrolling down to infinity mat not be the most productive activity on Thursday mornings, I did just that, because, as I said, I am lazy. 

I smell like a corpse and frankly I do regret not going to school this morning. Oh well, it can't be helped. As I am writing this, the clock is already on PM, so I'll probably just go to school later and catch my 4PM Law class which I cannot afford to miss since our Professor does not allow absences unless you're on comatose or dying in an Emergency Room somewhere.

Forgive the long lackadaisical sentences. Laziness is unforgiving. Even the period on the lower right hand corner of the keyboard seems too far away. 

And while Paloma Faith sings in the background, Lady Gaga graces the cover of Vogue for September and the dearly beloved Anna Piaggi (who I always mistaken as Anne Piaget-a person I do not know) died who I seriously did not know until the fashion world mourned for her. Love her blue hair though. And the hats are spectacular. 

Anyway, you should commend my efforts for trying to squeeze blogging in the middle of my "busy schedule". Though I doubt this will generate a lot of approving nods, comments (comments of outrage, maybe) and  attention from my readers, I'll push through anyway. It's my blog anyway. And babbling senselessly is better than doing nasty stuff. LOL

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Sleepless Nights and Paris

It's nights like these when I just let my thoughts drift into subconsciousness, a daily escape towards surrealism, where fantasies and reality coexist.  And as I lay here in bed, wild of thought and highly immersed in that wonder drug they call dreaming, I thought of Paris and the solitary moon that hang above it. 

It was July and like most summer nights, the sky was an adobe of stars that twinkled heavily in twilight. The sun was salmon, hazy in the west and the macaroon I held was peachy in the sunset glow. I took my cigarette and puffed a halo of smoke a la Audrey Hepburn. I imagined that Yves Saint Laurent dress, billowing, as I gallivanted in front of an unknown metropolitan chateau. I was, am, stunning; an epitome of youthful vitality.

And as the slumbers fall dutifully on my lids, I remember the last scenes of my dreaming fade. A blurry photograph. A boy, with me, in that vintage Volkswagen. And a furry cat, Persian, that sat on my lap this whole time.

Saturday, August 4, 2012


My life these days is as stagnant as Lake Placid. It's not that I don't know what to do-hell, I've got a lot of things to do; it's just that there are a lot of times when I just find myself staring blankly at things and it is in between these moments when I get worried. Yeah. Yeah. So the break up screwed my brain. Big deal.

The insanity of these moments, if I may call these as such, are actually funny. Crazy as it may seem, I do enjoy catching myself red-handed drooling over some past mistake that I regret every single day. No, I do not enjoy committing mistakes ladies and gentlemen. I just find it ironically melodramatic, like the ones in movies with matching background music and face fractures, because you see, in the olden days, I used to just laugh at these moments. And now they're becoming my realities, like some Movie-Karma god has avenged its failed ugly Tagalog children! (No offense to Pinoy romance fanatics.)

Urgh. Haigoo. And now I am forever cursed with that curse. Dear readers, I advice you to never laugh at Kim, Sarah, Bea and the likes ever again. The Movie-Karma god has ways of getting back at you, you know.

Anyway, my mundane existence will now be disturbed by the "arising" of our College Intramurals for which I play a big part as an audience-blame my Mom for my sports-less-ness. We'll also have our Regional Midyear Convention in Zamboanga City sometime in September soon. And I'll also get my hands full on some Accounting subjects that I need to review (and first view).

Pray I don't die of stress or go completely bonkers in the process. 

Much l♥ve,


Points to Ponder

Look at yourself. You're a disgrace Mond. You're eyebags are so palanggana na these days and at the rate things are going, you'll never prove to Superman that life can be better and brighter without him. Truth be told, they are. The day after you broke up, you got a 92 mark on your Management Accounting after days, weeks, and sessions of 70's. Your JPIA Days was a success without him boggling your thoughts.

So pick yourself up. You're not lonely without him. You're amazing. And you can even be better than what you are right now. Don't make him the center of your universe. The cosmos is an endless possibility and the probability of finding happiness is infinite per ounce of sadness. 

Keep your head up Mond. You're awesome.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012


I miss you. Your voice. 
Your hair, softly contoured with Clay Doh. 
Your hands as they held me, 
that Friday afternoon. 
Your hug before we hailed that cab and rode back to school. 
Your eyes, deep and luminescent, vivid and full of life. 
Your smile, that silly smile. 
And the silly way you make me laugh.
Now you're gone, and I'm alone, all that's left are but remnants of a past that I relive over and over again. These lonely nights of endless meanderings,
these dark lonely nights, with no one but you inhabiting my thoughts. 
I'm scared. I've lost life. My thoughts are fragmented, an inconsolable mess of woven strings,
sad, lonely, dark and void.
What have you done to me Babe?
Is it too late to fix this?