Dahil nanonood ang couple dito sa bahay namin ng the Aviator, at narinig ko ang Moonglow sa background, so magpapakacheesy muna ko
Probably, it's something I imbibed from Hollywood movies, but I just get that picture and pleasurable "nostalgic feeling" of myself lounging in a dimly-lit bar smoking cigarettes when I hear this kind of jazz. Baka sa previous life ko pinanganak ako during that era?
When I was in my angsty teenage period, I turned to jazz because I wanted to reign-in all the chaos that my emotions stirred. Kind of my tranquilizer, so I guess, you might call me proper junkie then. Twisted right? While I still indulge in my romanticisms over this genre, fortunately, I am differently motivated now. Props for some personal growth. Though I've still got a long way before I can properly say I enjoy the more intellectual likes of Miles Davis, Thelonius Monk, etc, (maybe it's because I've not been properly schooled in music and so unfamiliar with the heady stuff?). But heck, I can listen all day to big-bands and swing, and someday I'll learn to play standards on trumpet or sax. I confess I too have this all-time fantasy of dancing that someone (my "man", of course) to oldies like Cheek to cheek, or It's been a Long Long Time. Call it: life imitating fiction, yeah, best put it that way so at least it sounds less hilarious. Come on, you cannot not melt when you hear the lines, "So kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again...." Sigh. Then imagine your Man. Isa pa uli, Sigh.
So, meet my man (I seem to be owning up to this hopeless-romantic type well no?)
Oops, that's a not really flattering pic, still cute pa rin naman. Kulit ng antics ng Modern Family but I have to say I have this big crush on this guy (sorry boys, may boyfriend na sya), one more reason why I enjoy the show. It's definitely got something to do with that immaculate beard. For the time being, Jesse holds that ideal image of my type of guy you would want to come home to. Regardless of all the Hideo Muraokas, Daniel Matsunagas, Bernardo Velascos and Marlon Teixeiras. Kahit pa lahat sila may chiseled abs at naka-underwear lang. (Ako na ang mahilig sa brazilian models) Keso, I know!
This guy I could imagine snuggling with in bed. We would be asking each other how the day went for us, and then maybe, not getting to hear the other answer because one of us probably dozed off already. He'll be someone in reading glasses while poring over a newspaper in the morning, and later forgets his keys. I could go on and on. Haha. Me and my domestic fantasies.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Strangers
Kahapon may nakasabay ako sa train! haha, may small crush kasi ako sa kanya nung una ko palang syang nakita sa capoeira trainings, may hawig sya kay Kyuhyun ng super junior (di ako fan ng super junior, pero cool nung dance sa sorry, sorry), promise! Kyuhyun pero mixed-jap na ang ganda ang biceps at magaling gumalaw. You know, that man-boy vibey eye-candy. Pero awkward na sya eh, nahuli nya yata akong tumitingin madalas tapos nung minsan sa isang party, sobrang inasar pa ko sa kanya with matching tulak, kamusta naman yun. Kaso straight sya at kilala pa nya yung college friends ko (di pa nila alam about my um, orientation haha).
Anyway, we both pretended not having noticed each other kahit we were almost face-to-face nung pagpasok ko sa train, kunwari na lang akong busy-busy thumbing through my playlist, at sya naman nakita ko turned on the opposite direction. Hindi naman ako affected (ok, konti lang hehe, sayang di ko nakita yung cute nyang smile).
Blah-blah, bat ko ba shinare yun, wala lang. May binabasa akong poetry book on my home that time (na hindi ko pa rin tapos kahit ididiscuss na ng reading group ko mamaya, lol) tapos BAM! basa ko tong tula na to, nabasa ko na to dati eh, pero nung oras lang na yun ako tinamaan. Ako na ang ang emotero sa loob ng tren. Inspired daw kasi ako that time, char. Basta. Sobrang hands-down talaga ako sa mga poems that speak not just on the level of words BUT also on the level of image.
Galing sa Hybrids of Plants and of Ghosts ni Jorie Graham:
Strangers
Indeed the tulips
change tense
too quickly.
They open and fly off.
And, holding absolutes
at bay, the buds
tear through the fruit trees,
steeples into sky.
Faith is where we are
less filled
with ourselves, and are
expected nowhere—
though it's better to hurry.
The starlings keep trying
to thread the eyes
of steeples.
It's hard, you can't
cross over. The skin
of the pear tree is terse
like the pear, and the acorn
knows finally
the road not taken
in the oak.
We have no mind
in a world without objects.
The vigor of our way
is separateness,
the infinite
finding itself strange
among the many. Dusk,
when objects lose their way, you
throw a small
red ball at me
and I return it.
The miracle is this:
the perfect arc
of red we interrupt
over and over
until it is too dark
to see, reaches beyond us
to complete
only itself.
___
Anyway, we both pretended not having noticed each other kahit we were almost face-to-face nung pagpasok ko sa train, kunwari na lang akong busy-busy thumbing through my playlist, at sya naman nakita ko turned on the opposite direction. Hindi naman ako affected (ok, konti lang hehe, sayang di ko nakita yung cute nyang smile).
Blah-blah, bat ko ba shinare yun, wala lang. May binabasa akong poetry book on my home that time (na hindi ko pa rin tapos kahit ididiscuss na ng reading group ko mamaya, lol) tapos BAM! basa ko tong tula na to, nabasa ko na to dati eh, pero nung oras lang na yun ako tinamaan. Ako na ang ang emotero sa loob ng tren. Inspired daw kasi ako that time, char. Basta. Sobrang hands-down talaga ako sa mga poems that speak not just on the level of words BUT also on the level of image.
Galing sa Hybrids of Plants and of Ghosts ni Jorie Graham:
Strangers
Indeed the tulips
change tense
too quickly.
They open and fly off.
And, holding absolutes
at bay, the buds
tear through the fruit trees,
steeples into sky.
Faith is where we are
less filled
with ourselves, and are
expected nowhere—
though it's better to hurry.
The starlings keep trying
to thread the eyes
of steeples.
It's hard, you can't
cross over. The skin
of the pear tree is terse
like the pear, and the acorn
knows finally
the road not taken
in the oak.
We have no mind
in a world without objects.
The vigor of our way
is separateness,
the infinite
finding itself strange
among the many. Dusk,
when objects lose their way, you
throw a small
red ball at me
and I return it.
The miracle is this:
the perfect arc
of red we interrupt
over and over
until it is too dark
to see, reaches beyond us
to complete
only itself.
___
Friday, April 1, 2011
About fortuities and a vandalism
__
09194998649
I was here.
I saw you passed by outside and I followed. You saw me enter the cofeeshop, more than twice. I took my time buying a cup because I was stealing glances. I took a nearby seat and counted enough change for the fare home. I was relieved. I noticed you had a calculator and I was stupid to mumble something like I had to know the value of Pi, up to eleven digits after the decimal. But now you know I’m actually smarter than that.
You rang me up the next day. You liked me more and more. Shyly, I admitted feeling the same. We gave each other presents. You hated flowers, moreover, you wouldn’t give me one. I hated your bad days, and told you to pick your fights. You preferred the train because you avoid overreaching for lazy passengers’ fares. And I knew they’re called pushcarts for good reason, thank you, but still I liked to pull on them. But we counted the months. I sang you Your Song. And then you actually sang it better. We had plans. We gave each other morning and parting kisses.
Later, I got so down, when it took longer than expected to find another job, I waxed the floor and bought new rugs. You slipped on one, I was terrified you’ve broken more than a wrist. You did. You laughed it off and said you look more rugged with the cast. I agreed, not just because I was sorry. I drew a crack and from it emerge nuns, priests and trains, and I helped you in for baths, in dressing up for work. I enjoyed it, you didn't have to thank me much. We hoped for marriage. Someday, maybe.
Then came a difficult fight. I gave you a bruise, not before long did it turn from crimson to ugly violet. You were drunk and kicked down chairs.
It got better somehow with a long talk and lots of compromise. We missed each other, you approached me in a manner I knew too well. I pushed in early, you hurt a lot, we had to stop. I did it again and you yelled “Easy, Tiger!” In French. Well in any case, you wouldn’t have called me that if you hadn’t wanted it rough, I knew that too.
Anyway, by the time you're reading this, if you ever happen to read this, hopefully we each still pay half of the month’s rent. And that you never forget again your credit card in case I got too excited buying groceries pulling on carts at the supermarket . Forgive me if sometimes you have to mop the bathroom so often. I’m wasteful, I flood the floor and keep forgetting to close the tap. Don’t worry. I knew all along you burned my favorite dress shirt with the iron. And it’s OK, as long as I get to borrow yours. I secretly envy your good taste.
In the event that one of us had declared it over, I hope we didn’t fight too much on who gets to take care of Marcello. He’s not our kid (weren’t we contemplating on adoption), but our jack russell. You wouldn’t have agreed to naming our child Marcello anyway.
Either way, you must be absent-mindedly scratching your eyebrow now, I’m right, ain’t I? No, don't stop, it's cute. With a few potholes here and there, some uphills, a major quake or two (I hope not literally but who knows), I can’t say for sure if we’d still be standing. But whether I’m waiting for you outside (dinner's on me tomorrow, in that case) or not :-( , I should have told you earlier on when something’s not working pretty well...
It’s the bad plumbing here, you see, you should have taken the other stall.
Tee-hee.
For 09279877854
___
09194998649
I was here.
I saw you passed by outside and I followed. You saw me enter the cofeeshop, more than twice. I took my time buying a cup because I was stealing glances. I took a nearby seat and counted enough change for the fare home. I was relieved. I noticed you had a calculator and I was stupid to mumble something like I had to know the value of Pi, up to eleven digits after the decimal. But now you know I’m actually smarter than that.
You rang me up the next day. You liked me more and more. Shyly, I admitted feeling the same. We gave each other presents. You hated flowers, moreover, you wouldn’t give me one. I hated your bad days, and told you to pick your fights. You preferred the train because you avoid overreaching for lazy passengers’ fares. And I knew they’re called pushcarts for good reason, thank you, but still I liked to pull on them. But we counted the months. I sang you Your Song. And then you actually sang it better. We had plans. We gave each other morning and parting kisses.
Later, I got so down, when it took longer than expected to find another job, I waxed the floor and bought new rugs. You slipped on one, I was terrified you’ve broken more than a wrist. You did. You laughed it off and said you look more rugged with the cast. I agreed, not just because I was sorry. I drew a crack and from it emerge nuns, priests and trains, and I helped you in for baths, in dressing up for work. I enjoyed it, you didn't have to thank me much. We hoped for marriage. Someday, maybe.
Then came a difficult fight. I gave you a bruise, not before long did it turn from crimson to ugly violet. You were drunk and kicked down chairs.
It got better somehow with a long talk and lots of compromise. We missed each other, you approached me in a manner I knew too well. I pushed in early, you hurt a lot, we had to stop. I did it again and you yelled “Easy, Tiger!” In French. Well in any case, you wouldn’t have called me that if you hadn’t wanted it rough, I knew that too.
Anyway, by the time you're reading this, if you ever happen to read this, hopefully we each still pay half of the month’s rent. And that you never forget again your credit card in case I got too excited buying groceries pulling on carts at the supermarket . Forgive me if sometimes you have to mop the bathroom so often. I’m wasteful, I flood the floor and keep forgetting to close the tap. Don’t worry. I knew all along you burned my favorite dress shirt with the iron. And it’s OK, as long as I get to borrow yours. I secretly envy your good taste.
In the event that one of us had declared it over, I hope we didn’t fight too much on who gets to take care of Marcello. He’s not our kid (weren’t we contemplating on adoption), but our jack russell. You wouldn’t have agreed to naming our child Marcello anyway.
Either way, you must be absent-mindedly scratching your eyebrow now, I’m right, ain’t I? No, don't stop, it's cute. With a few potholes here and there, some uphills, a major quake or two (I hope not literally but who knows), I can’t say for sure if we’d still be standing. But whether I’m waiting for you outside (dinner's on me tomorrow, in that case) or not :-( , I should have told you earlier on when something’s not working pretty well...
It’s the bad plumbing here, you see, you should have taken the other stall.
Tee-hee.
For 09279877854
___
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