it's just what I was thinking about ...

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Transcribed from Ben Folds Five song Your Most Valuable Possession (Reinhold Messner album) ...
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(RECORDING) (F)
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6 49 am fri nov 20th (sounds professional)
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(RECORDING)
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(ro here live person answered) (M)
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good morning mr ben it s uh about 6 30 western asylum nc umm just layin here in the bed half awake half asleep thinkin about u (sounds pleasant)
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umm i was (sounds like music playing
IN BKGD) umm wonderin if u were lookin after ur most valuable possession your mind (sounds like
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deep breathing
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IN BKGD) i was thinkin about uh john quincy s space journey and how he said that when you re in space u lose uh muscle mass and if this body mass and uh what i wanted to do is dig into it or whether if u get to exercise in space how long u need before u build resistance in ur head or ur mind ur body or arms u have them that u could use i was wonderin if uh ur body mass would drop to a certain level and then it would stop right there uh keep whatever u needed to use to ur mind of course ur could still be working i suppose 30 seconds remaining (sounds hurried)
anyway i was just pondering that (sounds like
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clearing throat) what u thinkin about qq umm hope everthing s goin alright umm i may wake up here and umm it s just what i was thinkin about
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(HUNG UP ANOTHER CALL QQ) GA
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Up, Up, and Away

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"Keep it up, do as I say.

Keep it up and let me have my way.

I feel you're near, I'll hit you like a truck.

I feel you're near, I'll teach you how to ..."

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- Erotica by Madonna
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After eating breakfast, I hurried my sister up to get going. I knew I was gonna be late again (for the 2nd day) and I was right. 12 minutes.

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I helped someone get off today. He was probably a very insecure teenage boy, dead bored on a Monday night; with no school or music or a girlfriend to fuck or give him head. In a way it was sad. It must get pretty lonely being on spring break. I am still haunted by the last moan he made before he hung up.

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A friend of mine felt me up. I guess I will never know why the fuck he did that but I felt pretty violated. In a playful bit, I kicked him in the ass and pretended not to know him.
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I've been making eye contact with this person in our building. Sometimes we see each other in the smoking area during breaks or after lunch. I'd like to make the first move but I don't know how to. I tried to smile halfway before going up the elevator.
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I had a childhood friend and 3 other friends meet up today. But the joke was on me, they wanted to pimp me up after dinner by leaving my number to a group of strangers. I wanted to go away.
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Good Friday?

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I fell asleep Thursday night out of mere exhaustion. I’ve been going home late, meeting different people and talking over coffee or regional French cuisine at Café Provençal, sleeping at around 1:30 in the morning when I had to wake up at 5. It’s fine though, it seems I’ve gotten myself accustomed to having minimal hours of sleep unlike in the past. Thursday night though I forgot to set the alarm(s).
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I woke up 6:30 am, took a quick shower (well maybe not) and ate cereals for breakfast because it was an observed holiday so nobody else was eating that early in the morning.
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(1) As I walked through the side streets for my ride (the train’s on vacation too) I reached inside my leather bag for my earphones and pushed the play > button on the mini remote. I forgot, I took out that 1 CD last night after I fell asleep listening to it (L’ Amour Et La Musique by The Cousins & the Benassi duo). So there, like old traditions, I was not allowed to listen to anything on a Good Friday.
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Of course I wasn’t late. Although there wasn’t traffic, that ride cost me a pretty penny (I used up what I earned from work to buy myself a new Sony Ericsson K700i) (It’ll be 2 weeks to go till my next pay check). I hurried up to the 17/F to fix up my stuff and get a good seat near the window where I can see the rest of the city in slumber (at least those who’d been unlucky enough not to go to the beach). (2) I dropped 2 P5 coins into the vending machine to get myself a cute cup of Nescafé (with creamer and sugar). The cup inside the machine did not go all the way to where the spout was, and I stood there amongst other officemates staring in disbelief as the water, coffee, creamer, and sugar went straight down the drain. (My shock will keep me awake, I told myself).
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Back to my favorite post beside the window, I calmly waited as the seconds ticked toward the start of the day.

… :46

… :47

… :48

… :49

… :50. Enter (click), (beep) Log-in Failed. (3)
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The supervisor relocated me near the walkway and 3 minutes later my day had officially begun.
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I remember my mother telling me last night that if I didn’t have any calls at 3pm to pray in respect for Christ’s death on the cross. At exactly 3 o’ clock in the afternoon, I was leaving a message in a poor guy’s answering machine that contained the words fuck, bitch, cock, and nigger. (At least it was tame, I told myself).
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(4) Sometime during the long waiting periods (around 4 minutes or more per interval) and reading through my book (Alvin Toffler’s The Third Wave), I fell asleep. There beside the walkway, in plain view of my supervisors, sat my vulnerable self, dreaming of the Marxist Socialsim and Taylor’s Scientific Management. (At least I didn’t get caught, I told myself when I woke up) (Hehehehe)
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The rest of the day was okay. It HAD been a good Friday in retrospect. Like always, I had nothing to complain about.
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After dinner, lying comfortably in my bed, after smoking one of those menthols, I fell asleep listening to an entire album (Fiona Apple’s Tidal).
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(5) Five minutes later, I start dreaming of ∏ (Pi) and it wasn't good.
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Disbanding

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I went to Greenhills last Saturday to scout for a new mobile phone. My Mum tells me my little sister desperately needs one. I didn't exactly offer mine but it didn't hurt that I'd be getting myself a new one.

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The place had become one huge agora, full of eager shoppers and their wistful companions. There was hardly any space to walk through, everything drowning in noise. I was supposed to meet my friend in a bookstore, but I got misdirected, thinking the OLD bookstore was still in existence. I forgot how that whole building had begun rennovation since the start of the year. And so I sauntered alone.

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I found the perfect phone at a reasonable price but decided not to buy it yet because I was riding public transport going home. Tomorrow then.

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That night, I met up with my old office friends for what we thought would be a reunion of sorts. The unspoken deal was that it would only be the 5 of us, the original group that started it all. I don't exactly know where it all went bust, but it did.

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It was a quiet altercation. Walking out, talking in groups, mediators going back and forth. For the most part, I really didn't care. My friend was right, we were adults and we can choose to go together or not. It was only disappointing that things ended the way they did.

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As for me, I was bored. We were at Gweilo's and we weren't really talking about anything much. Nothing to catch up on, nothing to bridge the gap between offices we worked in.

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It's just sad to realize that we all have nothing much in common except that maybe we once worked together in the same comapny.

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I fancied the one with the white flower

The Metamorphosis of Narcissus

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There was a reason why Lucifer, the most favored of angels, had been banished from the heavens.
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There was a reason why Narcissus, the beautiful creature who was so in love with himself, fell into the lake and drowned in his own image.
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They were both too egotistical for their own good.
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Like someone I know. Correction, someone I knew.
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For this the loathing screams out through my throat that comes out as smoke. The nerve.
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Sometimes it ain't nice being too nice. Like when you fill your text message with 160 characters worth of your time. When you slice out a parcel of yourself everytime you decide to give more than what is considered fair share.
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Fuck it. It isn't like I debased myself through an entire district (not that I judge those who do) (not that it matters to me anyway). No, that isn't like me.
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Had I known earlier, I wouldn't have wasted so much time.
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I say keep away. A big head does not necessarily mean you are intelligent.
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Angels without wings

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It was I whom you called Gabriel
the faint sigh of heaven that
whispered the will of your secrets.
I held not your wings of flight,
fearfully pursuing enlightenment
that which was not my own.
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My hands were clasped in prayer
calling out the forbidden name
embedded in my salient emasculation.
I had been waiting for words
to be revealed, my breath for taking
like the warmth of a dying man's.
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The transient clouds parted the skies
and disclosed the constellation of my guilt.
There were stars, bright yet scarce
but only the dark prominence gave way.
They were whispering your name
that evening of your encomium.
I had my voice but it wasn't God's.
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Your limbs willfully ascended
and I sent with them my fears.
It was I whom you called Gabriel.
And that night of my concomitance
I resolved my intractable praying.
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I'm Ok

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Well, not really. It's a broken record so I'm not gonna play it over and over and bore you guys to death. Let's just say I'm thankful I pulled up a cd from my stacks at random and pretty much gotten myself satisfactorily distracted in the meantime.

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Charlie's Angels 1 soundtrack.

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Sometimes it's times like these I'm glad I still make wrong decisions when it comes to buying music. On a regular day I would not have enjoyed listening to "Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel" and imagining Cameron Diaz in her white slip dress being carried down a flight of stairs by her back-up dancers.

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This isn't a regular day though Ü

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"I awake at night with it

And in spite of it

It unravels me

It's begun to frighten me

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But I'm alright

If you're o.k.

Ya, I'm alright

If you're O.K."

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-- KD Lang

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Inevitable Siestas

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Although the humble archipelago I live in and have finally come to accept as my semi-permanent home, was a former colony of the Castillans who had come to follow Fernando de Magallañes in 1521, our country's metropolitan district -- the National Capital Region -- has more or less embraced the workaholic mindset toward a progressive economy, albeit miserably flailing in tangible results since the ebb of the People Power Revolution of 1984 and WAY BEFORE THAT, which does not give sufficient margin for the lackadaisical public that wish to enjoy a less stressful standard of living devoid of break neck responsibilities and mind-numbing overtime pay-exempt work hours and slow vertical mobility.

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What am I trying to point out?

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For the past 2 weeks that I've started working, I've fallen asleep numerous times, especially after lunch, an unintentional attempt on my part to commemorate something that dates back to the 300+ years of my non-Hispanic ancestral heritage. Inevitable siestas.

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Right after a satisfactory meal in the cafeteria and a burning stick to calm my nervous energy, I find myself in a losing battle to stay awake during the quiet little intervals of waiting between prank calls from the West coast and leaving voice mail messages for those in the East Coast. This while reading through Dan Brown's Angels & Demons, the novel being a sordid attempt at making a hollywood movie out of a pseudo-intellectual suspense adventure story. Despite the lack of clear character differentiation and grossly exagerrated build up of the defunct Illuminati brotherhood, I find this undeserving novel would do me more good keeping awake, than say, Beowolf, the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam or the translated copy of the Bhagavad-Gita. Not to say that I find the literary classics boring, I just fear I might end up in corporate comatose much sooner trying to analyze the quatrains, rhythmic verses, and historical symbology when reading such.

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My strategy hasn't been effective so far because in spite of the fact that I had already read through the second brutal murder of a kidnapped cardinal from the Il Conclave, the election for a new pope (which I find creepy considering the fact that I read in the papers this morning about Karol Wojtila's declining health and the talks of a favored successor to include in the ranks of the il preferiti), I still found myself nodding off the minutes till the beeping intro of a new phone call. Sadly, I couldn't help saying yes to a nice quiet nap after a nice quiet meal.

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While I haven't a replacement strategy at hand, I'm simply hoping not to get caught ... at all ... for the entire year.

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The silences we shared were cinematic.

2 Short Stories

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I visited my grandmother last Sunday afternoon. I was not at all prepared to deal with what I saw. After so many skin tests, allergy tests, antibiotics, bed sores, injections, intravenous supplements, a stoma (when they punch a hole on your stomach and attach a food tube to it), and on that day I visited, a rectal exam, my grandmother was not herself anymore. She had become this traumatized shell of the loving matriarch that she once was. I could never forget the look on her face that afternoon, the way her eyes blankly stared into impossible salvation, the way she moaned in sheer horror like a tortured victim of physical abuse. I couldn't even touch her because any slight movement triggered her fear like clockwork.
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She isn't my grandmother anymore. My relatives were cleaning up her naked body. I sat near the foot of her bed, grabbed a pillow ...
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... and wept.
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I met up with Meal on a Monday night. I felt I needed to take a final serving and clarify where this can all lead to. We ate at Cafe Bola for dinner and started the conversation right away. Like the last time, we both weren't able to finish our meal. I always knew Meal would be staying in Cebu for the next 4 months. So many stories, too many questions, a lot left unanswered. I was tried to mince through the peculiar flavor in my tomato penne. It was a delicious serving, yet somehow, I had this recurring feeling. I felt that it wouldn't be the last I'll be mincing through aniseed in my meals.
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We paid the bill then left . I walked Meal toward the bus stop, then I went toward mine on an opposite street. I wore my glasses the entire time.
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