My Night Life Nowadays

.

.

.

I'm in a computer shop right now, spending much on the unforgiving hour just to access my email and squeeze in a few words here. After this, I'll be riding the jeep going home. Around 1:30 am perhaps, and then go walk the street where only the left side of the road is lighted up in yellow. Who cares about the right side, right?

.

.

The other week I was walking home from work. It was maybe 2:30 am if I'm not mistaken. And everyday, I see this bleached blonde haired tranny waiting amongst the parked pedicabs for her next dose of blood. Well, on that particular day while walking home, I found two, forgive the term -- squatter, teenagers in the dark with her. One guy was keeping watch while the other lad looked like he was sucking on albino teat. I was kinda shocked with what I saw. Who wouldn't?

.

.

Last weekend I was to a shower party. My very first, and the wedding's not even for any of my friends. To make the long story short, the stripper guy danced through three songs (sappy love songs) and went all the way with his undies.

.

.

I swear it was the thickest, most venular Pinoy longganisa I ever saw!!! Holy weiners Batman! That thing was HUGE! We were all open-mouthed while we each got a turn to stroke his salami.

.

.

Anyway, I got drunk that night, downing 8 shots of tequila in less than 20 minutes. I wanted some attention and wanted an alibi for my retarded behavior. I got home safe and didn't puke or anything. I made sure to drink aspirin before going to bed and in the morning before going to work. I was fine. A work of art.

.

.

.

It's still summer after all ...

.

.

.

Finally, I've been getting some sleep. Finally, I can wiggle my toes in the heat of the morning, happy to wake up after a good 6 or 7 hours rest. And perhaps reading off the first 3 or 4 forwarded text messages from my father and a good morning message from my love, my friends ... more than makes up for that wretched 1 month in the graveyard shift.

.

.

Yes, I do love that silly thing now. That which occupies my mind 24-7 for the past 6 months we've been together. Numbers, numbers. It's still summer after all and I'm allowed to count the drops of rain that fall, however few they are.

.

.

Thank you Rain for making me aware of the unexpurgated cynicism I throw upon myself.

.

.

I am optimistic that even when the heavy rains come pouring in the next few months, I will be sleeping soundly in my bed. And if I'm lucky, I won't be sleeping single.

.

.

.

Toiling Water

.

.

.

I'm doing this for my own good. I'm blogging once again and possibly going to talk about all the things I've never wanted to talk about, to graze every inch of my unshaven skin with a didactic razor, hoping to find a means to solve my seemingly perpetual need to overanalyze, in which case this exercise deems itself redundant, running on and merely feeding my fancy for wordiness.

.

.

All is well, believe it or not, it really is. It's just my universe waiting for me to admit it. But here I am, stubborn little me, always having to make everything difficult for myself and not believing the water is hot even when I boiled the pot myself.

.

.

He bathes in it, that one whom I've called mine, but he seems to have a separate tub, a separate robe, a kind of togetherness without me in the same room. I hardly get to see him and rely on the terseness of technology to bridge the obvious gap. I don't even think I'm being demanding, but what do I really know about relationships when all I keep doing is bring the kettle to a boil?

.

.

I'm scalding in my attempt to be silent.

.

.

.