tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25544028812288801842024-03-13T23:38:50.266+08:00under constructionyou don't have to like my blog.
but i hope it makes you stop. and read. and ask questions.ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.comBlogger97125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-77408521153948381772020-06-27T01:16:00.002+08:002020-06-27T01:16:46.115+08:00Happy and normal.Happy and normal.<br />
I can do that.ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-1852766455770322692017-07-30T23:22:00.000+08:002017-07-30T23:22:59.385+08:00Homotomy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<div>
Claws clenched.<br />
Eyes perturbed.<br />
<br />
What is beyond,<br />
just as behind.<br />
<br />
Fodder the furor.<br />
Radar the fervor.<br />
<br />
What cannot cross,<br />
Is ones own loss.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-54466162343383669902014-09-16T00:47:00.001+08:002014-09-16T00:47:14.149+08:00familiarityfirstly, you should not believe in all things you see or hear in the world wide web. moreso, claims or promises. however convincing or sincere they may be. this is not an ordinary soiree of minds.
<br />
<br />
secondly, you yourself should not be obliged to expect anything in return. it is not a give-and-take situation. again refer to the first point. if you receive anything tangible or positive out of this, take it as an uncommon occurrence. rather than the norm. and there is no need for an explanation from other people's behavior. there are no rules to speak of.<br />
<br />
thirdly, in your case, you seem to have grown an attachment. which is the worst thing that could happen. whether the other party can reciprocate is not the issue. whether you have invested time, money, or other resources... this is the risk for such a trial and error arrangement. to err is a possibility. but to persist is a futile attempt.<br />
<br />
if sympathy is your plea, then it is clear that you cannot receive it from the former. the next is your best bet.ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-33430832341141627402014-06-29T22:14:00.001+08:002014-06-29T22:14:23.055+08:00on a highliving each day as if it was your <strike>last</strike> first.ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-47264140590791447042013-03-06T00:08:00.001+08:002013-03-06T00:10:08.168+08:00penigamy"sex tayo."<br />
a silence perturbed from a sound of a message tone reserved for a few.<br />
and to whom, was the cerebration. an untimely proposition.<br />
it was the misis.<br />
oh, the misis. sent a few thousand miles from manila.<br />
traversing her hymenal peak, i supposed. true to fact, and the fleeting moment, swoon further by a round with the elixir of life.<br />
<br />
"cum to me,"<br />
was my reply.<br />
she was avid. she was away. consider she was restraining.<br />
and i, in the same callousness of culminating the carnal aversion.<br />
<br />
"i am horny."<br />
it was an insurmountable trade-off. each spark doused by a buffing of the flesh candle. an attempt that would further fire the fury.<br />
now her three words elicit a tsunami of boner images and thy wooding hormones.<br />
<br />
she would still be 36 hours from the bedside. away for fifteen days. each passing day without her physical presence, remorse depletes, and seems certain to become a sullen and deafening idealism.ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-1439790036291191302013-03-01T22:09:00.001+08:002013-03-01T22:09:16.512+08:00sams of the past that are no morethis suddenly came out from the playlist...<br />
<br />
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<br />
which brought back the first day of february. of the year two thousand and nine.<br />
fortynine months from today, sam was conceived from the mention of "be good."<br />
<br />
it then took almost two months more before sam began to be read by other sam's.<br />
<br />
it was a gamble for ash. letting pry a slit away from incognition. telling of sam and how he became one.<br />
it became an outlet. and a window to read other sams.<br />
<br />
other sams who have since become just a memory of things that have been written. of written past that ceased to be an intimation of what was.<br />
<br />
what has become of these sams? not this digital land will remind. not that this sam will find.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-21713238633641372532012-09-19T21:27:00.001+08:002012-09-19T21:27:16.038+08:001999 again.we arrive past the flow of pedestrian traffic.<br />
that long jeepney ride. half the time, your outstretched arm hovers around.<br />
it was past dusk. and i wanted to be on time for the basketball match.<br />
such perfect moment. you came with the same agenda.<br />
<br />
our stage was not the playing court, rather the lower box.<br />
most of the time, there was silence. engorged at the frontal show of ball handling.<br />
but moments when catchphrases were thrown,<br />
do seem like invitation to in retort.<br />
<br />
and the occasional glances.<br />
at each others purview.<br />
<br />
more than the occasion.<br />
what followed suit, came the provocation.<br />
<br />
this was unfamiliar territory - the journey back to start.<br />
as you declare an unannounced detour.<br />
you led me, and with assent i obliged.<br />
<br />
unlike the earlier's grunt.<br />
this one, no strut of eloquence.<br />
only the language one does<br />
without the vocal guts.<br />
<br />
the year was 1999.<br />
new to this place called manila.<br />
<br />
and it happens again.<br />
such gregorian run.ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-72565033238519551662012-09-13T11:23:00.000+08:002012-09-13T11:23:49.076+08:00more man-gina mattersimploring at the spate of the governments drive against population control,<br />
the abo-mind's siri of thought draws further.<br />
<br />
instead of the wanton retort at the polar, yet band-aid ends of reproductive health.<br />
not by restraint.<br />
nor by choice.<br />
<br />
in desire of an egalitarian decorum.<br />
<br />
i declare.<br />
<br />
instigate a man-gina majority.<br />
where men and men (and women and women) predicates as the new bourgeois.ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-35042357171679961582011-10-31T00:20:00.000+08:002011-10-31T00:20:19.764+08:00when october bendssashimi. <br />
maki. <br />
lengua. <br />
scallops. <br />
talaba. <br />
penne.<br />
tempura.<br />
beef carving.<br />
bibingka.<br />
dark chocolate ice cream.<br />
<br />
the gut set at oster #2.<br />
<br />
i am away. yes, once again. from the two female ashes. several hundred miles, an inguinal cue for sam to take the abo-hand.<br />
<br />
the buffet has now progressed.<br />
<br />
only the grunt of nadal and djokovic on static.<br />
<br />
only the striped uniqlo between sheets and skin.<br />
<br />
the hunt begins. the ding-dong screams.<br />
<br />
lestat.<br />
<br />
he was slim. silky slim. hairless, and silky slim. he reminded me of <s>college</s> high school days with the soccer varsity team.<br />
<br />
"are you sure you're above eighteen?"<br />
<br />
he showed me his company id.<br />
<br />
yes, it was time. THE first time. this thirty-one-er.<br />
<br />
will need to prep his little wand. and probe the fortresses of anal land.<br />
<br />
i needed the curiosity fix. and he was on a homo glandular itch.ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-58697912282317823492010-12-17T22:20:00.000+08:002010-12-17T22:20:46.245+08:00jingle all the wayHe held my hand and it never came off.<p>Alone. I was sitting at the tail-end of an fx van. It was practical and necessary to take the ortigas commuter stand. Lest the parking crawl along the shopping strip which would toil half the spending time. Just a breezy walk a few blocks apart to the basement ramp. And no more than a few loots to carry once abound.<p>The back door shuddered. It was he. Caught in the same distress as I probably was. But seemed ready for the taking with the target he got. As I pored only to the windowwatch and unoticed his crotch.<p>He took the space on my empty side. Not the expanse of the parallel line in front. As my hand was lying on his now paid slot. He did not complain. Instead, even rested his warm hand to break the solitary mark.<p>I sensed the invitation. <p>And it only took a head gesture to his direction. I didn't realize it meant a form of consent. As he went on moving my hand. And took it to between his mistletoe to a trail where the magic wand wafts to a barrel gun.<p>The trip took no more than three jingle bell songs. But his jingle, he made sure it was all the way.ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-25585116047652143252010-11-13T13:10:00.000+08:002010-11-13T13:10:48.653+08:00the ball that drops at times square. and it's not new year."here, hold my hand." <br />
<br />
there never was a spiel such as this to say when you're around. when this hand almost always slides onto familiar ground. like yours. like perfectly fitted glove. <br />
<br />
it must be awkward for the uninitiated ear. irked at the uttering of endless i-love-you's. there not one, not even a plenty conveyed. what may seem sufficed, to see each passing day a day. for as long as dusk sets and one turns to see. there was you.<br />
<br />
you must be thinking.<br />
<br />
such hands that warm an otherwise barren palm.<br />
<br />
whether ximending, or this times square ground.<br />
<br />
if i let a smoke of pink surrender. what chi force will you unwind. <br />
<br />
will you hear me? <br />
<br />
i am <strike>gay</strike> bi.ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-30709265737638436742010-10-15T18:00:00.000+08:002010-10-15T18:00:49.423+08:00past participlebro,<br />
<br />
firstly, you should not believe in all things you see or hear in the world wide web. moreso, claims or promises. however convincing or sincere they may be. this is not an ordinary soiree of minds.<br />
<br />
secondly, you yourself should not be obliged to expect anything in return. it is not a give-and-take situation. again refer to the first point. if you receive anything tangible or positive out of this, take it as an uncommon occurence. rather than the norm. and there is no need for an explanation from other people's behavior. there are no rules to speak of. <br />
<br />
thirdly, in your case, you seem to have grown an attachment. which is the worst thing that could happen. whether the other party can reciprocate is not the issue. whether you have invested time, money, or other resources... this is the risk for such a trial and error arrangement. to err is a possibility. but to persist is a futile attempt. <br />
<br />
if sympathy is your plea, then it is clear that you cannot receive it from the former. the next is your best bet.<br />
<br />
ashedashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-53933242173910241122010-07-27T01:53:00.000+08:002010-07-27T01:53:46.173+08:00leg roomthe seat number read 7-B. a "b" for a middle coach arsehole fundament receptacle.<br />
<br />
a few hour's ride at thirty five thousand feet above sea level wasn’t the city-boy's-midnight-train planned on a return flight to manila. unlike the pedagogical of us (which means most, actually) who would prescribe to a two, or unbelievably, a three hour check-in rule, i have an aversion for waiting a boarding call and have the calculated habit of arriving at the airport at exactly the last angstrom.<br />
<br />
and if there's one among many, many a quadrant our national flag carrier warrants a facelift inorder to keep pace with competition is a decent internet check-in facility. <br />
<br />
i dareso vocalize on this, as one cannot live in retrograde paper and pen. well, a few episodes of hypertensive crisis was more the pareto analysis enroute to this particular commuter's nightmare. while qeueing last at the counter, a slight argument with the behind-counter-staff in drab-deep-blue-scarf was the offing as i insisted my luggage wasn't overweight. only immigration can potentially delay a quick escapo into the destination's aeroparque, so a baggage carousel soiree was implored unnecessary. so she, the bitch, returned the favor, by applauding the most egalitarian of all suppositories - the last row, center seat.<br />
<br />
the constant sound of water gushing from the lavatory annoys me. terribly. and the perpetual human line distracting your breathing aisle. and typically of this flag carrier, the last row would almost always be deprived of having their masticating automony. "sorry sir, naubusan na po ng fish. masarap naman 'tong beef," said the perky female flight attendant. "sorry sir, we ran out of orange juice. would you like a cola instead?" never, will i ever, again attempt on teasing my gastric juices even with a sip of CO2-infused liquid taken at a fraction of atmospheric pressure. burp if one must, but fart musn't let, thus wreck thine gut. <br />
<br />
so at this flight, the choice of a aisle seat at the tail end or a forward section middle seat was the only toss coin. without a checked-in luggage and imagining the horrifying line at NAIA, the front row was the easy decision. at 1.8 meters, i can still tolerate the leg room for a few hours ride without the need for a bladder break.<br />
<br />
while the meal service trays were collected, i was unentropically tidying up to prepare for the remaining flight time's doze. but the seatmate to my left attempted to open a conversation.<br />
<br />
"so what brings you to the philippines? for a vacation?"<br />
<br />
a he. caucasian, maybe late thirties. of sky blue iridescence. lean guy and likely taller than me. his accent befits american.<br />
<br />
"oh. im a filipino. coming back from a business trip." yeah, i know. people casually see me as korean. even koreans salutate me with the effin-yoseyo's like i was that the other glee actor.<br />
<br />
and that short statement bouyed a trip-long conversation. about his business. why he relocated. his small call center company situated in the south. the placed he travelled in the country.<br />
<br />
but i wasn't complaining. or, rather, his got my attention. it. was unmistakably a scene stealer. and it seemed like it was growing. <br />
<br />
engorging. <br />
<br />
and naturally, when the stretch is tight, there is a spontaneous need for a stick shift. <br />
<br />
but i soon began my remorse, so the retreat. so i mentioned i was married.<br />
<br />
his reply was knee-jerk - since so was he.<br />
<br />
regret?<br />
<br />
he took out his wallet. and in the most blatant show of pacified behavior, i nodded back and forth. it was a picture of him and his lovey dovey.<br />
<br />
yeah. he's married to a twink.ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-32477143383183498032010-06-23T00:14:00.000+08:002010-06-23T00:14:48.253+08:00delta hedging33 slides.<br />
90 minutes.<br />
the boss.<br />
the bosses boss.<br />
the bosses dotted-line boss.<br />
the boss of the bosses boss.<br />
<br />
the fact that i was sweating over a temperature-controlled boardroom set at 18 degrees centigrade.<br />
<br />
gastrocolic reflex. <br />
it must have been the yoghourt on an empty stomach for breakfast.<br />
<br />
but it was two minutes before nine in the morning. <br />
every who was seated. <br />
an attention unlikely to accede after half past ten. <br />
<br />
then only, this crap of the matter can break free.<br />
<br />
.....<br />
<br />
the post-mortem, a farnesque-ly exit. <br />
a point for the tally, and on to the next.<br />
at eighteen months, if i am still under the hatchet. <br />
<br />
hoegaarden.<br />
to stiffle the h scale.<br />
likely, the hotel bed for one, will be one.<br />
<br />
still, i wish it was home.ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-11595246154386822582010-06-09T21:57:00.000+08:002010-06-09T21:57:14.898+08:00nowhere fastwill i ever get to, <br />
to where it is that i am going. <br />
<br />
will i ever follow through with what i... <br />
with what i have planned. <br />
<br />
i guess it's possible, that i have been a bit distracted <br />
and the directions for me are a lot less in demand. <br />
<br />
in demand. <br />
<br />
will i ever get to where i'm going <br />
if i do will i know when i'm there <br />
if the wind blew me in the right direction. <br />
<br />
yeah. would i even care. <br />
<br />
i would. <br />
<br />
i take a look around, it's evident the scene has changed. <br />
and there are times when i feel improved, improved upon the past. <br />
and there are times when i can't seem to understand at all. <br />
and yes it seems as though i'm going nowhere <br />
<br />
really fucking fast. <br />
nowhere fast. <br />
<br />
will i ever get to where i'm going <br />
if i do will i know when i'm there. <br />
<br />
if the wind blew me in the right direction. <br />
<br />
yeah. would i even care <br />
<br />
i would. <br />
i would. <br />
i would. <br />
i would.<br />
<br />
.....<br />
<br />
but i wouldn't. nr zal ik niet.ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-85865922426209646952010-05-06T21:49:00.001+08:002010-05-06T21:52:29.186+08:00uncertainlyif eyes can tell me<br />
unyeilding a lovestory<br />
what would i see? <br />
how far does it truly<br />
without becoming<br />
just a necessity<br />
<br />
can hands deceive me<br />
when all it did entirely<br />
bestow this peace<br />
take hold and ease<br />
<br />
a force compelling<br />
warrant an urgency<br />
will it set free<br />
and pass on eventually<br />
what would it be?ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-41301205640369390522010-03-13T09:37:00.002+08:002010-03-15T19:14:11.886+08:00in 35mm<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">the builder took a long and quiet pause while traversing his sight down into the horizon. said the engineer upon notice of the former’s introspection, “he has learned his lesson, has he?” too preoccupied, all that the builder could remark was a slightly perceptible nod while remained on the lookout. sensing his resolve, the engineer dropped the shoulder load and joined the eventful stake.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">now seeing his two companions fully engaged in a tacit, yet inaudible conversation, the fisherman joined. “whats the catch?” he said. only silence pervaded. neither spoke nor acknowledged the attendance nor the inquiry. it was then the seafarer’s cue. a glance at the meager occasion, and he saw the reason for the commotion.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“any lost soul?” the shepherd inquired upon passing by. the three men remain bowed. he too, took notice. and remained in observation.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">it was now becoming a line. the builder, the engineer, the fisherman. and also the shepherd. an audience only they could see. and the builder knew. like a roll of 35mm, he has seen. and has been, until the last frame. he has built several like this before. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">yet his eyes were still glued like an anticipated rerun.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“you’ll be ok, lil boy sam.” the builder finally whispered, as the boy made his stretch to the tunnel with the blinding light.</span>ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-62565879292468885462010-03-04T08:36:00.000+08:002010-03-04T08:36:20.752+08:0011th hour and coming<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">you wake up one day. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">the sun was supposed to pierce your east window pane. it was. all telltale signs of the morning bash. yet not the early salutation that gets you kindled. it is time. yes, it is. too much glare on the scheming sun.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">that day is today.</span>ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-30385055660229262642010-03-02T02:17:00.000+08:002010-03-02T02:17:09.594+08:00sweet surrender<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">don't shove your way into tears again. days like this will pass uncounted. like moments you wonder if there is another. moments that seem no company can ever afford to keep a smile glowing behind the mouth you show</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">take away that sadness. i tell you, it will be just fine. just a shrug more of strength to overcome. the heart has its way of beating through the toughest turmoil. and neither is it today.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">if solitude is your worst enemy, it is only you then that dictates this turmoil. it cannot grow, cannot conquer without the conscious presence of you remembering. it fades the time you choose to let it pass along. intangible, like a distant past.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">see, you can imagine more than being alone. imagination is your best escape. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">so come now, hear me above what one mind can conjure. rest well. you deserve it. and let me join you in your sleep. let this pair of arms warm the coldness sweeping your heart. an embrace that touches through skin. i can hear the gentle throb reminding you that one is alive. an occasion to seize an opportunity. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">hear these soft whispers coming. lips gently pressing as you feel the air sweeping your ears, "you will be fine, my friend. you don't have to be alone."</span>ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-81514900702187537722010-02-21T21:29:00.003+08:002010-02-21T21:50:58.923+08:00the unnecessary thermocline<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">i leaned back pressing myself against a couch early friday afternoon. twelve thousand pesos swiped for this garden view. a textbook recipe for a post-valentine plan with the other half.<br /><br />the curtain dampened the shade of the blaring sun. it somehow casts a perfect hue inside this room. she would have loved this weather and the respite laid on a silver platter. it would have been a perfect weekend getaway.<br /><br />a moments glance and a hotel staff came along leaving a platter of fruits and a 2008 cabarnet.<br /><br />"shall i now open the wine, sir?"<br /><br />"no," i responded without eye contact.<br /><br />"not today."<br /><br />...<br /><br />she was not surprised. after all, it was a whirlwind occasion that antedated this onslaught.<br /><br />one moment, both you were engaged on a mind blowing sex. the next morning, she was cold and furious at your routine personal hygeine. the afternoon as you pick her up, she was eager to have your sweet embrace. then another bitter argument over domestic chores as nightcap. the proceeding sunrise was status quo.<br /><br />"i still got the room for us."<br /><br />"i have a lot of things to finish at home. "<br /><br />"even just a short swim before you start?" she's fond of threading in water as me.<br /><br />"i said i have a lot to do."<br /><br />...<br /><br />it is summer.<br /><br />the water soothes your entire integument. you float over an endless expanse drifting lower toward the seabed. at one point, a sudden draft of warmth awakens your mental slumber. the border well defined and is distinct. hovering from one depth to the other, you feel the invisible temperature change. like traversing from water onto oil.<br /><br />then another one catches you. then another.<br /><br />you know it happens. a very natural phenomena. but still, it catches you off guard.</span>ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-64137892271675116172010-02-16T16:03:00.002+08:002010-02-16T16:07:08.650+08:00like that i love you<span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">like endless lovespell.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">like fairytale that never ceases to end happily ever after.<br /><br />like you.<br /><br />linger this open ended tender cuddle. behooves you like soft velvet texture of merlot. with only a moments aging, it mellows to a wanton volition this palate covets.<br /><br />like tomorrow. always a sanguine future awaiting each passing sunset. bouyed by the next and each tomorrows occassion being beside you.<br /><br />love like there is no waterloo. beyond buenas or malas, it pervades. a rotation that knows no endpoint.<br /><br />love like there will always be tomorrow to share.</span>ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-48590683892742860372010-02-14T22:33:00.004+08:002010-02-14T22:43:41.825+08:00confucius says...<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">"continue the straight path and fortune will come your way," said the fortune cookie.<br /><br />of all cookies held inside this fishbowl. it just had to make sense. perfect sense. the missus was inside the theater, waiting for her bag of nibbles. who would have thought it was at this kiosk named taters. the server, who hurriedly completed my to-go order, prodding at the last minute as i carried the fodder toward the cinema foyer.<br /><br />"sir!" he half-shouted. "please take one cookie. its free."<br /><br />a divine messenger. not the proverbial words of confucius nor gospel truth. but was much closer to the heart who questions. this morning's altar kneel, this issue out on the table.<br /><br />i hear you, mr. builder. </span></span>ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-8360230908588989492010-02-11T00:05:00.003+08:002010-02-11T00:13:31.937+08:00the chimera strain<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">why the predominant majority of human handedness prefers the right side isn't really clear to science. neither is it willfully chosen and willfully changed. at the latest, it may be developmentally determined or earlier on as an expression of genetics.<br /><br />but the greater rarity (and interest) in this asymmetry lies with a far few who claim to possess ambidexterity. not an extraordinary feat, but by a few number who belong to this list may refer to as talent.<br /><br />and an advantage.<br /><br />now how the left minority speaks of this cross dominance is commonly taken as just a phase of adaptation prior to realizing the other end of the pole.<br /><br />but i differ. and propose that, at least for a great number, it is them. the marginal who strives to attain normalcy by obligating themselves to being able to fit the one side while preferentially more inclined to the other.<br /><br />the genera is therefore acquired or innate.<br /><br />but it is du jour.<br /><br />being bi is the new breed. </span> </span>ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-24651521447476664302010-02-04T23:28:00.004+08:002010-02-04T23:35:26.194+08:00el comercio de carnethat monday after dusk, avenida del libertador was less than abound with the usual pedestrian traffic. it must be the season, as i recalled the weather forecast. cold air now gusting in front of your face, trapped only by the hood and the scarf wrapped around the neck. this is how less than ten degrees centigrade feels like as you pass through the district of recoleta.<br /><br />there was a veil of silence only perturbed by the footsteps and the intermittent scuttle of motor vehicles. you knew your way into that calle called cordoba, where kiosks began to line the sidewalk. fifteen minutes of solitary walk, then a sparingly familiar lenguaje greets you.<br /><br />"buenas tardes, senyor."<br /><br />a few more salutations were raised. the porteño was talking in deep, colloquial rioplatense. you nod the greeter as you continue to pace your way past the cobbled street. the lunar glow now casting a silhouette behind your course. the sight of the usual string of cafe pans out as you now walk further down the lane. beyond the street lights, you cautiously detour a dark alley. it's not the usual path an uninitiated pursues. to proceed with caution is the aviso.<br /><br />but this is the place you have wanted to witness. amigos beginning to surface as they notice a humanly arrival. a pack of wolves, ready for the roasting.<br /><br />like at home, you contend solely at the immersion. and no doggie bag in the order.ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2554402881228880184.post-53831627434225502462010-01-27T12:07:00.003+08:002010-01-27T12:09:51.435+08:00hear me<div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">hey there, what’s up<br />muse much, no nap?<br /><br />tell me, this one<br />all ears, and eye<br />a beer, ill buy<br /><br />your crush, he’s hot<br />don’t fret, i can’t<br />you suck, i won’t<br /><br />well fuck, i do<br />but ass, no breach<br />the wife, my lone<br /><br />but please, don’t dive<br />just yet, find more<br />his aim, will show<br /><br />like last, be sure<br />he was, an ass<br />that too, has passed<br /><br />but cry not now<br />it won’t, if wise<br />you’ll know, next time<br /><br />here now, a hug<br />a friend, that’s right<br />i will, just thug</span></div>ashhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12538257547310467280noreply@blogger.com5