Archive for September, 2011


friend – chapter three

September 25, 2011

“what’s his problem? why’d he hang up?” friend, said. he was seated at the back of a car. beside him lay an orange gym bag. in front was a driver, and on the passenger side were a stack of cd’s. he wore a tattered black shirt, and grey plaid pj’s. he just woke up.

“what’s up with him? he’s so moody.” friend said aloud again. the driver of the car made a witty response. a response we’ll never know. friend was too busy with a text message he just received that he didn’t hear it. too preoccupied to even remember Books’ cancelling of the call.

“i’ll go to manila in 2 months.”

friend ‘s heart raced again. this was it. the fulfillment of the wish. perhaps going back to the philippines was really a wise decision. excited, he blurted a suggestion to the driver.

“cebuano might drop by in two months. can he still crash at your place then?” friend asked the driver.

the driver responded with a jokingly sarcastic retort. something about orphanages and cats, it made no sense to friend. friend was halfway through with a reply to the text message.

he was thinking of how to finish it off. something smart, classy and witty, but not seemingly needy, that’s how he always finished off his responses. always.

the only child of a family that’s consistently on the move friend never had a lot of friends. he’d be happy with one or two. but with the advent of technology and all things fast friend started having a network of acquaintances from all over the world wide web.

ever since he was little, his fascination of colors, shapes, textures and expression of his innermost desires and emotions stirred a strong inclination towards the arts. eventually winging a degree, he sought to work and express.

lastly, he prided himself of not only being inclined to the arts, but also in being intellectually ahead. a true artist, a prodigy. a future icon.

looking at his reply, he was torn as to what he would really want to happen. a significant part of him wanted ‘Cebuano’ to come, two months is definitely something he can wait out. a part of him didn’t: He was supposed to come the next day. not in two months.

he deleted his reply. he erased Cebuano’s message.

“do you have any body sprays with you?” friend asked the driver.

“there’s one at the gym bag beside you.” the Driver then laughed.

“what’s funny?”

“you should’ve taken a bath. you are going to meet someone right?” driver teased.

friend looked at his reflection at the rear view mirror, his hair was disgruntled, his eyes puffy. designer stubble littered his face. he looked smelly. he smelled his shirt, and he didn’t smell cute either. quickly, he zipped open the gym bag, propped his phone inside it, took out the body spray, a spare shirt and blue boxers. he also took out a lime green baseball cap.

“so my gym bag’s your dresser now?”

“you shouldn’t have laughed at me.” friend replied with a grin.

he tore off his pjs and his tattered black shirt. he sprayed a generous amount of body spray to his body. after a great deal of humiliation, and some very difficult show of flexibility, he was able to change into the blue boxers and white shirt. after trying to make his hair follow the makeover that had been happening, he simply decided to put on the lime green cap.

friend looked at the rear view mirror, and satisfied with the results of his on-the-road makeover; he retrieved his phone from the gym bag and dialed books’ number.

books – chapter two

the next day – chapter one


books – chapter two

September 21, 2011

it started with a text message two days before. a message asking for them to meet. they’ve been communicating electronically for 2 years now and they’ve swapped pictures, but they really haven’t met yet. unknowingly, they’ve become the best of friends. subconciously, they had sealed their fates.

but it didn’t actually start until he decided to bring the book somewhere else. his reviewer for an exam by the next day. he didn’t really want to go. he just couldn’t stay at home. the book- that reviewer, would be useless there.

so there he was, sporting his jacket, seemingly sufficient to protect him from the razing cold, but it didn’t. he knew that all parts of him were cold. nothing at that point gave him warmth. not even the prospect of the long-delayed meet up with his friend. he looked at his watch, 12:50 am.

in fact, he wasn’t at all interested. had it been a different day, a different time, a different phase, this meet up would have been met with enthusiasm. a couple of months earlier, or a couple of months later, it’d have been perfect. now was not the time. it’s not even because of the exams.

while waiting at the side of the road – backpack snugly fit behind, slung only by one shoulder – he fidgeted with his phone, the one snugly fit in his pants. with a deep sigh, he thrust his left hand inside the left pocket and pulled out his mobile.

with a disappointed smug, he found it blinking. his friend was calling. He cancelled the call and put the phone back inside his pocket.

books, as we’ll call the guy for now, looked around him. on his side of the road, no one was visible. aside from the parked vehicles and the stray cats, it seemed he was alone. On the other side however, people were there. he laughed. maybe it is true that the grass is greener on the other side, books thought.

in that respect, books’ friends considered him weird. he always thought of the damndest ideas, the most unlikely of possibilities. like the time he tried to use cooking oil as a form of sunblock. Or when he agreed to stick with his partner, who had another guy, and decided to just arrange it as a three-way.

books cupped his right jeans pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. inside it he took a stick and a lighter. he placed the crumpled up filter end and cupped his left hand around the lighter’s mouth. he flicked his lighter. as he pressed the yellow flame to the end of his cigarette, the flame died.

he tried again. “fuck!”

the very first word we’ve heard books say.

“fuck!” he says again, after giving it another unsuccessful try.

and another.

and another.

as he took the cigarette from his lips, he made a sharp inhale of air. the filter end accidentally stuck to his dry chapped lips. he crumpled the cigarette and threw it to the ground. he placed the lighter back inside the cigarette pack, and replaced the pack back to his right pocket.

he noticed that the number of passing cars had been thinning down. he glanced at his watch, 01:20 am. enough, he said in his mind. he’ll just deal with the house. stay at home. even if he won’t be able to review tonight back there.

the next day – chapter one


the next day – chapter one

September 19, 2011

he was freezing from the wind caused by hurtling cars and motorcycles. the night sky was barely visible, the only lights were dying stars and tungsten streetlamps. with him was a backpack and inside it was a review book. he had an exam the next day.

why was he going to a party tonight then?

this other guy was sleeping, and it was not his bed, not his room. his face nestled in a white wall. he crunched up, in a fetal position, covered by white sheets. his head resting on a soft white pillow. outside had been very humid. inside the room, it was – fine. he had with him a dream, a sort of excitement. he was to start his first job the next day.

why wasn’t he at his own house then?

another guy is sitting at the back of a car, his friend’s car, who’d been driving. he just woke up, eager to fetch a long time friend he’d never met. he only had a white shirt, a cap. he was in his boxers. It was freezing cold inside the car, but he was warm. a lot of thoughts had been racing through his head, he was excited for his friend, but he wasn’t really interested. he had another guy in mind; they were supposed to meet the next day.

why was he fetching someone else then?

this last guy, for now, had been reading. browsing through the internet. he had a lot of plans, a lot of dreams, he was excited. he just caught the man of his dreams, and he was here, sleeping beside him. he was finalizing plans of a move they were to undertake several weeks from that day, and he thought of making it their dream cove. he had nothing to do the next day.


and so i dreamed.

September 16, 2011

after the scourging heat of the summer solstice has passed,

you want the flower to bloom for you.

the one you left drying in the sun — your greenhouse effect.

will it be too late by then, for the petals could’ve fallen to the ground

and nourished another life form,

or be another life form itself,

rising from its ashes like a fierce phoenix reborn?

we can never tell.

we can never tell.


my love

September 6, 2011

if you like great coffee, add me for sugar
and if you’re a bee, I’d collect your honey
if you’re a rose, I’d make your sweet petals
As fragrance for your shapely appearance

if you’re a song, I want to join the chorus
if you’re a guitar, make me one of the chords
“no strings attached”, to be with you is enough

if you’re a keyboard, allow me to hit enter
and not shift or delete, nor the end or escape
for me to be inside your home

if you’re a jockey, choose me for your stallion
if that sounds a mockery, I’d enjoy the role surely

if you belong to me
yes if only you belong to me
i’d dispose of the things old and few
coz by now you make everything brand new.