There was a boy in his teens at the train, and he looked foreign. His brown hair was a mess, but he wasn't ostentatious about it. The clothes he was wearing looked very comfortable. He was wearing a backpack. He was observant, and he sent a message saying he's "been everywhere", probably to his father. We both went down at Shaw Boulevard. That was all. I must have dropped the words while walking to the office.
I was excited to build up a character just like him, since he seemed like the type who would go for a beer at midnight. This man reminds me of my Japanese friend who's been very kind and pensive. We would talk for about three straight hours, and I kind of miss it. He would play Red Hot Chili Peppers. He likes the band. He also likes Johnny Depp, and he wants to be an actor in Hollywood, but in my heart I know he won't make it. He's just not the type. Then there was this semester where I got busy with a theater production that I couldn't find time to talk to him. He left at the end of that semester. I wrote a letter that morning before he left. All my friends gave him gifts, and I have never thought of giving him anything.
Now I write things like these in the same sentence structure. I will revise this tomorrow morning.
- During bus rides in the morning I fall asleep, but I have this hypothesis about the body clock (which of course has already been hypothesized) waking you up when it's your stop. Every single body has a compass of some sort, only most of them are, in the words written on clocks at MRT Magallanes, DEFECTIVE, with all the masking-tape glory.
- All I ever do in the jeepney ride is to imagine San Pedro, Laguna in its colonial past. It has this river and a steep bridge which I think used to be a cliff with tall grasses and ravines and coconut trees. Then, the clackety-clack of horseshoes.
- Are you an atheist? he asked me. I said I am. I don't participate in satanic rituals that pop culture made atheists to look like. I don't vandalize church walls, nor have I ever mustered a fuck you sign on the sight of religious statues. I respect the beliefs of Roman Catholics and Protestants, etc. My Catholic school upbringing taught me a lot, and yet it made me otherwise. Why does atheism always entail such vicious conclusions, as if atheists are criminals, cultists?
- I imagine the urinals of the bathrooms along the hallway to overflow.
- Elevators have this distinct sound when it comes from a block of marble. It's the same way with every other heavy machinery pulley systems.
- The most embarrassing thing in my life these days is to catch myself writing a grammatical error in this blog. I did, three times. My face must have been flushed with disappointment and self-pity. I have this inferiority complex regarding my grammar. It's as if every single piece of write-up I've been reading on the Internet is well-written. Even a LinkedIn page looks well-written.
- It's a shame how I've taken up a course about writing (and my workmates once enunciated the word writing as if it was written in italics) and ended up in a job where I use it on a daily basis in the form of e-mails like yes, Mr. Wharton, and a complimentary close like Warm Regards, Kevin. I once struck a conversation with a classmate from college at a bus stop (chance encounters like these reach their--wait for the pretentious word--zenith! when you get your first job: I've met a professor in the bus and a High School friend on a jeepney ride, and then this particular friend all in three weeks. Nowadays, everyone's distant and removed from the common ground, and sorry but I felt like... a relocated plant) and let's say she's been one of my competitive classmates, asking me all the time about the deadlines and whether I've finished a paper or I've been bumming around smoking weed for weeks to get an all-time high of words per minute. So she said, and I've predicted this to happen: what's the nature of your job? It's in the recruitment business, I said, bearing in mind to say it with an ounce of pride since I've never liked it, it's like one of the jobs you take to think of better jobs to take, a sort of limbo, an anteroom, a foyer. But I'm trying to like it. Of course she said that it sounded boring. I didn't have the guts to remind her that night that she's been jobless for six months trying to find some kind of a millionaire to house her theatre talents, whatever that is, but kudos to her. I decided to leave the bus stop right away and hailed a jeepney to Calamba.
- I was reading an article called "Vanished" when you returned.