Readers #7 to #12

10/29/12 Comanche Moon written in pink, by larry mcmurtry, lady with red dress. Thick paperback, browning edges. The words "Fairfield Library" stamped on the spine.

12/3/12 Woman reading Tolkien, black sleeveless, cream chinos (?), black slippers of some sort. Small red birthmark on the left arm. Boarded at North Ave, couldn't see much of her with the throng of Quezon Avenue passengers. The man sitting beside her, with the prominent jaw and the white and blue plaid polo was peering at what little he could see from the pages. I couldn't see the book that much except the letters TOLKIEN. Her eyes were very, very intent with what she's reading and I'm guessing from my experience wih Tolkien, the copy I have read and never finished had a really small font. She reappeared in Cubao and her shoes/slippers were the cream ones, the maong black. Crimson nail polish on the toes. Sitting besode her is a box, a newly-bought computer screen, a Samsung LED screen in as people thinned out in Santolan. An orange leatherette bag covers her lap, and her wristwatch is white, thin. Contrary to stereotype she wasn't wearing glasses, or pimply at all. She was chewing something, a gum perhaps, at Ortigas. At Shaw we both get out and the birthmark was actually a keloid and her orange bag has this silicon sanitizer holder, the silicon with swirls of red and yellow, and the book she clutched under her arms, finally, before reaching the turnstile. The title: The Hobbit.

1/17/13 Someone was reading a book across my seat at MRT. Orange polo, gray canvas shoes, tattoo on left sleeve but looked tame. Good quality tattoo, must have been on his late twenties. Maong with tattered spot on the right knee. I can't see the book but I hope I can take a look at it before he puts it down and gets off the train. Hair is just normal, clean-cut, like a young shaven private. Thick eyebrows. Reading chapter: Field of Ignorance.

2/8/13 It was morning, 8AM. He was reading from Shaw to Quezon Ave. Looked like High School in his uniform, but I may be wrong. His reading glasses weren't thick. His blue bag was on his lap. Yale padlock on one of its handles. Samsonite Outlast, the embroidery reads. The book was close to his face while reading, though his hand shifted almost every station, adjusting its grip. The book cover was blue, and its pages are about to fray. It looked like it was reprinted by a library, and this was confirmed when I sat next to him in hopes of seeing the title. The pages when bundled together has a faint Manila from a far, stamped on blue ink--like indelible ink on a thumb. From close inspection I figured out the words: DE LA SALLE UNIVERSITY MANILA. There were characters in it, like Benigno and Chona, and the setting was in a bar with women. It looked like it was written during the height of the Bomba in the 60s, and the title on the edge: on the left, Carunungan. Probably the author's last name; on the right, Satanas sa Lupa. He wasn't reading it with much gusto, as if it was some required reading from a class, though every once in a while he would be very close to the page because the binding rendered some letters to be eaten by the spine. It looked like he was teasing the words out of their cave. He had this air like he had just brushed his teeth before going to the train to school.

2/8/13 It was around 9PM. Abraham Lincoln by Seth Graham Smith. Girl with tattoo on her left foot, which must have been really, really painful, chartreuse flats with suede-velvet texture. Looks just like red wine. Headband thin enough to be hidden. Lots of buddha beads on both wrists. Brunette or burgundy hair. Plain blue handbag, the big ones which can haul an entire bathroom kit or books, with a green sanitizer that's been widely used today, very ubiquitous. Ring on her right middle finger. Blue plastic-framed glasses. She looked just like a graduate student, wearing a semi-formal blouse, boarding at Quezon Ave and lost in her book, once in a while checking her cellphone. The next thing I know, after the throng of commuters boarding at Cubao, blocking my view of her, was that she dozed before we reached Ortigas station. The Friday traffic's just terrible.

2/19/13 Somebody in the train bothered to read Narnia at 8AM. His was a thick copy, so thick, in fact, that he couldn't even manage to put it inside his bag,


I had to do some clean up with the notes I've written on my iPod, and stumbled upon these. I already forgot about this project!