We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry. 
- W.B. Yeats


He had a burnt yellow / sunflower shirt on, with a seriffed print large enough across: "self-parody", it said. With him were other men installing a tarpaulin: Birit Idol ng Fortune Market, an Inter-Baranggay Singing Contest 2013. He wore a black cap and jeans.

Finger combing

After a gentle kiss, the man promptly looked back and stood nearby, waiting for the train to close its doors. He followed her with his eyes as she gets inside, as the train--one of the last ones before the station closes at 11 PM--closes its doors. She sat down and stared at him.

He had been staring at her, at the eyes of the lips he kissed. In one swift brush she smoothed her hair with her fingers, from the part to the tips. She was looking at him and he was looking at her as the train gathered speed, until all they saw was a blur.


In this day and age, "for later reading" almost always means "to hell with it," or the more fatalist "if it's meant to be read, I will have the time to read it." Hence, a label solely dedicated to pinned tabs, which will most probably surpass all the labels in this blog.
How to describe my life this month: hell. We've just won two food brands that we've pitched for last week. I've filed my resignation after accepting a job offer in Ortigas, after bouts of anxiety. I've failed to attend a christening after a seven-hour commute, thanks to Typhoon Lando. Coming up: attend a semi-Chinese wedding and a much-awaited staycation at a boutique hotel in Pasig, among other things!

Ending this post with an added layer of throwback: this is the post I wrote after accepting the job offer at the company I'm about to leave. "A little uncertainty is fine," it said. The same line goes well to all the decisions I'm about to make. Cheers!


Ah, sarcasm: the very highest form of wit. In the dictionary, “sarcasm” is still defined as the use of irony to convey contempt. But what we call sarcasm, especially on the Internet, has become less a technique than an attitude: a contempt so settled that it doesn’t bother constructing ironies. I submit that this sarcastic attitude, which presents itself as the perspective of a knowing few, is actually one of the dominant aesthetics of our age. Sarcasm is our kitsch. <link
In the 1990s, scientists found the first clues that cells from both sons and daughters can escape from the uterus and spread through a mother’s body. They called the phenomenon fetal microchimerism, after the chimera, a monster from Greek mythology that was part lion, goat and dragon. <link>
For his 20th birthday, in their sophomore year, she wrote him two poems expressing her feelings for him, and by their junior year they had developed a private language of jokes and mispronounced words: “Times is hard,” they once saw someone say on CNN about rising gasoline prices, and it became a refrain about matters large and small. <link>