An Absolute Blend

Take a spoon, set it drowning
In this deep powder of black
Take a bit more than enough
And wonder if it is bad

Summer Report

I’m at the beach, standing, staring at sea. It’s strange. I really wanted to go swimming a few days ago but now that the dream’s right in front of me, I do nothing but feel the sand and water between my toes. I look around me. People are laughing, running, and frolicking everywhere. I was wrong to think happiness is contagious. My immunity leaves me standing, staring at the sea. It’s hot. I look up to the sky and dare myself to eyeball the sun. Of course, I lose. I hold my hand up in front of me and squint through my fingers.

Knockout

I was cleaning up a bit and looking for stuff I can get rid of when I found an old notebook of mine.

It was sitting on top of some old shoeboxes, waiting to be discovered. I flipped it open and scanned each page; it was my elementary dedication notebook. When at last I turned to the last page, I found a piece of black paper folded in two. The moment my eyes fell on the name scribbled on the bottom right corner in that familiar silver gel-pen, I knew what it was. And then, my first year of high school played back before me like a movie.

A Jeepney Tale: Bumper

I was in my usual “moment” that one fateful day, on the way home from school. Just minding my business and staring off into the space that is the mouth of the jeep.

Suddenly, my serenity was disturbed by a sharp and somewhat painful blow on my back by my left shoulder. I ignored it. Must be accidental, I thought.

Until I was hit again.

Going Nowhere

I have a strange way of dealing with my wayward thoughts.

Yesterday, my head was swamped with so many ponderings, so much inferences, that I didn’t know what to think anymore. It all started with a single idea that branched out this way and that way, and before I knew it, I was lost in my own web of confusion. Again.

I was riding the jeepney when I suddenly felt like going somewhere. Nowhere in particular really. Just somewhere.

Don’t Talk to Strangers


I don’t know how to start this story. Should I go with the “One day, as I was walking…” cliché or onto the main attraction: I WAS HARASSED AT ALIMALL.

Saturday, Jan. 5, 2008, a normal day at the mall. As usual, I visit the Book Sale, one of my frequented stores. After browsing the shelves, scrounging around for magazines, and stopping by the overhead mirror to fix my hair (What?!), I decided to leave.

Suddenly, I heard a faint “excuse me” from behind. I ignored it. It was followed by two more, each one louder than the last. I turned to look.