siya

 

*

Photobucket

 

she likes seashore naps and the view of everything from the bus window. she likes tiny moments and the small spaces between faces when people talk.

 

sometimes, she wakes up to that odd feeling of being a fallen leaf, an old tree, an azotea or a waitress somewhere-- talking to a taxicab driver about that random song on the radio.

 

*


 ---

 poetry as visual art

 powets do kick ass

 iPud (ako, too)

---

 

 

 

 

 

Photobucket

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and this. a proof that:

how you see LIFE is how

you actually see YOUR self.


 

*

Photobucket

*



 

 

***

 

maddening spurt:

----------------------

 

 “The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!”

 

-Jack Kerouac-

 

balighut

09/22/11

*

 

Jay spends his 2 am watching the ceiling leaks. he has been doing some meditation and yoga. he goes to San Juan on Sundays to sit and to try contemplating under a santol tree. He reads PDFs and marks words like “breathing in” and “mindfulness” just because he needs them and he spends too much time in front of his work desktop on weekdays. Brunch for him is ube hopia and an apple. It has been like this because instant noodles remind him of  “haste” and he does not like it. He likes taking things slow - so he misses his bus intentionally, sometimes.

 He works as an I.T. specialist, thinks and argues that stars are sort-of-planets and not heavenly bodies that people should wish upon.  Sometimes, he fixes laptops and asks random customers “Has life been treating you well lately?”. He does not fix things down the ground and tells the client, “oh maybe you overcharged the batteries” or “maybe you did not tell me what the exact problem was”, the time they come back to complain a little. 

 Jay does not have a favorite day nor a favorite color.

He does not dwell on an art that has touched his heart last year.

Never ask him about first loves because you’ll just get a blank face or a cold — “none.”

He only carries the want to see, to eat, to drink, to rest and to sometimes rub his skin on someone else’s — this is because life is a matter of hormones and synapses and mere instinctual necessities.

 

Leila spends her 2 am imagining ways and possibilities on how to make him smile, because he’d be beautiful.

 

——————–

  J: Have you felt real love?

T: Yes. Once. Twice. I am not sure now.

J: I am 25 but still, I have not. Ever.

T: Believe that , you,  will.

 

He sang to her. The stars blinked. She sang to him. A firefly came out of a coconut leaf only to fade slowly. There were banig marks on their skin when they got up and ran to the sea like children. And out of nowhere, there were around 8 people dipping their feet, dancing with hundreds of glowing plankton. He told her, “I wish my parents could see this now. Like Avatar!”. She was quiet, had goosebumps and nearly wept, blessed and humble.

 

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