HIDEOUT

varicocele:

During my idle times there, I frequently fantasize about it.

Perhaps I take out a book and behind the shelf, there he is, asking me out (a la Romantic Comedy Movie).

Perhaps he needs to sit down beside me because I am beside the only unoccupied electric socket and we begin talking about the nuances of postmodern literature.

Perhaps he asks me where the Pynchon section is.

Perhaps I am typing and behind me comes a voice: you spelled that wrong.

That place is magic. Real magic. And I always hope that it activates its magic for me one day, even just once.

(via velvetrobots)

jotterbook:

mliaverage:

Today, I went to a concert at a small venue. About twenty minutes in, some guy in the first row tried to take a picture. The lead guitarist noticed, stopped playing in the middle of a song, and shouted “Hey Gary! Picture!!!” They all gathered together and posed for the camera, and picked up exactly where they left off as if nothing happened. In all my years of going to concert, I have never seen anything like it. MLIA

presidents:

eft / kbcdefg / asomnambulist:

By travelling without arms to perform their democratic duties in hostile territory, the 52 made their choice. We honor their example and sacrifice, as their fate continues to chill our bones. As fellow believers, we could have easily been them.

As we wait for action, we grieve. We grieve for the believers in a democratic system who paid with their lives. We grieve for the martyred journalists who believed the Constitutional protection of their rights was enough.

- from GMA’s statement on the Maguindanao massacre. I almost cried when Jessica Soho delivered this :( We salute you. (via)

modernsisa:

(REPOST) “My wife’s private parts were slashed four times, after which they fired a bullet into it. They speared both of her eyes, shot both her breasts, cut off her feet, fired into her mouth. I could not begin to describe the manner by which they treated her.” — Buluan Vice Mayor Esmael Mangudadatu

PUTANGINA. Yun lang masasabi ko.

Dahil sa post ni arianesantos, na-engganyo (ano?) ako na ipost ang buong entry ni Superhero.

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Tuldok at Kuwit

Ayokong hanapin mo ako dahil sa hindi mo ako makita (malabo), dahil sa hindi mo ako maramdaman (malabo pa rin).

Nitong nagdaang mga araw, nagbabago ako ng anyo. Isa akong yelo, na nakakulong sa bakal na puno ng kalawang. Hindi tumatakbo ang oras. Paano ako makakawala nang hindi natutunaw? Nang hindi nadudumhan?

Kung dumating ang oras na maghahanap ka, puntahan mo ang nagliliparang alikabok. Isa ako sa kanila. At kung sakaling mapuwing ka, isipin mong ako ang pumupuwing sayo para di ka masaktan. Gusto kong maramdaman mo ang aking presensya nang hindi ako nakikita.

Kung madaan ka sa mga halaman, wag kang kukuha ni isang dahon man lang. Baka ako ang iyong mapitas, malulungkot ako.

Pag ninais kong muling magbagong anyo (ayoko pa), wag kang umasang makita ako. Mag-iiba ako ng porma’t disenyo.

Kung mapadaan ka sa umaagos na tubig, damhin mo iyon ng iyong mga palad. Wag mong punasan, isipin mo ako, hayaan mong matuyo at saka ako maglalaho.

Isipin mo lang akong tumatawa, tulad ng lagi kong ginagawa. Isipin mo lang akong tinotopak, at tawagin mo akong baliw, hindi pa rin ako masasaktan, tulad ng dati.

Hindi mo man ako makita, hindi ako lalayo. Magbago man ako ng anyo, ako pa rin ako. Wag mo na akong hanapin dahil hindi ako nagtatago, pero hindi ako magpapakita. Hayaan mong lumipas ang panahon, hanggang sa naisin kong ilapit ang langit sa aking puso. Doon lang ako magiging malaya.

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Hindi ako lumilimot, at hindi ako lilimot. Gusto ko lang maglakbay nang walang anino, nang walang kasaysayan.

Para sa isang kaibigan, patawad.

arianesantos:

I admire the grayness of the pavement
Marred by the tires of jeepneys that move past
And stained by the rainbows of spilt, wasted gasoline

I can see that it’s not always black and white
That when I take a step backward and look
The colors merge and break into splinters
Of photographic ambiguity —-
Forever undeveloped
Under the pretense of monotony

Or can it be that I’m just tired?
Tired of waiting for that Antipolo ride
That just would not come
When my heart, lungs and consciousness
Are being murdered by the specters
Of red-plated, smoke-belching vehicles
Under the umbrella of a battered piece of cement

Or maybe it’s just the loneliness
The solitude of being alone
Among traffic enforcers, co-pedestrians
And manongs whose rides can’t take me home
The emptiness and sadness of living a dream
And forgetting another
The wakefulness that here I am, stuck in a terminal
Where no FX nor jeepney can bring me
To where the colors merge and break into smiles

Without you, I admire the grayness of the pavement
Because I know that somewhere, beyond the smoke
And vagueness of today, you too are standing
And footed on the same road as I am
Perhaps delighting too in the puddle of
Colors, made real by the mirage of your own tears

And standing here, where the sun is threatening to fall
I endure the ache of seeing only the shadows of the future
And I weep, I weep because I know
That you are just a ride away
Yet I cannot reach you

Still I can’t come home

Bat ganon. Kapag nakakakita ako ng patay, hindi ko magets. Parang, bat ganon? Dapat buhay yan eh. Dapat kapag inalog kita, magrerespond ka.

Ay, ewan.

Tulog na, hayaan na muna natin sila.