:::2004-01-30-9:37 p.m.:::
Philosophies for the day:
"Life is absurd." - PB
"Shit happens." - anyone to whom this is applicable.
"Life is shit. To get rid of this shit, you have to be a shit yourself." - Yen Almeda
"What doesn't kill me makes me stronger." - Nietzsche
:::2004-01-29-10:04 p.m.::: First things first. PAROKYA NI EDGAR ROCKS!!! INDIE FILMS KICK ASS!! I LOVE SIR VICENTE GROYON! [by the way, i learned just now that indie films meant independent films. i actually cringe at the thought, but isn't indie kind of a hip term? And aren't indie film sort of supposed to be 'un-hip', that's why they're not in mainstream? And, does all indie prefixes mean independent?] Today's LEAP day, supposed to be a university day but instead of holding classes, the organizations organized [duh] seminars instead. I went to the talk of Sir Groyon the Great. After the enlightening seminar by the extremely lovable Sir Groyon, PB and I went to Starbucks, along with Sunny, Bugie, and a host more. I missed those talks. Discussions about Malate, poems, Malate, Red Pill, and more Malate. There was a decidedly cute person in shades sitting behind us. Someone from our group kept nudging me to look at him, and when he borrowed PB's lighter, we almost dissolved in giggles. The guy went to the CR. I whispered to my friend, "Hey, he's a writer!" We peered into the next table, intent on comprehending what he was reading. And when I looked up, I saw the guy looking amusedly at us through the Starbucks glasses. Aaaah! I'm so embarrassed! And then, the same friend told me, "Tingnan mo yung sa bus, nakaputi, katabi ng nakablue na kalbo." And I saw him, and my jaw dropped. He was cute beyond cute. He was adorable. He was worshippable [?!]. He was a god. Too bad I didn't know his name. And it will probably be the last time I will see him. So oh well. We went back to La Salle and went up to the library. G(x) happened to borrow my book in Genpsyc that morning. And, while I was in the library, various (sacrilegious) thoughts were running through my head. Here: [post] I looked at my watch, wondering when their talk will end. Wondering if he would return the book to me today, or if he would just send an impersonal text message, saying he'd return it to me on Friday. "Wer u? Balik ko na ung bukü" "D2 ako sa lib.." As usual, I would have wanted to go to him indtead of him coming to me. I waited apprehensively, not able to concentrate on the book i'm reading. Will he text me to say that the library is too far? Will I have to go to him in agno? I have to make everything easier for him, he's already in so much pain... Oh where the hell is my i.d... My phone vibrated. "D2 nko lbas ng lib.. San ka? Pwd ka lbas? Kc may mga dala ako e..." I hurried down, anxious not to keep him waiting. "Cge pababa na ako." He was just telling me yesterday how he hated the feeling of having to wait. I saw the glass doors of the entrance of the library, but I didn't see him. Damn, where is he? He was on the farther side from the exit, nearer to the chapel, where he seemed to belong. His eyes were cast down, his fingers were fiddling with something on his phone. How much time did it take for him to arrive? 5 minutes? 10 minutes? Or as fast as an angel can come once summoned by the imagination? He had folded his wings behind his back, hiding them from my view. After all, angels weren't meant to be seen. 'O, mag-isa ka lang?' I said, by way of opening. 'Oo. Uwi na ko e.' His husky voice, quite unique, a different blend of hoarseness and high-low pitch. 'Tagal nung 'airheads' something namin'. 'A.' I only said. What can one say in the presence of a heavenly being? 'Anong ginagawa mo diyan?' 'Nagbabasa'. I said, flashing what I hoped was a charming smile. His face wrinkled in mock-disgust, as if to ask 'why?' But he only turned. I chanced a glimpse at his wings. I held his shoulder, firmly, uncertainly. 'Kiss.' I said under my breath. He bent down, I brushed my cheek against his, but I did not dare look at his face. Would an angel feel revulsion when a lowly mortal caresses his skin, like the way saints would probably react if only they lived to see their cold likenesses being wiped and touched to decomposition by pious worshippers? 'So,' he said to me when I went back up. 'how does it feel t o have kissed someone you can't entirely have for yourself?' I feel like I have kissed an angel. For, with a beat of his wings, he soared out of the library entrance, out of my presence, out of my life. [/post] Tangina, di pa pala ako tapos sa kanya.
![[<<] [>>]:::2004-01-29-10:04 p.m.::: First things first.PAROKYA NI EDGAR ROCKS!!! INDIE FILMS KICK ASS!! I LOVE SIR VICENTE GROYON![by the way, i learned just now that indie films meant independent films. i actually cringe at the thought, but isn't indie kind of a hip term? And aren't indie film sort of supposed to be 'un-hip', that's why they're not in mainstream? And, does all indie prefixes mean independent?]Today's LEAP day, supposed to be a university day but instead of holding classes, the organizations organized [duh] seminars instead. I went to the talk of Sir Groyon the Great. After the enlightening seminar by the extremely lovable Sir Groyon, PB and I went to Starbucks, along with Sunny, Bugie, and a host more. I missed those talks. Discussions about Malate, poems, Malate, Red Pill, and more Malate. There was a decidedly cute person in shades sitting behind us. Someone from our group kept nudging me to look at him, and when he borrowed PB's lighter, we almost dissolved in giggles. The guy went to the CR. I whispered to my friend, "Hey, he's a writer!" We peered into the next table, intent on comprehending what he was reading. And when I looked up, I saw the guy looking amusedly at us through the Starbucks glasses. Aaaah! I'm so embarrassed!And then, the same friend told me, "Tingnan mo yung sa bus, nakaputi, katabi ng nakablue na kalbo." And I saw him, and my jaw dropped. He was cute beyond cute. He was adorable. He was worshippable [?!]. He was a god.Too bad I didn't know his name. And it will probably be the last time I will see him. So oh well.We went back to La Salle and went up to the library. G(x) happened to borrow my book in Genpsyc that morning. And, while I was in the library, various (sacrilegious) thoughts were running through my head.Here:[post]I looked at my watch, wondering when their talk will end. Wondering if he would return the book to me today, or if he would just send an impersonal text message, saying he'd return it to me on Friday."Wer u? Balik ko na ung bukü""D2 ako sa lib.."As usual, I would have wanted to go to him indtead of him coming to me. I waited apprehensively, not able to concentrate on the book i'm reading. Will he text me to say that the library is too far? Will I have to go to him in agno? I have to make everything easier for him, he's already in so much pain... Oh where the hell is my i.d...My phone vibrated. "D2 nko lbas ng lib.. San ka? Pwd ka lbas? Kc may mga dala ako e..."I hurried down, anxious not to keep him waiting. "Cge pababa na ako." He was just telling me yesterday how he hated the feeling of having to wait.I saw the glass doors of the entrance of the library, but I didn't see him. Damn, where is he?He was on the farther side from the exit, nearer to the chapel, where he seemed to belong. His eyes were cast down, his fingers were fiddling with something on his phone.How much time did it take for him to arrive? 5 minutes? 10 minutes? Or as fast as an angel can come once summoned by the imagination?He had folded his wings behind his back, hiding them from my view. After all, angels weren't meant to be seen.'O, mag-isa ka lang?' I said, by way of opening.'Oo. Uwi na ko e.' His husky voice, quite unique, a different blend of hoarseness and high-low pitch. 'Tagal nung 'airheads' something namin'. 'A.' I only said. What can one say in the presence of a heavenly being?'Anong ginagawa mo diyan?''Nagbabasa'. I said, flashing what I hoped was a charming smile.His face wrinkled in mock-disgust, as if to ask 'why?' But he only turned. I chanced a glimpse at his wings.I held his shoulder, firmly, uncertainly. 'Kiss.' I said under my breath. He bent down, I brushed my cheek against his, but I did not dare look at his face.Would an angel feel revulsion when a lowly mortal caresses his skin, like the way saints would probably react if only they lived to see their cold likenesses being wiped and touched to decomposition by pious worshippers?'So,' he said to me when I went back up. 'how does it feel t o have kissed someone you can't entirely have for yourself?'I feel like I have kissed an angel.For, with a beat of his wings, he soared out of the library entrance, out of my presence, out of my life.[/post]Tangina, di pa pala ako tapos sa kanya. [<<] [>>]](http://www.boomspeed.com/yottie/blinkie.gif){kind=link}