booked

Its been a long weekend. A long absence too for me. I feel like I’ve just crawled out of a cave after drowning into a mass of words that is Harry Potter 6. It is still taunting me to once again immerse myself in that make-believe reality that has been more than a book (not only to me) but an experience, an adventure.

Anyway, since I only have it in ebook version, I just finished reading and editing it to fit in as few pages as possible. I only read it at work since it was too long to print witout anyone taking notice. From a 800-plus pages of manuscript, I somehow toned it down to less than 400 pages in a font others would have to squint at. They are not my problem. When I came up for air, I realized I haven’t even checked my mail since Friday last week and did almost nothing else but pore through those pages momentarily forgetting about life, eat and sleep. I’m also reading another book at home which comes in the likewise unconventional format of loose letter-size pages photocopied from the original text. As if not yet contented, browsing through the mall this afternoon for lack of anything to do after accompanying a friend doing research on different barangays in QC, I walked by the booksale section and bought a novel by John Irving I’m eager to begin once I once again find time on my hands not yet occupied by sleeping or poring through something else.

Life is complicated.

Lately, I find myself trapped in conflicting circumstances or schedules in which I find it somewhat hard to chose from. Not only that, I find myself going of everywhere almost every weekend and being pulled to after-work activities I’m really not to keen on or fond of. ( if you have just understood what the heck I’m trying to say, you’re a genius…) I’ve never been fond of alcohol, now I see it more often that I’d hope to and feel its strange and somewhat unwelcome taste more than I care to remember. No offense to anyone or to those whom by some magic of occulumency or mind-reading (or simply by having the distinct chance of seeing and remembering me posting the address of this blog somewhere else) I’ve never been much of a drinker. Not seeing me puke my guts out yet or collpse into a state of pure insanity transcending my normal state of crazy doesn’t mean that my tolerance for that stuff is strong, or even if it is, that I like it. *sigh* all in the name of ‘pakikisama’…

Obviously, I’ve never been the type who finds relaxation, comfort or even fun in the idea of loud music, alcohol, second hand smoke and occasional flirting either with disaster or otherwise. Somehow, I miss the strange comfortable silence of my room while my mind buzzes with millions of unasked questions, doubts, fears, and infinite insanities. I’m still a terrible loner at heart… besides, I miss sleeping.

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Eversince I started this blog, I never really thought anyone else aside from those desperately bored would waste their time traversing this overflow of my inane ideas. I didn’t even want people who know me personally or differently about this. I don’t know… fright, shame, embarrassment? So imagine my sheer surprise when I receive messages of people appreciating my blog or workmates that comment over lunch that they have been going through this trash on lull periods of our days or nights. Anyway, thanks! Leave your footsteps on the tagboard… trample upon these ideas, lend me your own.

Also, these days, I find myself collecting stupid anecdotal observations in a curios attempt to easily breakthrough a blank sheet staring at me apprehensively when I don’t know what to do with my time and every time I try to write anything to post here and waste your time with. I realize, despite mounds of criticisms and comparisons that blogging could never replace real ‘writing’ it’s a step up along the way.

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Again, If you understood anything I stupendously typed in here, you’re a friggin’ genius. I just liked the feeling of flying through the keyboard as if clacking away something important… you don’t need to make any sense out of this, I doubt there is.

...

(inspired by the first line which is a title of a chapter in John Irving's Son of a Circus... wala lang, naisip ko lang ang cute nung statement... tsaka wala ako magawa eh...)

Channelsurfing

Depression comes after lunch.
After the noontime babble
of high-strung artificially induced glee
of raining streamers and desperate voices
flooded by shrieks and screams
of audiences coming to life
or dying down
in gesture of a hand
you cannot see from your tv.
Excitement dies down,
disappears, fades,
leaves you hanging,
clamoring not to be left alone again.
It quiets down and you’re left to cope
to escape the sudden unnerving silence
by randomly flicking your remote
caring it seems for nothing
but to bring it back
to that noisy state of idiocy.