Monday, August 15, 2011. In memoriam Alexis Tioseco and Nica Bohinc.

He moved forward, not toward me, but to an empty table distant enough for the two of us to have an excuse not to talk. Every drop of sound suddenly fainted.

My account on Filipino Writer features works posted on this site as well as blogs in Filipino. Riding in Motorcycles with Boys. Mdash; Leave a comment. Your pupils drift into the corners of your eyes. Casting a line into mine,. So I can admire your jaw. And the smooth firm flesh. Where your neck and shoulder meet. I can smell the saline and ash. Is a shore of glistening sand.

This not just about anything, this is all about everything. Sunday, November 24, 2013. Tuesday, October 22, 2013. Pasta cooked according to package direction, 400 grams. Minced garlic, 5 cloves.

Krissy on the Shore, preferring to rather continuously hit his head on the sand than read another Murakami book. Okay, after the first half, Kafka on the Shore began being a total bore,. A pretentiously metaphysical, sloppy bore.

Friday, March 14, 2014. May exam na naman ba ako? Exam ang tawag niya pag-inuulan ko siya ng tanong at kailangan niyang sumagot. Nagtaka kasi ako bakit naka shorts ka lang at naka flipflops. At bakit mo alam? Send picture via imessage.

Cosmic Glitch is Now Personal Jeez. Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. All the pictures that come with my posts are all original and owned by me.

Than the mirror in saying. Posted in crazy little thing called love. In the middle of something. You thrilled me with your smile. And flushed me with its radiance,. As if it was a familiar sunshine. You drowned me in your eyes. And alarmed me with its light,. I can get lost or live forever. Blinded by your tender glow. You aroused me with your touch. And struck me with its subtlety,. Every cell in me is yours to take.

I had been waiting for this day since I found out that it could happen; Anand, a co-resident at Sangam House, was her publisher, and I mentioned that I might be in Delhi on a certain weekend, and it was my birthday, and so on. Packing, I had mindlessly put God of Small Things. I rang the bell and a gorgeous grey-haired woman answered the door. I was on the wrong floor. We had Kashmiri for l.

Because there always is method in the madness. Tuesday, November 17, 2009. Three years is a long time. But to start anew, one must fold, rip, and continue below the dotted line. Saturday, October 03, 2009. There might be a day when I would go back to the comforts of routine, of newspaper stains on my fingers every morning, paydays, taxes, visits to the dentist, monthly bills; a day when I might go back to the monotony of lists and schedules. Saturday, September 19, 2009.