Saturday, March 28, 2009

truth

no calls, missed or otherwise, tonight. the blistering honesty of technology.

and so it goes

another breakup. again.

at the conversation denouement, the bf said "why is it always something about resistance? with you?"

did not get him at the coffee shop.

in the train, amidst the crush of the Friday commute and the debris of this dismantling, i thought maybe, resistance, roughing it up is my inartful way of appreciating the extravagance of a thing that pops up in my universe so few and far between.

Monday, March 23, 2009

spring rushed

an ice cream truck tweeting at dusk.

a pair of gloves fished out of the closet, again.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

take me home

(last night in Pinoy TV: the flamboyant doppelganger of Rustom Padilla, BB Gandanghari, was asked what he prays for. “Take me home, Lord,” BB said.)

Tonight, walked about for three miles. The mildness of a late winter evening, such a miracle. My rhythmic breathing, like a well memorized prayer.

Waiting for the pedestrian light, a heavy bus, by its stop, unrolled its ramp as it kneeled.

Sunday, March 08, 2009

meaning

don't know how this fight started. just heard myself complaining how we don't do meaningful stuff anymore.

the boyfriend carved out the burnt fringes of his eggs, then pushed them to the lip of his plate. outside the diner, people peeling off their flimsy jackets in the balmy morning.

"this," he made some indiscernible motion with the fork in his right hand, "you, me, eating, together, not meaning enough?"

Wednesday, March 04, 2009

sinigang

nothing really to it. just a bowl of pork sinigang. in a kainan in queens. a weak but very sour broth. the elemental fatty goodness of unassuming pork belly.

must be a Pinoy thing. rather, must be an immigrant thing. to pour into a single thing--a definitive dish, a treacly ballad--an entire vision of a lost universe that can never be redeemed.

Tuesday, March 03, 2009

thoughtful

this evening, in a mall, in palisades, in jersey--already, so many things wrong with this line--two b-boy crews battled near--where else?--mickey d's.

as the one in a hollister hoodie breezed through his flares, the guy with wild red hair from the competing crew studied his opponent. there was in his regard with his adversary, this thoughtfulness that burned through the paleness of my evening.