crunchy splat.

Since I will be shifting to another yet unidentified major, I shall be delayed by one, two, or maybe three years.
And I used to laugh at 6th-years.

Of course, I'm still hoping I won't, though.

i've just noticed.

indeed, my blog posts sound crazy.
hence the lack of comments? hm.

ever heard of the fratellis?

they're a, you know, band. i wish i could say 'just listen to them.:D' or 'let them speak for themselves' but also, i wish i could upload their songs but the download-then-upload time is comparable to the time needed for the proletariat to be abolished.

(also comparable to the whole oust thing)

so, there. here's a link.
a link to the a link of a huge compilation of blogs that upload their songs.

i find them addictive/addicting.
i find/found them/myself entertaining/entertainment.

I thank Frances Sargett Osgood.

Una sa lahat,

Mahirap mag-akda ng tulang 'di mais
lalo na kung bulok sa sa Filipino.
Sa English grabe ang ganda sana nito
k'tulad ng taong tinutulaan ko.
Makwento sana ang paminsang
saglit --
Mga sandaling tumitigil ang
oras
Cute na jests sa ngiting aking nasisipat
'sang tanong,
nagtanong na nga ba dapat?
Pagkat may
meaning
ang kabuoan nito --
Sa bawat kindat at pitik ng halakhak.
At kung anuman ang palitan sa
tatak,
Ako'y totally ZEN anumang magbago.


------------------------------------------------------------------
para sa isang project na alam ng kaunting tao.


hm.. thank you indeed Edgar Allan Poe.

i hope this works.

...



nothing to write.



...

jeepney existentialism

Wearing a torn white shirt, he tells her, he has no money.
Between the coins in my and and two-word conversations, this is the most contact I make with people.
She, though, with one hand in a sling, and a baby on top of the other, says, Ok then, sure.
Viewing everyone through a mirror, I wonder if there really is more out of life.
He says, Thanks. He winks.
With her, smiling, I tap my fingers.
With more and more people climbing up, I wonder, Do I even exist.
Someone starts to talk about Jesus.
I think, What's the point.
Wrong move, sister.
Someone holding up her hand, coughing loudly, I wonder if people even care.
Another someone saying something, I feels fingers tap-tap-tapping my back.
I wonder.
Someone, like, slaps me.
I wonder.
Between beer and drugs, this is the most high I get.
I raise both my arms and stretch my feet, especially my right, and then, as always, someone screams.
Viewing everyone through a mirror, I smile.

Curse you, Org.

As we walk home, the spinning rifle of the rose still hurricanes through my mind.
Walking to another flower, her hands hold on tighter.
Perhaps I said something clever, 'cause now, she's laughing.
Clever.
Perhaps it is too heavy.
Maybe this too much.
The flash-flash-flash of the camera still frozen into my eye, i wonder if the bear's too pink.
Or maybe she's bluffing.
Swoosh swoosh swoosh.
Pity.
Thank you Edgar Allan Poe.
Something in my pants vibrating, I feel the sweat in my palms.
As fast as a raven, I read the message.
Flash.
Her laughing stops, and I smile.
Flash.
Closing my eyes for a second, I hold her hand.
Flash.
Oh. Yes. I forgot the rose.