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::my past life diagnosis:: You were female in your last earthly incarnation. You were born somewhere in the territory of modern Sumatra around the year 1675. Your profession was that of a seaman, cook or carpenter. Your brief psychological profile in your past life:As a natural talent in psychology, you knew how to use your opportunities. Cold-blooded and calm in any situation.The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation:The timid, lonely and self-confident people are everywhere, and your task is to overcome these tendencies in yourself and then to help other people.






























solitar
 
Monday, June 30, 2003  
as soon as it crosses my mind
it can never cross back.
what passes, passes
and what hasn't won't.

but the shore can always be smooth,
smooth again because of the sea;
like my wound can mend,
because of you...

Monday, June 30, 2003

Saturday, June 14, 2003  
none
Saturday, June 14, 2003

Friday, June 13, 2003  
now, i'd been wanting to write in this kind of smell.

this afternoon had a very familiar aroma. it's akin to every morning as i went to primary and high school, specifically at this time of the month. it smells like the scent of rain (only dry) that brings that light feeling, almost exactly the same mood when i was younger, only this time, i long to go back to the moment that i had to go to school and feel the intensity of being nervous everytime, anticipating to see my classmates (or some), waiting to be called by the teacher for recitation, or simply look outside the shutters on an ongoing lecture and let the breeze touch my face. everytime i feel it, i experience being that timid student i brought with me until i had enough confidence to be more of myself, as what everybody is supposed to be.

at least once a month, i come across this zephyr. the gust that constantly reminds me of who i was, what i've done, what have happened, how or why they happened, and what they made me become. it's similar to the feeling of waking up in the morning, nowadays at night, and i feel the same feeling i had when i woke up the previous day; and the day before that, and before that. the difference is, this kind of draft stretches my memory as far as the time when i was oblivious and naive, gullible to things that hurt me so easily; that extends to that moment when i thought i can do something to please everyone who knows me; as early as the days i thought were the most challenging and tricky of all times.

this kind of afternoon reminds me of my eccentricity, my uniqueness that can hardly be found paired with anyone else's. this kind of afternoon reminds me again that i'm alone.

Friday, June 13, 2003

 
hello puta,

right now it's quarter-to-four in the morning, and i had to find time to write to you. in a coupla hours i'll be on my way to the office for marv's amazing race, to roam manila and win 10 grand. if not, i'll be disappointed.

i heard you've been quite busy there and seldom, if not not having been hanging out. how you doin there? jedda and i were talking and wondering how other places could be like, like panama, and everywhere else. and then we wanted to be travelers.

i don't exactly know how else to say hello. i just hope you're doing great, i'm quite sure you are, coz you're good at that, among many other things.

just maybe for the first time wanted to have the chance to say that i'm thankful you came along while i was getting by my boring life, not like it used to be. right when you left for panama, everything seemed so quiet for me, a bad quiet. didn't feel like dancing, nor even going to BED for a party. so i just went ahead and slept with someone. hehe. now i plan to be back to my core-introverted self.

okay, hope you can find time to tell me how you are, and i'll tell you more.

miss you erik.

in friendship and in everything else,
KEVIN

Friday, June 13, 2003

Wednesday, June 04, 2003  
as soon as he felt conscious he opened his eyes. motionlessly with half of his face drowned into the pillow and from the right portion of his neck down to his front body warmed by the coolness of the bed, his eyes remained focused on the first thing he looked at. he was staring at the space between, but not in the middle of his eyes and the ridge of the window, but somewhere closer to the edge of the casement.

contrary to his immobile condition, his head's been turning like a whirlwind, recalling everything that's happened the previous night, or for his matter, until before he slept this morning. it's like what one sees in the movies, you're silent and alone in your room but when flashback is shown, it's an insurrection.

for a full 10 minutes he stayed in the same position til he realized he wanted to know what time it was. still lying on his stomach, he rotated his head to where his alarm clock was located, on the headboard approximately two hands away from his face. it was noon. despite being so drunk and wasted (and screwed), he'd only afforded to be tranquil for less than 5 hours, perhaps because it's time for him to realize how things have been going the past few days, or his life again so far, which might be too late if he woke up later than noon.

***
he was expecting to meet who seemed to him was almost the right person he met and made out with on the ledge at a new bar while getting drunk a week ago, then again still wrong one. they'd exchanged dials and had unpitiful conversations during the week, and he thought robbie is not that common. nearly accurately the person he's been looking for: same age at least, makes acceptable sense, charming, humorous, and hesitant. nonetheless, he childishly wanted revenge as if he'd inflict it on the one who didn't show up.

"One Brian, please", he told the barman. All drinks in the bar were named after the characters in the series queer as folk, and he's asking for probably the glass of vodka red bull that would push him to the limit and make him ask the guy beside him to go to bed with him. he would not let the night without settling the scores.

"what's that?", pointing to the guy's drink, trying to start a conversation. it's definitely vodka tonic too but he didn't hear what was mixed with it. the whole point was that the pick-up line was thrown and everything else takes off from there. "my name's jared, what's yours?", he asked the victim, or perhaps the predator whom he thought was a perfect prospect to make love with. "walter", came the answer.

After 5 minutes, they were both headed to the motel in a cab, jared leaving his buddy with whom he usually goes out. The signal to leave the bar was when walter told him he wanted to fuck.

As soon as they arrived at the room, there was no conversation. Both took a little shower separately and started taking off their clothes independently, replacing everything with just towels and lied down on the bed. After some brief kissing and cuddling, jared took out the condom and put it on walter's pecker. he probably didn't know he was gonna do something he has not been liking to do with somebody, or was just caught with no choice as what always happens whenever he's put in this kind of situation. choices are no more choices when you act swiftly. dumbly.

the feel of the first pump was splendid. god, he never had it since secondary school, and now he wants it so bad. as walter tried to thrust harder and faster into him, it started to hurt like hell. he can feel walter's shaft slide so deeply into his body, like a huge rod made of rubber sucking into his intestines, and it was almost unbearable. but the activity was bringing a mixed sensation, like when you're in love. makes you touch the heavens but the earth's gravity pulls you down, thus yields a uniquely heavy feeling you only can undergo when on a stage before a romantic relationship. so then he liked it, and then hated it. but it went on until both came.

they rode a private cab together on the way out and dropped walter off nearest his place, kissing jared before getting out of the car.

as soon as he was alone, he sent a text message to his friend, demo, that read: TODAY IS THE FIRST DAY OF THE REST OF MY LIFE.

then, to robbie: LET'S STOP CONTACT. I'M NOT FOR ANYBODY.

this is, again, a new day.

Wednesday, June 04, 2003

 
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