brain diarrhea

this is my pensieve, i once said, pertaining to the cauldron of water elder dumbledore used to use to transfer his thoughts into. when chaos plagues my mind and disrupts my volatile peace, i turn to my blog to find solace. i look into this white blank screen and at the letters of my keyboard and proceed to give my tormentors a soul. my thoughts incarnate into words and appear on the awaiting canvass, dragging with them my turmoil, subsequently exorcising me of my troubles. they glare back at me for a while as they get used to their new cyber surrounds. they show a bit of resistance at first but they eventually realize that all is done, that it is finished, their power over me. and so i give them a new place to rest, an eternal home, a place where in time their fossilized remains may hopefully paint an interesting picture of the life that a wandering polar bear once chose to lead.

* * * * *

you are truly a very curious creature, i said to myself that morning, while i sat in front of my vanity, cloaked in my room's mid morning darkness. i could see my reflection on the large mirror from the corner of my eye as i proceeded to text my morning greetings. you are a curious creature, i said again, more convinced this time around. my brain wrapped around the idea, the hypothesis of the what if's and more so, the what if not's. the thoughts of the possibilities quickened my heart, it stirred from its long slumber. however, in reflex i told it to hush for surely, this was not an affair that concerned it.

my heart held its breath, almost as if holding back a sigh of longing, but it knew too well that my mind was not something it could easily contradict. it eventually exhaled, deflates and went back to sleep again. you are a curious, curious creature, i said once more, more tenderly now. the thought lingered on. there were questions held back by more questions, compounded by the strange processes that rule the operation of my brain. i hear your voice in my head, in conversation with me, but i gave you no reply. all i hear in my head was the constant remark, you are a very curious creature, and i can only presume what your reaction will be when things become real.

i hope you are not a cat.

* * * * *

i grew a bit last night, though only sitting patiently on my worn down couch, while gazing intently on the viewing screen, while waiting for the chat lines to move on their own. my demons have settled and had eventually become quiet. they no longer retained their viciousness but have now taken to themselves to move on and, i pray it won't take too long, fade away.

there is great power in relinquishing power, i realized, while typing on what almost felt like alien hands. for while all this time, my soul was desperately holding on to preserve it's sanity, my spirit was simply waiting for it to finally fail, and fail it did. quiet perseverance has its rewards, i felt. the rise of the spirit was truly a strange feeling. its presence was pure, focused, concentrated, and though therein felt no trace of violence or force, his rise to power was almost overwhelming.

i caught myself muttering a simple prayer, softly spoken under my breath. i mentioned a wonderful name and it immediately put my soul at peace. the screen continued on revealing sentence after sentence, chronicles of an unraveling bear, sentences stroked out by my spirit, ridding me of the residues of my pain.


o how i long to touch you,
for you to materialize before my face.
for my naked hand to caress and savor
the sweet incense that emanates from your skin.
in my drunkenness i dare risk
the scorching burn of a granted wish
for though, i know, the burn may be sharp
but sharpness, i argue, dulls eventually.

but to my earnest, earnest desires
my strongest self said, nay.
in his quiet repose he held me back
drawing with firm determination
the reins of my desperate soul.
he stroked my tensed neck
and combed my wild hair
he calmed me, tempered me
till my heart was appeased.

musings on a saturday

wanted to try out writing in tagalog and see if what victor gregor said was right about people who live in tondo. i tried, and tried, and tried some more, unfortunately, after almost an hour of trying to write in our (technically) mother tongue, i was only able to produce TWO, yes, TWO measly sentences that basically said that i was "thinking what it was like writing in tagalog." why bother... i'll leave that task when i am more up to the challenge. i sincerely have no plans of having my brain hemorrhage this early in the week... that's what work is for. har har har!

anyhow. i had a blast yesterday as i spent almost the entire day with blogger friends doing what i do love doing best... eating :) lunch, coffee, a movie, dinner and more coffee later and i found myself almost in a gustatory high from all that fun (and food) that i was having. though i believe a lot of people would not consider my day's itinerary to be that packed with rigorous activity, sharing food and spending very laid back moments with great company is my version of nirvana on earth. if it was not for the impending scolding i was going to have from my family for being out so late on a Saturday night (i had church the next day), i would not have mind if we stayed on talking way until the wee hours of the morning, or one of use decides to call it a night/day, whatever...

so imagine my deflation when i came home (and did not get the scolding i was preparing myself for) and found in my twitter that one of the blogs i frequent was closing, or to be more precise... had closed already. this would be the second blog that i read that have closed down and though their absence really does not affect my life in any particularly significant way, i still cannot help but feel sad that i will no longer get to hear their thoughts or read snippets of their lives, parts of themselves that they have so generously shared with me from the day i became a reader of their histories. since i have never really met any of these bloggers in person, the end of their blogs almost feel like the end of their existence. i know more cerebral people out there are going to laugh at my overly emotional analogy of things but that's really my honest sentiment on the issue. when a writer dies, his readers not just mourn for the loss of his person but also regrets that they will never experience the fresh creations of that writer again. its the same for blogs for me, just the other way around.

as i read through a fellow wanderer's last entry, i wondered to myself, will i ever see the day when i too would bid my blog adieu? will i see a day when i will also eventually put down the cyberpen and cease chronicling my history?