Saturday, 26 October 2013


12:54 PM
Inky black sky illuminated by a great fire in one area in Manila
27   ˚C⎜ ˚F
Precipitation: 10%
Humidity: 77%
Wind: 0 km/h

And the city with a foreign new monsoon
Licks everything with its tongue
With souls like phantoms
Haunting the streets
Burdened with feelings
With hands in their pockets
Or with their eyes empty
The night gives in
Corrodes into history
Little emotions evaporating
Condensing into dews
Off to the urban sewerage 
Hoping for absolution
Maybe a vindication
As it flows into the feet
A froth for a blanket
Into the navel and bed
Of an ocean somewhere.  

Monday, 7 October 2013


5:03 PM
Ash blue sky
29 ˚C ⎜˚F
Precipitation: 10%
Humidity: 78%
Wind: 18km/h


Ash blue sky
29 ˚C ⎜ ˚F
Precipitation: 10%
Humidity: 78%
WInd: 18km/h

Once, I was on my way home from a very long day at work walking to the train station. And I was thinking maybe I needed a trip, to take a chance and just go somewhere that is completely beyond my comfort zone, beyond my plans, and my usually programmed itinerary in life. I should maybe pack light, armed with just some few bills and my passport, and two books. Life can be easy and spontaneous.

As I was thinking about that, I realized that I was already on the platform of the station. And I looked up and saw from the digital schedule board that the next train is arriving in the next five minutes.

I spent that good five minutes watching people starting to build up on the platform. Some were old, some young, some were chatting, and some were quiet and distant but everyone looked tired. I checked my watch and it was almost 10PM.

“What’s the time?”

Beside me was a man of about late 20s. He was wearing a wool trench, a thick scarf wrapped around his neck, and the February frost made his cheeks unbelievably pink.

“What’s the time?” He asked again smiling.

“It’s five minutes before ten,” I said.

He remained quiet beside me after that, his hands in his pockets. And in my mind I was imagining that I was talking to him. Asking him where he’s headed, and what sort of beer he drinks in a pub on a Friday night.  It was quiet but I can hear the want to break that silence. But just as I was about to say a word to him, the headlights of a train shone on the tracks and people started backing off from the platform. It wasn’t my train yet but the gentleman beside me moved closer to the platform. And as the train was losing its momentum and about to stop, he turned to me and said,

“Are you coming?”

A question I wasn’t prepared to hear and so to which I answered,

“It’s not my train yet unfortunately.”

He replied with a smile and he went on to proceed and stepped inside the train. He stood right in front of me where I was standing. A thin glass separated us, some sheets of metal, which we call a mechanical door.

He smiled.

The train is going opposite my destination. Should I just step in and be spontaneous? Or should I stay and wait for my train, head home, cook soup, smoke some cigarettes, set the alarm at 6am and sleep?

“Have a good night.” I said.

Doors closed, the train started to move and I saw him tilt his head to look at me one last time. And then all I saw was a blur of a train being swallowed into the tunnel.

I felt the air, moist and static, the same feeling you get before the snow falls.

I’ve been to Tokyo and London and one thing I noticed is the efficiency of their public transportation system. The trains in Tokyo and the buses in London always arrive and leave on time. I guess people are like that. They arrive in a specific moment in our lives and then eventually after staying for some time, they had to leave. So we always have to appreciate them, and tell them what we feel. Because love, love is like a train or a bus that would open its doors to you waiting for you to step in. So if you love someone, tell the person right at that moment because love is that cruel bus or train operator that’s always on a schedule, they’d shut the door right on your face if you fail to step inside. 

Wednesday, 2 October 2013


2:18 AM
Heavy Rain and Lightning
24 ˚C ⎜˚F
Precipitation: 10%
Humidity: 100%
Wind: 8km/h


1:51 AM

26 ˚C⎜˚F
Light rain
Precipitation: 10%
Humidity: 100%
Wind: 8km/h

Suppose you kept going another 18 billion light years, what if there's nothing out there? Suppose you kept going another trillion times further, so far out you see nothing. The light from the universe would be fainter than the faintest star. Infinitely cold. Infinitely dark. Sometimes if I wake up and it's dark, I get really scared, like I'm out there and I'm never coming back. 

Here, hold onto this when you sleep. And if you wake up and you're scared, you'll say, 'Wait a minute. I'm holding Eric's shoe. Why the hell would I be holding some smelly basketball shoe a trillion light years from the universe? I must be here on earth, safe in my sleeping bag, and Eric must be close by.

The Cure, 1995