Tumbleweed. Tumble. Ningtulimbang. Wa nako kasabot. I was waiting then it turns out there was nothing actually to wait for. I stood at the harbor, come storms, the spray of warm or cold seas, the smell of "kopras" or raw sugar, rice cakes of every variety, spit in the sea, dog poop everywhere , and the shouts of men, young and old either demanding your bags for them to carry or for you to ride on their pedicabs for an impossible fee. I've been wanting to get out of this stranded ship too but somehow I find it both cowardly to abandon ship or stay aboard. Ambot. Kanus-a man ko muhawa aning balaya? A job that isn't worth every demoralizing stare or exclusion(yet again). Ambot. Is there an English word for "ambot"? The sun hasn't taken center stage yet, but I feel its mocking heat already. "Hala, kahilis diha, malay ko ba kung na-unsa naka basta ako ang sun, ginoo samtang wa pay gabii" it says. Fuck. Why the fuck am I listening to Josh Groban again? Isn't he the guy you said was a dork and denied ever looking like him? My neice walks in, unfettered, unstained by the world outside or the black hole that is this house. Should I be excited about tomorrow or am I selling my soul, my body to Satan again? What am I doing? What is he doing? What is he thinking? Where the fuck is he anyway? No, where the fuck have you been? Violins, violins and a trumpeteer playing "My funny valentine" like the conventional fat, married, uglied-by-time-and-circumstance clotheswasher neighbor wringing (does such a word exist?anyway,) my heart away into the coldness of a "special evening" produced by the extravagance of stiff-necked rich people who barely have the time or money to see a Chiropractor to actually fix some sense into them and find some good use with the profit they're making. Chai is nominated again, well that's something new, I would rather have you cry on my shoulder, my chest or my arms then watch careen your way into the walls of paint and plastic the heartless around you have for souls. Hana texts me and I tell her: let us hope new mornings will come before we stop waking up... And what are you staring at these words for? Is your concern as real as your non-concern, what the hell are you doing anyway? Don't tell me you don't understand coz you do, it's time we stop, no, it's time YOU stop pretending, escaping your way again into another mess where you can slipknot yourself out again oh so fashionably and cool. I love you but I'm not stupid. Four minutes from now, I shall be in the bathroom under a cold shower, shivering my nuts out, staring at this old plastic mirror/medicine cabinet atop the sink, my confessional cubicle of tile, toilet smells, and water stains. I will try to strategize how my face should be today or my apparent smile, maybe and again, a face and a smile that says: fuck-you-don't-stare-or-turn-your-head-at-me-again-unless-you'll-dance-with-me-in-the-dark-of-an-old-garden-hotel-while-I-cry-my-eyes-out-tugging-at-your-shirt-or-unless-you're-Marilyn-Monroe-or-Andy-Warhol-or-Mrs.-I-miss-you-but-I-haven't-met-you-yet-or-i'll-hit-you-with-my-eyes-and-cut-my-ear-in-front-of-your-cover-girl-friend-haha-coz-I-know-three-girls-much-more-worthy-of-earth-air-then-your-worst-incarnates. What did I say? What did she say? Did she say breakfast? What's this guy singing? Is this Italian? When did everything start become red white and green all of the sudden? Today, I'll have white sauce I guess. Nothing fancy, just give me white. Or let me swim in black spaghetti sauce..that is..if you can afford it. Super Perfundo twisted olivers.
