Thursday, August 25, 2005

the entry that holds the most number of (pseudo) metaphors

i just realized that my mind is, in one respect, akin to an impotent penis: the more anxious it is to perform, the more it stays limp.

i'm just waiting for the guava to fall.

and praying, for the first time in who knows how long. that if my dream is meant to become my life, i'd stumble upon something very soon.

second story that i (re)read from the FORBIDDEN FRUIT anthology: The Edge of Rupture. supposed to be erotica but i was happily surprised to discover that it is, in all essence, a romance. an 18-year-old girl becomes enamored with an enigmatic 34-year-old man. from swimming in the "opaque green sea" to biking across the idyllic countryside ("he looked like a marionnette in that small bike"), her initial dalliances with him seemed simple enough...even innocent. but the undercurrents--her attraction to him, the very mystery of him, his unrevealed thoughts, the ominous feeling of gloom that this young girl's whirlwind summer romance is bound to be doomed--counterpoints all that surface innocence.

but the author's greatest achievement in this passerby reader is that the male character was so vividly realized---so much so that i wonder if such a man actually exists. almost like a hero in those cheesy romance paperbacks...only more real.

maybe such a man exists. a man who's seen the world and still gets fascinated by the simplest things, who'd effortlessly guide you through those opaque green waters until both of you reach the sandbar from a mile away, who'd dream of your past if you slept close enough to him, who wouldn't take advantage of your youth and your attraction on the first intimate moment, who reveals so little yet gives so much.

my ideal guy.

four months ago i was singing a different tune. but things change. a dream can die in a moment, and you might not even notice it. i think it did, in my case. the moment stretched on for four months.

(gawdangit. writing throws my life out of balance. i always have to pick pieces of me back up.)

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