Monday, August 29, 2005

tales from the cryptic (or why the beeyatch played hooky on a work night)

it's past 11. i cast another question to the wind, in statement form.
silence.
the silence was a wall. i'm used to it, but it would still disappoint me everytime.

* * *

only when the present becomes the past do i come to fully appreciate it. the memories are usually much more enjoyed than the experience itself; i'd still be caught in the past when everything else would be passing through the present. i hate it.

baguio. shivering under the drizzle. walking along those busy streets. inhaling the mountain air. long and winding roads. familiarity of friends in an alien place. endless talks on the bus to baguio. jackets and bonnets. taxi drivers who give exact change. tavern meals. gloc 9. unmentionable names.

subic. swimming in the sea. playing those silly singing games on the way to the beach. yellow cab and videoke. those khaki-ed bespectacled days. sleeping in a parked bus at dinnertime, after a sudden downpour.

bohol. sitting next to a first-time flyer on the plane. hilarious romance scenarios involving two advance-party coworkers in bohol. text messages across the miles, during shoots. giving up my throw pillow, sitting on the sand. huddling in the sidelines with workmates while the artistas cried oncam. candid insinuating jokes. discreet laughter.

eliminations. standing on the sidelines while the show went on. whispering tally results to someone's ear. exchanging comments that only we could hear. the dancing pink mascot. tearful interviews. post-show dinners.

dinners. cheapsteaks. edong's. petruss. that resto along esguerra. that open grillery along mother ignacia. grilled bangus and liempo. pancit canton and mechado. salisbury steak with mushroom sauce and chilled mocca. rootbeer. banana split. laughter. deliberate attempts to momentarily get work off our heads. more candid jokes. non-reactions.

videoke. gary v. christian bautista. american idol. avril. alanis. smooth criminal. "doble cara". tell me where it hurts. galileo, galileo. kitchie's run. my cellphone.

reality checks. timecodes. audio/video. late nights and early mornings. hearing someone sleeping in the adjoining room. laptops at work in preview 5. dead-of-night chats with matimtiman over coffee. my birthday. that soft blue blanket that everyone else uses, except me. one-on-one talk before a crying session. the boys laughing at my tears. my embarrassment.

fiction plots. ym. text messages in the dead of night. real life finding its way in the stories we weaved. a workmate's comic loveless woes. the boys pairing me off with just about every waiter, driver, and security guard we come across. lock-in brainstorms. genuine laughter. boxers. happy together. ironic remarks. ironic rebuttals. ironic silences.

ironically, i would always think that the ultimate happiness is still reserved for the future. maybe i'm wrong. maybe happiness is all about the here and now, those little moments that make you laugh. taken for granted in the present, hankered for in the future.

soppy sh**t.

it's past midnight. time to go back to work. i'd always thought that my act three would culminate in videoke. guess the lord has other plans.

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