this is an appetizer

An exotic one, can in fact be called outlandish. The kind whose name you can’t pronounce. The kind whose taste you can’t quite define: sweet, bitter or a bit too salty. But surprisingly never bland. Served in bite size. Like hors d’oeuvres in round plates. Complete with garnish. The works. The hilarity.

But my taste lacks sophistication. My tongue curls. In search of a familiar tang. And you have none.

today today today

• An entire day spent on Thought Catalog.
• Wallowing, weeping, wonderful. With The Perishers on the background, it’s even more beautiful.
• Wallowing is sex for depressives. Personally, I wouldn’t know but Winterson said so. And like a loyal fan, I believe her.
• This morning, my father asked me not to get my hopes up. Embassy’s withholding our passports 'til god knows when. I might miss HK. I wanted to throw a tantrum. But I nodded instead.
• Got a call from Nikko. Re: Ontario.
• Conjured up a couple of plans to keep me from leaving. Not a single one seems plausible.
• But, it made me feel a little better.

on christmas eve:

• Finished a couple of boxes of chocolates. A week’s worth of sweets consumed in one sitting. Am now devouring a bowl of chocolat truffes as I type this.
• A tray of lasagna beckoned me. Oh sweet tomato-based pasta, a bed of melted mozzarella and raindrops of parsley on top. Third serving, and chewing started feeling like a chore.  A tray of lasagna beckons me again today. Mother of goodness, you Italian madness one more bite and my Christmas will be in ruins.
• Poorly wrapped gifts with an I love you note. I love you back kuya, but please take lessons from the National Bookstore ladies, you wrap gifts like a geezer.
• A cashmere jacket, cut like a bomber. Foaming bath cream; scent of iris. A black faux-leather with a hoodie. A camel leather jacket, with breasts bulleted with studs. And a beautiful pair of russet sandals with golden soles. Yes, brothers are the best.
• No surprises under the tree this year. Only preempted tragedies.  Oh and badly wrapped gifts.
• I’m sick. I always get sick during the holidays. I remember spending the entire New Year’s Eve this year nursing a bad cold like I would the past year’s grievances. 
• You're a late santa. But thanks for coming and goading whatever silly hopes I already have. Merry Christmas!

For gastronomic purposes (consider them tests), I had a bowl of cereal, a substantial amount of hot wings and a cold glass of coke for dinner.  Now, I wait. For an explosion of senses. For a chase to the bathroom. 

But alas! My stomach can stomach just about anything.

i envy ee cummings. i fancy i thought of writing in small letters before he did.

so unassuming, so unpretentious: these baby letters, as they crawl all over this barren page.

audacious

Today, I left the door wide open whilst I pee.

This, I think, is the most daring I’ve been in years.