train ride

around six in a saturday morning, i arrived in bang sue station to hopefully catch the excursion train to nam tok, somewhere in the province of kanchanaburi. at 6.51, i was already mindfully seated in one of the train cars, like a kid on his first train ride to anywhere.

in fact, it is. my first out of a city train ride off to somewhere, and it jumpstarted a self that had long slept itself in safe comfort zones.

now i find myself moving again and reaching. like a kid in search of the next clue to a hidden treasure.

dying

the only future that all of us can be certain of having is the fact of dying and death, and i seem to have trapped myself in a spiraling affair with dying.

i must stop the smoking. it has increased the chances of me dying within the week. my lips have shriveled and dried up, it has accumulated the itchy shivers i only get to have with piles of crab allergens. my throat feels dry and itchy too. and coughing the dryness and itchiness has become a pain with the agonizing stiff neck and frozen shoulder. this agony has further prevented me from doing my daily minimum movements against obesity.

i am dying.

buwan buwan

"last saturday, everyone wanted to see the super moon. a good friend from the philippines even sent me a message, i recall three or four days before the rise of super moon. and that saturday night, walking home, i saw the moon up in the dark flat sky. the same moon, a zenith moon, not larger or smaller, as the moon i have always taken time to see every month since. it was not as large as the large horizon moon i remember seeing once out the window in my childhood. an image that has forever sealed my fascination and godly respect for the moon. i must be lupin.

"the super moon became everyone's subject... to come out that saturday night, with all camera implements to catch the largeness of super moon, dreaming of camera implements to capture the immensity of super moon. the thrill of the moment.

"i did look for the moon that night, it was not large nor small high up in the sky. it may or may not have been a super moon, for all i care. high up in the sky, largeness was irrelevant.

"and the thrill dissipated with the passing of the night and the morning rise.

"this morning, i woke up to the call of the morning darkness, and there by my window was next day moon, the same moon who listened and understood me, my dreams and my intimacies. ~j"

lori

nikon fm2, 50mm f/1.8, fujifilm velvia 100

one for the walk

there

i especially wanted a drink tonight. red label dispersed in soda water perhaps. bacardi mojitos. a shot or two of any kind of vodka. or just a bottle of beer. a drink with. a drink for myself. and with a stick or two of surya.

i was told to expect a mega moon tonight, or was it tomorrow. like the mega star back in the philippines. mega moon reminded me of quentin tarantino's face spread out across a flat dark sky.

while playing with the ice in my glass of whiskey, a lady or two would notice the loser boy with a tarantino chin seemingly drowning himself in a glass of already diluted whiskey. i would notice a lady or two surreptitiously stealing condescending glances at me. and i would not care, for my intricate world could care nothing to do with condescending glances and secret thieves. and there she still was in that intricate world, a phantom-like feeling that she'd hold on to despite the obvious signs that she had flown, or might have already flown. a lady or two stealing condescending glances would not understand the apparent foolishness i had clung to. but of course, there was no drink and there could not have been a lady or two.

i particularly enjoyed the slow long walk home with the somewhat cool breeze of the night. a car with a familiar lady face stopped to offer a ride, an initial offer of friendship. i refused for the walk and the night and the breeze subdued me.

rca mini

nikon fm2, 50mm f/1.8, fujifilm superia 400

red mango

if you ask me

if you ask me about love, mine is first a tragedy - my husband's death ten years ago, and the way i am made now to fill in the shoes of both father and mother, and the breadwinner of a daughter and a son.

then again, love becomes unconditional sacrifice and joy - to see my children grow up proper and hardworking. and love becomes my pledge to keep on living and working - for us to have our fill, for my daughter to finish college, and for my son to push on in high school.

i am proud. proud that at early hours in the morning i drive a taxi and in the afternoon work as a cleaning staff in a hotel. for ten years i have managed well and hard. and you?

you ask me about love. mine is a tragic unrequited loving from a distance. you need not ask more for mine is a love that can never be.

zombie

"it's not that i have gained mass. and size. or that i started smoking again. almost 3 times a day, and a bit more. or that for the longest time i have allowed myself the distance from anything capable of intimacy. i have been feeling rebellious. the way they make me feel that i should be beholden.

"they say they want your independence. your sustainability. they find ways to trap you to dependence. they impose the need to transfer all tasks, and they dump everything without the minimum base to manage all beautifully. but because you are so good, you manage to overcome them and they find ways to trap you and make you once more beholden."

of course they hold the funds to pay you. that way, they exert a brooding shadow. of course they hold the funds to fund whatever needs to be funded. that way, they exert a steering control. and with all that. with all that. of course one becomes the brooding shadow.

that is the story of the persistent ant versus the zombie fungus.

im

nikon fm2, 50mm f/1.8, fujifilm reala 100

transport

nikon fm2, 50mm f/1.8, fujifilm reala 100

a new year

today was nothing especially special. he somehow achieved his goal to make the day as invisible as a normal day should be. in fact, it was more invisible than any other day could be. that was, however, special in its own way. it was so invisible that he even forgot that the day was not yet over, and there was still time to end the day simply.

people managed to pierce away his shielding cloth. a greeting here. a post there. they never went beyond the number of fingers and toes together. and each one he received mattered even more. it was true how the simplest yet truest solitude can remind one of the sincerity of lasting relationships, personal, online, or otherwise. in that he was deeply thankful. it was unfair, he thought. for others who remembered and never managed. and for others who have simply relied on automated notices.

tonight, he ends with padthai and a simple cake, perhaps as a memento for a simple sweet but spice-filled long life. and to another who also celebrates the day, he toasts the same.