yes, that book about Personal Destiny with a forced come-full-circle plot.

Sometimes I'm afraid I don't hear things anymore. I'm afraid the universe is trying to tell me something, I'm afraid the universe is trying to tell me something but I shut it out because

Poetry is not going to get me anywhere. I suppose that was never to point, getting anywhere, somewhere, whatever. I suppose I simply have no time for something that doesn't "get me..."

Manila feels like underpasses where the bus horns and carhorns and engines all echo against each other and cancel each other out some kind of phase effect and certain frequencies attenuate I don't even know what attenuate means anyway it's not really silence rather a half-sound I imagine being inside a car with the radio turned up woofers rumbling and some kid with sampaguitas is gonna grease the windshield with her palms

Wait wala namang mga batang kalye sa mga underpass ay meron 'ata ay wait kaya nga "imagine" eh

As if naman kinakausap talaga ako ng universe. Ano ulit 'yung universe sa Tagalog?

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

( Sigh. )

over half of which y'all have never seen.

Massive workshopping is in order when I get home, and I would like us to all exchange drafts please yes?

Must... have... beer while we're at it.

(By the way, my previous blog entry is NOT an indicator of the kind of work I've been preoccupied with.)

Si Mike may kopya pala, at si Xenia may onti. That's basically it. Anyway let's workshop at least once. I miss doing that.

I.
Many love poems have been written in relation to laws of science
because science seems unchallengeable: in geometry it is the eternal
space between parallel lines, in physics the problematics of bodies
actually ever touching each other, on a molecular level—
these are often sad poems.

There are also somewhat happier poems written around
the certainty of reaction, which in itself—physics-wise—is almost
spiritual, karmic. I was once told by a physics major
that silence does not exist, that all molecules vibrate with echoes
of the first sound ever created, therefore each time I say your name
it is infinite.

II.
In chemistry, electrons exist in clouds and can never be located
in a single place at any given time—that's one theory—
yet, concerning reactions, there are signs that change has occurred;
that out of "destruction", a new substance has formed. The outcome

is often tangible: paper has become ash, juice has aged into wine
and in the latter case, there is a kind of beauty
in arriving at a certain sweetness or dryness
and then in detail being able to explicate such a process,
even repeating it.

My professor asked me why someone with an IQ such as mine is doing shitty in class. I mean, attendance-wise and assignment-wise.

I told him it's because I'm afraid of success and the commitment success entails.

Now, is that bullshit or what?

What I noticed about people who have psychological problems, such as in one anger management class I saw on TV, is that they're usually more eloquent than the usual person. Which is perplexing, given the fact that psychological problems relating to controlling one's emotions should perhaps entail low intellect? Or maybe I'm the only one who thinks this phenomenon is counter-intuitive.

And, I don't have anger management problems. I have time management problems. Management. So the example was not valid I suppose, and there's no conclusion therefore.

I wish I could be successful without having the feeling that I'm just copying someone else or doing it for someone else or living someone else's life, basically.

Oh well, I'm too old for this. But I miss being vulnerable without being judged/appraised. I haven't felt that in a long time, just being able to let my hair down, roll my socks off, and say "I suck" without anyone having to pity, condescend, encourage, or say/do anything at all.

I suck.