Confused-Shoes

I acknowledged her presence with a puff of smoke. She was in the shadows of my mind, lingering. A soft, faint smile hovered in her face. She was dancing softly to the faint strains of Sinatra’s Cheek to Cheek.

I closed my eyes and looked at her. She barely changed, still young. Still in that period when youth is at its loveliest, poignant, nonchalant, eternal. Lovely. And she is still not mine. And I imagine, never. Not even in my dreams. Not even in my fantasies.

But it was not distressing anymore. Times were changing. Exam results were enough to sway my mood from miserable to optimistic. How mediocre could I get, but still, it was me. the same cigarette-smoking, music-loving, book-reading, sentimental romantic me. I am listening to Liszt’s Concerto in A Major, Allegro Animato. Hell, as I grow older and gain weight my musical tastes are slowly becoming fancier. But maybe it is just a phase.

I met her again, surprised that she was taking a difficult Physics class in UP. I was totally unprepared for it, and not even ready to talk about it. But a few days with her were enough to disenchant me. no, that is too harsh. I was not disenchanted, only, I was successfully able to convince myself that with the way things are going, it is really her loss and not mine. Three years ago I have thought strictly otherwise.

I AM BEGINNING to rise over the depths of despair, but I am not exactly in fields of joy. The Catholic Church has theologically rejected the doctrine of Limbo, but in my mythology it is as pressing as ever. I am  not pressured but I am coerced. Love is bittersweet and so is life, the conjoined statement I take from a The Verve hymn. An urban hymn, actually. Ah, music and theology and romance mixing in my head and I feel a little weaker now.

How do I combat this false feeling of security? The calm of the storm as the eye travels directly overhead of me. All of a sudden a losing streak is cut, and then I get some nice company amidst a furnace we all live in, but I am pretty sure that a few weeks from now eternal damnation sets in again.

‘xcuse me while I disappear.

And I guess tonight I won’t be returning for an encore. I’d like to take this moment off and savor her presence in my mind. Such a sweet dance, such a lovely time to love. In my mind she is there. Not mine, never can be, but she is with me. Just as how it was in real life a few days ago.

Thank you, old blue eyes.

i had another nice day. as in nice. nicer than ever before.

I’m learning to have patience and im finding the time to appreciate the present. To cherish the things that ( i know) wouldn’t last.

Well, so much about this future-crazy me. Time to enjoy the scenery.

why do i feel like i’m really living in a bubble?

And why do I always wish that may this bubble burst?

(We are living our lives inside a bubble) (the bubble burst) (coldplay playing)

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

I wore a cold navy blue tie with a pattern of grape leaves, a white Marks & Spencer shirt, and a second-hand lucky Seiko watch. Then I drove myself to Malcolm Hall and discussed Hemingway, Stalingrad, Waterloo, The Beatles and another law school with a panel of three lawyers.

After that, I smoked two packs of Marlboro Lights, had talks with friends and blockmates, lunched with the cronies, and cried without tears in my room. My cries were drowned by the sound of my Condura Silentia.

That night, it rained and I tried to wait for her, just in case parents would not show up to pick her up. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, I went home alone. My mind was thinking of a dear friend who’s leaving soon, the interview results which would determine my future, the fate of Scofield and Burrows, the whereabouts of the one I was waiting for, and The Beatles. The freakin fab four.

‘Mr. Castillo, there is no room for the Beatles in the UP COllege of Law.’

Death looms. I am almost done for, I am not even yesterday’s banner news. Just maybe about last decade’s cheapest obituary.

Maybe I think too much. I remember too much. I am still trying to believe in the apparently false idea that I am not mediocre, that I am one grain of salt better than many others. I am so used to attention and solitude at the same time. I want the world to go crazy looking for me while I am all by myself in an undiscovered cave with a six pack of beer and a box of cigarettes.  The Beatles playing on the stereo and a Hemingway beside me.

I don’t know what to do now. All of a sudden I am lost. Really.    

why do i feel like i’m really living in a bubble?

And why do I always wish that may this bubble burst?

(We are living our lives inside a bubble) (the bubble burst) (coldplay playing)

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

I wore a cold navy blue tie with a pattern of grape leaves, a white Marks & Spencer shirt, and a second-hand lucky Seiko watch. Then I drove myself to Malcolm Hall and discussed Hemingway, Stalingrad, Waterloo, The Beatles and another law school with a panel of three lawyers.

After that, I smoked two packs of Marlboro Lights, had talks with friends and blockmates, lunched with the cronies, and cried without tears in my room. My cries were drowned by the sound of my Condura Silentia.

That night, it rained and I tried to wait for her, just in case parents would not show up to pick her up. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity, I went home alone. My mind was thinking of a dear friend who’s leaving soon, the interview results which would determine my future, the fate of Scofield and Burrows, the whereabouts of the one I was waiting for, and The Beatles. The freakin fab four.

‘Mr. Castillo, there is no room for the Beatles in the UP COllege of Law.’

Death looms. I am almost done for, I am not even yesterday’s banner news. Just maybe about last decade’s cheapest obituary.

Maybe I think too much. I remember too much. I am still trying to believe in the apparently false idea that I am not mediocre, that I am one grain of salt better than many others. I am so used to attention and solitude at the same time. I want the world to go crazy looking for me while I am all by myself in an undiscovered cave with a six pack of beer and a box of cigarettes.  The Beatles playing on the stereo and a Hemingway beside me.

I don’t know what to do now. All of a sudden I am lost. Really.    

Spent the day with Jiei and Xtian at the EcoPark rowing, running, crossing restricted areas, climbing ropes and poles, smoking, drinking lots of water and coke, eating footlongs and cracklings, talking bout the movies we liked, the girls we’ve loved, the grades we’ve gained, the memories we’ve had. And we were driving around town really freakin’ fast.

Good thing Cruz introduced Castillo and Sartin to Fish and Sucre et. al. with Pizza Hut. Yahoo.

I got home just after sunset, went to Church with my parents and had our devotional prayers. On the way home I asked them to drop me off some side street. I saw someone really special and I walked with her to their gate. And I could feel like I could die. Happiness rushing, a day so fulfilling. Hands down, this is one of the best days of my life.

And when I got home I got a good conversation with my father. Advice when I need it.

Yeah. Man, great.

Someday I’m gonna make a nice poem out of this.

Head in the clouds/feet on the ground/head in the clouds/feet on the ground/ this it is/ I’ve finally had it/ all is lost/ nothing’s the same/only sadness remains.

Head in the clouds/feet on the ground/head in the clouds/feet on the ground/ the rains have come/but i’m so fucking dry/the tears keep falling/ and people just say goodbye.

Head in the clouds/feet on the ground/head in the clouds/feet on the ground/ I know what to do/but I can’t tell it to you/ I’ve really lost it all/ feeling two-foot small.

Head in the clouds/feet on the ground/head int the clouds/feet on the ground/ let me die baby/let me die/let me die/let me die

(After hearing Nelly Furtado’s All Good Things (come to an end))

oh hell.