"She's A Brick And I'm Drowning Slowly"

( this was written in my yellow pad notes some times in July )

What a long title! Fiona Apple inspired? Excited about Kellerman? The Alex Delaware? What's the name of Fiona Apple's latest album? Google it! Why not yahoo it? or Bing it? or facebook it? What's on my mind now? Nothing. The so-called "God's particle" intrigues me. Talk about Higgs Boson. Just reddit! Twisted mind? Product of online craziness that keeps on crawling and connecting the dots on my mind. I should have stayed offline much longer to keep my sanity. My sanity just hanging by a thread in the sparks of one and zero, it turns one. The monitor lighted up and the power is on. Welcome back! As if I am a zombie resurrected from my dead existence.

Now. I am contemplating. Remembering. Writing. Wisdom on my fingertips translating to muscle power that is in turn guide my hand to hold this pen and write not so legibly on a draft in my old classic yellow pad. Talk about draft. Talk about manuscript. The long shot. The way before. And it releases some divine energy within me. I am seeing a pattern of my letter "g", my slightly slanted handwriting makes my eyelids wander a little inclination to a certain degree to really appreciate what I am doing. Doing it best. Writing. I am transforming my inner angel to be jotted down and later be inscribed to a keyboard that in an instant posted online. A blog. This is a blog. A meaningful blog.

Now. I am contemplating. Where's remembering? Oh I forgot. Remembering is an intellectual experience.Those flashbacks of happenings years ago, seconds ago that form into a giant collage to be viewed as a bigger picture. It is an art. Remembering as memory of the past events created a gigantic rush of feelings that undermine psychological experiences that coincide with the time it has occurred on us. I  remember love. I have felt in love. Such skin, the face, remarkably soft and undeniably lovely. I speak and she replies. Love in such act that I want to forget. Broken hearted. Scene two of the love saga continues. The voice I remember, the smile and the exchange of eye contact. It lasts for quite some time and she is flooded by other smiles, by other exchange of eye contact. Circumstances favor the bold. I am not the bold one. It ended. Scene two of forgetful memories. Scene three is undeniably a good one. In the making. The stage is still on-playing. Right moves, right lighting, whether is conspiring to thrill the hungry audience. Waiting. I am tired of waiting.

Now. Nothing. Oh I am contemplating. Making sense of it all. This must be in the new breed category.  Cinemalaya. I was there yesterday. Old CCP is not yet dragging to its roots maybe years more. Carlos Celdran and the rest of the influential social and people must hand in hand lobby to renovate the ailing reputation of the last cultural venue of this nation. It was raining yesterday. No typhoon just an odd scientific prediction from PAGASA. "Fullforce Cinemalaya" stunned me when I entered the right wing of the CCP. A red bold letter "Fullforce"

( to be continued later)