i acquired my first copy of one of pablo neruda's poetry collection yesterday. alas, i'd get to read another latin american literary genius, in which case partyphile would be vindicated in his accusation that i'm really a latina disguised as an oriental. i was all set to meet him (partyphile, not pablo neruda) after getting that book when he updated me of an emergency meeting he had to attend to. having some incandescent artwork (by pablo neruda, not partyphile) to while my time away, i told him i could just wait for him at edsa-taft, but he seemed not really bent on going to the blue bar i invited him to--what with all his pleadings for us to go some other time--so i wandered aimlessly in manila before proceeding home in a cooler temper.
it didn't occur to me that by getting there, i'd be boiling again like a volcano in the brink of eruption. my twisted sister whom i don't want to linger within my five-kilometer danger zone appeared yet again in my place, ignoring my unspoken temporary restraining order for all the shame and pain she had me put up with. upon seeing her, i packed a week's supply of fresh clothes and vanished as quickly as i arrived. it didn't matter to me where i was headed; nomadism is my lot as a person. as i waited for a wee-hour ride going to cubao, i browsed the classified ads to get the addresses of the companies i supposed to land a part-time work in.
busy and still mindful of the scene i just created back home, i never minded the two males who appeared out of nowhere. why would i be started, when i'm accustomed to being cruised even in the most casual of circumstances? they asked me for the time, but in no sooner moment, calmly declared a holdup, asking me to hand them my cellular phone and money. sheer alertness and fear for the shiny fanknife saved my life, for while i parted away with my old phone (sooner than i intend to dispose of it) and some petty cash, i was able to keep my wallet with gorgeous' picture in it (which can rival bill gates' fortune in degrees of importance) and my newly-acquired mms phone. i could sing praises to heavens that i left home my camera phone and that the spare mms phone didn't ring at the most inopportune second, for that would have sent me home and have me deal irresistibly with people i hate, or worse, have me hugging the day's headlines in which i (dis)figure as a blob of blood and mutilated flesh under a waiting shed in marikina. you see, i cannot transform into my krystala alter-ego--i hastily stormed away from my house, forgetting my crystal amulet (and pablo neruda's poetry anthology, for that matter). and the lesson for the day: don't go reading classified ads in a risky place during the day's most ungodly hours.
when i woke up in angel's place in pasay, gorgeous displayed his concern by texting take care and by advising me to seek shelter in my special someone's place, since i can't stay in his, although he could have offered it if it were possible. uh-oh, the home episode elicited the most violent hatred in me, the holdup episode spawned the greatest befuddlement and now, gorgeous' text generated the wildest heart thumping to complete a trio of extreme emotional forms. anyway, i replied that i can't possibly stay in my beloved's place, for my beloved is gorgeous himself, the very spring of my most potent passions, muggers and domestic strifes be damned.
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