Now, taking a bath in the morning has become foreign to me having practically lived for the past four years or so with the moon playing a pale-white sun. Time check. I had ten minutes left before I start what became a Sunday like no other.
WARNING: The following text is not for the faint of mind. Just kidding!
First, every man ought to feed his soul (or what's left of it) with a little religion. Due to time constraints (primarily because it took me long enough to wash off all the microbes that were beginning to get comfortable on my body), I only had my favorite white shirt on, with my favorite shorts and a slipper, to church. Who said faith had a dress code? I could care less. As long as I'm spiritually nourished to go to heaven if I got hit by a truck, then I'm cool.
The sermon was about how kids are more spiritually intelligent than adults. It rather sounded like baby talk is more sensible to God than my supplications for good looks, better-paying job, a multi-million house, a cheap but beautiful wife and a music career (man's gotta dream). However, the gospel talked about God being slow to anger, so I didn't think He would easily get annoyed with my persistence, to say the least.
After partaking in the Holy banquet, it is also necessary to indulge the physical body with digestible food. A bowl of soup with enough chunks of meat and a couple of bananas ought to satisfy my earthly needs. A dose of good music (with a bit of crappy ones on the side) supplement well the midday meal. What is a Sunday without a musical variety show? After all, it's nice to have a 'Party' once in a while before it gets boring 'ASAP'!
Well, what better way to beat the ennui but to hit the capitalist's source of power and wealth or both (aren't they synonymous?). I had to check that robot movie every body's talking about. You know, the one with a hot, gorgeous model as the female lead? My friend spoiled the kiss at the end of the movie, thus, concluding it a happy ending. "What's a movie about robots without a kiss, eh?," I quipped. Next thing I know, it was her status on FB. Anyway, I had to cleanse myself again before going; them germs keep coming or perhaps never left. And with too warm a weather, it is almost criminal not to shower twice. It will anger the gods. You know, the other gods, with the small 'g'?
Now, I always thought I was ambivalent and I always try to oppose it since it diminishes my coolness (yeah, I think me cool). But I was proven right again when I changed my mind about watching the movie as soon as I saw the long queue of cinematic slaves and the sign that read "all premiere seats taken", not that I was gonna buy a premiere ticket. Once again, my ambivalence. The thought was depressing, and depression often cause hunger.
Not long after that, I was munching on one of my favorite combo meals, chicken, sandwich and a salad, while writing this piece in between bites, BIG bites. You'd think buying a notebook to write on for writing's sake is silly. I mean, it is, in a way. See, it gives an idea to start a personal diary (redundant. who keeps other people's diary? duh!). But that'd be ridiculous. The idea flew right out of my fickle head even before it could grow tiny roots. "Ever heard of blogging?," I thought to myself. If I were to start a journal, might as well broadcast it to the world. This age condemns selfishness. Gossip IS culture after all, isn't it?
So much for a wasted stroll (er, peek is more like it) in the mall, I resolved to getting a fix of my favorite blend of coffee: cappuccino. (The day turned out to be a day of favorites, I should probably revise the title.) Now, you didn't think I stayed in the same edifice, did you? Sure, there were a couple of shops (that scream of Capitalism) inside it, but it would've only jeopardized my goal of kicking boredom in its fat arse.
At first glance, Cakewalker seems a lot like the rest of them. Well, save for the selection and the souls taking shelter, the place holds its own. To say the dwelling is quaint would've been unfair or rather subjective, whatever is friendlier. I mean they have this farrago of drinking cups that looked more like collector's items. I got to sit on a couch; not too (wazzat?) chic but I was comfortable. They had good lighting, and nice music- all conducive to nerd undertakings. If you should know what I was doing there, I was reading JD Salinger's "The catcher in the rye". Other than trying to prove that people actually read classics, I'm also catching up with my quota. See, when people promised to quit smoking (and start a new vice), or start eating healthy, or start saving, as their New Year's resolutions, I vowed to read at least one book a month. As of last count though, I'm one book short (damn resolutions!). I believe in investing in the mind, not that I'm gonna get rich reading Holden Caulfield (that kid's got major issues). But I adored Russell Crowe aka Dr. John Nash in 'A beautiful mind'. If it tells you anything about me, it's that I have a case of schizophrenia- one worth a Nobel? Who knows?
God (the real one), must have thought I needed a better ambiance to improve the night or this entry or both, it was raining cats and dogs right outside the glass next to the couch where I was perched.
The setting was almost perfect for a piece worth at least a Palanca (yes, I have HUGE dreams). It seemed to me that everything came together and made it a night I never hoped but I quite longed for. It is truly magical when, what lies secretly hidden deep in the hearts of men, the cosmos have a way of summoning- to surface, at the right moment. I could almost feel the strings being pulled.
coffee + book = a biblioffeine
dark chocolate mocha
my only vice(s)
if coffee were blood
