madrunkenwoman

Tipsy. Yet I still managed to indicate the timestamp. Perfunctorily. It’s officially a habit.

Had a drink with Joan in Cantina. I feel inebriated. Weird. Feeling. I feel like a puppet, the half-pitcher of margarita in-control of my strings.

SLEX na.

Cool beans. I miss Denise. I miss Bates.

The bag which fell from my lap, is it an indication that I’m drunk? Yes? No? Vehicles, speeding before my eyes, are just part of this exaggerated illusion.

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thoughts while at a jeep stop

My watch reads 7:04pm. I stand near the intersection of Dian and Buendia as I wait for the next jeepney. The city’s hustle and bustle stir my senses. I see traffic lights, buses speeding by; hear a honk, somewhere; get a whiff of urban smoke. I become hyper-sensual, that I cannot take them all down on paper. My mind is still soaked with physics, space, time, relativity… All thanks to Stephen Hawking and the great philosophers and physicists. I AM DRUNK WITH A BOOK.

Never in my life have I felt this relaxed. The intersection of Dian and Buendia is a seemingly uncomfortable place, but standing here beats curling up in bed on a rainy Sunday morning. I don’t know why. I could shed happy tears… now. Now. Now. As I re-realize the endless possibilities of life, and of the world.

I feel like the universe is truly my home.

***

Oh, those minutes were divine. I don’t know what struck me. I could only look back and wonder…