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Pout

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If the trend continues, everyone at Gold’s, save for some blessed souls, will have ludicrously pouty lips after three months of continued weightlifting.

Forever young

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I have no issues growing old.

I will not close down this blog just because I’ve already crossed that threshold. I will have to look for a better tagline.

Or, I will just keep the line because no matter how many years are added to one’s life he remains that young man in his twenties who dreamt of changing the world (but ends up changed instead by the world and holds on tightly anyway to that remaining sliver of himself that stubbornly stays in that exciting but mostly confusing years of his twenties).

After having abandoned Facebook, I do not have to dread facing the barrage of birthday greetings from people who barely know me.

As one ages, what matter on his birthday are those sincere messages from his family, really close friends, and perhaps a wonderful breakfast after a morning walk under a light drizzle.

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I can hear the whirring sound of the food osterizer from the kitchen. In front is the blaring of nonstop odes to money said in the worst of ways by television ads.

A quiet Sunday night can be very hard to have.

Counting

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Right in the middle of an intense deadlift routine, I began counting the friends I’ve lost. I’ve lost a lot.

Commute

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It’s 6:30 in the morning and the MRT is stranded here at Santolan terminal. I can’t see anger on people’s faces, not disappointment, no not even any sliver of irony. I see only a quiet resignation akin to what one thinks he sees on the face of someone who is to be hanged.

Good morning, overcast Manila!

From an unknown student

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Dear student,

I was pleasantly surprised to see this in my pigeonhole tonight. Thank you for the cookies (that made use of reduced sugar, among others).

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Merry Christmas, too.

Happy 2016!

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