/juxtapotato

New year post. New year post. Post new year.

Had too much to drink last night (some Italian and French wine.) Let's just say that I woke up to an ungodly stench in my room, and I had to change my t-shirt.

And so on.

Right now I'm listening to the local radio reports on the firecracker accidents. Give me five, my weird-fingered friends!

So Nikay, how was your 2006? Well Nikay, the end of the year somehow always ends with a bang.

Or the popping of a cork.

I made dinner. No, a whole feast. It was good. I'm digressing.

My 2006 started dreamily. I don't remember much about January except that I missed Sinulog for the second time in my life. Summer was spent taking classes, learning Italian and saying good-bye too Math forever. 2006 was also the year I turned eighteen. I was really happy. Happy eighteen year old. Happy happy, then bang. You know the rest.

But before you get your brains in a twist, exhale. I have been very brave this year. And it's not typical Nikay to be very brave. Stand up. Get going. Run some more. There's always you at the back of my mind.

This year, I hope to make the right choices. Embrace the beauty of outliving. Be sexy.

Hehehe.

Happy 2007, friends!

I love you all.

* * *
A poem written at the age of sixteen in Surigao City.

A Lesson in Fireworks

Last night,
the town was in a standstill.
All heads were poised
to the heavens
where the stars once held
their peace.

It is beautiful:
how a solitary speck
from a purple matchstick
makes the old young again
(and the young
even younger.)

A motorcycle driver stopped
from a distance.
Earlier, he told me
that he liked the red array
best. Ordinary, I said to myself,
how an aging man
can derive the deepest pleasures
from shallow grounds.

Vulnerable,
how my eyes averted
to the leaping children
while the moon chose
to stay undaunted,
while my hands
eased from the numb
and silence.

Then, silence.

7:05 AM | 1 comment/s