nice! pfft.

You two would have hit it off, like old friends, once you had picked a topic to geek over. Probability being like 99%, the 1% I surrender to Fate. Unassuming geeks, both of you, though Nald's always a dead give away for geekiness. Pfft girl isn't so noticeable, but her eyes light up in a certain way when she hears some particular keywords, and she wouldn't be so silent anymore. It would have been so great, wouldn't it, if the two of you met.

I miss my two punny friends, yes, major pun intended. I miss them terribly and even more because the world wide web has that distinct way of reminding me of both your presence and absence at the same time. I would have liked to hear both of them laugh at the same time, and tell them after, that they laugh louder now more than ever, though Fey's still do need a little work; and thank God, that men didn't acquire that habit of slapping your arm when they are laughing, Nald has big hands, you know. Fey can slap my arm all she wants while she laughs. She has small hands.

Facebook, in particular, is certainly insensitive, when it suggests that I say hello to both of you, when it suggests that I reconnect or that I should catch up with any of you (I'll pass on that last suggestion, of course). Come on. I am still not okay, truth be told, of accepting that you are both now memories that I would never get to refresh again with new ones. I guess, I could comment all I like on your past notes or say something on your wall, but the thought that I would never get an email notification from any of you is, I guess, sadder than hell. It's a bad idea to go rereading over both of your blogs, really a bad idea when I miss you both. Even if both of you write so well. (that I know, and hundreds of other souls know that as well.)

They both wanted to learn the violin. Only one of more than a hundred paths that they would have shared, given the chance. The two of you had so much in common that I wonder why despite the relative distance, your friends (me included) overlooked the singularity of the two of you knowing each other.

Like me, you two loved the reassurance and the freedom of walking aimlessly, of taking our souls for a breather when Life happened too much in our lives. I cannot begin to imagine where our conversations would go if we all had a long aimless walk together. Plus some rolls of film and cameras. And for you, Pfft, I will have nothing against lomography if you were the one taking photos.

I have the two of you to thank for, for certain obscure films, authors and indie bands that I wouldn't have known despite myself, if the two of you haven't told me. I also think that you two would be the quietest moviegoers I would ever be with, and the most loquacious after the movie. Thanking you though for that part is almost trivial if I think about how we were part of each other's lives despite the vastness of this dissociated world, that the two of you are among the few people that also share those same passions that I have, and gave me more reasons why passions are better if shared among souls that you call friends, and know that in your passing, I will continue to write, not only for my own reasons but also because you'd want me to.

And also because it's not really easy when you two visit me here in the office during times like these and there's really no defense but to write, or tear up miserably, enough for my officemates here to notice.

- for Fae and Nald; my two sorely missed, loved and iyo, parehas kamo corny, friends, who both loved words; the spoken, the written, the painted, the photographed, the filmed and most importantly, the unspoken. And this is also for me; for that elusive catharsis that I need, to see you both woven already in the fabric of my memory.

Ma Fae Clarisse Badilla Barandon
Ronald James Paglinawan Panis

boy, you two sure have long names palan.

youever.

I can finally see the evening again, see how the lights slowly light up by themselves even before the last light gives in to the dark and finally, the wind blows cold again. All these things envelop me, almost like an embrace, a coming home; and I have to stop myself there because the word embrace in remembrance will filter down to you. But embrace and home both feel equally mutual when I think about you. It's just that I don't want to go through that path this early in the evening. Then, again, did I ever win against my memories? Always and ever the fool, because there are times when I fool myself. (I remember every single one of those times, why I wanted to fool myself, and why I succeeded)

I have been thinking that I have never seen a broken heart before only a broken man.

of waking.

Tonight the stars will be all there again, colors fading in and out the more you look at them. Like eyes, like eyes that are forever seared in my mind and it rained yesterday because March is a fateful month, and perhaps it is the only month possible for our planets to align; even enough to think that perhaps your stray thoughts might wander along the path I am on, as my thoughts, they stray but I know where they always end up.

Also,

it was cold this morning and I think it was the cold; and the cold warmed me enough that I could miss you again, unhindered and without the interference of my mind. Without the need to recollect and to hold the memory scent of your neck. Missing you was just there, suddenly there; pure longing and soft madness.

it does not matter if it is mid-afternoon.

You are liable to hit, like tachyons going past through anything. Right now I am being bombarded by you and for respite, I can only close my eyes for a moment then remember to breath, deep. If i am not careful, I'll break again and it might take the better part of a day before I can think straight, think straight in the way that normal reality moves.

And in the meantime i am caged again, but I cannot see the bars nor do I care when most of the time I do not even notice, and i can only stay in this state of mind, that for lack of a word, I'l call happiness; but only as a matter of preference.

Reality does not work like the reality that i have in my mind. I can only hope it does. i dare not watch any movie at this time or read any book, or even read what I have written before because they will all eventually lead to you. Like gravity, relentless and .just there.

I miss you. I cannot say that enough, I cannot feel that enough; the same way how I feel about you is constant.

keeper of my heart, queen of my mind.

and all the cliches come true, they come true and I turn to liquid as I hear them repeat themselves over and over again.

and it happens again.

I need to be away from everything, for this time. For just some hours and some odd minutes. For some time, for a chance to while away forever, or otherwise I'll be stillborn and vacant, watching the stars and think only of drifting away inside my mind.

It is of an impending implosion inside me, of melting, of something inside starting to claw its way out along with the promise of immolation for this progression, but without the assurance of ever coming back as myself. If only I can call myself sad, then it would be an easier ordeal. Temporary and just a prolonged state of mind, a reverse amphetamine that will only last for some time.

There are a lot of things I miss, that I long for, or wish for; fervently enough that it I cannot mistake reality for what it really is, so I have a lot of daydreams, enough to compensate and to keep my imagination alive. I go overboard sometimes that there are mornings when I cannot remember my dreams.

This has to be done in the coming days, the sense of urgency is stronger now and there is a fear losing something if I cannot find a way to burn.

And because of the impossibility of being in your arms, the ocean is the only place I can think of where I can be.

surprise me.

Browsing through the web and looking at some self portraits that a girl made; her photos reminded me of you, the nose being the mnemonic and as I look back, going through the photos of you that I took in my mind, there might be some truth to what I just suspect - that somehow the shape of your nose has changed. You see, it has been years since, and I am not really sure, perhaps this one of those things that just grows on you, and only by looking at photographs can we see that some parts of ourselves have changed, that we have changed, in some subtle way that sometimes we doubt if that change is ever there or drastically if scars are involved.

(Or perhaps the way our eyes look, that perhaps they have changed.)

I love photos, especially when I can hold them, like the way I can hold you if I wanted to; if you wanted me to. And sometimes it's black and white, and all the emotions are there, even if I can't see your nose sometimes in the pictures.

for temporary reprieves and temporary secret places.

Perhaps there is still the matter of beating hearts and the occasional irregularity of blood pressure during certain times of the day, or probably perhaps more during elevated stress situations when certain things are brought to mind. Or that the reclusive shadows during mid afternoons are bookmarks for some earlier time and I keep rereading those pages.

Even as I continue to continue, I lose track of time and in my mind, I know it is still June even if the calendars around town keep saying November is nearly over. We all keep our own illusions, one way or another, and yes, because they are fleeting and the harder you try to hold on to them the faster they fade and the harsher that life fades in after. I think only those who have lost their mind know the secret of holding these illusions together, and forever hold, what we term as the real, at bay. I don't know if June is an illusion, it is very real.