most people spend their sundays cooped up inside their rooms. or getting the most out of the cushions of their private beds. or couples humping like electronic bunnies. or fingering...fingering the buttons of the remote control in search of some mindless(?) way of fishing for electronic information ( damn, im too much a fan of w. gibson). admittedly, the town is crowded with the sunday patrons, some going to mass, worshipping, while some do other kinds of worshipping, usually between legs and tongues. some spend it sitting until their butts ache, muscles immobile, reading a book while sipping cold coffee with marlboros after marlboros in hand. like me.
but i did that earlier, and like always, i find myself in town.
penniless, just enough to go home and some spare change for some cancer sticks. and yet i never tire of going to town, of seeing it everyday, as if i was an insistent stubborn rejected lover always coming back for something that could never be mine.
i guess i am just trying to sick in all about zamboanga. crazy as it may be, considering that i have been almost here since i was born. but then, there are places in this city that i haven't had the pleasure of visiting, though i should say that most of these places are usually those that are not pleasurable to go to in the first place.
i guess im just a crazy starving poet, trying to savor every scent before leaving. leaving?! i guess i am...
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