a poet is a jeweler.
his gift is in smallness.
-McNair

this morning, on my way to work, i sat beside this guy. dammit. today turned out to be the worst ride i've ever had this semester. having just one half of the butt on the cushion i could disregard, not having enough elbow room - literally - to move as i read my book i could ignore, but man, this guy kept nagging me and yapping about how posh and how rich he was.
i was the epitome of nice today during that bus ride. after the forty-five minute talk, i managed to bear listening - and remembering - the following things: that he was from batangas city, but was born in calapan, mindoro; that he own a 1600 sq. meter lot at barangay 1, near calumpang; that he was planning to become a man-whore in dubai and saudi; that he was currently teaching speech at a montessori in san pablo; that he was married, and considered himself a battered husband (even showing me scars on his elbow and left arm); that he was a scholar from canossa college; that he was a pioneer batch of the help in dunkin donuts san pablo; that he was planning to apply at lyceum; that he has a catering business at san pablo; that he had one daughter - a hong kong citizen; that he was on his way to calapan to survey over an island he received as his piece of the family riches; that he was planning to put up doors upon doors of apartments and/or a condominium highrise right in front of the calumpang river, among other things.
he kept bedgering me the whole ride, asking me in a tone that was similar to those in action flicks where the desk officer asked the accused or the victim very indifferent-sounding questions like: ANONG PANGALAN? ILANG TAON? TIRAHAN? ARE YOU WORKING? SAAN? FOR HOW LONG?
what was even more annoying was that everytime i'd decide to answer his questions, he would butt in and start yapping even more about himself. that wasn't the worst part. he sang occassionally during the ride. and we're not talking about a regine velasquez here.
before i got off the bus, i found out - through him - that prior to him badgering me, he was interrogating the other guy near the window. getting off the bus, i motioned to ask the other guy what atrocity he experienced in the hands of the yapping psychology-major from san pablo. but i cautioned myself, and did not ask. didn't even look at his face.

See the curtains hanging in the window
in the evening on a friday night
little light shining through the window
lets me know that everything is alright

Summer Breeze well it makes me feel fine
blowing through the jasmine in my mind
Summer Breeze makes me feel fine
blow-in through my, makes me feel...right,
makin me feel makin me feel fine, makes me feel fine
blowin through the jasmine in my mind

oh, sweet days of summer
the jasmine's in bloom..a da da
july is dressed up
and playing a tune

and when I come ho-me from a hard days work
and you're waiting there, yes you're waiting there, without a care
in the world...no

and sometimes

I see the smile waiting in the kitchen
the food a cooking
and a place there for two
I see the arms reaching out to hold me
in the evening when the day is through

Summer breeze makes me feel fine
blowing through the jasmine in my mind
Summer breeze, make me feel fine
blow-in through my, makin me feel...right,
makin me feel, makin me feel fine...
make me feel right
blowin through the jasmine in my
blowin, blowin...blowin through the jasmine in my
blowin, blowin...blowin through the jasmine in my
blowin, blowin...blowin through the jasmine in my
Blowin, Blowin...blowin through the jasmine in my..
BLOW-IIIIIIIN
Blowin through the jasmin in my mind

SUMMER BREEZE
seals & crofts

i hope tomorrow's ride would be better. and imagine my frustration when i found out i haven't received that email 'tales was supposed to send me.
hey.