sleeping around

in case you were in starbucks katipunan this morning, yes, that was me sleeping in the car. i'm utterly shameless that way, not really caring who sees me sleeping. or at least when i'm far too sleepy to care.

sleep is sacred. one of my favorite movies of all time is something's gotta give, with diane keaton, jack nicholson, and a drool-worthy keanu reeves (too bad he's bi). anyway, after erica (keaton) and harry (nicholson) have sex (without viagra!), he stands up to sleep in his own bed. i like this distinction; fuck buddies abound but there are very few people (if any) you can comfortably sleep with.

when i was younger, my siblings and i all used to sleep together on a banig spread out on the carpet of our parents' room. we were that sort of family, all sleeping in one room, more to conserve energy than familial bonds, actually. dad slept with the radio on and mom (happy birthday!) contributed to the night noise with her snoring.

this went on until a few months ago, when i decided to move back to my room and my bed, away from the collective snoring and my mother stealing my blanket and hogging the bed (when my dad died, i moved to their bed because the floor was suddenly unbearably stiff).

it was a pleasure sleeping and having the room all to myself. the only noise came from crickets, the random bat, mating cats, mating frogs (in rainy season), and the chimes that tinkled like glass dancing in the wind.

on september 24 circa 2004, i was down with menstrual cramps and the depression that goes with it. i decided to cut sir tom's class (philosophy in filipino during siesta time doesn't cut it at all) and begged javie for a drink. (yes, 'javie' because he wasn't my 'coach' yet.) i'm not fond of beer so we got me a vodka mudshake from shell and drove home to lgv.

i fell asleep on the sofa. he stayed on the carpet for god-knows-what-reason. i woke, nuzzled awake actually, by his nose, his lashes, his lips. i don't know if he kissed me or if i kissed him. it doesn't really matter.

Happiness
Louise Gluck

A man and a woman lie on a white bed.
It is morning. I think
Soon they will waken.
On the bedside table is a vase
of lilies; sunlight
pools in their throats.
I watch him turn to her
as though to speak her name
but silently, deep in her mouth--
At the window ledge,
once, twice,
a bird calls.
And then she stirs; her body
fills with his breath.

I open my eyes; you are watching me.
Almost over this room
the sun is gliding.
Look at your face, you say,
holding your own close to me
to make a mirror.
How calm you are. And the burning wheel
passes gently over us.

. . .

on a more, erm, un-romantic note, i've been blog-stalking again (you'll have to forgive my terrible addiction). i followed maryanne moll's link from naya's tagboard and read the stories she had posted.

they're lovely, really, but deeply troubling for me. i cannot stand the notion of "fucking around". pagdating sa ganoong bagay, hindi ako mapagpatawad na tao.

wala lang. babala ba? ewan. i just wanted to say my piece.

(tsk. panira sa happy-senti entry. ehehe. sorry na lang.)