Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Resting on your laurels

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I would rather rest my head on grass and watch the sky – not that I have any significant achievements to speak of.


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Even if I did, I would still walk and wander and find ways of getting lost.


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Bought this polo shirt weeks ago and only really noticed that its print echoed Fred Perry’s logo.


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Always good to see things for what they are, but more importantly for what they could be. In this case, I first thought these squiggles were thoughtless/purposeful graffiti.


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Even if my toe caps were buffed and thus burnished, I really have no interest in relishing winning.


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I find such pride suspect.


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Best to look forward to what life still has to offer.


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I’ll put my feet up when I kick the bucket.


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Now that I look at it again, don’t these bright scribblings remind you of saplings?


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Leaves that whisper the many names of the wind.


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Quizas.


Polo shirt, Fred Perry
Skinny chinos, Bench
Belt, Factorie
Brogues, Dr Martens
Erebor bracelet, Bosquejo


Thursday, June 25, 2015

Gold and brown

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Changes are a foot.


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In a way, the barley is nearly golden.


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To wait is to ache.


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Against the sun, only for these few moments to glance back.


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The fruit is showing signs of ripening.


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So many times, I was misled by false signals.


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Driven by the fear – always the fear! – of missing out.


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Numb to the accusations of being called a coward.


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No point in counting chaff.


Polo shirt, British India
Chinos, Bershka
Fabric belt, Bossini
Shoes, G.H. Bass
Veneno Yellow Tiger’s Eye Bracelets, Bosquejo


Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Clarity

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After bombarding you with nearly thirty images on my last post, here is a shorter and simpler entry. With the same Supima tee, of course (I have two).


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No, the title doesn’t refer to my clearly porous and pockmarked skin.


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It may have more to do with the crowd of voices within clamoring to be heard.


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But instead of the cacophony resulting in a senseless din, they rise like winds clearing the clouds.


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The sea, the sea, the sea: in all the ocean’s calm is the violence of purpose.


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I count my days like a devotee fingers the beads of holy mysteries: though everything catches up, everybody ends and begins at the very start.


Tee and jeans, Uniqlo
Braided belt, Factorie
Detachable cap, Armani Exchange
Death's Door Skull Bead Bracelet, Bosquejo


Thursday, June 11, 2015

Zero-love game

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If only I could go to work in sweats, plain tees, and sneaks, I would. What seems like the warmest past few months in Manila could be unforgiving to anything thicker or more layered.


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My short walks from the gym to the office have produced bucketloads of sweat – as if I ran the stretch.


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I couldn’t really complain. Calamities (earthquakes and volcanic eruptions) are much worse.


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Nothing to do but adapt. Even during what’s supposed to be the onset of the rainy season, nothing seems more practical than short-sleeved shirts and everything in cotton. (What I would do to be able to wear shorts!)


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How do you like my Hardware version of tennis bracelets?


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The last thing I should do though is to let myself be slowed down by the heat.


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Hide in the shade like a cold-blooded reptile.


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Have to stay hydrated!


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The game is long, with innumerable breaks and sets.


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Not to mention rest and repair pitstops.


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No sense in getting myself sick because I’ve overestimated my pace.


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Oh, yes, this is the point where I ramble and rant about how little time I have left in the court.

Thursday, June 4, 2015

Sleeping to dream

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It’s been a while since I’ve gotten sick – blame the pent up stress and the extreme weather.


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Got a really bad headache yesterday afternoon after a short walk to an outlet shop and back to the office during my break.


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Add that to the usual headache of uncooperative colleagues and voila! Rest all day after catching the flu.


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What I was grateful for, though, was an entire day’s series of imaginative dreams.


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I went back to school and to episodes of my childhood. One of the last dreams I remembered had something to do with comic-book superheroes.


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Now I’m glad I feel a lot better, but still not as good as before I got the flu. At least I know my memory and imagination are still intact – all a writer really needs to torture himself.


Raglan tee, Uniqlo
Shorts, Lee
Hoodie, Uniqlo
Shoes, thrifted
Socks, Tommy Hilfiger



Photos by Jullian Mendoza