[2]

 I forgot the purpose of this blog was to swap Twitter. In that silly bird app where I used to feed the void of about two-hundred followers spam of text that doesn't make sense, but which I considered funny, I wasted hours, but it felt comforting. And funny. I love that bird app, though if I were to live a better life as some say one should, I'd have to find alternative ways of coping. For a while, I thought I could never get around things without Twitter. Instagram worked for a while, but soon, I became too annoyed at myself for oversharing with my face as the backdrop on the screen. Even without my face, talking about my thoughts on that camera app felt too open. I realized I'd prefer oversharing with text and text alone. Photos just make things more real than they are (i.e. thoughts). Thoughts are only best in theory, well, sometimes there may be benefits to actualizing, but in my case, most of the time it really is otherwise.

It is 11:44 p.m. and I decided to sleep about fifteen minutes ago. Both my mother and aunt thought it was too early for me to sleep since they'd quite gotten accustomed to me crawling into bed only after 3 a.m. The time I refer to is PST, by the way. It's funny how I'm in a whole other country and yet live as if I am still back home. It's as if my body and mind are separate things. Perhaps they are, really. 

I'm listening to a playlist of Wes Anderson soundtracks. I realized last month has been such a productive month for me in terms of discovering films. I've watched about 5 of Anderson's, short films and I think 2 movies. I didn't keep count of the particulars, but it felt like a hazy dream. I'm reminded of that one moment in time last year too when I would wake up as early as six in the morning and watch indie films I discovered on Pinterest. I would watch on my phone with earphones on. The morning was cold, I remember it. I picture streaks of green and bright orange. Mostly cold, but warm streaks of green. I'm referring to Wong Kar-Wai. That was my 2021 summer: indie films from Pinterest. Thinking back to that time brings nostalgia and comfort. 2021 summer with its early morning walks to the bakery when my face felt the cold air as I stepped past our silver Innova parked right in front of the sari-sari store, beside the tree that provided shade for when it would rain. It didn't exactly prevent the rain from falling under, only lessen. And I remember ..

And there was that broken clay pot used for burning trash inside paper bags. Piles of tissue would crumble and the red flame would flicker, depending on the wind, it would either flicker out or rage high and it would nearly burn my skin as I stand close to it, squatting. I've read about it online how heat can cause skin cancer and how firefighters are mostly at risk of it because of their job. Somehow I miss the nights of burning those paper bags because other than being of use, I had time to think. I also miss sixth-grade camping and looking at the fire reminded me of those moments of childhood. Opening the tent, it was perhaps ten in the evening. The night was quiet and everyone was asleep or at least trying to. We went outside and in my head, I remember entering a cottage instead. And then it's the birthday of a friend and we're sitting by bamboo chairs aligned at a right angle, and there's a wooden table at the center, and I remember cake and pizza and birthday banners. Slippers, a screen door, and clean beds; familiar faces that exist to this day, if only apart. One in particular, I dearly miss. I haven't heard from her since. I guess she's decided to live a solitary life. I can't blame her. I remember