Observations on the world, and the world within.
About Me: I'm a 28 year old software developer living in Stamford, CT. I was born to immigrant parents in New York City, and while I don't live there anymore, I miss it sometimes. I am sarcastic, feel the need to break long silences, and am an awesome friend if you don't mind me disappearing for months (or years) at a time.
Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor
I was deeply moved by this Solar Bottle. A lot of us just dispose our bottles of soft drinks after use, when it can be put into use.
Isang Litrong Liwanag project would help bring light to undeveloped homes in squatter’s area and other baranggays who don’t have lights on their homes.
You can check the website if you want to be a sponsor, volunteer, or you want to donate & know more about this project.
How resourceful!
When I’m at my wit’s end
And I’m losing my head
You remind me of just how lucky I am.
I miss you, L. Thank you for your patience and your love, and for not giving up on us.
—H
White Knight
Never sought to be the white knight,
fearing that in the zeal to
rush ahead,
I’d pay no heed to obstacles;
that my escape routes would be
cut off,
eschewing essential groundwork
for wild gambits.
Always feared getting stuck
in corners, for it is in
corners where I am weakest,
options limited, action
reduced to predictable reactions.
Guide me to the open field,
cluttered as it may be,
that I may distinguish myself
from the pretenders
who seek to conquer your crown.
No longer
am I bound by the narrow views of
doctrine,
seeing the world in only
similarity, or difference,
serving only to entrap
and polarize
from a safe distance.
Nor do I seek to entrench myself
in structures of stone,
uncompromising,
unchanging,
nor do I cower
at the very threat of danger,
at risk of derailing
carefully laid plans.
For all your prodigious talents
you realize I have but
one,
and yet it is one
no other
(including you)
can bring to the table.
Veracity
All I knew of love,
was from the back of a crowd gathered round
to hear the new epistle, verses made more
beautiful because I could only hear
every other word through the dissonant clamor,
imagining the rest.
And so I grew,
and I learned to fill in the blank spaces
with words of my own,
imagining myself as some sort of Orpheus.
I weaved fervent words, evocative of those
psalms from my youth, and believed them, for
they were the only truth,
the truth of a veil of undisturbed dust.
They say, that once bitten, twice shy,
but what I now know of love is that it resists
being committed to rules, and pages, and penstrokes.
Some believe that it is a primal need,
the oldest in the universe,
and while the veracity of this claim is debateable,
I like to believe that it is so.
Jesuit
At times,
I am as a humble Jesuit
beholding the gilded parapets
of a yet nameless temple from the seashore,
my piteous craft awash on the beach,
idle hands uncertain of whether
to clasp together in prayer,
or to open up in praise.
H —
bruises. cigarettes. kisses. laughter. cooking. making love. hand-holding. alone ducks. uncomfortable couch beds. comfortable arms. driving aimlessly. singing Hanson. whispering your name. drinking until we’re giggling & tangled up within each others arms. long baths. scrubbing your back. washing your hair. watching movies. sleeping during movies. playing with young Boris. watching you with the kids & being content in the knowledge that you will be a very good father. treasure chests. pictures. tangling my fingers into your hair. relaxing beneath your caress. laughing with you at the unintentional family hilarity. going to the park. traintracks. dirty river-fish.
on and on and on….
I have so many memories of you and the love that we shared over this past week, and when I look at these photos I feel so bittersweet & true. at this moment I feel like my heart could burst with how happy I am. because I know. despite anything that has been said — I have faith in you. I have faith in us, and I know. there is more to us than serendipity, chance, or sheer dumb luck. we are cut from the same cloth. kismet & cosmos. you are the missing pieces and I am so fortunate that we are putting ourselves back together as we were always meant to.
I love you, darling. I will always love you.-L
:)
Resolve
To say that words are inadequate
would not be entirely true.
The best words in times like these
are spoken by hands,
and by skin pressed against skin,
unseen signals
transmitted through pores,
written in heat,
carried in scent,
received by pressure.
Fingers comb through hair as if
tending to an untended field,
dragging along the scalp and
arranging tresses into neat rows.
Gently but methodically
straightening out tangles
from root to tip.
Warm palms firmly rub against
sore shoulders,
kneading and working through
stubborn tension,
unrelenting in the face of
a seemingly fruitless task.
Muscles may as well be
mountains,
daunting,
but not
insurmountable.
Bodies overlap peacefully,
breaths slow and restful.
Warm contentment silent,
but for
the realization
of the difference between
resolution,
and resolve.
