Day 7: block


Monday

7:22 PM

Dubai

Writer’s block.  I look into the mauve screen of my blog page and type sifdhl dfhjdslkjf sdl’;j and then delete it.  I have been doing this for 20 minutes already.

8:07 PM

I just changed my mattress, comforter and pillowcases and played Janet Jackson’s Rhythm Nation 1814 all throughout the process hoping to restrain my dawdling blood.  Miss Janet did not help.

I still do not have anything to write.

block

< – – – –   So, I took my phone cam and took this wonderful shot.

8:34 PM

A friend of mine SMS’d me and told me to write about my requirements for a good boyfriend.  Oh God.  Not that I am beginning to feel like a Cosmopolitan magazine writer at this point, but that article would just be psychotic right now.  I mean, I have sworn to myself that I would not write anything about relationships at this point for the simple reason that I don’t have one.  A hypothetical love interest is endearing but it is just not me today.  Maybe tomorrow.

Another friend told me to write about love events that happened to me unexpectedly or about my longing for adoration anecdote in my life right now.  There.  Another psychotic article. Maybe next year.

I thought about the delicate structure of love and dating in Dubai.  An even worst psychotic article to begin with.  No, I mean, schizophrenic.  This fast paced city is so full of scumbags, perverts and users that it has been known that if you are in a relationship born and raised in Dubai, it is imperative to take high dosages of vitamins and mental strength.  If I start writing about it, it will turn out to be outlandish.  No, not today.

. . . but why does love and its themes persevere herein?  Perhaps I am dispassionately drawn to write about it anyway?  Oh God.  There is nothing more sly than refutation of someone’s illogical curiosity.  Damn it.

blak 0029:16 PM

Self confrontation.  Why do I snub the idea of building a relationship right now?  I mean, I am in my early 30s now and it is injudicious not to have one.  Carrie Bradshaw would’ve asked the same question:  Is 30 the new 20?  Well, how can I build one if I do not have one?

1.  Am I not hot?

2.  Stuck up?

3.  Too detached? Too despondent?

4.  Desperate?

5. Too intelligent?  Too brainless?

6.  In fact, boring?  As I am a closet geek, ladies and gents.

7.  Petrified?

8.  Too musical?

9.  Un-vogue?

10.Too generic?

What do you think?

10:16 PM

I am about to eat myself up to boredom here:  jasmine rice, salted eggs and meatloaf . . . but before I stuff myself to death, let me finish this day by saying that before I covet the idea of me holding hands with someone worthy of my supernatural self, I need to say that once it comes – it will.  No, not really.  I mean, it will come at the right time (hopefully soon) and I will be swept away.

11:17 PM

If it comes, I should not be prepared for it.  I want to be surprised.  In my overly coherent, unfailingly tangible life, I can mesmerize myself with conjectures entirely built to entertain me.  I can actually transpose a plain friendship into romance and hurt myself in the end.  Yes I am a masochist.  Or I can conceive a brilliant plan of exploring my head and put fable on a porn star and call it my Isang Linggong Pag-Ibig or My One Week Love Affair.  I am a big psycho believe me.

Anyhow, like I said I don’t want to be prepared when it comes.  Who knows I may have been prepared for a very long time now but I am, to put it simply, not in the market anymore.  I don’t really mind.

I am lying.

So, indeed, tonight, I want to block romantic love and all its possibilities.

Again, I am lying.

Dammit I so miss Manila right now . . .

The Ortigas skyline, Manila, Philippines

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