2/∞

Nessa. For the rare occasion that I meet people I can’t run out of things to talk about.

Other than the obvious ease the absence of this language barrier between me and Nessa brings - my rusty Tagalog has been making me feel a bit sheepish - I like how we have a lot in common. I thought it couldn’t happen in real life that I’d meet somebody who just says in passing that Rogue Waves’ Maps intro sounds a little like Incbus’ Aqueous Transmission. 

Divine.

Except for maybe a few close friends who love me to death to actually sit through my awfully told stories, she was actually genuinely thrilled hearing my concert stories and about Coachella and art communities and places to see and things to experience. That, I find quite neat, let alone that we managed to keep a run-on conversation til 4AM the same day we met.

Project: Empty Draft Box. Circa April 2012. I typed this down when I got home the morning after the work event over my internship at Heima where I met Nessa. A few weeks later, we managed to actually pursue some of the things we planned and went around Manila and Tagaytay with her friend Angie on just our meager savings, road signs, gut feeling.

01/∞

So this void I’ve been trying to fill the past three years with school and art and new friends and new hobbies is still as empty and as bare as it’s ever been.

But the corners, they’ve dried over time - the scar smoothing up. Things that come and go don’t scratch and sting as much as they might’ve done before. The walls have healed, and they pass

quite gracefully.

Project: Empty Draft Box. (Wow, I’m actually giving this a whirl) Circa first quarter of 2011. I think I had been meaning to talk about calluses. Of some sort.

Ambitious Project

Right now, there are 79 items in my draft box (and counting). About half, I never got back to to finish, 30% have run on into monstrously long stories, the remainder, I’m too chickenshit to actually post because of, oh. Just because. So the ambitious project is to clean this draft box by the end of the year. I thought it might be good. This means every once in a while I’d either be fighting apathy or doing something that scares me. Or used to. That sort of shit. Yay.