Vestiges & Claws

It has been windy and slightly chilly, the weather, which usually returns my skin to its former lighter shade but also makes me crave the sunlight, the beach, the trip, or anything to get away from the substance that settles around here.

Work has been a dread. Unproductive. If my boss asks, the reason would be me. I’ve been lazy. I’ve been dragging myself to work whose lowest points are quite, calming, researching weeks. I miss the event days, with people going in and out, with me running around, being terrified of sudden errors and then being able to solve it.

I can’t bring myself to keeping my eyes open even. My body usually get accustomed to the arrival of monsoon season with some sickness first, all the time. This year is no different. I just want to keep sleeping. At the very moment, I’m skipping a vote meeting in the office, just to be able to enjoy the silence a bit when everyone is out. It’s actually not entirely silent since the wind is still howling. I want to scream but the palm trees right outside seem to be doing it for me.


Joe apologized the other day, cited thoughtlessness. He didn’t even notice how things would look like that from my side and made no excuse. I was calm again for a while. He’s been texting me again, regularly even, but I don’t know if it’s because of him feeling obligated now that he witnessed my confrontation that night.

“How’s your morning going?” That’s what I usually receive when he goes to bed. “How was your day?” is an interlude to his good night. I guess I’d been lying more and more lately, not lying, but just not being honest. It isn’t intentional, since I had the feeling that his replies were always concise, sometimes just “lol” even or an emoticon.

The more he addresses the important of being honest, of communication, the less I feel he actually cares about it. It’s always in the back of my mind that he’s only been attracted to the cool side of me, not the other part. Everybody likes the cool one and nobody really looks forward to be flooded with problems that aren’t their own. It’s all about the game of attraction.


I met a South African guy named Brad the other day in my neighborhood. He sucked my cock in the dark alley after I dropped him off at his place after a night one that I didn’t really put much effort in. His manhood was thick and not so timid in size at all. The African stereotype. His mouth was professional and smooth. But I didn’t finish. It was thrilling, but there might have been people watching us from afar, or at least I kept thinking so. The darkness didn’t give me a sense of safety no matter how much I tried to sink in it.

That night, he asked me what I was looking for via text message, to which I tried to avoid. He repeated the same question the following day and I had to cast out some ambiguity. He was nice and polite, but I was just trying to score some bjs that night. The day after, he texted me saying he was moving out of town. I wonder if my answer had contributed to that. “You are my boyfriend material,” his last text said, which I took pride in, so much that I had to tell Damian about it. But at the same time, I knew what I was doing, giving him the bait, luring him into thinking I felt the same, just for some attention, was bad. Irresistibly bad.


I’ve been reading this one that one of those men gave me. There was a female character that went around to attract guys, met this therapist and hooked up with him even though she was married, getting him on his knees and then went berserk after he knew better and cut it off. She wasn’t mad because he didn’t choose to stay with her, but because she wasn’t the one walking away. She lost the game, her own game.

There is some blood, some crime, some blackout moments and internal contradiction happening at the same time with different plot lines and characters but none has been as haunting as hers.


Bathrobe used to send me this song called The Forest by Jose Gonzalez, which later I very much adored. It could have been the backing track to my first relationship 5 years ago had I been aware of its existence earlier. And to my surprise, I guess I will be seeing Jose Gonzalez in the next 2 weeks. He’s coming to town. And probably I’ll be seeing it with Bret.

That cutie who used to share the same classroom duty with me, whom I had a minor crush on back then and (I thought) was a little gay, based on the looks we usually exchanged during class back then, told me his long time girlfriend (whom I referred as Jessica Chastain) and he just broke up. I don’t want to risk the friendship, so I’m trying to put this little not so innocent plan inside my head to rest.

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This entry was published on November 8, 2016 at 3:37 pm. It’s filed under Bathrobe, Bradels, Bret, Damian 2, Joey, music, Thinking, work and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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