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levityNow August has a lovely bloody sock.
Naiinggit ako. I miss my own bloody sock.
Strange, the small details I remember from over a year ago. A bloody sock, caused by a small but gaping wound in the middle of my foot that I kept on laughing to Guia and Niko about.
But then again, you probably won't forget it if you get a gaping paper cut, on your foot, because you dropped an encyclopedia on it, and you (or your foot) had just enough luck to get hit by the encyclopedia's corner.
My memory's weird.
Memory's weird.
---
Last Christmas I learned how traditions were forgotten. It's funny, really, since I was trying to remember those traditions, just for a story to tell my friends. Like the way incense always had to be lit, and the fact that we had to walk to the cemetery, and the different food laid out each day in front of the coffin. (On the first day it was vegetable soup. On the second it was fried egg and rice. On the third it was a pack of Cream-Os. My brother wanted to taste the fried egg. My cousin said he would be haunted.) It hits when you realise that you don't want or need your funeral to be that inconveniencing, maybe because you don't believe in it anyway.
---
I wonder why I'm talking about funerals. Maybe it's because I've just been to two of them.
"... a thousand miles seems pretty far
but they've got planes and trains and cars
i'd walk to you if i had no other way
our friends would all make fun of us
and we'll just laugh along because we know
that none of them have felt this way
.... i can promise you
that by the time we get through
the world will never ever be the same
and you're to blame..."
Naiinggit ako. I miss my own bloody sock.
Strange, the small details I remember from over a year ago. A bloody sock, caused by a small but gaping wound in the middle of my foot that I kept on laughing to Guia and Niko about.
But then again, you probably won't forget it if you get a gaping paper cut, on your foot, because you dropped an encyclopedia on it, and you (or your foot) had just enough luck to get hit by the encyclopedia's corner.
My memory's weird.
Memory's weird.
---
Last Christmas I learned how traditions were forgotten. It's funny, really, since I was trying to remember those traditions, just for a story to tell my friends. Like the way incense always had to be lit, and the fact that we had to walk to the cemetery, and the different food laid out each day in front of the coffin. (On the first day it was vegetable soup. On the second it was fried egg and rice. On the third it was a pack of Cream-Os. My brother wanted to taste the fried egg. My cousin said he would be haunted.) It hits when you realise that you don't want or need your funeral to be that inconveniencing, maybe because you don't believe in it anyway.
---
I wonder why I'm talking about funerals. Maybe it's because I've just been to two of them.
"... a thousand miles seems pretty far
but they've got planes and trains and cars
i'd walk to you if i had no other way
our friends would all make fun of us
and we'll just laugh along because we know
that none of them have felt this way
.... i can promise you
that by the time we get through
the world will never ever be the same
and you're to blame..."
