Slip of the Pen

It was something I thought a bibliophile like me would never ever do.

Prior to yesterday, it has been almost a year since I last bought a new book, much less finished one. That’s quite unbelievable for a chap who used to devour three full pocketbooks a week back in his younger days. I enjoyed all kinds of books — sci-fi, fantasy, classical, mystery, non-fiction, heck, even musty history tomes and medicine books. (I remember myself poring over a gigantic dictionary for hours upon hours; unfortunately it didn’t turn me into the vocabulary monster I had hoped to be!) Once I saw a book lying around in the house that I hadn’t read yet, I’d set to conquer it.

I finally ended my book-drought yesterday when I bought three books — two fiction, one non — from a certain bookstore in the Power Plant Mall at Rockwell. I don’t know what precisely triggered me to buy three expensive books with my own money, which I had never done before. Was it the sight of so many titles I had never seen in the “regular” bookstores, or the fact that I had a wad of hard-earned cash in my wallet ready to heed my caprice?

Whatever the reason, for the first time in almost a year, I felt that unmistakable thrill of picking out a book from the shelf, browsing it with excited fingers, letting the scent of the pages waft to your nostrils, and finally bringing it to the cashier so it is finally, irrevocably yours.

At the end of the day, I lost 1,600 pesos but gained three gems. Were these gems as truly brilliant as they appeared in the bookstore? You bet…except for one.

(more…)

Deviations II • Deviations I

The Stink

They had just stepped into her house and locked the door when she looked around as if looking for something, crinkling her nose at the same time.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m sorry if it stinks around here.”

“Huh?”

“The result of having too many assholes sharing one place,” she answered, not even looking at his direction. Her stare now seemingly darted from one spot of the floor to another.

“Assholes, eh? Do I know them?”

“Of course you do. Parents, stuff. Why, who else lives here? Son of a bitch, you can be so stupid at times.”

He managed to sound off an overplayed grunt. She disappeared around a corner, and he heard a fridge creak open. He was getting impatient.

“Beatrice.” Full names are commands, he’d found out early in their two years.

She appeared right on cue, eyes now pledging allegiance to him. “Yeah?”

“They’re really out, right?”

“Of course they’re out. We wouldn’t be staying here if they weren’t out.”

“O, so what are we waiting for?” he asked, raising his voice. He scratched his neck.

She stood in her place a few feet away, breathing deeply, slowly — deliberately. She began to crinkle her nose.

He swung open his arms in an imperious manner.

“Give me the goddamn fun, girl.”

She walked into him, letting his arms reach and coil around her. Her face drew nearer to his, and she opened her lips.

“Suddenly, it stinks even more around here.” She kissed him.


[Women, this might not be new knowledge to you, but some men know that their only difference with a sinus is one syllable. The tragedy lies in enjoying being one.]