It’s four o’clock in the morning. I should be sleeping by now. But thanks to my lovely afternoon nap, I’m still awake. I had promised myself to put in a couple of hours of work since I’m still up but haven’t really got the motivation to do that. It is after all a Friday and from experience, my brain just stops processing on this particular day of the week. Of course it might just be the effect of a few shots of cheap brandy that I had been sipping.
Earlier in the evening, I walked the half kilometer to the ATM machine to pay off some credit card debts. There was a token line of 3 people in front of me, among them were a couple having a spat. It was pretty hard not to listen as they were unabashedly airing dirty laundry right in front of me. The guy in front of them was visibly a bit irked despite the mp3 player that seemed glued to his ears. Their spat intensified when they got in the ATM booth, and this had caused quite a delay that the guy behind me knocked on the transparent glass door to remind the couple that there were people waiting for them to get out. (The non-confrontational me just stood there waiting) So the couple finally got out speechless, finally.
Judging from their uniforms, they were students from the university right across the street. Despite their spat, they still walked out of the booth arm in arm, though their facial expressions still bore their frustrations towards one another. Weird.
***
After paying off a fraction of my debts, I found myself walking another 200 meters or so towards the drugstore to buy some personals. I have this “thing” where I think I need to buy something and when I get to the store, I suddenly have a change of heart and drop it completely, due in part, I’m sure, to my stingy nature. So after browsing through a few other items, I walked out empty handed. Why do I do this? I am not quite sure but I do this a lot. I walk into the department store with a mission to buy brown shoes and I walk out without anything. Rather quite unlike my mom who walks into a store to buy toothpaste perhaps and comes home with a bag full of items.
Looking back, this habit of mine has either saved me money or deprived me of some necessity that I refuse to acknowledge. Maybe I should have bought the damn thing before I paid my credit card dues? Who knows.
***
Walking back to my apartment, I found it eerie that I chanced upon the quarreling couple once again. They were standing outside of their school gate still arguing, yet still locked arm in arm. The night class had just ended as an army of uniformed student were pouring out of the gate but there they were, still at each other.
I got back to my empty apartment and promptly plopped myself on the couch and turned on the television. The Amazing Race Asia had just begun. I lay there, half watching the show and half daydreaming about what I would have done being in the same situation. I then went on to think to myself who I wanted to pair up with for the contest. Mentally, I unraveled a list of qualifications that my partner should possess. A knowledge of different Asian cultures, athleticism and a sense of humor (ever notice how witty those guys can be?). I had it short listed to three possible candidates, but then concluded that with my easy going, happy go lucky attitude our team would probably be the first one eliminated. Way to go, dude.
***
So now I find myself writing nonsense at four o’clock in the morning, and I’m still trying to figure out if writing all this is a waste or a means for me to express myself. Oh well…
Friday, October 17, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Places I call home
I was born in Bacolod City, but hardly remember a thing from there. I stayed there less than a year after birth and had my first birthday celebration in a small town called San Marcelino in Zambales. Not much that I remember from there either.
My first memories came from another place, this time in Balanga, Bataan. I was maybe a few months into my first year when our family had to move again to this place. My dad wasn’t home most of the time and only came home from work during the weekends, but all the memories that I had from this place somehow involved my dad. These memories weren’t too significant, though. I couldn’t remember any of my birthdays spent there, nor any trips to any resorts or parties.
There are probably just 3 memories that I could think of in that town (now a city, mind you!), one involved my dad folding a paper airplane for me. I was seated on this shiny red waxed floor tearing up pieces of paper, my dad picked a clean piece up and folded it up maybe 10 times. I watched transfixed, wondering why he hadn’t just torn up the piece when he finally licked at the tip of the plane with his tongue and let it fly inside the house. I could only imagine how fascinated I must have looked as I crawled my way to where the paper plane had landed. I was so smitten with the plane that I think I tried to eat it. Of course, that didn’t really work out so I just tore it to bits as I did the others. The other two memories were of a flood that ended with a witch-hunt for this giant snake that entered our compound and playing with our family dog. Strangely no memories that involved my older sister, maybe she was adopted. Hahaha!
And then the whole family had to pack up once again and move to Mandaluyong in Metro Manila. This was where I learned a whole lot playing with the neighbor’s kids a variety of fames that somehow always involved sewer water from the canals that lined our streets. My mom was understandably unimpressed of course and I always came how to the joyous screams of my mom calling on my name to come back home to her loving slipper’s underside.
Growing up in that same neighborhood for the next 8 years saw me through a lot of milestones. My first kiss came from playing house with the neighbors’ kids, me the drunken dad who was to “rape” my wife. My first pages of porn came atop the neighborhood pool hall where I and my friends had our unofficial clubhouse. My first decapitated cat’s head we found at the ruins of the old noodle factory during a raging storm. We played around with it for a while until we got bored and simply chucked it inside a passing passenger jeep. First school day found me wailing just outside the classroom and looking out the window for my aunt who sweetly stayed the whole time outside the classroom of the local public school. Two more sisters came during our stay in this neighborhood, as well as an army of aunts, uncles and cousins who seemed to take shifts staying with us at our home.
It was a sad day when we had to move from the neighborhood where I grew up. My dad had been lucky enough at work to earn enough to buy a new home, still in Mandaluyong but on the other side of town. I was 10 years old then, with no friends and scared stiff at the prospect of sleeping in a new house that was rumored to harbor ghosts.
More firsts followed since moving to this new home. The first death in the family shortly after we moved in, we received a telegram (yes, a telegram was all we had back then) informing us of my grandfather’s death. The first time I saw my mother red-faced with tears on her cheeks was while holding on to that telegram. The whole family hopped on a plane the next day going back to my birthplace.
First experiences with a telephone, cable TV, driving a car, a red mark on my report card, entrance exams, life long friends, girlfriend, alcohol, cigarettes, graduation and a lot of other memories. The next 15 years of my life always came home to this particular house.
Finally moving out of this house after my first job was a sweet moment for me. I spent the first night of my independence with my closest friends drinking and just hanging out in a bare house in Las Pinas City where I would live with my housemate for the next year and a half. This was a phase of discovery for me, having to live independently of parental financial support. I had to scrape on my meager paycheck, living on a day to day basis sustained by noodles and eggs. During this time I was abruptly faced with a myriad of responsibilities which weren’t there before, but I was quite happy and content with my new found independence.
Eventually the two bedroom house became too small for both of us, which prompted my decision to move closer to where I was working after a year and a half.
My next home was right on an edge of a rice paddy. I had staved off a small amount of money and made this house a real home, buying up furniture, appliances and other household items one at a time. To save that extra bit of money, I had took on some housemates from work. Eventually they overran me and I moved back to my parent’s house for a year.
After being miserable for a year, I moved out again and got an apartment two blocks away with my then girlfriend and her brother. This is where I have been staying ever since then, over a year now. The relationship ended and now I live alone in this same house. It is a bit of a blow financially for me but I am really happy with this place. I haven’t quite filled up the place yet but it has everything that I need.
In my lifetime, I guess I’ve moved around quite a bit and I know that in the future I would be moving from home to home even more. But with each new home, comes more experiences, more firsts and more milestones. Though I am happy with where I am now, I just can’t wait for what new home waits for me in the years to come.
My first memories came from another place, this time in Balanga, Bataan. I was maybe a few months into my first year when our family had to move again to this place. My dad wasn’t home most of the time and only came home from work during the weekends, but all the memories that I had from this place somehow involved my dad. These memories weren’t too significant, though. I couldn’t remember any of my birthdays spent there, nor any trips to any resorts or parties.
There are probably just 3 memories that I could think of in that town (now a city, mind you!), one involved my dad folding a paper airplane for me. I was seated on this shiny red waxed floor tearing up pieces of paper, my dad picked a clean piece up and folded it up maybe 10 times. I watched transfixed, wondering why he hadn’t just torn up the piece when he finally licked at the tip of the plane with his tongue and let it fly inside the house. I could only imagine how fascinated I must have looked as I crawled my way to where the paper plane had landed. I was so smitten with the plane that I think I tried to eat it. Of course, that didn’t really work out so I just tore it to bits as I did the others. The other two memories were of a flood that ended with a witch-hunt for this giant snake that entered our compound and playing with our family dog. Strangely no memories that involved my older sister, maybe she was adopted. Hahaha!
And then the whole family had to pack up once again and move to Mandaluyong in Metro Manila. This was where I learned a whole lot playing with the neighbor’s kids a variety of fames that somehow always involved sewer water from the canals that lined our streets. My mom was understandably unimpressed of course and I always came how to the joyous screams of my mom calling on my name to come back home to her loving slipper’s underside.
Growing up in that same neighborhood for the next 8 years saw me through a lot of milestones. My first kiss came from playing house with the neighbors’ kids, me the drunken dad who was to “rape” my wife. My first pages of porn came atop the neighborhood pool hall where I and my friends had our unofficial clubhouse. My first decapitated cat’s head we found at the ruins of the old noodle factory during a raging storm. We played around with it for a while until we got bored and simply chucked it inside a passing passenger jeep. First school day found me wailing just outside the classroom and looking out the window for my aunt who sweetly stayed the whole time outside the classroom of the local public school. Two more sisters came during our stay in this neighborhood, as well as an army of aunts, uncles and cousins who seemed to take shifts staying with us at our home.
It was a sad day when we had to move from the neighborhood where I grew up. My dad had been lucky enough at work to earn enough to buy a new home, still in Mandaluyong but on the other side of town. I was 10 years old then, with no friends and scared stiff at the prospect of sleeping in a new house that was rumored to harbor ghosts.
More firsts followed since moving to this new home. The first death in the family shortly after we moved in, we received a telegram (yes, a telegram was all we had back then) informing us of my grandfather’s death. The first time I saw my mother red-faced with tears on her cheeks was while holding on to that telegram. The whole family hopped on a plane the next day going back to my birthplace.
First experiences with a telephone, cable TV, driving a car, a red mark on my report card, entrance exams, life long friends, girlfriend, alcohol, cigarettes, graduation and a lot of other memories. The next 15 years of my life always came home to this particular house.
Finally moving out of this house after my first job was a sweet moment for me. I spent the first night of my independence with my closest friends drinking and just hanging out in a bare house in Las Pinas City where I would live with my housemate for the next year and a half. This was a phase of discovery for me, having to live independently of parental financial support. I had to scrape on my meager paycheck, living on a day to day basis sustained by noodles and eggs. During this time I was abruptly faced with a myriad of responsibilities which weren’t there before, but I was quite happy and content with my new found independence.
Eventually the two bedroom house became too small for both of us, which prompted my decision to move closer to where I was working after a year and a half.
My next home was right on an edge of a rice paddy. I had staved off a small amount of money and made this house a real home, buying up furniture, appliances and other household items one at a time. To save that extra bit of money, I had took on some housemates from work. Eventually they overran me and I moved back to my parent’s house for a year.
After being miserable for a year, I moved out again and got an apartment two blocks away with my then girlfriend and her brother. This is where I have been staying ever since then, over a year now. The relationship ended and now I live alone in this same house. It is a bit of a blow financially for me but I am really happy with this place. I haven’t quite filled up the place yet but it has everything that I need.
In my lifetime, I guess I’ve moved around quite a bit and I know that in the future I would be moving from home to home even more. But with each new home, comes more experiences, more firsts and more milestones. Though I am happy with where I am now, I just can’t wait for what new home waits for me in the years to come.
I'm open to title suggestions...
Another Monday morning greets Patrick as his first thoughts center around an all too familiar hang-over. He had been drinking again the night before and now as harsh rays of the sun penetrating the window dominate his face, he realizes that he has overslept again. He sluggishly rises from the couch which has been his bed for weeks now and crawls to the sink to relieve the awfully bitter taste of bile from his gut. He makes it to the refrigerator and takes the left-over coffee. Instantly his nostrils fill with the sweet aroma as he finishes half a cup in one gulp.
He looks around at the house, he smiles at the mess. There is an ironic sense of freedom which passes over him, fully knowing that there is no one else to witness the chaos. Not anymore anyway. Patrick scans the rest of the kitchen for sustenance, spotting a cereal box of rice crispies. Grabbing a large spoon, he scoops up a large helping straight from the box. He groans at the noise which is too much for his debilitated condition. He takes a drink of cold coffee again, allowing the slurry in his mouth to slide slowly down his throat. He picks up a pack of cigarettes from the table and lights one up. He savors his first puff, taking a large breath and pausing until he could feel the nicotine rising to his head. His body goes limp with the heady sensation and he settles onto a nearby chair, sucking another lungful.
His mind goes blank, resisting the urge to get some perspective of the day ahead.
Once upon a time, Patrick had a regular job. His colleagues looked up to him as responsible and respectable. Of course Patrick knew this and was quite proud of himself. He was a successful man, he thought. Everything was on the up and up, he was on top of the world! As such, he regarded himself as an example to be emulated by all. His successful career provided well financially, there was no shortage of warm bodies filling his bed and he was at the peak of fitness and health.
I
A few short months ago, another Monday morning, Patrick gathered himself out of bed, careful not to wake up the warm body beside him while he freed himself from her exhausted embrace. He paced the bedroom, timing his breaths with the up and down motion of his dumbbell laden arms. He next did another routine exercise, then another before gently stroking the pearly white thighs of Shiela to awaken her. He smiled, more to himself than her, admiring his own prowess. In another hour and a half, he had dropped her off at a waiting shed and drove off to work.
It was an uneventful morning. Usual emails, usual coffee, usual office chit-chat by the pantry and the usual sly stares at the new accountant’s cleavage. It was almost boring. The highlight of his day would be the lunch presentation he was to give for their manufacturing and marketing divisions. It provided another opportunity for him to show upper management that he was in charge and ready for bigger things.
And so he got down to real work. Reviewing, updating and practicing his presentation. This was fun. Checking his watch, he got up and put on his suit, ready to awe and inspire once again… move over everyone!
The rest of the day was great for Patrick. At around 5:00 he was getting ready to leave the office when his phone rang. A distant voice from the other line broke through the transceiver, almost inaudible amid the humming static.
“Hello?”
“Patrick………. maybe…….. got it.....”
“I can’t understand you, could you get to a better spot? I can’t hear you that well.” The voice was female but there was no way he could know for certain who it was. The timbre was mature, probably in her 30’s, he could hear passing traffic through the static but nothing that would place the caller in a specific location. The line went dead during the next seconds as the voice seemingly shouted muffled blahs amid the buzz. He felt some alarm over the call, maybe there was something wrong but he could’nt imagine what sort of emergency would concern him.
So Patrick finished off the rest of his work and turned off the lights and his computer and headed home. For him, home was a cozy loft at the 20th floor right smack in the middle of an exclusive neighborhood. He was quite proud of this particular investment of his. For 5 years since grad school, he scrimped every single centavo and worked like a maniac for a third tier job that barely compensated him but had the promise of a uniquely advanced training program. He worked Christmases and holidays, never making time to see his parents, friends or new relationships. Each day had been a dish of instant noodles, work and bed but he knew this was temporary and soon he would have time for everything.
So for 5 years, he had been a lifeless drone blindly marching to the beat of the hive. Then that opportunity he had patiently been waiting for suddenly came: an offer to be working for a top global corporation with a hefty financial package and benefits to boot. Without any second thought Patrick had seized the job and worked harder than ever. He lost all his friends, alienated his family and slept in the office most days. He was determined, focused and hungry for anything and everything that would advance his now promising career. Another 5 years had passed and soon, he found himself in a corner office, with more time for himself and even more money than he could spend in a decade.
At this point, Patrick knew he had made it enough to finally live his dream life. He bought a posh pad, the sportscar that everyone wanted but couldn’t afford, and just as easily re-created himself to become the devil-may-care man about town that everyone loathed but secretly wanted to become. He had paid his dues, and now payback was upon him.
He poured himself a drink, settled into the lap of Italy’s finest art-deco couch and smiled, stifling a laugh that mocked the world that once shunned him into mediocrity and insignificance. He had finally won.
II
Dawn woke him with the shrill electronic shriek of the telephone. He picked up but before he could say anything, he recognized the same voice that had called him amid static just the day before.
“Patrick?”
“Yeah, who is this? What time is it?”
“Sorry to wake you up so early, I couldn’t sleep and couldn’t wait any longer to talk to you.”
“Who is this?”
“Laura, do you remember me? From last summer? Your girlfriend.”
“Oh….” He remembered. Laura had been his sort of steady girlfriend then, until it got inconvenient anyway.
“’Oh? So you remember?”
“Yeah, how are you, Laura?” This was not the pleasant wake up call he had hoped for when he picked up. A biopic flashed in his mind, one that featured a sobbing Laura crying at a coffee shop while he casually walked away after telling her off. Not the best way to break up. She was a clingy spoiled brat, only daughter of a prominent industrialist. He got bored of her constant craving for attention and tantrums. They went out for 3 months, that was a year ago.
“Listen, could you meet me for breakfast? I have something of importance to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you over the phone. Can we meet?”
“I can’t today, can we do this some other time?” Patrick was feeling irritated, sensing some trickery.
“It has to be today, Patrick. I’m leaving tomorrow for the States.”
“I can’t, sorry. Let’s do this when you get back, ok? Bye.” He hung up as she was about to say something. He didn’t really care.
But now he did care. There was something eerie with the phone call. It was too early for starters to be unimportant and he realized that her voice had a maturity that he had not recognized since they last spoke. He tried to distract himself with work. Whatever that was, he didn’t want to care. For all he knew it was a ploy to get him to be with her again. That was all too familiar with girls of her character after all. He had had dozens of them, and it was always the same song and dance after the break-up.
During the day, she called him up four times. He put his phone off the fifth time, he was meet up with Renee and didn’t want the distraction of having to wonder about what the mystery message was. The night ended as he had planned, in the jacuzzi with Renee. He had forgotten all about Laura and life went on as usual. It wasn’t until the next morning that he had remembered her again. She left a message that just read ‘I’m sorry.’. That was that, he thought.
III
So life went on for Patrick. This was a particularly busy month. A lot of planning was going on and he had to shuttle between the regional office in Hong Kong and his own in Manila. He already had his vacation planned out. A remote wine producing villa in Spain, then a sort of pilgrimage to Portugal as he had read in a popular book. He had already finished up business in Hong Kong and was on a flight back to Manila. There was the business of hiring a new assistant to be dealt with and a brief meeting with the local executives regarding the regional direction the company was to take for the next five years. Pretty routine.
He had landed in Manila at dawn and called up his driver. It would be a good 20 minutes before the car would arrive, he thought and proceeded to the lounge to relax a bit. He ordered a drink from the bar and picked up the local broadsheet. As usual, he read the paper starting from the sports section at the back, then he would work his way to the front page. Page 16, Tiger Woods was making sports headlines once again and he made a mental note to call up his colleague for the number of his golf pro. He could use the distraction, and maybe pick up some useful contacts in the process. His phone rang midway through page 8, the car was coming up. Absent mindedly, he clutched the paper under his arm, picked up his luggage and made his way to the airport pick-up gate. He continued reading in the car. Page 4, a mention of his company in the editorial pages, something about an upsurge in local investment. He smiled, knowing that he had engineered the capital inflow, sensing a more stable region in the coming years as capital shifted from Europe to the third world. He peeked out of the window, the usual traffic jam and incompetent traffic management. He buried himself once again in the paper. He never made it to the front page.
The car stopped at the entrance of his building as he fixed his eyes to a small article near the bottom section of the second page. There was a small file photograph of her dad in what seemed like a speaking engagement maybe a few years ago. Realizing his stop, he folded the paper and got our just as the driver popped open the trunk for his luggage. A utility man emerged from the glass doors to greet him and take his luggage. Patrick nodded his thanks and proceeded to the elevator. The man followed and pushed his floor for him as he started reading the article. The headline read: ‘Industrialist’s Daughter Commits Suicide’. He was shocked, he stared at the headline long enough to be certain of what he read. There was no mistake. He again glanced at the photograph of her father, for the first time he noticed a resemblance to Laura. The elevator rang as it stopped on his floor. He followed the sharp ping, almost sure it was lightning striking him. The man had already walked out of the elevator before Patrick found his feet. He could feel his kneed almost giving way as he slowly walked to the already waiting figure by his door. He fumbled for his money-clip and gave the man a crisp note as thanks. The man smiled as Patrick waved off his offer to set the luggage inside. He watched as the man rushed back to the elevator before the wood paneled doors closed. Patrick went inside still not knowing what to think of Laura’s suicide. He set his bags in the middle of the room and continued reading.
The article reported that Katarina Laura Aragon, only daughter of Industrialist Joselito Aragon had commited suicide by hanging while vacationing in the States. There were no other details other than a brief biography of both father and late daughter and that Laura’s remains were to be brought to Manila today. The funeral was to be open only for relatives and close friends at their house in Manila before it was to be cremated the day after.
Patrick leaned back and tried to let all that information sink in. He got up, poured himself a large drink and sat back down again. Was he responsible? He didn’t know. How could he be? He last saw her more than a year ago, and he knew for a fact that she had had another boyfriend after him. That phone call? It couldn’t be anything more than a longing for a simple chat, could it? They had not met since their break-up and he had thought for certain that she had already forgotten about their short relationship and moved on. He had finished his drink and got up for another. This time he thought of nothing, his mind going blank.
The next day, he was unsure if it was wise to pay his last respects for Laura. If he was the reason for her depression or whatever it was, his presence would have been extremely inappropriate. But Patrick wanted to go. He needed to for his own benefit. Though confident he had no direct involvement, he had to be certain that he had nothing to do with her demise if only to absolutely rid himself of any guilt.
He had decided that he will be paying his last respects. He called up his office to say that he will be coming in after lunch and got his car from the garage. He knew the place pretty well, Laura had invited him on several occassions there for socials and to hang out. He couldn’t shake off their last phone call and the way he had acted toward her. He had already prepared his defense in case anyone else knew of her calls to him. He had also prepared himself to make a graceful exit complete with white flowers if he sensed any unwelcome stares his way.
Driving up to the towering iron-wrought gates, he had been asked for his identification. He had fought off his growing desire to back-up and drive off as quick as he could and presented his I.D. The guard called up someone within the house and after an anxious 30 seconds or so, gave him back his I.D. and pointed him to an available parking slot. He had just got out of the car when he spotted her father come out of the house and walked directly toward him. Nervously, he squared up to face anything that her father would throw his way. He saw a sad expression on the oncomer’s and just when Patrick thought he would be manhandled to the ground and given a beating by a man well over 60, he felt weary arms around him in an embrace. Shock came upon Patrick who had never really hit it off with this man while he was dating his daughter. He too put his arms around him more out of relief than anything.
“Am glad you are here and well.”, said Mr. Aragon.
“My deepest condolences.”
“Thank you. Please come in, Patrick.” He was stunned that he knew who he was. He was ushered into the house by the man he had feared coming here. A drink was put into his hand and they talked briefly about Laura. Patrick dared not ask the reason for her suicide, but was utterly relieved to confirm that he was not the reason. Mr. Aragon too never said anything remotely related to her death. Except for the very personal greeting outside, Mr. Aragon didn’t look into his eyes but scanned the marble floor most of the conversation. After a few minutes, Mr. Aragon had excused himself to greet another guest that had just walked in. Before walking off, he had invited Patrick to stay a little longer so that they could talk a bit. Patrick nodded agreement, but made up his mind that he was already leaving before long.
As Patrick walked out to the door, he noticed that there were only a few people in attendance. Most were family members, a few people in high places presumable close friends of the family and the help. He laid flowers on a table beside the coffin, said a little prayer and asked forgiveness for being rude to her on the phone. Outside, he heaved a sigh of relief as he heard the soft thud of the car’s door unlocking. He took a last look at the house and saw the unmistakable face of Laura’s father peering at him through the window. He felt a shiver run through him as he punched the car’s accelerator, anxious to be rid of the place.
IV
There is nothing like a clean conscience to foster short memories. Patrick went back to his normal life as soon as he had slept the last of his guilt away. The last few weeks he had heard no other news about Laura. That chapter was over, he had mused. He spent the next few weeks on vacation is Spain and Portugal, exploring the old world on his own. The whole experience had shown him that he hadn’t even scratched the surface of what he could accomplish and what he could become. He had realized that he was still living a shallow life, one that for the longest time he thought was all there was.
Once back from his journey, he had another mission in life. He would give notice to the company that he would be retiring early to pursue other endeavors. He figured in two years, he would have enough to cover his finances for life. Then he would be free to become an explorer, to see the real world in all its dimensions.
He had planned everything, he would research all the interesting places in the old, as well as the new worlds. He would backpack his way through the ancient silk routes of Asia, uncover the mysteries of Latin America as ancient explorers did, trace the journeys of Alexander the Great and the Roman Empire.
But that would come in two years, for the present Patrick would work doubly hard. He wanted to finish off his career with a flourish, and experience everything that his present life could offer. After all, he would abandon this life soon and embrace another. Patrick wanted to be sure to leave no stone unturned.
The following days, Patrick travelled to the United States for business. It was for a big merger for the company and he had been selected to be part of the team. It was the biggest responsibility that he had to handle and Patrick was loving it. In New York, he was meeting executives on a daily basis. He realized he was almost to the point of burning out and had to take a much needed break. During a one day break, he decided to forget about business and relax. He settled into an old fashioned diner just outside the city, one resembling the classic diners he saw all too often in the movies. An hour into his breakfast, he took another cup of coffee when a woman approached him, “Are you a Filipino?”
“Yes, and so are you!” he smiled.
“Guilty. There aren’t too many of our countrymen in this part of the state and I think I know everyone of them. So you’re new here?”
“I’m on business actually, just took a break from the bustle of the city.”
“Well, you picked the perfect place. This is as slow-paced as you’ll find within the state. I’m Sandra by the way.”
“Patrick. You’ve been here long?”
“Afraid so. Been living here for fifteen years now. But I do visit the Philippines every two years or so on vacation.”
“When was the last time you were there?”
“Not too long ago. I just came back maybe a month ago.”
“So where did you vacation back there?”
“Not a vacation, family matters.”
“I see. Where is your family in the Philippines, exactly?”
“Manila.”
“Am from Manila, too. Maybe next time you’re there we could meet, I could show you around the country.”
“I’ll probably do that. I don’t have too many friends there, just my cousins.”
“So where did they take you last month?”
“Nowhere, I just stayed there a couple of days.”
“So short?”
“Well, it wasn’t really planned so I had to get back here as soon as possible anyway.”
“What exactly did you do there anyway? A reunion?”
“Not exactly. I brought my cousin there. You see, she died here but the service and interment was to be done there upon the request of her dad. Maybe you heard of it? Uncle Joe is quite a figure there, you see. His name is Joselito Aragon.” Patrick felt his whole body shudder at the mention of the name.
“Yeah, he’s well-known.”
“Anyway, my cousin was his only daughter and he wanted to bring her to the Philippines so he would always remember her.” Patrick looked down on his coffee as she spoke. He felt goosebumps all over himself. He was suddenly brought back to the last phone conversation with Laura and the guilt once again consumed him. He needed to know.
“What happened to his daughter, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Well, she went here for treatments but that didn’t work, I guess. She was diagnosed with HIV too late. She never knew she had been carrying it all that time and by the time she did know, her body was too weak to support the treatments. She couldn’t accept what happened to her and we just found her hanging from the ceiling, she had taken her own life, you see.”
Patrick was in shock. He felt all the life running out of him. He was getting dizzy and without excusing himself nor waiting for another word, he ran straight to the bathroom and his stomach turned. His heartbeat raced and his mind struggled to comprehend all the words she said.
“Are you alright? What’s wrong?” Patrick didn’t see her as his mind tried to piece together the phone call, the message Laura sent, and her dad’s reaction to him. He repeated everything in his mind over and over, everything fit.
“It fit. It all fits” Before Sandra could ask him what he meant, Patrick lost consciousness.
V
Patrick was still sitting on the sofa in his pad. His mind still blank as he willed it to be. Every now and then, flashes of memory came across. Being alone in an unfamiliar hospital where he was brought after he had fainted. The doctor coming in with results of the blood tests, confirming a positive result. Being flown back to Manila to be mobbed by journalists amidst the bright white light of their cameras. It seemed like only yesterday.
He had refused to be sent to a treatment facility, preferring to stay at home. He quit working. Though the company did promise a hefty separation package and volunteered to get treatment for him, he refused to use the money or avail of treatment. One day Mr. Aragon visited him and told him everything his daughter went through, as if offering support. He had thought Laura had already told him about it before she left to get treatments and assumed he was negative when he showed up at her funeral. His long lost friends and family visited him at times but he only felt more pity for himself. The worst came when doctors and health workers asked him to name all those he became intimate with. Each name he gave fell upon him like a boulder settled on his shoulders.
He took another cigarette and lit up. The phone rang. He never left the phone ringing since that last time with Laura. This time it was the doctor informing him that another of the names he gave turned out negative. It wasn’t always good news though.
He took another look at his pad, He smiles as he remembers not so long ago when everything was perfect. His smile turns into an uncontrollable laughter, as tears roll down his face. He stands up, and pours himself a large drink. He goes to the bath, still laughing. He lights up another cigarette, lies down in the jacuzzi and takes a huge gulp of his drink. He stops his hysterical laughing and wipes the tears from his face. He takes one last drag on his cigarette, finished the last of his drink, opens the tap and turns face down.
He looks around at the house, he smiles at the mess. There is an ironic sense of freedom which passes over him, fully knowing that there is no one else to witness the chaos. Not anymore anyway. Patrick scans the rest of the kitchen for sustenance, spotting a cereal box of rice crispies. Grabbing a large spoon, he scoops up a large helping straight from the box. He groans at the noise which is too much for his debilitated condition. He takes a drink of cold coffee again, allowing the slurry in his mouth to slide slowly down his throat. He picks up a pack of cigarettes from the table and lights one up. He savors his first puff, taking a large breath and pausing until he could feel the nicotine rising to his head. His body goes limp with the heady sensation and he settles onto a nearby chair, sucking another lungful.
His mind goes blank, resisting the urge to get some perspective of the day ahead.
Once upon a time, Patrick had a regular job. His colleagues looked up to him as responsible and respectable. Of course Patrick knew this and was quite proud of himself. He was a successful man, he thought. Everything was on the up and up, he was on top of the world! As such, he regarded himself as an example to be emulated by all. His successful career provided well financially, there was no shortage of warm bodies filling his bed and he was at the peak of fitness and health.
I
A few short months ago, another Monday morning, Patrick gathered himself out of bed, careful not to wake up the warm body beside him while he freed himself from her exhausted embrace. He paced the bedroom, timing his breaths with the up and down motion of his dumbbell laden arms. He next did another routine exercise, then another before gently stroking the pearly white thighs of Shiela to awaken her. He smiled, more to himself than her, admiring his own prowess. In another hour and a half, he had dropped her off at a waiting shed and drove off to work.
It was an uneventful morning. Usual emails, usual coffee, usual office chit-chat by the pantry and the usual sly stares at the new accountant’s cleavage. It was almost boring. The highlight of his day would be the lunch presentation he was to give for their manufacturing and marketing divisions. It provided another opportunity for him to show upper management that he was in charge and ready for bigger things.
And so he got down to real work. Reviewing, updating and practicing his presentation. This was fun. Checking his watch, he got up and put on his suit, ready to awe and inspire once again… move over everyone!
The rest of the day was great for Patrick. At around 5:00 he was getting ready to leave the office when his phone rang. A distant voice from the other line broke through the transceiver, almost inaudible amid the humming static.
“Hello?”
“Patrick………. maybe…….. got it.....”
“I can’t understand you, could you get to a better spot? I can’t hear you that well.” The voice was female but there was no way he could know for certain who it was. The timbre was mature, probably in her 30’s, he could hear passing traffic through the static but nothing that would place the caller in a specific location. The line went dead during the next seconds as the voice seemingly shouted muffled blahs amid the buzz. He felt some alarm over the call, maybe there was something wrong but he could’nt imagine what sort of emergency would concern him.
So Patrick finished off the rest of his work and turned off the lights and his computer and headed home. For him, home was a cozy loft at the 20th floor right smack in the middle of an exclusive neighborhood. He was quite proud of this particular investment of his. For 5 years since grad school, he scrimped every single centavo and worked like a maniac for a third tier job that barely compensated him but had the promise of a uniquely advanced training program. He worked Christmases and holidays, never making time to see his parents, friends or new relationships. Each day had been a dish of instant noodles, work and bed but he knew this was temporary and soon he would have time for everything.
So for 5 years, he had been a lifeless drone blindly marching to the beat of the hive. Then that opportunity he had patiently been waiting for suddenly came: an offer to be working for a top global corporation with a hefty financial package and benefits to boot. Without any second thought Patrick had seized the job and worked harder than ever. He lost all his friends, alienated his family and slept in the office most days. He was determined, focused and hungry for anything and everything that would advance his now promising career. Another 5 years had passed and soon, he found himself in a corner office, with more time for himself and even more money than he could spend in a decade.
At this point, Patrick knew he had made it enough to finally live his dream life. He bought a posh pad, the sportscar that everyone wanted but couldn’t afford, and just as easily re-created himself to become the devil-may-care man about town that everyone loathed but secretly wanted to become. He had paid his dues, and now payback was upon him.
He poured himself a drink, settled into the lap of Italy’s finest art-deco couch and smiled, stifling a laugh that mocked the world that once shunned him into mediocrity and insignificance. He had finally won.
II
Dawn woke him with the shrill electronic shriek of the telephone. He picked up but before he could say anything, he recognized the same voice that had called him amid static just the day before.
“Patrick?”
“Yeah, who is this? What time is it?”
“Sorry to wake you up so early, I couldn’t sleep and couldn’t wait any longer to talk to you.”
“Who is this?”
“Laura, do you remember me? From last summer? Your girlfriend.”
“Oh….” He remembered. Laura had been his sort of steady girlfriend then, until it got inconvenient anyway.
“’Oh? So you remember?”
“Yeah, how are you, Laura?” This was not the pleasant wake up call he had hoped for when he picked up. A biopic flashed in his mind, one that featured a sobbing Laura crying at a coffee shop while he casually walked away after telling her off. Not the best way to break up. She was a clingy spoiled brat, only daughter of a prominent industrialist. He got bored of her constant craving for attention and tantrums. They went out for 3 months, that was a year ago.
“Listen, could you meet me for breakfast? I have something of importance to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you over the phone. Can we meet?”
“I can’t today, can we do this some other time?” Patrick was feeling irritated, sensing some trickery.
“It has to be today, Patrick. I’m leaving tomorrow for the States.”
“I can’t, sorry. Let’s do this when you get back, ok? Bye.” He hung up as she was about to say something. He didn’t really care.
But now he did care. There was something eerie with the phone call. It was too early for starters to be unimportant and he realized that her voice had a maturity that he had not recognized since they last spoke. He tried to distract himself with work. Whatever that was, he didn’t want to care. For all he knew it was a ploy to get him to be with her again. That was all too familiar with girls of her character after all. He had had dozens of them, and it was always the same song and dance after the break-up.
During the day, she called him up four times. He put his phone off the fifth time, he was meet up with Renee and didn’t want the distraction of having to wonder about what the mystery message was. The night ended as he had planned, in the jacuzzi with Renee. He had forgotten all about Laura and life went on as usual. It wasn’t until the next morning that he had remembered her again. She left a message that just read ‘I’m sorry.’. That was that, he thought.
III
So life went on for Patrick. This was a particularly busy month. A lot of planning was going on and he had to shuttle between the regional office in Hong Kong and his own in Manila. He already had his vacation planned out. A remote wine producing villa in Spain, then a sort of pilgrimage to Portugal as he had read in a popular book. He had already finished up business in Hong Kong and was on a flight back to Manila. There was the business of hiring a new assistant to be dealt with and a brief meeting with the local executives regarding the regional direction the company was to take for the next five years. Pretty routine.
He had landed in Manila at dawn and called up his driver. It would be a good 20 minutes before the car would arrive, he thought and proceeded to the lounge to relax a bit. He ordered a drink from the bar and picked up the local broadsheet. As usual, he read the paper starting from the sports section at the back, then he would work his way to the front page. Page 16, Tiger Woods was making sports headlines once again and he made a mental note to call up his colleague for the number of his golf pro. He could use the distraction, and maybe pick up some useful contacts in the process. His phone rang midway through page 8, the car was coming up. Absent mindedly, he clutched the paper under his arm, picked up his luggage and made his way to the airport pick-up gate. He continued reading in the car. Page 4, a mention of his company in the editorial pages, something about an upsurge in local investment. He smiled, knowing that he had engineered the capital inflow, sensing a more stable region in the coming years as capital shifted from Europe to the third world. He peeked out of the window, the usual traffic jam and incompetent traffic management. He buried himself once again in the paper. He never made it to the front page.
The car stopped at the entrance of his building as he fixed his eyes to a small article near the bottom section of the second page. There was a small file photograph of her dad in what seemed like a speaking engagement maybe a few years ago. Realizing his stop, he folded the paper and got our just as the driver popped open the trunk for his luggage. A utility man emerged from the glass doors to greet him and take his luggage. Patrick nodded his thanks and proceeded to the elevator. The man followed and pushed his floor for him as he started reading the article. The headline read: ‘Industrialist’s Daughter Commits Suicide’. He was shocked, he stared at the headline long enough to be certain of what he read. There was no mistake. He again glanced at the photograph of her father, for the first time he noticed a resemblance to Laura. The elevator rang as it stopped on his floor. He followed the sharp ping, almost sure it was lightning striking him. The man had already walked out of the elevator before Patrick found his feet. He could feel his kneed almost giving way as he slowly walked to the already waiting figure by his door. He fumbled for his money-clip and gave the man a crisp note as thanks. The man smiled as Patrick waved off his offer to set the luggage inside. He watched as the man rushed back to the elevator before the wood paneled doors closed. Patrick went inside still not knowing what to think of Laura’s suicide. He set his bags in the middle of the room and continued reading.
The article reported that Katarina Laura Aragon, only daughter of Industrialist Joselito Aragon had commited suicide by hanging while vacationing in the States. There were no other details other than a brief biography of both father and late daughter and that Laura’s remains were to be brought to Manila today. The funeral was to be open only for relatives and close friends at their house in Manila before it was to be cremated the day after.
Patrick leaned back and tried to let all that information sink in. He got up, poured himself a large drink and sat back down again. Was he responsible? He didn’t know. How could he be? He last saw her more than a year ago, and he knew for a fact that she had had another boyfriend after him. That phone call? It couldn’t be anything more than a longing for a simple chat, could it? They had not met since their break-up and he had thought for certain that she had already forgotten about their short relationship and moved on. He had finished his drink and got up for another. This time he thought of nothing, his mind going blank.
The next day, he was unsure if it was wise to pay his last respects for Laura. If he was the reason for her depression or whatever it was, his presence would have been extremely inappropriate. But Patrick wanted to go. He needed to for his own benefit. Though confident he had no direct involvement, he had to be certain that he had nothing to do with her demise if only to absolutely rid himself of any guilt.
He had decided that he will be paying his last respects. He called up his office to say that he will be coming in after lunch and got his car from the garage. He knew the place pretty well, Laura had invited him on several occassions there for socials and to hang out. He couldn’t shake off their last phone call and the way he had acted toward her. He had already prepared his defense in case anyone else knew of her calls to him. He had also prepared himself to make a graceful exit complete with white flowers if he sensed any unwelcome stares his way.
Driving up to the towering iron-wrought gates, he had been asked for his identification. He had fought off his growing desire to back-up and drive off as quick as he could and presented his I.D. The guard called up someone within the house and after an anxious 30 seconds or so, gave him back his I.D. and pointed him to an available parking slot. He had just got out of the car when he spotted her father come out of the house and walked directly toward him. Nervously, he squared up to face anything that her father would throw his way. He saw a sad expression on the oncomer’s and just when Patrick thought he would be manhandled to the ground and given a beating by a man well over 60, he felt weary arms around him in an embrace. Shock came upon Patrick who had never really hit it off with this man while he was dating his daughter. He too put his arms around him more out of relief than anything.
“Am glad you are here and well.”, said Mr. Aragon.
“My deepest condolences.”
“Thank you. Please come in, Patrick.” He was stunned that he knew who he was. He was ushered into the house by the man he had feared coming here. A drink was put into his hand and they talked briefly about Laura. Patrick dared not ask the reason for her suicide, but was utterly relieved to confirm that he was not the reason. Mr. Aragon too never said anything remotely related to her death. Except for the very personal greeting outside, Mr. Aragon didn’t look into his eyes but scanned the marble floor most of the conversation. After a few minutes, Mr. Aragon had excused himself to greet another guest that had just walked in. Before walking off, he had invited Patrick to stay a little longer so that they could talk a bit. Patrick nodded agreement, but made up his mind that he was already leaving before long.
As Patrick walked out to the door, he noticed that there were only a few people in attendance. Most were family members, a few people in high places presumable close friends of the family and the help. He laid flowers on a table beside the coffin, said a little prayer and asked forgiveness for being rude to her on the phone. Outside, he heaved a sigh of relief as he heard the soft thud of the car’s door unlocking. He took a last look at the house and saw the unmistakable face of Laura’s father peering at him through the window. He felt a shiver run through him as he punched the car’s accelerator, anxious to be rid of the place.
IV
There is nothing like a clean conscience to foster short memories. Patrick went back to his normal life as soon as he had slept the last of his guilt away. The last few weeks he had heard no other news about Laura. That chapter was over, he had mused. He spent the next few weeks on vacation is Spain and Portugal, exploring the old world on his own. The whole experience had shown him that he hadn’t even scratched the surface of what he could accomplish and what he could become. He had realized that he was still living a shallow life, one that for the longest time he thought was all there was.
Once back from his journey, he had another mission in life. He would give notice to the company that he would be retiring early to pursue other endeavors. He figured in two years, he would have enough to cover his finances for life. Then he would be free to become an explorer, to see the real world in all its dimensions.
He had planned everything, he would research all the interesting places in the old, as well as the new worlds. He would backpack his way through the ancient silk routes of Asia, uncover the mysteries of Latin America as ancient explorers did, trace the journeys of Alexander the Great and the Roman Empire.
But that would come in two years, for the present Patrick would work doubly hard. He wanted to finish off his career with a flourish, and experience everything that his present life could offer. After all, he would abandon this life soon and embrace another. Patrick wanted to be sure to leave no stone unturned.
The following days, Patrick travelled to the United States for business. It was for a big merger for the company and he had been selected to be part of the team. It was the biggest responsibility that he had to handle and Patrick was loving it. In New York, he was meeting executives on a daily basis. He realized he was almost to the point of burning out and had to take a much needed break. During a one day break, he decided to forget about business and relax. He settled into an old fashioned diner just outside the city, one resembling the classic diners he saw all too often in the movies. An hour into his breakfast, he took another cup of coffee when a woman approached him, “Are you a Filipino?”
“Yes, and so are you!” he smiled.
“Guilty. There aren’t too many of our countrymen in this part of the state and I think I know everyone of them. So you’re new here?”
“I’m on business actually, just took a break from the bustle of the city.”
“Well, you picked the perfect place. This is as slow-paced as you’ll find within the state. I’m Sandra by the way.”
“Patrick. You’ve been here long?”
“Afraid so. Been living here for fifteen years now. But I do visit the Philippines every two years or so on vacation.”
“When was the last time you were there?”
“Not too long ago. I just came back maybe a month ago.”
“So where did you vacation back there?”
“Not a vacation, family matters.”
“I see. Where is your family in the Philippines, exactly?”
“Manila.”
“Am from Manila, too. Maybe next time you’re there we could meet, I could show you around the country.”
“I’ll probably do that. I don’t have too many friends there, just my cousins.”
“So where did they take you last month?”
“Nowhere, I just stayed there a couple of days.”
“So short?”
“Well, it wasn’t really planned so I had to get back here as soon as possible anyway.”
“What exactly did you do there anyway? A reunion?”
“Not exactly. I brought my cousin there. You see, she died here but the service and interment was to be done there upon the request of her dad. Maybe you heard of it? Uncle Joe is quite a figure there, you see. His name is Joselito Aragon.” Patrick felt his whole body shudder at the mention of the name.
“Yeah, he’s well-known.”
“Anyway, my cousin was his only daughter and he wanted to bring her to the Philippines so he would always remember her.” Patrick looked down on his coffee as she spoke. He felt goosebumps all over himself. He was suddenly brought back to the last phone conversation with Laura and the guilt once again consumed him. He needed to know.
“What happened to his daughter, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Well, she went here for treatments but that didn’t work, I guess. She was diagnosed with HIV too late. She never knew she had been carrying it all that time and by the time she did know, her body was too weak to support the treatments. She couldn’t accept what happened to her and we just found her hanging from the ceiling, she had taken her own life, you see.”
Patrick was in shock. He felt all the life running out of him. He was getting dizzy and without excusing himself nor waiting for another word, he ran straight to the bathroom and his stomach turned. His heartbeat raced and his mind struggled to comprehend all the words she said.
“Are you alright? What’s wrong?” Patrick didn’t see her as his mind tried to piece together the phone call, the message Laura sent, and her dad’s reaction to him. He repeated everything in his mind over and over, everything fit.
“It fit. It all fits” Before Sandra could ask him what he meant, Patrick lost consciousness.
V
Patrick was still sitting on the sofa in his pad. His mind still blank as he willed it to be. Every now and then, flashes of memory came across. Being alone in an unfamiliar hospital where he was brought after he had fainted. The doctor coming in with results of the blood tests, confirming a positive result. Being flown back to Manila to be mobbed by journalists amidst the bright white light of their cameras. It seemed like only yesterday.
He had refused to be sent to a treatment facility, preferring to stay at home. He quit working. Though the company did promise a hefty separation package and volunteered to get treatment for him, he refused to use the money or avail of treatment. One day Mr. Aragon visited him and told him everything his daughter went through, as if offering support. He had thought Laura had already told him about it before she left to get treatments and assumed he was negative when he showed up at her funeral. His long lost friends and family visited him at times but he only felt more pity for himself. The worst came when doctors and health workers asked him to name all those he became intimate with. Each name he gave fell upon him like a boulder settled on his shoulders.
He took another cigarette and lit up. The phone rang. He never left the phone ringing since that last time with Laura. This time it was the doctor informing him that another of the names he gave turned out negative. It wasn’t always good news though.
He took another look at his pad, He smiles as he remembers not so long ago when everything was perfect. His smile turns into an uncontrollable laughter, as tears roll down his face. He stands up, and pours himself a large drink. He goes to the bath, still laughing. He lights up another cigarette, lies down in the jacuzzi and takes a huge gulp of his drink. He stops his hysterical laughing and wipes the tears from his face. He takes one last drag on his cigarette, finished the last of his drink, opens the tap and turns face down.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Sunday Morning
Hap thought of doing something this morning, having 'wakened early enough to sluggishly crawl out of bed and struggle with the coffee jar lid. He then took on his usual routine of staring that irritating stain on the wall, coffee mug in hand and a lit cigarette perched on his lips.
It was too early in the morning, way too early for a sunday. It either means something
significant is going to happen in the next few hours, or Hap would crawl right back into bed and wake up the next day. Well, after five more cigarettes and two cold cups of coffee later, Hap found himself staring at a brightly lit computer screen and began typing away at this particular piece of self indulgent prose. It was going to be a long day ahead.
Hmm... probably best that Hap start from how he began to make the page. Truth is, Hap
doesn't have a clue on how to set up a blog site. After a few attempts in the months past
where he would manage to forget his password, he finally acknowledged the fact that he is an absolute dolt when it comes to setting up email accounts and blog sites. So he did the best thing that he could think of through the heavy mist of cigarette smoke and enlisted the help of an expert, his friend Ethel who really had nothing better to do than read astrological mumbo jumbo online.
Now Ethel understood his utter frustration and set up the email account and blog site for
him. Of course, the whole process involved massive amounts of heckling, name calling and sarcasm over yahoo messenger but it came out quite satisfactorily, Hap thought. Now Hap had something better (?) to do than pick at that weird rash that suddenly appeared on his nape.
So Hap started out on something that he thought made some sense, the topic he thought of was on his impending lessons in golf. He started out with a title, and then got nowhere from there really fast. So wisely, Hap dumped that idea and proceeded to download a piece of software that would enable him to watch avi format videos and movies on his computer, and that does not necessarily mean porn, mind you.
Ahh.. the start of another restless Sunday.
It was too early in the morning, way too early for a sunday. It either means something
significant is going to happen in the next few hours, or Hap would crawl right back into bed and wake up the next day. Well, after five more cigarettes and two cold cups of coffee later, Hap found himself staring at a brightly lit computer screen and began typing away at this particular piece of self indulgent prose. It was going to be a long day ahead.
Hmm... probably best that Hap start from how he began to make the page. Truth is, Hap
doesn't have a clue on how to set up a blog site. After a few attempts in the months past
where he would manage to forget his password, he finally acknowledged the fact that he is an absolute dolt when it comes to setting up email accounts and blog sites. So he did the best thing that he could think of through the heavy mist of cigarette smoke and enlisted the help of an expert, his friend Ethel who really had nothing better to do than read astrological mumbo jumbo online.
Now Ethel understood his utter frustration and set up the email account and blog site for
him. Of course, the whole process involved massive amounts of heckling, name calling and sarcasm over yahoo messenger but it came out quite satisfactorily, Hap thought. Now Hap had something better (?) to do than pick at that weird rash that suddenly appeared on his nape.
So Hap started out on something that he thought made some sense, the topic he thought of was on his impending lessons in golf. He started out with a title, and then got nowhere from there really fast. So wisely, Hap dumped that idea and proceeded to download a piece of software that would enable him to watch avi format videos and movies on his computer, and that does not necessarily mean porn, mind you.
Ahh.. the start of another restless Sunday.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)