and so i had my long weekend, courtesy of Andres Bonifacio. truth be told, i wasnt looking forward to it at all. see, i've been having so much bad mood lately that i have taken to burning incense and watching "pangarap na bituin", even reading tagalog novels. yes, those that come with lyrics of a love song on the back cover. i was determined to enjoy the time off and erase the possibility of despair creeping up on me so i planned the days carefully. my mind was set, each day will be dedicated to drunkenness at night and literary appreciation while mending a hang-over during the day. how fortunate i thought that jessie should own a copy of the much anticipated gabriel garcia marquez book, "the memories of my melancholy whores" because its on my list. saturday morning, the drunkennes now taken cared of, and a hang- over brewing, its time for literature, i laid myself on drowsy, my day bed, and started to read. at first, it was impressive. the idea of an ugly, practically penniless, ninety year old bachelor, celebrating his birthday with a whore to be, 14 year old, virgin seemed both perverse and appealing. i read on... and on... always anticipating that the next page would give justice to the raving reviews i read about the book. i want a climax... alas! the last page was turned and that climax was never to be. i finished the book infuriated. i felt like ive been flirting for hours with the hottest guy in the room, manipulating every element necessary to end up in bed with him, and after all that dirty talk and gallons of sweat... no orgasm! all i could do was get up, light a smoke, and pass the book to girlie. what can i say? misery loves comapany ;)
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