a write-up, a room, a song

If I like your type of nice, you could ask me to do favors for you such as the following: I could write a short description of yourself for your “first day at the office” intro to your officemates and future drinking buddies. Which is what I did for a good friend.

Here’s the write-up:
Earth-shatteringly sweet. Wordsmith. Looks at the world in a skewed way. Geek and is proud of it. Someone told him that he’s like Scott Pilgrim. Should he believe her? Will look for the most elusive word out there if his life depended on it.

If I like your type of nice, you could ask favors from me. If I like your type of nice.


So I spent one night at a hospital. V’s mom needed to be confined, and I found out I was *needed* there. I remain fearful of hospitals whether they’re located in Taft or in Las Pinas. I had to look away when a body was wheeled out in a gurney. I dashed out like the Mad Hatter late for an appointment when the only entry and exit points were found at the emergency ward and we needed to step out for some errands.

The room was freakishly cold. I wrapped myself with a blanket, a comforter, and a towel, and I still felt cold. The room had several windows with sliding glass cover. My brain was on overdrive, imagining things. It came to a point that I felt the tip of my nose freezing over, and little cracks started to show on my flesh. I tried speaking in a Slavic tongue, fantasizing that I was in Russia. I was waiting for someone to offer me a shot of vodka, but the only drinking vessel available was a mug, and there was only water.


Listening to Devics’ A Secret Message to You…
Remembering the person who suggested that I listen to this song…
Eating a bag of chips while listening to Devic’s A Secret Message to You and remembering the person who suggested that I listen to this song…

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