lam.also.can.blog

Plenty of liquids, more codine. More pressure on the head. More innocent smiles. So much for the juices we shared between lips. In between pauses, hold your breath. Hold that thought, you and i. Slip your right hand into my backpocket. Slip in a piece of paper. Sip somemore water, sprinkle ‘i love yous’ on the paper. Sprayed it some perfume. Slip it into my conscience. Come yesterday. Come again. Come yesterday and a ticket to buy you dinner. Not tonight, not at my place. Not ala carte. Not fancy but honest. In opinions. Can’t sleep. Too many dreams. More pressure on the head. More innocent smiles, masking intentions. Need chocolates. To impress you. To immense you with sincerity. With chocolates, making moves. Strong fermones from the roof of my mouth. Recept me proper. I’m landing. In between pauses, hold your breath. Hold that thought, hold that… Stop me. Modern, domestic, humble and comprehensive. I’m not eligible to contend. I’m not a man. I’m not someone you’d be passioned with. I’m not happy. I’m not gullible with touch. I’m not directly concerned. I’m not in love, i’m just rushing. I’m just afraid of mutations. Connotations. Bacteria. Hormones. Fame. Vegetables. Lactating. Siamese twins. Sleep. Obesity. Oblivion. I’m not in love, i’m gratified. Give me plenty of liquids, more codine.

Dear Mommy,

I was good yesterday. Well, that is an understatement. I was so very terribly good yesterday that Aunt Lucille started smoking again. So good that she patted my head (with something cold and hard, i remembered) but that was alright, I needed some rest anyways. So good that dinner tasted funny. It tasted like that syrup you’d give me when my throat hurts. Gigolo finally got a leash today and a brand new shade of color for his nose. Daddy said that black was so last summer, the new pink will bring out the sweetness in Gigolo’s eye. Daddy’s being a bitch. That’s was Aunt Lucille’s been repeating all morning. Aunt Lucille loves to scream, doesn’t she? I really hate it when she does. It makes my eyes teary and my ears hurt. But she’d give me five dollars everytime Uncle Lobo came for me to go over to Pickle’s or Gerbie’s or Margaret’s to play. I love to play with Margaret. Natalie is always there everytime i was over like yesterday, we played "what’s under there". It was a new game Margaret learnt on some show she watched with her daddy last week. She said that her daddy said that it’d only be fun if they played it among boys and girls. It was pretty boring cause all we did was to ask what’s under our pants or shirt or armpits or butt. But i found out that there is a ‘W’ between Natalie’s and Margaret’s legs. About the same size and all. No, they couldn’t find any alphabets on my body but they noticed the mole on my butt! My lucky, asymmetrical, winky-winky mole! I let them touch it and make a wish, but only one wish each. I pulled some of Margaret’s hair to keep in my top-secret box. I read some books today. Daddy’s books, Aunt Lucille’s books. I saw a lot of words and there were a lot of soft pages that i accidently tore but I love the pictures and the colors and this car. 1966 Maserati Ghibli. i love the blue. Could you get me one, Mommy? I was good yesterday so you should get me one. I want a blue 1966 Maserati Ghibli. Maybe for Thanksgiving so i could thank you. Or for Christmas? Are you going to visit us this Christmas anyways? Could you come visit us this Christmas instead? Daddy said that i shouldn’t write to you so much so that you could have more time to rehabilitate rather than to listen to my stories. He said that i’m wasting his ink and envelopes but that is because i like to draw dinosaurs and power rangers in his big brown book and on the walls and on the table. Oh, Aunt Lucille’s lip colorers make good crayons on the windows. Gerbie loves the monsters i drew, he says that its art. He says that it would be better if Aunt Lucille had more colours than just shades of red or pink. Okay, Aunt Lucille is calling me now. I think Uncle Lobo is here already. I wish Daddy doesn’t need to go to work everyday and take me out instead. Hmmm, nevermind. Bye bye. Blue 1966 Maserati Ghibli, just in case you forgot. Blue 1966 Maserati Ghibli Blue 1966 Maserati Ghibli Blue 1966 Maserati Ghibli Blue 1966 Maserati Ghibli Blue 1966 Maserati Ghibli i want a Blue 1966 Maserati Ghibli Blue 1966 Maserati Ghibli.

Now Annie, can’t you find any other ways to communicate with love? Your fingers are showing but your feelings aren’t telling. My intellect is conducting mayhem of figures, putting your connotations into figurines. I’m figuring that I want to be the boy. I want ray guns and make belief. I want a nice white car, a Maserati Ghibli. I want marriage in Las Vegas. I want to pull a cartwheel to be the boy to impress you. Now Annie, stop penny pinching with words. Say you’ve got love in your bag. Say you’ve got intentions of purple and gold. Tell me you’ve got intentions of fragrance and rhyme cause I don’t want women. I want smiles from Annie. I want touch and promises. I want you to put on white shoes on Fridays and Sundays. I want you to drop your guard and talk languages. Now Annie, illustrate if you can’t speak. Emancipate your speech with turquoise crayons. Draw them on my bed post, I won’t mind. Draw them on the floor. Draw them on fancy paper. Draw them ineligible, I’ll fight your grammar. Draw a union of tulips and baby’s breath. Draw stick figures of you and me on my bed post cause I won’t be interested in cigarettes, wealth and fame if I can’t be the boy you can’t communicate with love. Now Annie, dumb and lovely. I’ll take you to China or Germany, we’ll fix your vocal chord, I’ve got the money. You and I, we could talk on the phone during lunch or when I’m late. We could go Karaoke. We could make merry with sounds of animals on your bed… Now Annie, now.

I’m unconditional. Like your curls. Like the likes of your twirls. Raise my spirit high. Make me smile. Raise your spirit high. I’m easy. Like your body. Like your juvenile marker pen. Praise fanatic. I’m egoistical. Promises and calculations. Math and audicity. I’m unconditional. co co con. co condition. diti diti diti ti tit tit titititi tional. un. conditional.

I’ve got clothes. I’ve got many many but not too much. I’ve got blue ones, purple ones, red ones, grey ones and even pink. But i cannot keep them in. No, not the closet. Not in a box. Not in a plastic or paper bag. Not under my bed. Not overhead. So i lay them on the floor. I lay them on top of each other and smile. Then i took this picture. I post it here. I took them out to keep them in on the floor and took a picture to post it here. Now i’m happy. Sappy. Clappy. Dappy. I’m a happy, sappy boy. Thank you.

she used to live on my street. she made coffee and lets it slip into my mornings. i can’t see her face, can’t recognize that voice but i memorize the days she’ll stay up late for tv or board games with friends. it could be thursdays or saturdays or mondays when i sleep late to catch those virgin bursts of laughter. can’t catch her up in the lift cause we’re on the first storey. can’t meet her up with my posts cause my letters, they slide under. can’t say hi, when i’m frequently back later than her. she used to jog pass my front door. stealing glimpses through the windows. she loves the radio, when its raining or the mornings of holidays. can’t really recall which song she’d sing along. she used to live on my street. she used to make her coffee thick enough for me to notice. well, i noticed but i’m shy. i’m just a neighbour on her street.

This my friend, is a 1977 Waddingtons Hudsons’ BLACK BOX board game. It plays for two but really, (i’ve read the intructions) it’s ridiculous. It flows with the lists of MONOPOLY, CLUEDO, yada yada… Very retro… r r r r ret ret retro. very. retro. ro ro ro r r r r rr rrr rrrretro.

Nah. My mom and i finally took the time to dig it out from the closet. Sorry its not white or silver or pearl that you wanted. It’s bloody crimson (like blood but not brown) with gold. Pretty  heavy for a clutch bag its size but my mom said that its due to the mesh. Its metal. My opinion, very retro. 1981. That’s older than us. Butt… Its not for sale, only for loan but i think, since you’ll be in white, it should suit you like the A4 paper to my printer. Let me know if you’re interested, yes? Please hurry, cause its junking up my junked-up room…

your sister sees the picture, likes the buttons on my shirt. she likes the motifs on the sleeves, i like her motives too. runs her fingers through her summer, blunts my sight into prayers. i need the release. i need the regrets of pleasure, the poison apple. your sister sees the picture, likes the smiles we exchange. the tickles of our eyelids, well, certain things we hid with cloth. certain things we keep secret in a locker above the lungs. your sister sees the picture of me and you’re in the living room watching Discovery about the monkeys and bees. the flowers on her trees. the seeds i’m planting. ha ha ha…

let’s not change a thing. let’s not make a smile. let’s not change that smile we made up back when we were willing. let’s not make up. let’s not lie about animated gestures we have at the back of our minds. beautiful pictures of love. beautiful people we love. let’s not make people up we love beautifully. let’s not change a thing. let’s not change our mind cause everybody’s listening to someone about smiles and willing companionships. let’s not do anything. let’s laze and not comb our hair today. let us not. not. not. not. not. let. let. let/ us not. let. let. us not. us. us us us us. us not. let us not. not not not. not. not. not. n n n n not.