DO IT PRETTY WITH GRIT

By: Iris P. Concepcion

Some things wheeze on my brain recently that do not seem to coalesce with rationale deduction. I pick them up and sleep on them, flying within the sky-like brain, ready to transfer to my pen, then unto my notebook, and transpose to.........here.

As you are reading this, my title is the only line I can think of.

The pictures above were taken happily with the knowingness of familiar structures.

The first one is a striking bank detail as eyed in Divisoria. Second one is an art installation inside the Cultural Center of the Philippines area; the third one is a beautiful gated detail of Sta. Cruz church. The last one is a political installation via textile. I took it straight from a daily.

I had been amiss in my romantic and serviceable odes to the great better, nay, best other side of self. He is somewhere in the field plowing mud so I can walk with no bristles on my feet. He told me I am fat in a joking manner, and in that communique that I must truly articulate here. Otherwise, I'd go nuts NOT being able to speak when he does all these crazy "Oh, you know I am a hottie" and "I do not care how you'd look like anyway" and so on and so forth, like little waves in our sanctioned, peripheral world.

I wonder what kind of bind these people in a galactical, gut-bonding entails. I find it extremely funny listening to the corniest sentences ever invented. I like his friends, hands up, and they likewise spend crazy skeds following my trail to some aloft state. He does his print via my blank print space. There is a certain calm to his countenance and I envy that. He does it better than myself I suppose because he is attuned to himself as an individual.

G, stop eating my grapes. Can we do something with our rolled-up eyes? I m so envying your confidence. Keep the adlibs to myself. Smiley here? Yes.