Another Week In Limbo (and it’s only Wednesday!)

by jenniferbalboa

 

 

Ditched the people of the Philippines versus the petty crooks again. Had to. It gets weirder and weirder there by the day. My desk has been turned into a kitchen lately. My typewriter Mr. Matura, the only real civil servant that I have known for the past ten years, is now side by side with the electric stove, the rice cooker, and other utensils. It’s okay. I get to pick on the food with my bare, carbon paper dirtied hands, when nobody’s looking.

Been enjoying writing for friends. I have two assignments pending. One on Lifehouse (God I so want to be a music journalist! Paging Pulp! Paging Rolling Stone! Yeah right, ehehehe), and one for Gospel Comics (God I so want to be a gospel writer! Paging Louie Jon Sanchez! Paging CFA! Yeah right, after I ditched the exam date).

Have been running out of printed resumes. Have to go to work tomorrow so I could print out more copies.

It will do, though the Supreme Court only issues dot matrix printers. The indomitable dot matrix printer! Astig!

Jesus Christ, wait… it’s only Tuesday!… Tuesday again?

That means it’s been a week since the first part of the exam in that Makati writing/research firm. No call backs yet. Would it be impolite to follow-up? I feel like making a follow up.

Tori has a song called Wednesday. It goes –

Nothing here to fear
I’m just sitting around
being foolish when there
is work to be done
Just a hang-up call
and the quiet breathing
of our Persian
we call Cajun on a Wednesday

so we go from year to year
with secrets we’ve been
keeping
Though you say you’re
not a Templar man

Seems as if we’re
circling for very
different reasons
But one day the Eagle
has to land

Out past the fountain
a left by the station
I start the day
in the usual way
Then think
— well why not —

and stop for a coffee
then begin to recall
things that you say

No one’s at the door
You suggest a ghost
perhaps a phantom
I agree with this in part
Something is with us
I can’t put my
finger on —
is Thumbalina size 10
on a Wednesday —

so we go from year to year
with secrets we’ve been
keeping
Though you say you’re
not a Templar man

Seems as if we’re
circling for very
different reasons
But one day the Eagle
has to land

Out past the fountain
a left by the station
I start the day
in the usual way
Then think — well why not —
and stop for a coffee
then begin to recall
things that you say
Pluck up the courage
and snap it’s gone again
I start humming “When Doves
Cry”

Can someone help me
I think that I’m
Lost here
Lost in a place
called
America

What could it mean when you are losing track of the days?

Jessie from Before Sunset says time is an illusion. T. S. Eliot wrote something about time too –

Because I know that time is always time

And place is always and only place

And what is actual is only actual for one time

And only for one place

I rejoice that things are as they are and

I renounce the blessed face

And renounce the voice

Because I cannot hope to turn again

Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something

Upon which to rejoice

That was part of his poem called Ash Wednesday.

The thing is during the past couple of days, I pissed off some friends in a major way. And I am running out of ideas on how to make amends.

Paging Susanna Heights!

I wish it’s Sunday already. Everything will be well come Sunday.

Wait, what day is it today, really?

It IS Wednesday! Jesus…

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