(no subject)
i miss writing.
the way i miss going home to nueva ecija every summer when i was little, or the way i miss george and sir ronald and the candy i knew back then. i miss it the way old friends are missed when they ride airplanes to live and die in strange places - and while they're there they forget to send chocolates.
i'm going to antipolo for a few days this coming friday. hopefully i get drunk and push somebody off the cliff. then maybe i'd have good material.
going to sleep now. feigning insomnia is crazy.