Talking in my sleep

I had the most beautiful dream.

There was a concert in Iceland. Or a protest. Or both. A few children were on stage singing "You've been flirting again".

The focus shifted to the last solo.

The child was trembling but still sang beautifully:

"Some things you never should owe."

I want to live in Iceland.

Today

Choose to feel anyway.

Hermit Talk

My body is sore. Such is always the case when I enter into Eisa Jocson's process. Princess is showing tonight. I feel more confident about it now. Perhaps I should direct all my energies–all of them into this. There is no point responding to my mother's messages saying "God put him(Duterte) there to clean this world" and telling me again and again to return to Jesus. Fuck that shit.

I did my daily soak in the tub. I couldn't sit still. However, I did manage to stay in the tub for a good 40 minutes, exactly as I had planned. I thought perhaps it would be better to take a walk instead. Walking around a foreign country has so far yet to afford me a sense of safety. Or perhaps, Dusseldorf is just not that great of a city. It might even really suck. Yesterday I tried to imagine I was just walking down the streets of Cebu. We were on our way to another Japanese restaurant. Surprisingly, I was in the mood for conversation. Until I too got fairly annoyed by my own excess of speech. I had a beer and some cold tofu with nato, a pleasant surprise.

These days I'm beginning to really think about my death in a more practical manner, something that is  bound to happen, maybe sooner, maybe later. It doesn't matter. What matters is I am ready and also I am really not so fond of this world as of late. I'm hoping it's just that. It would be too unfortunate to miss out on things. But yes, this is how I feel. I have to acknowledge this. Sometimes, a clear escape is all so enticing. I'm going to get more books. I really don't mind being a hermit. I really don't.

Romancing Madness

Yesterday, I found myself sitting in a table by the sidewalk. We were eating at this famous ramen place along the main Japanese street here in Dusseldorf. I began to feel uneasy around my companions, the people around me, and the rest of the world. I am not sure if this is what Sartre was referring to with "nausea". All night, I had to fight this profound feeling of contempt for every human being, especially and including myself.

On the plane, on my way here, I finished Eugene Ionesco's The Hermit. It felt like reading through my own diary. It was a lot of fun until I realised the protagonist's ending could also be my own.

The last line of the book reads:

"I took it as a sign."