waiting is no fun

one of these days i am going to paris and stay there for a long time. i can't say for good yet because i really want to go see how manila is right now. i really have no reason to go back - aside from family. and yes, i'll admit it, the writing culture, both literary and journalism. but it is a world i could never fit in. thus, if i were to be a stranger of the world, i might as well be somewhere i totally might not be able to relate much to.

how arrogant of me to disregard chicago. the city has done me nothing but good, actually. i have even yet to truly penetrate the writing culture here. i have written and contributed much, but only in marginal ways. i keep on listening to folks who refuse to pay the price to even try.

maybe that's exactly what i need anyways - to travel, and stay there for lengths of time. to travel, and meet and learn about various cultures and ideas. to be disciplined and acquire courage to be trimmed - and even i get tried of these monologues.

but today, today was a perfect, sunny day. the dark is descending now actually, ahaha, i have to head back to the house soon. i'm at chicago's gold coast neighborhood - it is GREAT to finally spend some time here. i actually just wanted to go to a starbucks, and here i am. :-) i need to do some work, and i like to people watch, but i don't want to be obvious about it. i didn't realize that this cafe has its own resident loonie ahaha - or maybe he's just friendly, and we the customers of this high-end starbucks think he's a character.

he is a man in a black trench coat and black leather zorro-like hat that was doing poses for a sketcher who indulges him. when i took this seat by the window, the man started posing more and joking, the people outside him obliging him. and then he entered the store and leaned close to my shoulder. the sketcher actually sits on an outside bench directly before me, so he can just say he was looking at her sketch, but you kinna wonder because he can just ask her to show him. he changes position to my other shoulder, and sits at the couch near this bar. interesting, isn't it?

the man's companions leave. he sits quietly for a while, stands up, and, pensively, follows their direction. i wonder how different are we, in that i write for strangers to read, and for free, while he might have been in theatre, but there's no show tonight.

i miss talking about dreams and possibilities. i miss being honest about them. i miss getting the real shattered into me, because it means the possibilities remain limitless, and i can start again.

when i go to paris, i want to be a whole person by then ahaha - i want to share it with someone. that's a city i so want to see, and i am going to save it for last. there are a hundred other places and possibilities to consider for the meantime.
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