pieces and morsels

these past tv seasons, i've witnessed fans dote on mcdreamy, buoy wentworth miller in prison break, help save the cheerleader and embrace heroes as a favorite, sharpen wits in keeping up with the twists and turns in lost (apologies for all the puns). whilst i stick by my old time choices like er (i know it's not as highly-rated as greys). there are tons of shows to watch on the telly. we can peruse E! all day and take sides between holly and kendra (i take kendra any day-- how did she ever stand next to george lucas?). i've missed my share of nba and baseball actions. technology though has been kind. being quietly curious, i can pause and record. then gaze at all recorded programs in my tv menu including sights of william and harry stooping and kissing all the royal cousins and elders at the guards chapel. how diana's boys have grown. those army shoulders. those genes.

i depend on the generosity of strangers on you tube for my ysabella fix. having abandoned the lopez network when eat bulaga was not renewed in '95 and had to transfer to GMA, i just go back for the usual dose of JAS soaps or guestings. pinoy tearjerkers aren't that mesmerizing. but i do check on JAS when time indulges it. i've heard and read all the scornful opinions of her (look who's talking?). although i've missed esperanza, bkk, krystala and sa piling mo -- almost half of her output, i was here and somewhere, unable to tune in. hopefully the dvd's would come on trickling not only for my vacuous stabs but to the engaging pop culture references of the gilmore girls and the hypnotic sarcasms of house.

when i was romping in contemplation the other day, it occured to me that i haven't been exposed to a karaoke party in two years. not that my retiring self mind too much. it's just too much solitary confinement that it's already bordering on weirdness. i don't fancy an invite. i can't sing. but despite keeping to myself during days off i haven't been an omnivorous reader. not enough fiction in my to-read list. not enough fiction either in my to-write list. i'm trying. but not desperately. there's a dearth of visuals as well. knocked up is so ingeniously jocular, loaded with caveats. but why am i not chortling in the cinema?

the ordeal of the past months will never be abated. i will always remember and never forget. people brush it off, submerged in their own quandaries. there's this pinch of yearning. at least you were not able to experience my throbbing twinges. or those haunting visions.