Woke up out of a dream in which Tausug speakers and Basileños were having a furious argument. I never spoke much (any) Yakan or Samal, and whatever Tausug I once knew has gone by the wayside.
I was at a loss for words.
It was damp, and the heat was oppressive.
Probably just the down comforter.
According to the weathermen we were supposed to have a downpour. Serious rain. Not quite biblical proportions, but something significant.
That was it?!?
Barely even moistened the pavement.
Wahab Akbar was assassinated in 2007, in Quezon City.
I have no idea why that came to mind.
November 13.
In my second dream everybody was eaten frikadel except me, because the hot mustard was gone and I was being neurotic about the proper way to enjoy a deepfried stick of ground horsemeat, binders, texturizers, flavourings, unidentified bestial proteins, salt, and spices.
Sometimes I can be far too picky.
Everything smelled so good.
Hot fat. And nutmeg.
Shag tobacco.
==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
UNCOOPERATIVE RODENT
Some kind of severe weather event will take place this week in Northern California that has all the experts either excited or flummoxed. The...
No comments:
Post a Comment