Rained in today. The weekend was awesome, great. The weekday, on the other hand, a mush of glum. A pummeling of senses that probably would've have phased me more if I hadn't taken a much-needed overnight stay in Laguna. Even still, the level of disgust in my mouth could have been circumvented if I took the necessary steps to avoid it previously. Basically, the trip to the province would not be necessary if I honed in on my crosshairs and pulled the trigger months ago.

Last Sunday, during high-noon, I was watching people play cards. Sitting in a front porch hungover, unshaved, filthy. In a genuinely concerned manner, B had asked me if I was alright. I mustered up a "Yeah I'm ok". And that was that. But I had been zombified and brain-dead. I was staring into different empty spaces. Earlier that morning I woke up and was spooning someone on the floor. It was dark. Sleeping, snoring bodies surrounded me. I checked the clock. It was 5 am, meaning I only had about three hours of sleep but I couldn't get back to slumber. I could just only close my eyes. The spooning wasn't romantic or anything. It was a neutral, comfortable. She had woken me up, telling me she had to go home. She had no means of transportation at 5 am. I don't remember what I told her, or if I told her anything at all. This was the best I've felt in ages.

I remember the night before, passing out on the floor. Hearing dogs bark beside me, laying underneath the mattress. Before that, we sang songs and drank brandy. Inbetween then and the singing, I don't recall anything.