i sit auspiciously on what would become my thrown for four hours. there's the guy writing god knows what on his journal. he flips it over to his other recent entries. Goes back and forth several times. then we see a grimace. probably looking back on what stupid things he's done and thinking how bad horrible pathetic his life has been. i feel for the guy. over at the farthest table were the odd couple. they were odd on the account that the girl has been dangerously flirting with him but the guy has been eyeing mr. journal. talk about sad. behind me, though i can only see them out of the corner of my eye, were these two girls probably around my age. their chitchat was interesting to hear, but it soon became so dragging that I felt like i'd rather be in history class. so there i was, coffee cup in hand, a book on the other, imagining what could be running in these people's heads.

"shit. my life sucks. i should probably be more spontaneous. that way, i can stop writing about people i see in cafes. it's about time my journal fills up with MY stories."

*note to self: mr. journal has a very good point.*

"i've been playing it cool at first. time to become a bit more daring. darn it. he probably won't budge if i turn into a toad right now. tina's probably right. he's not a metro who's more sensitive than most guys. that rumor probably has some truth to it."

"that guy's pretty hot. eye candy material. what i'd do to bring him home.."

you can just imagine. I was laughing in my head.

i'd run down what the dragging girls are thinking, but i'm scared to make dragging thoughts an epidemic.

it's scary how my imagination can run wild. there are times i even question my own sanity. but my pseudo-hysteria is a corollary in itself. i like losing my sanity just for the sake of being sane. go figure. i probably should consider a shrink. it could get really crazy up there- as crazy as the metrotren breaking loose from the tracks. this paralellism is acurrate on two accounts: (1) i get derailed a lot of times, and when i've managed to stay on track, i take forever to get to where i want to be; and (2), letting my brain loose could probably kill people. if i didn't have much self-control, i'd probably be on the interpol's most wanted list next to an al-qaeda suicide bomber in the making and the korean who went bozo in vt. oh crap. he's dead. he shot himself to oblivion. why he would be on a most wanted list, i have no idea.

back to the cafe.

the rest of the people in the cafe are as interesting as the nail jutting out of my bathroom cabinet. why i even pain myself to think of that sad comparison escapes me. torn between boring myself to death and jumping out of the window, i make the hasty decision to grab my summer book and trudge down to the cafe. i've always found it interesting to see human dynamics and psychological inclinations in a public setup (in short, watch people kill time along with other timekillers). it's really weird that i get mental orgasms from people watching. but thinking about other people's problems helps me forget that i had a near-death experience with boredom. rather than be bored by myself within the constraints of my pale yellow studio, i bore myself along with other people. there's a certain romanticism to that, in a norman bates kind of way. why be problematic on your own when you can be problematic with others? thus, i stick it out in the cafe with the lonely noise that is manila. i just thought that this cafe would be as peaceful as the ones down south. who am i kidding? it's as peaceful as iraq on a really bad day.

i retreat to my ipod-induced lull and see if i could get some reading done. after a while, i was finally able to drown out the busy hum of the streets (unfortunately, there's practically nothing you can do about the stench. after a while, it just grows on you. like a wart does.). but after reading the same paragraph thrice, i decide to give it a rest and entertain myself with thought-picking. let me indulge you with how it usually goes on in my head.

i don't remember what commercial or movie or show it was, but i distinctly remember this girl, doned in the usual jogging ensemble of a tank top, sweat pants, running shoes and the ephemeral ipod, doing rounds around central park. she passes by the lead guy and smiles at him, then he starts yapping, doing something that closely resembles my habit. thought bubbles suddenly come out of nowhere and he starts hearing/reading these people's thoughts. no, it's not that mel gibson chick flick i'm referring to, but something else. Since then, I was bent on making that scene come to life.

what sets his apart from my habit of thought-picking is that he can actually read their thoughts. literally. i, on the other hand, am afforded more poetic justice because i think what i want to. i'm free to come up with the craziest thoughts. which could be dangerous at times. i laughed out loud one time and didn't realize i did. the group of girls i was picking thoughts for gave me cold stares and the look over. since then, i make a conscious effort not to (a) laugh out loud and (b) talk to myself. in case i get tempted to do the latter, i either wait it out till i get to the comfort of my own bath, sit on the toilet and start yapping, or i talk to my laptop instead. Figuratively, idiot.

so in my mind, i see all these induced thought bubbles and let. shit. ack. avril lavigne is singing in japanese. my train of thoughts (pardon the pun) got derailed.

let me replay that. so in my mind, i see all these induced thought bubbles and let my thoughts run wild. shit. avril really is singing in japanese. oh wait. I think the dj heard me thinking out oud. apparently, that was a chinese avril singing. since i practically forgot what i was supposed to say, might as well think of something else to write. the train has fallen off a bottomless cliff and there's no use sifting through the debris for survivors.

"i have to pretend to look busy."

mr. journal looks absorbed with what he's doing. i'd bet my parents' bank account that he's drawing a huge blank.

"wow. hot AND smart. this guy's something else."

the odd couple now look a little less romeo and juliet and more of tom and jerry running down the hallway, the cat armed with a sledge hammer, ready to pounce on the mouse.

"blah, blah, blah. *snooze*"

hey. i'm thought picking. that's how I imagine the dragging girls' thought bubble is. can i help it if they're so shallow, they're practically useless?

i wonder if there are other people out there as lucid as me.