Sunday Afternoon

     It's a lazy Sunday afternoon.

    James Morrison is crooning from my speakers. He's singing Wonderful World, as if to lull me into a sub-context that losing weight is possible in this lifetime. Hah!

    On the subject of wonderful world, there's a little one behind these magical sound boxes slash speakers---a whole congregation of artists with guitars as shoulder candies. John Mayer is a personal favorite. I always summon him to transport himself from that little world and into myspace (translation : humid, laundry-cluttered area that is my room), but, alas, I go unheeded.

   Depressing situations like these call for ice-cream. I reach for my wallet and find that nothing in there would make for legal tender, unless the ice cream shop cashier person will accept expired shoe store loyalty cards in exchange for Double Dutch. With ice cream already out of the picture, I turn to other options, those a moocher like me can avail at the expense of my eight-hours-a-day be-labored father. Watching TV looks promising. So does sleeping. However, neither of  both activities satisfy a sweet tooth craving.

    But wait, did I not get my sweet food fix yesterday night? (See saliva stimulant------------------------------------------------>) And so, fuelled by the memory of the night past, I settle for TV. Teeny boppers in the likes of Kim Chiu are whoring the camera. I see Panky! A. Breath.Of. Fresh. Air. And I must say, this girl's talent needs no pimping. Just like John Mayer's and James Morrison's. A serious note and commentary on the side, the latter two do not bank on golden boy looks, proof that in the end, it is pure naked talent that counts. Contrast this to Jericho Rosales doing a Maroon 5. You get the drift.

    Oh, I like to go out and get some coffee and suman right now. But, for the sake of redundancy, a mention of the words " I", "am" and "broke" is in order. I can't even afford a cheap 3-in-1 coffee.

    With anything sugary coming my way in an already dim possibility, I move on, vehemently, to sleeping. Rock,paper,scissors. James must have thrown paper to John's scissors because it's John's turn to sing to me from behind the magic speakers. "Your body is a wonderland/ Your body is a wonder...."

How very sweet, John.