Bahrain National Museum

From June of last year. I'd have to come back one day. This was for work and doesn't count. Here with my boss, he's local and 50-ish and it's his first time here. Whoot! Glad I've set foot on ours (Museong Pambansa) when I was like 16. Encounter with Spoliarium was awesome. Would have to go back there too, one day!


I wrote this for you.

I've always wished that I did this blog, I Wrote This For You. No erase that. I wish XXXX did write it for me. But apparently, from someone, somewhere:
I Wrote This For You is written by two lovers who respond to each other only through the blog as a way to hide their romance. Collectively, they refer to themselves as Iain Thomas, a character based on a friend they met while traveling in Africa, although sometimes they also refer to themselves as Jon Ellis, whom, it is assumed, is also a character based on a friend.

This was revealed in phone-in television interview on National Singaporean Television in December of 2009.
What then? It's never written for me, that's for sure.


Watch out for Mr. Postman, 'Nor!

Sending one back at my sister in UK. And a postcard for my Philippine-based self, too!

Snail mail is fun. I'm thinking of getting people's postal addresses and send them postcards from Bahrain and stuff. It'll be a nice surprise I guess. And I'm feeling the vibe, like saying hi from out of the blue. Should be fun.

Email/PM/Text me your postal address, will you?


I got moles in my soles. I got Chuck Taylors.

These Chuck Taylor's are made for walking
What the fuck am I still here for?



Puntod Island, Panglao, Bohol. 5th August 2007. This was the first amongst our gang's many adventures with Scott Graham (9/10/1979 - 1/31/2010).

It's been a pleasure to have known you, rock star.


P.S. Reflections, Ruminations

I'm not sure if I was allowed to grieve, or that there's supposed to be a way to do so, being who that I am, you know, only this much, and this way for you, and this for them. I dunno. This is weird. It's a weird feeling because it's the first time I've lost someone in my circle of friends, our age, barkada, just like that, so abrupt, so sudden, so unnecessary?

I mean, I've had other deaths, or I mean parting of people close to me, my grandparents, they were dear, it's cruel to say there's was expected but they were at a certain age that neared the end of the tunnel, they had their time, and it was well-lived, there was some sort of ailment involved, and so there was a process, more or less, there was some sort of preparation, for us and mostly for them.

I dunno, I can't really rationalize everything. All I know is that this is different. Same pain, same sadness but probably more muted, numbing, because I didn't know what to do. I couldn't cry, tears wouldn't come out. Actually, I didn't want to cry. I felt that it wasn't right to.

And so my thoughts flew all over the place. For instance, that Bohol, my beloved paradise home, Mt. Padhan, that ethereal Mt. Padhan, is where Scott's earthly adventures end. Earthly, for we know what they say about death, that it's "an awfully big adventure." I remember his last tweet, Scott's, that he lost his faith in the Phili or something, he got pickpocketed or robbed or something. And now, I'm thinking, that's my mother country, I'll never lose faith in it, not even if it's a paradise that also takes lives because it, most of all, is a wellspring of life and more.