stitching thoughts

my friend sarj (also named sara) and i met at fully booked the other day and browsed through journals and planners.

I HAVEN'T WRITTEN in MONTHS. i don't know... perhaps because i've been working so much that any epiphanic moment just becomes a teaspoon of sugar to make the medicine go down. and writing would just be like working and doing academic acrobatics with my fingers and brain. i had to grasp on such thoughts and linger them in mind so it would last longer, and it stays bittersweet sometimes.

sometimes,
writing is an excuse for a bad memory.
which i have. and sometimes i confuse events that i'm not sure if i'm talking about something that's real or not. (which is fun anyway!)

anyway,

i have about 10 pages left on my current notebook

some are just meant to be blank (without thought)

i probably fell asleep while writing after going home really late

which local book artist loreto apilado made by hand. there is a difference between a book maker and a book artist, and loreto is the latter and his craft goes beyond art. he grows his own paper trees, creates his notebooks by hand, teaches prisoners, encourage livelihood through paper making, promote recycling, conserve books, etcetera.

"etcetera,"
my mind writes, whenever i'm in those moments when i can hear someone speaking in between words, or a an instrument resonating the musician's spirit between every note

note
to myself: remember

keep your drama to yourself