it's not so often that i complain. come on. having been
single for a long time makes you immune to some things, or you've been so dang used to it that you won't even notice....even the absence....
but now that i'm in my 29th year and still going home, alone,
on friday or saturday nights...well...it kinda makes you wonder....
is it me or is he just caught in some last-minute snafu---maybe in the middle of a civil war in some god-foresaken place in the congo; or he's trying to close a million-dollar deal in new york before the markets open in asia; or maybe, just maybe, he and his crew just aren't finished closing mcdonald's for the night?
ok. so i'm a cradle-snatcher. so what? i can wait.
i've been waitin for so darn long that another decade won't matter!
god, gusto ko ng ma chowla!
my little knowledge of cantonese tells me `chowla' means to leave. it's what we whisper in the office when it's just ten minutes before six in the evening and we're all revved up to go;
it's what employers tell their maids when they're no longer wanted;
it's what wan chai girls would want to hear from their customers.
at the very least, an assurance of some company for the rest of the night.
ako rin. gusto ko ng ma chowla.
what i talk about when i talk about murakami
1 week ago