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Haul’d long sigh…

FRENCH… romance… counters of men, lend me a few millions of pesos… oops, my ears are yours for the taking, talking, blowing a blaze of sighs into… a photojournalist who did hit jobs for the Left years back, he left the talking to whoever he was with… he won’t sing even under duress, why bother to tell where bodies are buried?

That attitude—he’d listen intently, showering the talker with earnest attention as if basking in the presence of the soul before him. That made him—rather homely looking-- a babe magnet, fair target for indecent proposals. A comely japayuki once baited him with her fat bank account, even asked him for deposits—the sort that spurts… pero hindi ATM ang kanyang budhi…

Kaya ‘kikinig lang din ako
… talc is a lot cheaper than make-up. But it does ease off freckles and wrinkles just don’t talc your head off.

So, please do so, so… get it off your chest… uh-duh, I wasn’t referring to that 40-D cup, uh-oh, okay, let me lend a hand… now that you can breathe easier you have the floor, speaker dear… I’ll take the bed to sleep in, uh, you sure you’re joining?

The rule, speakers always have the floor— no ifs, ands or butting in, listening entails a reservoir of patience. Such a reservoir ought to be as huge as Angat’s—dam if you do really listen, damned if you don’t.

Invitation to online chats is fine but nothing works up human biochemistry than a face-to-face conversation… say, I make an in-your-face pass that tugs at your heartstrings and purse-strings; you return the gesture, demonstrate your tender affection by making necessary arrangements to my profile with a fist… that’s so touching!

Banging out a stream of phrases on a keyboard is so tiresome, the words don’t carry color, timber and tone of mixed emotions that can be unfettered in saying or sighing… so dull, even the letters and misspellings come out in uniform… the hands stay on the keyboard, ah, hands ought to travel to, scour pockets and sockets elsewhere, where else?

So let’s do coffee with petit-fours or croissants… and chat. Or a few beers with snippets of food… and get a conversation kindled, do arson… maybe set a conflagration or a holocaust.

Masaya ang harapan sa pakikipag-usap, pakikiusap. Mas makatuturan ang harapang pakikinig sa kausap.

Renowned plant breeder Luther Burbank soothed apprehensions, cooed at and coaxed a prickly pear cactus to shed off her spines… and she did so.

That goes to show the wonders of tenderness and intimacy that face-to-face conversation can touch off—Burbank did pull it off.

I’d likely do something similar—pull your legs or a tendon, maybe shed a fear or tear… hear and glisten.

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