senti-men(ts)

Cusack's boombox scene in Say Anything kind
of captures the traditional senti Sunday mood

I just got home, and now I'm eating spaghetti and meat sauce. JAM is off the air for a few more hours, so rather than subjecting my ears to noisy pop ditties, I succumbed to listening to songs of yesteryears. Senti Sunday it is.

When I was a kid, Sundays meant the songs of my parents' younger years blasting from the speakers, courtesy of Star FM's Never on Sunday program. Staples were Tennessee Waltz, Sad Movies and that song that goes 'How much is that doggie in the window?' Twenty-something years later, I'm no longer surprised that songs played in programs like MYX Backtrax were by the BSB or Spice Girls. I'm not sure when Till They Take My Heart Away became popular but that song, and others like Take My Breath Away and Crazy for You define this wee-hours-of-the-morning's playlist. Nothing like being by your lonesome accompanied bye these kinds of songs permeating the airwaves, huh?

Incidentally, earlier tonight I found this poem by Alma S. Anonas. I was reading the 2002 Likhaan Book of Poetry and Fiction in between taking calls and somehow found myself going through the poetry section and reading them out loud, something I'm not usually won't to do. It's called Reply and (in the tradition of making song dedications over the radio) this goes out to you who will in the future ignite such curiosity as well.

Reply | Alma S. Anonas

You asked me
Why I kissed you
That scotched
Saturday evening.

Because I was curious.
Because I had drunk three-fourths
Of a bottle of scotch.
Because you asked me with your eyes.

Had I been sober,
Had I been sane,
Your lips
Would never have touched mine.

I kept my eyes closed
To your exquisitely ugly face.
I hadn't gone that far
Into the black yet.
Nothing personal.

I just wanted a period
To answer the question mark
Of what you tasted like.

Now I know.

Earlier last night as well when one of my officemates was talking to me, I somehow came to realize that I'd definitely go for a guy who reads, and not just magazines or the current thriller or fantasy novels. I'd go for someone who reads literature. He'd be extremely sexy in my mind; he'd share to me what lit is about as I have close to nada in understanding the classics, even if I sometimes read them. His thoughts will be of a depth and extent unlike any I have ever encountered. He will explain to me the different themes of different canon in between cuddling or whatnot. He'd quote lines and ignite my imagination while sharing to me his literary world. And it would help if he's got a hot bod and is not a wimp. Oh I am so drooling right now!

Yum!