that perfect snack

unlike any other dandruff flakes, his flakes are crisp. it was ostia crisp, like those of the unevenly cut body of christ distributed by the priest of the roman catholic church during the celebration of the holy eucharist.

every morning, a few minutes after he woke up, he would always rub and massage his scalp and gather the falling pieces of dead skin with a blank paper. the collective appearance of the flakes lying on paper provides him the image of organized chaos. it soothes him, provides him peace and relaxes him whenever he gets the certain amount of flakes that he thinks could satisfy his desires.

each day, he feeds on the flakes like slightly crushed potato kettle chips. the flakes, which seem like baked, brownish pieces of chips, are his cheap and organic snack often paired with a glass of soda or a bottle of beer.

he believes that the flakes are pieces of his lost memories. according to him, the more dandruff you have the more memories you lost. so if you desire some catching up, you better eat a good amount of flakes.

it takes a matter of getting used to, he always tell his friends. it’s like riding the subway train for the first time. everybody is a stranger. but as you take the ride repeatedly everyday, you will soon realize that everybody is not that strange after all. the strange becomes familiar, the foreign becomes natural.

he eats them to recover memories of his childhood that he long buried beneath the abyss of his subconsciousness. he eats the flakes to remember the sensational roller-coaster of his first sex blessed by the typhoon milenyo. he eats the flakes to remember his almost two-year physical encounter with his mother. he eats them to remember when and where he first heard fleetwood mac’s dreams. he eats them to remember all the dreams that failed to record on paper. he eats them to remember the catharsis brought by pain. he eats them to remember the happy times. yes, all the happiness he can summon from the innermost depths of the crevices of his humanity. he eats his dandruff to remember. he eats them to remember why he loves in the first place.


wanderingcommuter said...

disgustingly beautiful!

lucas said...

the absurdity of eating dead skin cells was defied by the beauty of how artistic you weaved the words...

"it's stellar!" (parang simon cowell comment lang!)

peace out!

bulitas said...

@wanderingcommuter: =)

@lucas: thanks!
apir! hehe

Kevin said...

This is a good read. Too vivid to resist. Disgusting nga lang. :P

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