1000 km Conversation
We call it 'The1000 km conversation'. Derived from my assumption
that a mile is equals to 1000 km (actually the correct conversion
is 1 mile = 1.6km), one January night upon escorting Eowyn to
her work at TeleTech’s cubbyhole. Teletech’s corporate
bunker has their office along the not-so-distant future Mall
of Asia, on Magsaysay Avenue. Every night, between 10:30 to 11:00
pm, we walked along EDSA (corner Quezon Blvd.) to Magsaysay Avenue,
since PUV’s never bother to encircle Henry Sy’s epitome
of progress on the wee hours of the evening.
So was the start of our rendezvous. A piquant conversation
of two beings rattled over the silence of the soporific road.
Our conversation then is a lamentation out of the uncertainty
of our love. We discussed the greatness of humanity: heathen
souls trying to understand themselves in this cinematic cosmic
ocean. From the surreal world of quantum physics to the most
egocentric and erotic kinds of questions, we argued, debated,
and mocked, as if our love is the anti-theses of the other. We
did mock, debate, argue, as if tomorrow will be the Rupture and
having a quasi-intellectual conversation was the only way for
us to have sex one last time (I sometimes think that I am an
exhibitionist).
My Eowyn, the anxious, anime-icon who love Robert Ardrey, would
then tease me about my knowledge of the theory of evolution.
Or argued that the most important thing in the world next to
sex is Science leaving Philosophy in the recycle bin. (By the
way, I am a child of philosophical ideals, while she is the padawan
of scientific inquiries). And me? Oh well, I never get tired
of arguing with her. Sometimes I wonder if love is all about
power. Cut-to-cut in a cinematic theme, love is like that of
Woody Allen and Dianne Keaton’s Manhattan love affair.
As we ponder love on the physiological structure of our minds,
transmitting a kind of passion which we recognize only through
our surfing together in the realm of ideas. It’s like having
a threesome with Carl Sagan, or Stephen Hawking, or Isaac Asimov.
I remember one conversation amidst the silence of the black
sky. We were discussing the egoistical ideal of Ayn Rand: Objectivism.
Eowyn argued selfishness, being absolute, would only be possible
if we disregard the historical and evolutionary processes that
brought about the possibility of Man. “Well, reason,” said
I, “is Man’s only absolute. Man should disregard
emotion in favor of reason.” “That was what Ayn Rand
wants to think,” she said, “Man’s sense of
belongingness and aggression are deeply rooted from his ancestral
line. You are fighting what nature is perfecting for millions
of years.” “That’s science,” said I, “Objectivism,
I think, is a philosophical imperative. It questions morality,
religion, and social norms.”
Sometimes, we would help each other to better understand the
theory of relativity. What’s that again? That the same
law applies everywhere; relatively to the point of reference
in space and time.
Sometimes, we discuss about the existence of Parallel Universes.
If our other-selves chose the same path in their lives as we
did. Together we wonder what other possibilities the alternate
universes can offer us. But I think that the Calabi-Yau perspective
prevents us from seeing our other-selves in other alternate universes.
Sometimes I asked her what she thinks of making love in space,
in the presence of the hot, shining, and optic jewels. She answered
me with fervent passion and enigmatic charm. Our walks together
sometimes gestures of an incomprehensible silence, the stillness
meant nothing but the desire to make love to each other.
Sometimes in the middle of our conversation, we would stop
and feel each other’s essence, like a cut-to-cut, frame-by-frame
film noir. I remember one SMS message she sent me: I don’t
know you; you don’t know me either. Such complexities are
perhaps the essence of love, lust, romance, sex and orgasm.
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