The thing with spending so much time schizoiding and eating and blogging by my lonesome is that I get to eavesdrop so much. Sometimes it’s fun, sometimes it’s loud, sometimes it’s erotic–I mean exotic, I mean the conversations are exotic like when two Arabs are speaking in their native language and I can’t understand them because they’re speaking in their tongue and by virtue of that alone it’s exotic, not necessarily that they have to look weird or have big boobs or wear exotic clothes or smell exotic. Like that. So much so that I’ve just realized that I have dedicated entries and entries on eavesdropping even during the Friendster Blog era when, all together now–it still wasn’t spammed by comments and invites for orgies in Ortigas. So much blogging about eavesdropping to compete with my hair cutting whine entries.

And just now, five cops talking about their exploits. In the midst of all this one-upmanship macho conversation the bespectacled high-ranking police dude told their Japanese guest, “I want to chorva.”
“What eez chorva?” Japanese dude asked.
“Chorva,” macho Commissioner Chorva said, upon which he started to insert his right middle finger in his left closed fist and made a quick in-out motion with the finger. “Choooorva.”

“Oh you mean fuck,” Lecherous Japanese Dude said.
“Yeeeees! Fuuuuuck!” Commissioner Chorva laughed.

Must turn iPod volume way up.

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