Build It Better

Sometimes, something so broken can never be fixed
I’m sleeping more and eating again
I’m starting over like a factory town
And you always build it better the second time around

The Last Flavor I Wanted

Because I wanted to try as much as I could, I asked if they still offered the half scoops, a promo I knew they offered at one of their former branches. The staff said yes. But they couldn’t say how much it would be because it depended on what flavors the customer would choose; they did say a customer could choose up to four half scoops of any flavor they want.

Eating More When With Friends

But good food discoveries did not stop there. Out of curiosity, I took a piece of the top of the bread bowl and ran it over the fondue. I already knew the taste of the melted cheese. What surprised me was the bread, which by itself was just as good. Even though it was understandably soggy by then, it was still an understated winner.

Private War

From the start, I knew it would be a coming-of-age book. I got that right. When the accident happened, it evoked memories from A Separate Peace by John Knowles. I could almost swear that there were strains of it in a few pages, especially during the recovery period.

The Tour Guide in Their Ears

While silence is preferred at the gallery, they also invite all entering individuals to download an app on their mobile phones, which would serve as their tour guide in their ears for the paintings and the history depicted in them. The app scans a painting, which then starts a narration—best done with earphones or headphones on.

Spare Tire Orchestra

I’m a wall clock, my hands are stuck, but twice I’m right
I’m a three-legged dog but I can wag my tail alright
It’s not the pretty love songs that keep your love alive
But a spare tire orchestra, now get back in and drive

A Smashing Good Time!

… Channel your inner Hulk, Thor, or someone just as infuriated to smash away at the treat until it is reduced to bite-size pieces.

Cake and Sarcasm

I thought about my Uncle Randolph. How did you decide when someone was irretrievably lost—when they were so evil or toxic or just plain set in their ways that you had to face the fact they were never going to change? How long could you keep trying to save them, and when did you give up and grieve for them as though they were dead? (Page 444)

The Rarer Treat

Up to the choir loft, we stopped to consider a mural of purgatory. While it still arches over the rose window, its beauty has long since dulled; from the pews of the church, there is no enticing artwork in that darkened space. There was a lone chandelier that hung from the ceiling, its appearance starkly different from the ones below. It is thought that it could be one of the original French oil lamps but could not be confirmed.

The Museum’s Secrets

The museum houses the collection of Alfonso T. Yuchengco, the recently departed head of the Yuchengco Group of Companies, two of which are the Rizal Commercial Banking Corporation (RCBC) and the Mapúa University (formerly Mapúa Institute of Technology). He was also the Permanent Representative of the Philippines to the United Nations and served different presidential administrations.

My Next Thirty Years

My next thirty years I’m gonna settle all the scores
Cry a little less, laugh a little more
Find a world of happiness without the hate and fear
Figure out just what I’m doing here
In my next thirty years

Hidden Favorite, Discovered Berry

Suddenly, at the flip of a page, I saw a photo of a familiar treat: golden fried meat resting on a saucy, runny bed of yellowed softness with little pools of savory fluid—all topped with shreds of greens. It was in the Katsudon section and is the chicken version of the dish.