the heat burns like tiny daggers of helplessness
biting, gnawing at your skin
even the air suffocates
and an umbrella would look very silly here
we crossed streets without care
loaded with grocery bags filled with cheap supplies
the sun blazes even greater as the hours grow late
little people --- those burly men thought
out of bigotry maybe or, simply, adoration
we will never know
we huffed to our apartment
backs stooped and sweat dripping
a cab would be impractical
before closing the door and
turning on the beloved air conditioner
you sniff for that smell you miss
coconut cream --- so foreign
so far from home
sadly, you close the door
this is your dream, this is reality
live it.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Must Read
And Kat said during our rehearsal for the He-Me-She-It in the Virgin Labfest show, "Oi basahin niyo toh---favorite ko toh. It will be a good read and you can finish it in 5 minutes!" Back then, I honestly didn't know who the author was and (I daresay now) didn't take Kat seriously after she quoted 5 minutes. Who can finish the book in 5 minutes? Just staring at it (At that time I still have not opened the bok yet)made me dizzy since we were already given multiple scripts to memorize and I didn't think that I can load more thoughts in my already cramped brain. But because, she insisted and all other scholars in the theater seemed to know what the book was already (secret: out of fear of being left out), I decided to have a whack at it and to my surprise, Kat was right. It was a good read. And I am proud to say that I now have my own copy which I was able to buy for 120 pesos at the Book Sale Shop. FYI, Kat bought hers for 600+ pesos. Good read, great buy. Thank you, Kat. 
After reading "The Missing Piece", you should proceed to reading its sequel. I still do not have a copy but I am constantly hoping that I will get lucky (again!) like the first time. I have made it a habit to always drop by all Book Sale Shops or second hand stores to check if I can get my hands on the sequel. Unfortunately, I have not been too lucky. The brand new book costs around 600+ pesos...so sue me if I am such a cheapskate.
Sticks and Stones: A Debate Between Ex-Lovers (Volume 2)
Volume 2: What It Was Like
Cynthia:
what a way to die
beside a man whose face i do not see
every night
as his calm hands rove my body
likened to tiny spiders
ready to draw webs
of uncanny wrath which i never knew he owned
he is somewhere now i know
she graces his thoughts
then, now, always
Danny:
what a way to die
beside a woman whose face i do not know
every morning
as i cupped her face with my steady hands
like holding diamonds
drowning, forever drowning in its pricelessness
smiling in her sleep
i know she dreams of adventures
and probably, i fear, of that other doctor
then, now, always
Cynthia: Where was the man I married?
Danny: Who is this woman I married?
Cynthia:
what a way to die
beside a man whose face i do not see
every night
as his calm hands rove my body
likened to tiny spiders
ready to draw webs
of uncanny wrath which i never knew he owned
he is somewhere now i know
she graces his thoughts
then, now, always
Danny:
what a way to die
beside a woman whose face i do not know
every morning
as i cupped her face with my steady hands
like holding diamonds
drowning, forever drowning in its pricelessness
smiling in her sleep
i know she dreams of adventures
and probably, i fear, of that other doctor
then, now, always
Cynthia: Where was the man I married?
Danny: Who is this woman I married?
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Sticks and Stones: A Debate Between Ex-Lovers (Volume 1 )
Volume 1: How They Met
1975
here was where they stole one another's future
the healers bend to breathe life to the willing
and angels wait in dark halls to snatch lives whenever they can
here was where she burned the picture of that man
while he---hid the memories of that nurse
in the depths of his sleep
they held their hands out to reach each other's throats
ready for the kill
1975
the dreaded year
she stashed her traveling bags under their beds
along with the million promises of the man who came back too late
as for him, he folded his nurse's scent into the tiniest parcel
away from her prying eyes
and they waged their war against the world that day
each with swords too big for them to carry
like children playing house
"I am Baba and you are Mama"
they played but lost
played until their 23rd year but lost still
Lancelot and Elaine
fate tagged their babies with prices
one with confusion, the other with dependence and the youngest with
wanderlust
for the sins of 1975
a toast to their bitter union
a toast to borrowed love lost
the end of it all
1975
here was where they stole one another's future
the healers bend to breathe life to the willing
and angels wait in dark halls to snatch lives whenever they can
here was where she burned the picture of that man
while he---hid the memories of that nurse
in the depths of his sleep
they held their hands out to reach each other's throats
ready for the kill
1975
the dreaded year
she stashed her traveling bags under their beds
along with the million promises of the man who came back too late
as for him, he folded his nurse's scent into the tiniest parcel
away from her prying eyes
and they waged their war against the world that day
each with swords too big for them to carry
like children playing house
"I am Baba and you are Mama"
they played but lost
played until their 23rd year but lost still
Lancelot and Elaine
fate tagged their babies with prices
one with confusion, the other with dependence and the youngest with
wanderlust
for the sins of 1975
a toast to their bitter union
a toast to borrowed love lost
the end of it all
Good Morning, Den
9:30 AM. I woke up staring at the ceiling again. Stared at it for (a good) 30 minutes or more so.I watched those silly ants make endless trails from where ever they were from to where ever they intend to go, avoiding cracks which will only disrupt them. I thought, at least - silly as they are - they know where they are going.
I shut my eyes again to try to get 15 needless minutes of sleep. Failed. Instead, I just shoved my dog-eared blanket aside and tried to sit up so I can start getting ready for work. Stood up, scratched my ass (not because it needed scratching but because I thought that’s what normal losers do in the morning). Walked to and from the sink and my tiny closet whilst brushing my teeth. Lately, I seem to be having difficulty deciding, even in the smallest tasks, such as, what to wear, what to eat, when to leave…all the way to the endless question: WHAT DO I WANT?
Rummaged through my messy closet, finally decided to wear something safe and plain before taking a shower. 45 minutes passed before I emerged from the bathroom and I felt as wet and dead as my supposedly new-rebonded hair.
By then, it was 11:00AM. I dragged myself to where I threw my clothes for the day. Carelessly put them on and powdered my face. I have practically wasted my time (worthlessly) preparing for another day in the office.
11:30 AM. I grabbed my bag and put on my shoes. Smiled.
Another day, another war to wage. Bring it on!
I shut my eyes again to try to get 15 needless minutes of sleep. Failed. Instead, I just shoved my dog-eared blanket aside and tried to sit up so I can start getting ready for work. Stood up, scratched my ass (not because it needed scratching but because I thought that’s what normal losers do in the morning). Walked to and from the sink and my tiny closet whilst brushing my teeth. Lately, I seem to be having difficulty deciding, even in the smallest tasks, such as, what to wear, what to eat, when to leave…all the way to the endless question: WHAT DO I WANT?
Rummaged through my messy closet, finally decided to wear something safe and plain before taking a shower. 45 minutes passed before I emerged from the bathroom and I felt as wet and dead as my supposedly new-rebonded hair.
By then, it was 11:00AM. I dragged myself to where I threw my clothes for the day. Carelessly put them on and powdered my face. I have practically wasted my time (worthlessly) preparing for another day in the office.
11:30 AM. I grabbed my bag and put on my shoes. Smiled.
Another day, another war to wage. Bring it on!
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
The Letter In Her Head
Dear Al,
How are things there? I know you’re busy and I know you have a lot in your hands right now but I just wanted to know—how many blows do I have to take before you’ll consider my debts paid? I know my mother owes you as well (big time) but is it fair that I should pay for them too? Naaaahhh, delete that last comment…I want to pay for them anyhow, You (amongst everyone else) know how much my family means to me…I just don’t understand why I have to go through all these after going through them so many times in the past…I also don’t appreciate things being shown to me, offered to me which then gave me the impression that they were “to be mine” when they simply were (just) for a show…a little spectacle, a little taste, a little whiff — that is all? I don’t know how much I can take…Just a little request, if those blows will still keep on coming, can you put on gloves? I’ll appreciate it very much. Thank you.
How are things there? I know you’re busy and I know you have a lot in your hands right now but I just wanted to know—how many blows do I have to take before you’ll consider my debts paid? I know my mother owes you as well (big time) but is it fair that I should pay for them too? Naaaahhh, delete that last comment…I want to pay for them anyhow, You (amongst everyone else) know how much my family means to me…I just don’t understand why I have to go through all these after going through them so many times in the past…I also don’t appreciate things being shown to me, offered to me which then gave me the impression that they were “to be mine” when they simply were (just) for a show…a little spectacle, a little taste, a little whiff — that is all? I don’t know how much I can take…Just a little request, if those blows will still keep on coming, can you put on gloves? I’ll appreciate it very much. Thank you.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Happy New Year
what do you do with dead arms? nothing…absolutely nothing.
January 1, 2009 — my sister and i celebrated the New Year with a screaming match…she, sitting on the small dining table and peeling the soft shells of the poor shrimps that my mother carefully prepared for her while i, was standing (with my unkempt hair and unbrushed teeth) ready to wring her neck and knock some sense into her rotting brain…
4:05 AM, she woke us up with a text message where she was begging to be picked up…my mother, despite of her lack of sleep, stood up and tried to drag me in picking up my supposed “older” sister… i then called my sister where she then greeted me hysterically crying, specifically asking for my mother (as she refused to talk to me)…
FAST FORWARD…she arrived at my mother’s house two hours after (with eyes which looked like she had periorbital edema and dirty, dirty feet)…we found out later that her husband “unknowingly” made a punch bag out of her after she raised the issue of a possible third party that the as*hole strongly denied…we, then again, discovered much, much later that they started throwing beer bottles at each other (in front of their only son) and my sister, in her crazed rage, stabbed her husband (FINALLY!)…try not to worry—he is still alive with only a few stitches as proof.
you might be wondering “errr, Den, what caused the screaming match again?”…well, the usual issue…she gets into trouble, we help her…she needed support, we help her…she needed money, we help her…ets, etc…by the way, lately i have not been of great help to her so i guess the “we” here only refer to our parents…but then, she always forgives him and goes running back despite of our objections…we always had to take the back seat and it was getting tiring…hence, explaining the screaming match…
it’s done…she has to grow up and start thinking (as she has not been using her brain for the past 11 years)…as they say: FLUSH YOUR OWN SHIT!
what you do with dead arms again???nothing.
January 1, 2009 — my sister and i celebrated the New Year with a screaming match…she, sitting on the small dining table and peeling the soft shells of the poor shrimps that my mother carefully prepared for her while i, was standing (with my unkempt hair and unbrushed teeth) ready to wring her neck and knock some sense into her rotting brain…
4:05 AM, she woke us up with a text message where she was begging to be picked up…my mother, despite of her lack of sleep, stood up and tried to drag me in picking up my supposed “older” sister… i then called my sister where she then greeted me hysterically crying, specifically asking for my mother (as she refused to talk to me)…
FAST FORWARD…she arrived at my mother’s house two hours after (with eyes which looked like she had periorbital edema and dirty, dirty feet)…we found out later that her husband “unknowingly” made a punch bag out of her after she raised the issue of a possible third party that the as*hole strongly denied…we, then again, discovered much, much later that they started throwing beer bottles at each other (in front of their only son) and my sister, in her crazed rage, stabbed her husband (FINALLY!)…try not to worry—he is still alive with only a few stitches as proof.
you might be wondering “errr, Den, what caused the screaming match again?”…well, the usual issue…she gets into trouble, we help her…she needed support, we help her…she needed money, we help her…ets, etc…by the way, lately i have not been of great help to her so i guess the “we” here only refer to our parents…but then, she always forgives him and goes running back despite of our objections…we always had to take the back seat and it was getting tiring…hence, explaining the screaming match…
it’s done…she has to grow up and start thinking (as she has not been using her brain for the past 11 years)…as they say: FLUSH YOUR OWN SHIT!
what you do with dead arms again???nothing.
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