Dec 30, 2008

fell on black days.

He watched a couple of drops form on his thumb and index finger, looking at it with a seeming indifference and watching it fall almost in slow motion in his mind, to dissipate in the water of the bathtub; losing their color after a few moments. He idly moved in the warm water and stared at the ceiling and for a moment was he not certain if it was really moving or it was his state of intoxication at this point of time.
This is taking too long.
He saw the showerhead and also noticed drops forming there and he waited for them to fall, but eternity took too long and he returned to watching the drops on his hands instead. He took a swig from the glass on the chair beside him and grimaced as the taste of the whiskey stung then he felt the warmth; inside him the whiskey echoed the temperature of the water. He opened it a bit further and felt it sting and watched the drops form a bit faster. He felt a little more colder, a bit more colder despite the water.
Better.
He heard Chris Cornell singing in the living room; vague and familiar, singing a song from a decade ago, about falling on black days, and wondered why it didn't hurt as much now as before. The water had taken on a more darker shade but he could still see the sharp contrast of his naked body against the whiteness of the tub, the colors almost surreal and he began to see stars near the edge of his vision, and reached over to drink more and his left hand slipped into the water, almost without him noticing.
Almost numb.
The last of the whiskey was pure heat and he wondered why he was still here, even as his vision grew dimmer and thought about everything that had led him up to this point, to this apartment and to this small bathtub. For some reason, he realized for the first time in years, he didn't feel lonely, though he didnt feel happy also. He was in a state he knew that was devoid of anything, a sort of release and all he wanted to do was close his eyes now, to let the blackness take over, to just surrender and not feel anything, even the multiple razor cuts across his left arm.
Emotionless.
He would have heard Chris Cornell singing again about falling on black days when they played Soundgarden on his wake up to his funeral procession. It didn't rain the day they buried him.

Dec 23, 2008

going away for the holidays.

since I miss my family to the point of physical pain and more than Naga at this point in time and since I am wishing that I'll be with them in time for Christmas next year, here's something for all of you.

here's wishing you a bit of sadness -- a little something to appreciate those happy moments better;
here's wishing you cold nights -- a few moments to take pleasure in the warmth of an embrace and the warmth of a held hand;
here's wishing you a tiny bit of regret -- to help you remember choices that made you live more and that made you give a damn more about yourself

and here's wishing you some time enough for love when Christmases like birthdays have become routine.

Dec 21, 2008

walang katapusang bakit.

Matagal ko ng naisip na darating at darating din ang panahon na 'to, na kailangan ko 'tong paghandaan. Pero alam kong wala naman talagang taong handa dito, na di naman talaga puedeng paghandaan ang mga ganitong pangyayari sa buhay. Kusang darating at darating na lamang ito at talagang pag iisipan mo ang mga sasabihin mo, na kung tama ba ang mga sagot na binigay mo, at kadalasan di ka iimik at titingnan mo na lamang siya kasi alam mong wala kang sagot, na wala ka talagang alam na sagot at talagang walang pwedeng sagot sa kanyang tanong. At sasabihin mo rin sa kanya at sa sarili mong hindi mo talaga alam ang sagot.

Bakit? Bakit hindi mo alam?

At di ka tatantanan, dahil kailangan mong sagutin. Kailangan niyang malaman. Gusto niyang malaman. At pag hindi mo na alam ang sasabihin, ikaw mismo ay nanaisin mo na ring malaman kung ano talaga ang sagot at pareho na kayong magtatanong.

Bakit.

Pero di ko tatanungin ang tadhana ng bakit at kung bakit kailangan talagang malaman ng anak kong 3 taon pa lamang ang salitang "Bakit?" kasi alam ko na ang kanyang isasagot, at ito'y isang tanong rin.

Bakit?

sige, isuot mo na slippers mo.
Bakit ko kailangan isuot slippers ko?
Kasi madudumihan ang paa mo.
Bakit madudumihan ang paa ko?

Kinuha ko na lang slippers at sinuot sa kanya. Marahil yun na ang pinaka mainam na sagot. At alam ko madali pang sagutin yung tanong na yun kasi minsan nagtanong na siya kung bakit daw kailangan ko pang magtrabaho, kung bakit daw kailangan pang matulog, kung bakit daw kailangan pang kumain.

Minsan sabi ko gaganti ako, kaya't isang hapon habang mag nnap kami tinanong ko siya, habang nagkkwentuhan kami, nakahiga sa kama at nakatingala at habang ang isip niya ay nasa paghahanap nung butiki na tumago na lang bigla:

Bakit mo love si papa?
Kasi nandoon si Pooh sa taas ng bed.
Bakit nasa taas si Pooh ng bed?
Kasi kasama niya si Pi-let.
Matapos ang ilang saglit ng pag-iisip sabi ko na lang:
Sige, nap na tayo.

Bakit ganito. Bakit?

Dec 17, 2008

happy holidays.








a happy christmas everybody, and hoping the next year would be better than the last.



Dec 16, 2008

as the stars slowly came out.

I have things to tell you that would cease to be my secrets once you hear them. Perhaps they are called truths more than secrets. Nothing conspiratorial, only things spinning inside me that also want to orbit around you. I wanted to tell you in the most logical way possible but I knew that would be futile, since always when it comes to you it would involve emotions, passion and warm fuzzy feelings. The fever that I have been running for years now lately burned a few degrees higher that my vision shimmers even during at night, and more when it rains. It shimmers enough that I see I illusions, mirages where you glimmer alongside.

The stars may want to proxy for your ears tonight and I will whisper some of those things as I look up and see your eyes instead. Perhaps some fragments of what I tell them will come to you in your dreams. Perhaps you might see them in the peripheries of a fading dream as you wake up, and think about me. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps... the uncertainties of our certainties. I smile wistfully and stop in mid-thought and start to wish instead as a falling star flashes across the sky.

In time, I will get to tell you of the things you already know, things you already feel, things that will make your eyes shift somewhere other than mine as I make you remember them, things that will make you smile without even moving your lips and things that will make you embrace me and say my name but things you have never heard me say to you.

You only need to be there.

Dec 14, 2008

while eating a hotdog sandwich.

I waited for evening, calmly comforting a hunger and watched the muted pastel sky darkening, the pink and violets all fading to dark blue. There was more sky to look at here in Fort Bonifacio more than four years ago, more uninterrupted sky but I knew if I walked farther away where no condominiums marred my line of sight, it was more or less the same heavens I gazed at.

The evening, before it came, brought out things in finer detail. I noticed the silhouette of trees in the golf course, the empty scaffoldings of an unfinished condo, the bats slipping in and out of sight, the almost lazy traffic during Sundays here in the Fort and just then, I felt the coldness of December. I was not even halfway through the sandwich.

I vaguely remembered tasting catsup in between bites as my mind uncorked after days of fuzz and of just going through the motions, and then there you were again, as distinct as my first memory of seeing you; queen of my mind, keeper of my heart. The evening had just come quietly and I was watching the fading light being overcome by the unnatural orange of the streetlights and the halogen headlights of the cars passing by.

Fort Bonifacio had just gotten a little darker, and a little lonelier this Sunday, despite that big Christmas tree and the lights and I noticed that I had finished eating and was holding the sandwich wrapper tightly, the catsup smearing my right hand that it looked more like blood than condiment under the light.

Before I went up the 12th, I looked around and seeing mostly cars and too little people walking around I realized that I was not really in the mood for Christmas and too many people at the same time, only wishing that it was just the two of us, somewhere warm, somewhere dim and quiet.

Then I rode the elevator to electronic reality and a veiled capitalist dream and while missing you, died a little as the elevator passed the 8th floor.

Dec 9, 2008

good night.

kinaulay ko kansubanggi su mga bituon
mientras na nakatugdon sinda sa diklom kang langit
aram mong tama man si simbag ninda
pagkatapos kong makiulay, makipahinghing
paghuna ko ngani dai na ninda ako nadadangog
ta halangkawon na sindang maray
pero tama sagkod nadangog palan kang mga bituon.
"padangat ta ka. padangaton taka."
pero bako yan, bako yan si simbag
yan si pinakiulay ko. si pinahinghing ko.
su simbag kang mga bituon, ang sabi ninda sako:
"basta."

Dec 8, 2008

blankness.

The past and coming days are shorter; and colder and longer nights and it can only touch me, numb my face, make me cold enough to regret not bringing my jacket but this is chill that only the body can feel, and it is fatal at best but not cold enough, never cold enough.
there is no other way
Tomorrow, I am going somewhere else colder and where it's easier to die from exposure but still not cold enough, never will be cold enough and I will take a walk in its city streets, a stranger getting stranger still.
for this is the only way
I can only clench my fists and seethe at fate, having realized that I have really come back from the dead. I have also resurrected an emotion I knew I had buried so deep, that it can only raise vague apparitions of its former self, but now it harbors inside me again; still, but restless and burning.
to love
I rage again and no cold will ever be cold enough, except the cold that came from the fires and flames that willed themselves to embers and eventual ashes; chill from the death of passion and emotions that burned brighter than a thousand suns is the only chill that can freeze me.
and I only want it to be you
my hands are cold, and I can only want for those other pair of hands to warm them, I can only want and need but not dream about the warmth, since I can hear fate cackle its loud wild uneasy laugh every time that I do. I put them inside my pockets, in time to face the biting cold of this evening and turn myself outside in where I am cold and burning, but never cold enough.
You.

Dec 5, 2008

flickers.

The bus he was in had passed Guadalupe long before he noticed that his body was flickering. By the time he saw Megamall, he realized that as he flickered his sense of time was also fading away. He sat uncomfortably watching traffic go by him in East Avenue and knew he was about to lose his sense of place and he blanked out and he could feel himself lose integrity; snowy, static like a dead channel in TV.

He couldn't think ahead, that even thinking about the next 15 minutes would be a stretch and an impossibility. All he knew was this moment, this moment he felt certain like he was about to disappear and about to scatter into his basic molecules but he wanted to welcome that certainty, and lose himself in his emotions. Then he was back in traffic in Ayala, and it was early evening; then a flicker again and he couldn't remember anymore. This was something way beyond logic and bus rides didn't mean anything when his brain had let go. All he could hold on to were his feelings; there were the only things that felt solid and unmoving, they were the only things that vaguely told him he was alive.

Everything was on autopilot. And the bus that stank of cockroaches was gone and he was walking somewhere he knew wasn't Manila. He saw jeeps passing by; going to Concepcion and Del Rosario. He recognized the yellow sodium arcs of the lampposts of Panganiban. And he was still walking, and he was talking to someone who was walking beside him and he turned and he saw her. Vivid and lovely, her and heartbreaking. This time he hoped for the flicker, but everything remained solid and he held her hand, in the way he had always held it, his thumb always over her thumb, always. He felt something tearing in his upper chest and then she looked at him and he felt a tremor coming and before he flickered back to another place and time he realized that he was remembering, that the floodgates in his mind had opened and there was nothing else he could do but remember and relive all the emotions that he had ever went through during that time up to now.

In his bed, he was looking at the ceiling in near dark. He lay there for a long time then he rose and, flicked the light switch on and closed his eyes in the harsh sudden fluorescent light and forced them open and everything felt familiar and strange at the same time. 2008 was dying, but the years he had lost was back in his mind and he wanted to cry but the tears weren't coming, and there wasn't anybody to embrace, or touch or hold hands with. It was just him and his overbearing emotions at the moment and then his mobile lit up, silent and telepathic. He opened the new message. " ΓΌ ". And finally broke down.

Later, he wrote for hours until his fingers were sore, and until his mind was exhausted then he slept and he never flickered again after that.

Dec 3, 2008

I listen to you.

I asked How Do You Feel Down here, here with us when we we are so All Mixed Up in the Amber light the color of the First Straw of summer, Flowing Beyond the Gray Sky when they said Don't Stay Home, and we did, and then you said I'll Be Here Awhile for our Lovesong, but it wasn't just awhile, it was forever. You Wouldn't Believe then the words coming from your Transistor radio, those words to Do You Right, and the Beautiful Disaster we were waiting for to happen, drinking our own Homebrew, lovely Creatures getting drunk with each other.

Imagine us, Black and White People coming together in an Angry Mad Season of sorts, both Bent and wanting to Stop sleeping in the Bed of Lies at every Rest Stop that other people tell us. I can never think If You're Gone or if You Won't Be Mine; you, the Last Beautiful Girl because when we come together, when we Leave the Crutch of thoughts behind, we know love is The Burn.

He Calls Home and remembers a Mother's Dream has faded to only a dream now. He says to her Don't You think it is time for Change, for the things left Far Behind makes No Sense for us now; for You, for me. He holds her hand and as they go outside the Rain falls and she tells him "Cover Me" and her words strike like an Arrow and he starts to feels something Blossom inside him.

Dec 2, 2008

in your absence.

There is almost nothing of significance to gaze at outside my bedroom window, a bedroom which I share with two other friends. Beyond the dirty window screen and glass jalousie windows which had somehow gained a permanent patina of dust, there is always that large gray concrete wall having a large square hole patched with plywood, which was probably meant to be a window and that large gate with the cliched peeling paint and rusted joints. Unchanging and changing in the few years I have grown accustomed to it.

Oftentimes this view would still be complicated by drying laundry, parked tricycles or recently that fish delivery truck. This is the sight I always wake up to after I open my eyes and I am facing my left. If I wake facing my right then a wooden faded pink wall would greet me.

But apart from this view there is also something apart from the grayness outside and this is a view that affords me a glimpse of the sky from the top of my double deck; a slivered view framed by the gate, the dilapidated roof of an abandoned sweatshop and the rusting extended eave of our roof. This little scene of the heavens then becomes the only saving grace of the crowded decadent tableau outside; and that little irregular slice of the sky is where I always lose myself in thought, in my imaginings, in sometimes quiet despair, in hopefulness, in melancholy and most often that small unreachable place is where I space out.

But more significantly this is the space where I find you when I am here inside the room when I am looking for some semblance of silence here in Manila, when I am waiting for Solitude, when I am wanting for even the smallest feeling of being home. Even when the curtain sometimes blocks the view or sometimes when I cannot see it at all because it is dark, or when that view is blurred because I am crying, I always know that place is there; always and because you are there.

The only time the place outside my bedroom windows gains a sense of grandeur or perhaps a sense of beauty is when it rains, because then you're also there, raining inside me.

Dec 1, 2008

finding things I thought I have lost.

It's the first of December and it's the coming new year that I can smell like Styrofoam and uncertainty, biting and unnatural. After today things will have that hazy quality again, like the fringes of a dream you're trying to remember. The last month of the year is a slow fade for me and when I go to Baguio the cold will keep me warm again. The rains there are colder; much, much colder but it can only make me remember and make me much closer to you; and together we will burn brighter in the cold, in a quiet rage of color and passion.

I looked back at the past few months and already they have taken a dreamy quality of their own, a veiled realness that only we know like small children coming across a secret place of their own. I find you in my mind again, as I find myself in yours, smiling and holding moist hands again, waiting for this new month to kiss us, lovers stumbling upon each other.