gusto mo kwento.

One late evening with my three-year old daughter, Rain, both of us staring at the ceiling.

Gusto mo ng kwento?

A couple of nods

Gusto ko.

Okay, may kwento ako...tungkol sa...angel, alam mo yun?*

Angel.

Nods.

Isang araw may isang angel, lumilipad ang angel, parang bird...at may pakpak ang angel, alam mo yun?

Silent stare.

Alam mo ba ang angel? Teka, hahanap ako ng picture.

Nods then holds my arm

Angel.

Okay, sige. Yung angel lipad lang ng lipad dahil may hinahanap siya.

Hahanap?

May hinahanap yung angel, hinahanap niya yung love niya kaya lipad lang ng lipad yung angel.

A smile.

At lumipad yung angel papuntang e-...

E-mall!

at lumipad din papuntang LC...

LCC!

pero hindi pa rin talaga mahanap ng angel ang love niya. Lumipad din ang angel papuntang San Felipe.

Slipe.

at lumipad din siya papuntang Canaman dun sa sa...

Sala!

pero wala talaga yung love niya dun.

Wala?

Sabi ng angel pupunta siya ng Cathedral, dun kay Jesus, magppray siya.

Ingay si Jesus?

Oo, di puede mag ingay dun sa church. Gusto mong pumunta dun?

Gusto.

Smiles, nods.

Tapos yung angel nagpray kay Jesus, at may sinabi si Jesus kay angel, "Lipad ka lang, angel." kaya lumipad ulit si angel palabas ng church at pumunta sa siya sa school ni papa, dahil baka nandun yung love niya pero wala dun, kaya lipad siya ulit papunta ng Tar...

Tarlac.

pero hindi naman kasama ni Mommy yung love na hinahanap ni angel.

Mommy.

Kaya lumipad ulit siya papuntang Baguio, dun sa bun...

Dok!

Lumipad siya papuntang bundok, nag jogging si angel, pero wala talaga yung love niya, asan kaya yung love ni angel?

Asan, papa?

Lumipad si angel papunta ulit ng e-...

Emall.

Dahil baka nandun, baka nandun sa mga books, nagbabasa yung love ni angel.

Smile again.

Pero wala talaga dun, kaya sabi ng angel punta na lang siya ng dagat dahil hapon na. Alam mo kung ano ang dagat?

Just a stare.

Ang dagat, swimming dun di ba? Dun sa maraming tubig.

Dagat.

Nods.

Pumunta si angel sa dagat tapos color yellow na lahat dahil hapon na, alam mo kung ano color ang yellow?

Nods.

Tapos may nakita yung angel sa dagat, may nagsswim dun.

Smiles and I hear a bit of a laugh.

Lumapit ang angel dun sa dagat sa may tubig at tiningan niya kung sino nagsswim. Nakita ni angel ang isang sirena, alam mo yun?

Just looks at me smiling.Yung sirena, walang paa, may buntot kagaya ni...

Fishda!

Oo, parang si dyesebel. Okay, ng makita ni angel yung sirena lumapit pa siya tapos nabasa na si angel sa dagat, at lumapit din yung sirena kay angel at sabi ni angel siya, siya ang love ko. Nahanap na ni angel ang love niya, love ni angel yung sirena.

I hear her laugh.

Lumipat si angel kay sirena tapos nag embrace sila, at hug din ni sirena si angel.

As if on cue she hugs my left arm to and continues to smile.

Hug sila?

Oo, hug sila tapos umilaw, may liwanag na parang light...

(I point at the lampshade).

Ganun sila...a ilaw sila.

Nods.

Tapos habang may liwanag sa gitna nila, lumipad silang dalawa pataas, papunta dun sa clouds, dun sa mga birds, hanggang naging stars silang dalawa dun, dun sa taas. Nagi ng stars si angel saka si sire...

Sirena.

Hugs my arm again, then laughs a bit.

Tapos na yung kwento. Bukas naman ulit. Okay?

Okay.

O, maganda ba yung kwento?

Ganda.

She smiled at me and then with her small arms, tried to reach for the ceiling.

Gusto mo bang yung kwento?

'yoko, nahihila ako e.

Huh? Nahihila ka?

Oo.

Ano yung hila?

Hila...Hila! Hihila ako.

And all the while as she was saying this, she was smiling and hugging my arm.

Pero maganda yung kwento?

Oo.

Ahhh.

(realization dawning upon me) Nahihiya ka?

Hihila ako e.

E, ba't ka naman mahihila?

Hila ako.

Dahil ba nagembrace sila?

Nods, smiles then hugs me now.

Teka, hindi ka naman nahihiya, kinikilig ka, ano?

A nod and she laughed and tried to sit up to go to her sleeping mom in the other room.

Okay, kaya pala ang hila. Higa ka ulit dito.

She does and I embraced her, like a mermaid.

Now, I miss the cold rain and I miss the warm embraces. hugs. hands. exhaled breaths and the curl of your lips.

* the story was partly inspired by this.

"Sino love ni papa?"
"Si Dyesebel!"

Rain being the mythological character at this point.

sana umulan.

dahil sabi niya maraming nangyayari pag umaga, pag madaling araw
at kulay asul pa ang nasa labas ng bintana
at dito sa kaharian ng ating mga kumot at dalawang unan
naglalaban ang lamig ng nobyembre at init ng ating katawan.
at alam naman natin kung sino magwawagi ngayong umaga.

at maguusap muna tayo,
tayong dalawang pinasingkit ng pagtulog; nangungusap na parang ayaw ipakita ang bibig.
at sa maraming dahilan kung bakit dumadampi pa rin ang ating mga katawan sa isa’t isa;
sa mga lugar na dapat mapunta

sa atin na muna ang umaga. dahil ito lang ang kayamanan sa mundo,
ito lang ang puede munang isipin. at gawin.
dahil mayamaya lang puputi na ang asul sa bintana.

at alam ko puede rin nating isiping gabi pa at madilim, madilim pa ang lahat.
at tayo lang ang nakakakita, at tayo lang gumagalaw, at tayo lang ang humihinga.
dahil ito na lang ang oras na natitira sa atin.

At lahat ay puede.

I should be writing poetry.

I seem to have become my number one critic, and nothing seems to get past the first edit. I ended up reading what I wrote from years ago and wondered how I could have written those words, and turn of phrases. I know that the only way to do this again is to do it.

I remember something I wrote back then, it goes like:

"You're the addiction that cannot feed me anymore, the rest of my life has just become the withdrawal syndrome."

and it haunted me enough it almost became a mantra. And remembering it again the other day, I know I should be writing poetry.

until we are naked and pure.

There was a time I said goodbye to the stars, it was the same time I also said I will forget writing, and I decided to elect myself to grow up every chance I got. I was hurting and hurting bad; and I think it was showing, even as I tried to cover it up. I stuck with old friends but it hurt more, and every part of Naga that was familiar was rubbing me raw. Ateneo was the worst with its wooden chairs, lovely golden afternoons, the sometimes empty classrooms and students looking for a Crispin Maslog. I never wore my uniform again and listened to songs of the late nineties in my room and drank rarely as alcohol pureed the hurt to pinpoint accuracy.

I found new friends, souls who made music and I also played the guitar again, and this time I heard music coursing through amps and more amps. I wrote sparingly and without soul but knew that I didn't know if this what I wanted. I started dancing along with the music, along with my friends, rockers all. We danced, hearing the bass drum thump on our chest and mirrorball reflections crawling along our bodies, I remember sweat trickling down my back and tried to remember in order to forget. I remember the citrus cologne of one of the backup singers of the showband playing as she danced along with me on the rickety stage of Planet B. I was there sometimes screaming for an encore in the smoky haze of the club and the name of showband escapes me if I try to remember. But I guess, there was just really no escape from you, as I went looking for a ride home later in the dark hours before morning. The stillness of the night always got to me first before I managed to enter the house.

After some time the alcohol treated me differently and at times allowed me drunken stupors of numbness, but still I mouthed your name silently in the dark before I drifted off to sleep, seeing you in the dark and alcohol daze. Later that year, numbness took up permanent residency and I could see myself in the mirror again instead of the blurs and hurried glimpses. I discovered exhaustion was a better avenue for a dreamless sleep but I couldnt do it everyday so turned to playing my music loud to drown out the silence. You were a perpetual ache by then and still my mind thought about you in the present tense.

Before I graduated I realized that I had learned to laugh again, but had forgotten writing for the most part. I saw my old friends again and there it was, I remembered that this was the life I used to live, and it was good to immerse myself in it again but it was not coming home, not really. Home was somewhere, home was somewhen, home was past tense. I guess I knew I had grown old by then. I became something I didn't consider myself, I had become normal. Even if you still struck like lightning sometimes. But I was conscious that I started to give a damn again. And I loved and cared the best that I could. By this time I had a daughter who loved me even if I only saw her a little more than 60 days a year. There was a reason to live again, something worth dying for.

Sometime ago, I read Journey to Ixtlan again, and there were things that scratched and moved in my mind ever so faintly and when Solitude came for a visit sometimes, she always talked about how I saw things differently back then, how I even played the guitar and sang offkey, and how I loved to dream; then recently, just before she faded away, she would put her hand on my chest and point heavenwards which always left me wondering. I picked up the pen again and wrote, trying to look for the meaning of what Solitude did, to no avail. Then it will rain again and I will find myself alone and she'd be there and do the same thing before going. At times, I will find myself staring upwards and see only the orange nightglow and searchlights that were not searching for anything.

Then I heard a voice again and my mind moved like a child waking up, not really sure of where it is at first but as familiarity comes crashing down like breaker waves, smiles and picks itself up and looks for its mother. I stared up and saw the stars again and I said hello for the first time in years. Some days later Solitude passed by and looked at me wistfully, went away without saying anything and left me smiling alone in the dark.

I had forgotten myself. I had forgotten my heart most of all.

I have to remember and then I will wait for the rain to wash me away, wash away the skin that I have led myself to live in, to believe in for so long; I will have my time in the rain, and drink in everything again until naked and pure.

dopamine, it was the dopamine and this is the crash.

I'd really like to turn the lights off now, and resolve to stay in bed, sitting and looking out the darkened windows, just let the ambient light outside filter in, like early strands of white hair when you're still way off thirty. I'll turn up the fan a bit higher because I need the cold, and the opening screech as its blades come to life will be the opening riff for the rest of August and Everything After. They say blackholes have gravity so strong that even light cannot escape it and this room is so black, not entirely to be blind but black enough to miss the light of late afternoons in Ateneo during Sundays and summer weekends. I find myself being pulled down. As the chill picks up, I lie down and stare at the ceiling I know is there but cannot see. I'm only pulling myself inside myself in this dark.

Some kind of dam broke apart over the weekend, right at that moment I was still sorting out my thoughts, a mid-year inventory of various psychological disturbances and uncategorized learned behaviors. I never learned how to swim, and I guess there never really was a conscious effort to try to, when the dam water came rushing over. I could hear your laughter in my mind, crystal and almost there, as I tumbled along with the current and deeper and drowning.

My eyes will get used to the darkness in a while, then perhaps the shadows will get more defined, see them pooling into each other and as it gets colder, the contrast of black against black gets more noticeable. The sensation of sinking that I'm sinking deeper in my bed gets stronger.

running our fingers through my mind.

and remembering the way your black tresses went passing through my fingers, my mind going back through time, leaving neon contrails behind, going back, going back, swimming in it now and breathing it in, then it hits, I'm there and something inside my chest explodes, and I close my mind for the moment, letting it all sink in, letting myself sink until there is no up, no down, only the weightlessness of passed time and the blackhole gravity of the accessory emotions, I gaze at you again and see you smile, I have your scent again, coiling up inside me, growing, and feeling your teeth nibble my tongue as we kiss and then darkness and then light as I regain my vision then I see your eyes in the golden afternoon sun, glistening and rolling as the ocean we watched all afternoon one certain summer day, but I go back to your hair, liquid darkness in my hands, that I kiss traveling to your neck and I see you closing your eyes, both of us becoming warm water and joining, joining in a pool of memories, seeing each other, scenting each other, hoping for some hope of touch, of feel, of the embrace to take us home again, together and casting off the shell of a lifetime of solitude.

This bill is obscene,

and way out of line.

SBN 2464 is currently pending. I can only hope I can have time to write about this, having been too busy and too spaced out to think the past few weeks, I can't even think of a proper title for this. Fahrenheit 451 might be an obscure allusion but if you know the novel, then please read this bill. (here)

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