Monday
Ah, so you have made your choice. That’s that, I guess, because even ‘not to choose’ is a choice, ‘forced to choose’ is a choice, and ‘without a choice’ is a choice.
A ‘very poor choice’ is still a choice.
It’s a good thing I’m not poor.
Monday
Did I reply to the thingie’s messages last Wednesday? No.
Did the cat reply to the thingie’s message last Wednesday? No.
Did the cat and I see the individual messages the thingie sent to us? Yes.
Did the cat and I even talk about not replying to the thingie? No.
Did the cat and I even say “hi” to the thingie the whole time we were in that happy-day? No.
Maybe it was really the thingie’s sincere intention to congratulate and make sure that “Congrats to your thingie!” reaches him---- because the thingie had the audacity to approach the cat to say “Congrats!”
Of course the cat said “Thanks” because he hates himself when he publicly embarrasses someone in order to get an obvious point across and understood. This certain quality in him is called “etiquette”. In school we learn it and it’s called “Good Manners and Right Conduct”.
Of course this happened because I was not beside him at that time and the thingie sure as hell wouldn’t have the courage to do that thingie in front of me. Imagined thought-bubble in the thingie’s head: Oooooh, lookie, lookie, the preyie’s alonie, attackie!
I have good manners too but I am my mother’s daughter: it is good manners to give social slights [because we refuse to be tupperware] or ignore or bitch-slap social blights.
Basher had once asked, “Do you know what ‘tup’ means in cockney?”
I had laughed ‘yes’ then, thinking: ‘Seeing these guys go at a 20-pound thingie is NOT like poetry’— Georgia O’Siya, Chairwoman of the International Federal of Palatable Eating.
And a hundred heads are shaking, laughing now:
A text message to me from a friend:
Tell me how the ANC “thingie” goes, ha?
Another text message from a friend to me:
He’s probably taping it on some “thingie”, ano?
A text message from a friend:
…I particularly like the anger is gray & the “thingie” entries…haha…sino ba yun “thingie” na yun?
“Seeing these guys go at a 20-pound ‘thingie’ is like poetry”—
Here’s my thing with the thingie:
A couple is a unit. A fellow is a fellow. A thingie is an insidious virus that bypasses a fellowship therefore severs it, because of its professed intent to unintentionally trespass on a unit. This unit refuses to be contaminated and suffer the same plight of once-units in fellowships.
The word “thingie” is also synonymous to “obtuse” because the thingie cannot determine that the cat is not a dog, therefore immune to thingie-doggie-tricks-or-treats.My fellows will always be my fellows--- except if you’re the thingie fellow who’singratiating thingieself to my boyfriend and if I’m not careful my relationship will lead to the same break-ups that the thingie had (un)intentionally caused.
And the word “obtuse” feels affronted.
Tuesday
You think I want you stop writing?
You think that would make me happy?
What the hell are you thinking?
Tuesday
I finally said “Enough!”
Wednesday
I went shopping and went all girly.
The Perp winked, “Wahahahaha. That’s a lot of pretty stuff! Oooo, and lacy garments? Weee! Yeah, you should relax and enjoy being a girl once in a while. It’s good for you I think.”
Thursday
I went to the spa and was soothed by Jessica. She has been my masseuse for the past six years. Sometimes when I don’t have enough time to go to
Obviously, I’m picky about who gets to touch my body.
Jessica said, “Ma’am, nakabalik na katawan mo. Pagkagraduate mo, tumaba ka ng tumaba eh.”
I laughed, “Ganyan naman talaga pag di mo gusto ginagawa mo, ‘di ba? Dinadaan sa kain para sumaya. Ngayon masaya ko. Ayun, nakabalik yun katawan!”
She would lay out my clothes for me after and would carry my bag and lead me by the hand to another room for my facial. Then she would make sure I would be wrapped in a blanket because she knew I easily get cold.
I remember when I would immediately go to Jessica after one of my volleyball games. She would be the one undressing me--- she would take off my rubber shoes, my socks, my left ankle brace, my right knee brace, my knee pads, the tapes on my fingers, my shorts, my shirt. By the time she would remove my sports bra, I would be groaning in pain. Especially when she would remove the binder I would sometimes wear to support my uterus.
She would say “tsk” when she would see the red bruises that would turn eggplant, then yellow, then brown. I am grateful…that she didn’t see the bruises I had when I was playing soccer for fun.
It’s no fun playing soccer with the men’s team. Chivalry is dead on the field, especially when they were tasked to make sure I learn all the dirty tricks.
Especially because my boyfriend at that time (one of the coaches) had said so. And he would be the one pulling me away or off one of the guys when sometimes I would object to certain kicks to me when those kicks should have been obviously to the ball.
After three hours in the spa, I went to 77 café and got drunk with feverish Oso, who told me a thing or two about things and thingies, bracing myself for what I would write.
Thursday
I strip you of all your titles, appellations, benefits and advantages because you don’t understand what a “friend” is.
Your title has always been cursed.
You have rendered our contract null and I declare you void.
Friday
I woke, started writing. In the middle of writing, I kept being asked about this and that and I just wanted to scream at everyone to leave me alone.
I asked Oso (who stayed home because he had the flu) if I could use his PC. The PC in his room was busted but he had a laptop. I went to his house and we hung out in their den. The den had many wide windows that opened to their beautiful garden. I later told him as we smoked in the garden that it should have children running around.
He left me alone to write while he watched TV. I was only interrupted when his mom came in to check on us and saw that I was barefoot. Without a word, she came back with new soft Chinese slippers and told me to wear them.
“Tita, huwag na po! Ok lang po!” I said, overwhelmed and embarrassed.
She laughed, “Naku, your feet. Magtsinelas ka.”
When she left, Oso said, “My mom likes you.”
I paused and finally nodded, “You know, I like your mom, too.”
His Ate Jo had also dropped by the den and said hi. She took leave from her clinic that day because she wasn’t feeling well, a suspected case of food poisoning. His Ate Myla was in the States for a vacation.
I went back to writing then stopped to eat the pizza and pasta we ordered. After, I went back to writing and finally stopped when it was past sunset. Oso and I tried to watch the movie “P2” but then I would flinch at every suspenseful scene.
He would say every time, “Tama na! Di ka puede ng ganitong movies ‘di ba?”
I would say every time, “Wag kang maingay! Gusto kong manood eh! Ano ba!”
He would reply every time, “Tigas ng ulo. Bawal nga eh.”
Oso had stopped the DVD when it was on a bashing bloody scene. We left to buy dextrose and other drugs for his Ate.
“Marunong kang magdrive ng ganitong sasakyan, di ba?” he asked.
“Diesel na makina? Oo naman.”
“Sige, mamaya pag di ko na kaya, ikaw na magdrive pauwi ng bahay.“
“Don’t tell me ikaw maglalagay ng swero kay Ate Jo?”
He laughed, “’Di, si Daddy pagdating niya galing hospital. Sabi na sa ‘yo eh, pag may sakit kami sa bahay lang.”
That makes sense if everyone in your family is a doctor. It also made sense that they wanted him to be lawyer. Thankfully, he didn’t want to be either. But if you ask him to stitch something, like a tear on your shirt or something, he would make perfect surgical stitches.
When we got back, his mom had started asking us what we wanted for dinner. I said, “Huwag na po Tita. And dami pang natirang pizza and pasta diyan. Salamat na lang po.”
“Natapos mo na ba ginagawa mo?” she asked.
“Di pa po pero madali na,” I smiled.
While I was saying my goodbyes, his dad had finished inserting the IV into his Ate’s vein.
“May sundo ka ba?” his dad asked.
“Meron po, Tito. Salamat!”
I left, feeling so welcomed.
Saturday
An acceptance speech:
I was once asked by Dr. Marjorie Evasco, one of the greatest poets in this country, “What are you writing on?”
I had thought about that question. At that time, I was writing on the idea of “time”. Then I told her that I would like to write on the idea of “creating space”.
I am writing on the idea of “space”.
This afternoon, in this anthology, we’ve created “space” for our stories, our kind of storytelling, which have been deemed “weird” and “unacceptable”. Now, it’s “cool”. We’ve always known that it’s cool. And the agent of this coolness is largely Dean Alfar, creating “space” and this space is called “Philippine Speculative Fiction”.
On a personal note, Dean gave me affirmation in my writing just when I was about to stop. For that, I will always be your friend.
Uy, mahirap magpatawa ha? Lalo na sobrang seryoso akong tao.
More importantly, this space--- our stories--- would not be possible if not for the support of our loved ones, our families. Mahirap po talaga pag may kapamilya kang nagsusulat. Sa ibang pamilya, malamang kung nagsusulat ka tungkol sa mga sinusulat namin, itinakwil ka na, dinala ka na sa ospital, o baka dalhin ka sa albularyo para ipatanggal ang pagka-engkanto sa ‘yo.
Sa pamilya ko, mga buwang kami, kaya normal lang ito. But I would like to thank my family who are here this afternoon --- that’s my Dad, Ma, Ate Aprille, Ate May Melina and my brother TJ. [Unmentioned is my sister Angelica who’s in
Thank you very much for your support and for loving me.
Lastly--- mahirap pong magkarelasyon kapag writer ka. Malamang brebreakan ka ng jowa mo o iiwanan ka talaga. Buti na lang po ang karelasyon ko ng siyam na taon ay isang pusang nagsusulat [who won the thingie]. So beh, thank you and I love you.
[My story in this anthology is for those who had stopped writing and I hope they come home to writing.]
Enjoy the stories mga bakla!
Saturday
It was a very happy and warm afternoon, full of laughter and jokes.
Acceptance speeches to be remembered:
Yvette Tan had shared that her father had not really understood what she was doing, why she was writing. Then she won the Palanca and took her father with her to the awarding. Then she said that her father was saying something like, “Ok ‘to, writing is a good thing pala. Galing ng anak ko!” The next year, her father died and Yvette was so grateful that she was given the opportunity to show her father what she had accomplished in writing.
Luis Katigbak had thanked Dean and Nikki for doing this. Kasi pag may mga conference or seminars raw, they would all tell each other “
Ian Casocot had thanked his partner for really giving him the “space” to write. I heard someone say “Kiss!”
Dominique Cimafranca said “Thanks…I’m speechless…”
Andrew Drilon was grateful to be included in the anthology because that meant that he’s not exclusively for comics but that he could write as well.
Charles Tan said that he’s been trying for three years and he finally got in. So keep trying!
Raymond Falgui said “Dean we already met and you were pissed off at me and us at that time.”
TJ Dimacali said “Wala ata akong alam na masayang piece sa violin” while he played some notes, disproving Dean’s earlier claim that in this launch, there were no violins etc. I heckled him, “Flight of the Bumble Bee!”
Elyss Punsalan said something but I remember what she said to me more after, “Nakita ko boyfriend mo sa Jollibee during lunch break, may kasamang babae, mahaba yun buhok” And I said, “Di nga?” And then she said, “Yun nga, akala ko siya pero hindi pala. Hee-hee-hee.”
Marge De Leon said “Bakit ba? Basta gusto kong may laman yun Ref!”
Joanna Cailas had thanked her Mom for not making her wash clothes so that she could have the time to write. By the way, this young woman is working on 6 different novels and she’s been deaf for the past 7 years.
M.R.R. Arcega’s Mom had given a speech in behalf of her. She said mas maganda and mas magaling raw siya sa anak niya. Yun anak niya nasa
Rodello Santos’s Mom had also given a speech in behalf of her son. She, apparently, had no idea that her son wrote. Her son, who was in New York, had only given her a piece of paper, telling her to go to Fully Booked in Taguig, look for Dean Alfar and pick up two books. We all laughed, “Bukingan na!”
And the winners for the afternoon are the Moms.
Sunday
That afternoon, the cat showed me the PEN anthology for poetry and asked, “’Di ba si
I said “Yeah!” recognizing ‘8x12’ which she had shown me last year.
“
While I was squealing, Dom held the book open and approached
And
Martin said, “Rock star ah!”
I said, still laughing, “That book is mine.
She was asked that night, “How do you feel about being called a ‘poet’?”
Such is her respect and love for poetry.
She dares not call herself a “poet” even when she’s that good…because she has her own “poetics”. She’s just really shy on expounding on it.
I later told the cat and Selena: one should never badger her with questions, especially personal ones; wait until she gives you answers; she’s always willing to talk about literature and other things if she thinks you’re worthy; she’s more open on a one-on-one set-up; she raises her hand when she wants to say something; and yes, she knows a lot.
She didn’t sign my book and I gave her a copy of Philippine Speculative Fiction Volume 3.
I had laughed, “This is the 17th. I hope to see you for an 18th.”
She asked, “You count?”
I shrugged, replied a joke and she smiled some more.
It’s just like that.
Sunday
Martin had showed me several poems of Angelo Suarez. I was reading them and I had laughed, finding his works funny. Shaking my head, I said:
The problem I find in Angelo Suarez’s poetry is that it’s directed just towards the literary audience and it’s a “fuck you”. That’s not poetry: that’s a pun. That’s why I call him a prankster and when the same joke is being told on and on, it stops being funny. It falls splat.
And the 51-58% that comprise the reading population of this country will definitely not spend 200 pesos (what they could allot for a book in their budget) to read something and say “Huh??” or “What the fuck??” or “Sana bumili na lang ako nun romance novel na tagalog!” or “Tang ina bumili na lang sana ako ng Bob Ong na libro! Matatawa pa ko! Puede ko pang i-joke pag may party o inuman at patok pa ko so mga chicks ‘no!”
If I showed his “poems” to my Ma, she would probably say, “Where are the words here, Igin?”
Sunday
I said while looking at a picture, “This was this afternoon? Man, he looks like shit. What’s his problem?”
Oso said, “Ikaw.”
I said, “’Di nga? Di nga, ano problema niyan? Pamilya? Business? Yun ka-MU na?”
“Ikaw nga. I said to him ‘Pare, ano bang di mo naiintindihan dun? Kailangan ka eh. Malamang kakailangan ka nun pagkatops ng nangyari di ba? Tapos di siya pumunta.”
Later on he said, “Sabi niya raw kasi nag-usap na sila ni RJ kaya di siya makapunta. Yun mineet niya yun MU or GF or whatever niya, wala tayo dun. Pero yun di siya makapunta dahil kay RJ? Tangna, sabi ko sa kanya ‘Mali ka Pare dun…’ Basta lahat ata problema.”
I said, “Well, matanda na siya. Kayanin niya yan.”
Sunday
A text message from Selena:
Hi ***! I’m home. Again, thanks so much for this experience. I hope this is the start of a new love affair with words.
Monday
“Not for sharing, these pearls, to swine.”
Monday
Here’s an epiphany in writing CNF--- don’t stop yourself from writing something very personal, especially if it involved very painful and sad experiences, most especially if it would show the follies of people you love.
Write it. If you have no malicious intentions, it will show yourself and what you’ve written to be true.
Write it because you need to write it.
But you will have to choose if you would allow it to be read.
Monday
What I had written for this space for the past two days will not be read by you. It is entitled “Salvaje”.
I think dear you would have appreciated it; probably would make you cry or at least feel like crying.
However, some swine read this space.
There will come a time and a space for you to be able to read it, especially because it was written.
It’s just that in this space I don’t give my pearls to swine.
And yes, the word “swine” may also be used as a synonym for the word “thingie” which may also be describes as a “poor choice”.
Like the word “obtuse”, the word “swine” is also affronted.
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