Wifezilla said, “I told him the other night that I never heard you laugh so much.” I laughed, “That’s because it’s you. And your husband is really funny and witty and cute...I’m happy that he loves you and gets you. Thanks for making me laugh and talk.”
Selena squealed and hugged Wifezilla. Then she met Gassan, they chatted and she said, “You’re cute!” We all laughed.
Gassan asked, “How old is the Earth?” I said that it’s 4.5something going on 4.6 billion years old. He said, “And what’s the average of people’s maximum time on Earth? 60 years, right?” I nodded. He said, “So, our lives----” and he snapped his fingers. I said, “People don’t get that.”
I asked Big Sky Man, “May gig di ba mamaya?” He said yeah, why, would it be too noisy. I said, “No, no, it’s all right.” To drown the silence I hear and all the noise in my head. There, I sang and bopped and laughed to Shirley. Owel, now and then, would howl “Ang saya saya dito!” After, Selena came to me, still wearing her shades, “I’m...Are you leaving?” She held out her hand and I took it, shaking my head. We sat. She started laughing. I laughed, “Just ride it.”
Bumping into Khavn in the line to the can, a handshake, a pat on the shoulder, he gestured for me to go ahead. I laughed, “Dude, I was watching you, thinking Is he digging it? Is he digging it? Looks like he’s not digging it...” He laughed, “Nakikinig ako!”
Topjunk. Ska. I heard that voice before. When I came out, Joey asked, “Beh, is that---?” I walked to the front and saw her back. I said to Joey, “Ohmygod.” I went upstairs to tell Wifezilla who I saw downstairs. History. We go down. Her voice makes me dance. Always. I jump up and down to her voice. Her voice screamed, “Sayaw tayo! Putang inang emo yan!” I laughed as I danced and jumped up and down, bobbing my head. Joey was dancing with me. Wifezilla and Gassan were laughing as they watched us.
Outside, I saw Uncle Fester. Uncle Fester said, “Oh! Andito ka! Maingay dito!” I laughed. “Si Charles andun!” Charles said, “Huy! Long time! Pumayat ka!” I laughed, “Musta, pare?” He said, “Eto, daddy.” I laughed and shook my head.
I turned around to see Wifezilla talking to her. She squealed “Ohmygod!” and hugged Wifezilla. Wifezilla then introduced Gassan, said, “My husband.” She turned to him with a handshake, “Hi, I’m Tuesday.” Behind her, I quipped, “Tuesday, huh?” She turned to me and then squealed again “Ohmygod!” Grabbed me into a hug, rocked me, said, “Mare! Mare! Namiss kita!” Then she let me go and cradled my face with her palms, “This is a face I haven’t seen in what? Five years? Six?” She hugged me again, long, rocking. She looked at me again, her look asking something and I shrugged, smiled. Then she said, “Phone! Phone! I’ll give you my number! Quiet lang sa number! Magkita tayo! Dun tayo sa bahay! Asan na ba yun asawa ko? Introduce ko! Di ko pa naman asawa pero ganun na rin!”
This was a dream. This was real. I woke to these words, “I miss you...I feel that you and I are too far away from each other...Too far to come back...I miss you.” I woke remembering that I haven’t slept. I think about the words.
In the afternoon, I could barely talk, mumbling when asked something. It’s not coming out. Finally, I sat down and talked to Joey. I asked, have you ever felt the difference between losing and lost? We talked about it. I said, “I lost the other one. I felt that. I’m losing this one. I am feeling it.” Then I said, “That’s one of the most painful things in any language: the present participle.” Imagine what it really means as gerund. Imagine what it means to really understand that.
Structuralism: a gift from the late Professor Angelito Santos.
It makes me sad because I am aware of it. We talked about the necessary. It is necessary. Joey said, “They always need time to have that confidence to talk to you. To grow up. What you say makes sense to them when they are ready. It will take time.” I said, “By the time they are ready will there be anything to come back to?”
We talked about it: fixing. Joey and I agreed that it takes time. I said, “I wish we could fix things now.” But we agreed that it would take time. I said, “See? This is why I say on time is too late.” On time for the others, too late for me. On time is now. “Explain,” Joey said. I said that it’s never about catching up with what I know, being where I am now, my plane of existence. That will never be reached. It’s about shortening that distance, that gap, always by the now. The longer time it takes, the greater the distance. “It’s like I’m being asked to stop. And I can’t stop to wait. But I am also trying to shorten that distance.”
Joey said, “But it can’t be fixed now. They need time.” I said, “I know. But who says it can’t be fixed now? If you want to fix it then by god you do everything to fix it now.” Can’t you hear the snap that is your life?
I was reminded by Aoux, “Maybe it’s you who don’t understand the other’s perception?’
The old man had said, “Most people are not awake, not aware.”
I stop now to play with the kittens. I place Gustav on my lap, stroking him. Gustav settles and stretches. I say, “Gnomie!” She’s talking on the phone. I say, “Look!” She looks, “Ay, pano na yan natin ibebebenta?” Gustav is grooming me, licking my arm, marking me as his. I put him down and he plays with my foot. Mine. You are not going anywhere. You’ll be my cat.
Yesterday, unconscious at 5:00 pm. I woke at 9:40 pm, woke angry, woke to 8 missed calls and 8 messages, woke to this, “I rode to meet you: dreams/ like living beings swarmed around me/ and the moon on my right side/ followed me, burning.// I rode back: everything changed./ My soul in love was sad/ and the moon on my left side/trailed me without hope.//To such endless impressions/we poets give ourselves absolutely,/making, in silence, omen of mere event,/until the world reflects the deepest needs of the soul.” Omens, L.Glück.
I replied that I just woke and that when I read it I remembered the words in my dream and that when I read it, I felt my chest tearing. I was asked, “Who said those words to you?” I said that I think I was the one who said the words but to whom, to what I don’t know. I was told, “Maybe it’s a prescient dream.” I said that it might be. I was told that there were many things in Life we should be thankful for, including that tearing in your chest.
I rushed out to say goodbye. In the car, I raged. Remembering Mr. Steve Tem’s lines-- He realized that what he had mistaken for shelter was the heart of the tornado itself, its howl so loud it would fracture his skull because it wasn’t the tornado after all, its howl so loud because what he had climbed down into was the throat of his father, whose rage and pain spun the world-- I stopped screaming.
Goodbye: More history. More history to make. We all laughed as we heckled each other about this kind of music and that kind of music we listen to: Emo? What the fuck is that? We’re old. How about the Goth scene? What scene? We’re old. Indie? Ano yan? ‘indi music? We’re old. New Kids On The Block has reunited. Yay! We’re old. I heckled, “Reggae na lang kaya?” That has got to be one of the laziest type of music to make. Mimes holding a guitar, looking bored, plucks a few chords, looking more bored, plucks fewer chords. I laughed, “Hoy! May effort ang mga torotot boys ha!” Then they play 70s funk. C’mon do the hustle! I said, “Bach and Miles Davis, man.”
Aoux kept on brushing my little top-knot every time he passed by. Joachim said, “Tagal ng project mo magpahaba ng buhok di naman matuloy-tuloy. Magpahaba ka na!” I hummed the wedding march, “Ten-ten-tenen-DIP-ten-ten-tenen-BOW-ten-ten-tenen-RUN!” More laughter.
He was asked, “What happened to your hair?!” He answered, “All in the blog.” I laughed: that seems to be the standard answer to “How are you?” nowadays.
Then I said to Joey and Elena, “Goddamn she nailed me again. She’s been nailing me with the past two quotes. Damn.” I shook my head, marvelling.
Stefania then approached our table and showed me a pretty invite-brochure-pamphlet, said, “Can you plug this? My friend’s exhibit. But, um, the text here was written by Angelo Suarez.” I laughed, “People really think I hate him, huh? My, my,” and I shook my head. I studied it. She said, “I’ll be downstairs. Just return it to me later.” I nodded and continued to study it. Later on when she said goodbye, she said—softly--- patting my shoulders, “I just want to say... I miss you.”
Please come and visit SPOTLIGHT DILEMMA an exhibit of paintings by Tatong Recheta Torres. Exhibit runs from April 24 - May 20 at Hiraya Gallery
“Good night,” I said, “Paolo sold me an album when I checked out the gig with Selena.” Doy said, “You got your money’s worth?” I laughed, “Yes. And postcards too!” He laughed and bowed, “Salamat!”
On the drive home, I said, “Collins had that line in her essay which was like a line from a villanelle— The moon is my friend. I keep on hearing that all the time in my head.” Seven years now. I said, “Losing feels like how they say a miscarriage feels, and she closes her thighs, trying to keep it in, thinking that the blood would stop flowing, knowing that it’s useless”. Then these, in my head, noise:
What did you use? A line cut by a credit card. I had asked, “What do you call that when it’s injected in between your toes?”I was asked, “Did you know that he’s out?” Yes, I said. “He’s looking for you.” I know. He said he’s been looking for me all throughout his life. What did he find? Can he still say the same thing now? I need to hear words, the words. Do you know how it feels, this line, “To be ignored with a nonchalance more cruel than hatred?” Kerima Polotan. Six years. Like parents and children: cruel. She said that it was heavy. She let go because she wanted to know if he was there because he wanted to stay. She saw her husband disappear. He didn’t want to stay. He did it the way he had done it to all his loves. I said to someone, “What is it with people and what they think of love? All ideals, illusions, can’t love what is real.” What’s the title? What’s the end? Say it, she said. What do you use? Talk. Push. The wife was told that all he wanted was to make her happy. The wife believed that there will be no end. The wife began to believe that there will be other lives just so she could be with her husband who disappeared. A snap. There was a gypsy woman with an orange scarf. I love you. It hurts Make it stop. I said, “I need to be talked to. Just don’t listen, just don’t let me scream.” Now. You are so afraid. Break! Break! “That’s not what I want!” the husband screamed. That’s what you’ve been doing, she begged. Stop it! A snap. What’s the title? What’s the end? There are two things you don’t know about summer and winter. Silence. This was a dream. This was real. One, two, three, wake up.
Gnomie asks, “Have you slept?”
I say, “Some.”
I woke up today to accept this silence in my head, afraid that it would mean lost: an end, a story.
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