Monday
BOOKS YOU BUY:
“Chiaroscuro” by Joel Toledo
“Elsewhere…” by Conchitina Cruz
“The El Bimbo Variations” by Adam David and order via http:// wasaaak.blogspot.com
A conversation between friends over beer and Margarita (last Saturday) about:
“You have a copy of his El Bimbo book?”
“Yeah. I haven’t read it.”
“You should.”
“I will… (After comments about reactions to writing) Give them to my Mom, she reads everything.”
“As I’ve said: your Mom’s cool. And you’re fat. What? You tell me when I’m fat!”
“Yeah, imagine if I’m a critic in your business.”
One is bitchy: a woman.
One is bitchier: a man.
Adam said, “Bigay ko sa ‘yo mamaya yun copy mo.”
I said, “Really? I have a free copy? Yay!”
Later I heckled, “Huy! Ibenta mo! Wag mong ipamigay ng ipamigay!”
Later when Adam read his 3rd poem, “Eto para ka may Mia…”
Huh? Ano yan?
Adam continued, “…kasi nabasa ko yun consonants on crack niya… “
And I laughed, “Yay!” because consonants-on-crack is now in discourse.
“…and I disagree…”
I laughed, “Fuck you!” because consonants-on-crack is now in discourse.
Later he said, “Because it’s too conscious.”
Being conscious = too conscious: there’s your A.I.
Adam does make me laugh.
31st Monday
According to order that (night) I don’t want to misspell so please ask Kael Co or Joel Toledo who are the numbers:
1: It’s a Club DJ on tranquilizers that sounds like Kael-Co-Tone plus clutter and cliché.
2: I like the 100-years-of-solitude vibration but from the number 8 onwards it’s on grass i.e. page text too tedious for ears because it’s too long.
3: 1: I like the sensory experience of beautiful language combined with abstract imagery then 2: ah, product of a Toledo-Exercise: It is really instructions only flowery, flew tra-la-la and ended with solid flick.
4: “No introduction needed” but the microphone was insidiously marginalizing her and Kael Co concluded, “Small but terrible.” I love the poems. Really, buy her book. Reminded me that she gave us an exercise in line–cutting (in the year Y2K) using Margaret Atwood’s “I would like you watch you sleeping”.
5: Again, product of a Toledo-Exercise: tangible logic but
6: Beginning solid Middle abstract then into narrative Denouement unto End “The year of our Lord” As a whole Insight but not in my favorite list of Toledo-Experience.
7: Another from a Toledo-Exercise: Beginning of a crescendo, solid narrative, solid control on instructions but UGH: lost me at “Don’t take my word for it.” Cop out! TREND: atomic-bomb-endings i.e. whoa-wow.
8: 1: Seems like rusty in language used for poetry because I heard a vignette. 2: What do you call a literary comment on the news? News (first heard from laughing Elena): this time gay guy castrated lover in a green haze and flushed penis down the toilet, too. Lover will maybe now pursue a soprano-career. Castration is now a relationship-trend.
9: From visiting half-Pinoys immersing in Philippine Studies: okay, what is the ontological “Other” box here? The trip-via-tagtag-road-passing-thourgh-a-kamote-farm-with-poor-people-in-Bulacan-yeah-Pinoy? Preposterous to be “immersed” in only a two-week-stay. Human beings acquire a habit in 28 days and unlearn one in 2 years.
10: Yo ½ of the cousin-duo from Bundok ng
11: Yo ½ of the cousin-duo from Bundok ng
12: Dear Lourd noir-noir-noir on mojito: arriba! What do you call a literary comment on a film? Saw him the next night as I walked out on Adriatico Steak and I said “Wooo!” in surprise. (We’ve never been introduced. That’s fine by me.)
13: Aussie on Ozzy Osbourne: good god it’s about writing.
14: More solid. So, you have sound: can sound be sustained and transformed into? I like your companion for being your prompter: that’s what you call sweet support.
15: According to Adam David, “Wow. The kind of reading that I only hear from recorded readings.” Definitely a treat in performance. It’s Baraka-on-Reverend-Voice and dominant on assonance of –ee. Exuberance leads to Beauty then Spread-The-Love then stumbles now and then to fatalistic clutter or cliché like “Destiny in palms”.
16: Mistaken for “Joseph Squid” because my penmanship descended into scratching. I love your emotional truth on what is “Tangis” and the Priest-Voice but it can become monotonous though not yet boring. Tangis in my native language means “weeping that is a wail and a howl”.
17: Yay! You’re back! I missed you! Wait, why are you swallowing “Red Ribbon” nom-nom-nom? What did that dog to you? (And get a trim, too.) Audience Impact from Immersing Audience:
Huh?
Oh my…
Ohm…
Ohmygawd…
Huh?
Okay.
Hmmkay.
18: Invisible Angelo Suarez: hoy asan ka? Namimiss kita. Wag kang ganyan. Yee-hee.
You should all come to the 32ndexperience. Monday Reading so that you
Monday with Fondness
Sir Marne Kilates read and I said, “Yay!”
Later on as I said goodbye, we went through the mano-into-handshake-into-hug-into-beso-laughter, “Sir, ingat po ha?”
Sir Krip Yuson said to me before he left, “Ikaw ha? Di mo na ko pinapansin! Kasi andiyan si Doug!”
Douglas Candano said, “Huh?”
I laughed, “Pasensya na sir, seloso kasi si Doug eh!”
Douglas Candano said, “Wha?”
Then we went through the handshake-into-hug-into-beso-laughter, “Sir, mahiyain kasi ako minsan eh. Ingat po ha?”
I saw TJ Dimacali and said, “Hoy baklush, asan na yun mga kuwento mo?”
He laughed, “Manash! Pag-usapan natin!”
I laughed, “Okay fafa. Date tayo!”
(For the record, he’s not gay.)
I laughed to Nerisa Guevara, “Ang tanga ko. Di ko pina-sign yun last copy dito nun libro mo di ba? Eh sa yo nanggaling and katabi kita!”
She laughed, “You liked it?”
I nodded, “Yep.”
(And by the way, her new hairstylist is Aiza Seguerra.)
I laughed to Kael, “Huy, di ka namamansin ha. Ang taray!”
Kael laughed, “Ganyan lang talaga ko minsan.”
I laughed, “Ako rin!”
(For the record, he doesn’t have PMS.)
Karl de Mesa was telling Joey and me, “Si Khavn gusto bilog yun libro niya! As in bilog! (May) natatanong nga Is he crazy?!”
We laughed and Joey said, “Baka mapagkamalan children’s book pa yan. Magtanong yun bata, Mommy what’s eviscerate? Or Mommy what’s masturbate?”
Monday with Ba
Wary, I was given a gift instead.
Ba said, “I know you have your thing----” pointing to my note-taking “---- But can you do me a favor please? Take pictures for me of the readers muna. I just have to fix some things downstairs first.”
To me, his asking to take pictures for him is like my asking someone I trust to take notes for me.
It’s been too long since I held a (Nikon) camera and I held his carefully, afraid that I would do something wrong and break it. It’s digital after all.
Hello, old friend: I stroke it and then point to click to capture---- a rifle stance, I laughed.
The whole night I kept on patting and hugging Ba Thank you and sneaked in a You should have your hair trimmed; it’s too long knowing how long-haired-men are sensitive about their long hair.
Ba and I like taking care of people and sometimes would resent that and we would laugh at our and people’s stupidity. We are both self-confessed assholes who endeavor to be kind and generous even with the simplest of things.
But Ba and I have always had our differences--- both stubborn and liking having things our way done our way---- arguing and screaming at times about diplomacy and honesty--all throughout 21 days in Dumaguete and after. He would berate me for wandering off alone. I would snap at him for being too bossy. He would be biting towards my intellectual arrogance. I would be scathing towards his feeling-knowing. We end up screaming at each other in public for not listening or for being too obtuse.
But this: we will always have this friendship.
I laughed to Ba after several shots, “My eye’s off. The finger, too. Lacking practice.”
Ba said, “I’m playing around with what would come out in the timing,” showing me this and that tip in his camera and telling me stories of comparing energy in Dumaguete and
I nodded, “Like found metaphors, from accidents,” like blurs of motion focused in unfocused.
Ba said, “Just click away” and I laughed and played with lines and light once more to his encouraging “Uy, nice!”
I said to Ba, “Let me take pictures of you. You don’t have enough pictures because you’re always the one taking the pictures.” The way Ba had said while pulling my arm and positioning me with people, “Halika. Ako naman mag-take ng pictures para may pictures ka with them,” and I had entrusted Dad’s camera to him.
Ba nodded.
I have returned to calling him “Ba”.
And he has returned to answering me with “Ba”.
Once more.
Tuesday
Once more:
Last night I was happy.
I slept--- closed my eyes, dreamt nothing, opened my eyes to morning. It’s been nine years since I slept that way once--- what quacks and miracles have prayed for all these years.
That has never been understood by many that once is always enough.
I’m grateful for once and more for once more.
Once more
I take pictures of boxes and lines…
Once more, I shake my head:
Apparently it’s not known in certain dimensions that universally one talks to a porcupine the way one fucks a porcupine: very carefully.
Porcupine to demanding-multiverse: Who the fuck do you think you’re fucking with?
Tuesday
exterminated “Nosebleed”
with “Brain-Sprain”
that declared:
All right, enjoy your break. Don’t forget your assignment, okay? Go, breathe, have fun!
[It’s painful to watch brain-sprain.]
Antidote: we all get drunk and kill brain cells.
Tuesday
lightning in a light bulb has mercury and
“YoushriekAh”:
One night, Wild Wife had snarled, “Answer me!”
Wayward Husband had snarled back, “I refuse to answer this! You think that whatever I say to you is a lie!”
One night, Wild Wife had snapped, “I dreamt of you. You were touching me…Get out and stay out of my dreams!”
Wayward Husband’s silence had smirked, “No fucking way.”
One night, Wayward Husband asked, “How are you?”
Wild Wife answered, “Still waiting for me to come home to you?”
Wayward Husband said, “Yep…In time… I might go first and come home to you.”
Wild Wife laughed, “You’re crazy you know that? Just damn crazy!”
Wayward Husband laughed, “Always been.”
Wild Wife laughed again, “Like I said and you are crazy about crazy me.”
Wayward Husband laughed again, “That’s why we are a match.”
Wild Wife muttered, “And here I thought you’ve let me go… Dying without each other and killing each other when together. It’s…”
…a Hancock Marriage
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